OdileCondacin

"Chief!" It was usually becoming second-nature for Odile to actually reply to the usage of "chief" as a reference to her, but for one reason or another, that day it wasn't registering. "Chief?" There it was again. Then it sunk in... oh. "Hi, Lieutenant," she answered, and gave a cursory smile at him while she glanced around Science. She hadn't been down since... gods, how long? It felt like she'd been living her life out of Engineering for the past few weeks, and then coordination was easier the Bridge -- not to mention the fact that it was easier to catch information when it first came through Comm than to hunt down rumors. It looked like hell, really. Somewhere along the way conduits blew and hadn't been replaced yet -- as usual Sci ended up a bottom-rung priority -- and most of the lighting was out. Odile wasn't sure whether or not it was due to damage or power-conservation, but it was somehow... disturbing. Eerie. She looked back to the Betazoid, trying to get a better sense for the scene. "How bad is it down here?" she asked, quietly, not really wanting to know the answer. He was silent for a few moments, clearly trying to come up with some sort of response. "It could be worse," he answered, shrugging. "It's not as bad as it looks... I don't really think anyone cares if a few things were broken..." It wasn't until then that Odile noticed he was trembling. "Intrix?" she prompted him, not quite sure whether it was her business to... reach out, but at the moment, it was the best thing she could think of. A hand on his shoulder, she tried to steady him, and realized that she too was beginning to quake. "It's not me," he answered quickly, composing himself. "It's Kelly." "Kelly?" Odile frowned slightly. "Ah yes, biological sciences. You're... seeing her?" she asked, diplomatically. "Yeah," he answered, flopping into a nearby, slightly-mangled chair that looked as if it might have toppled under his weight. "She's... well... I'm kind of worried about her." "She's.. ah..." Now it was all she could do not to fidget. "She's from Australia, isn't she?" He swallowed hard, and she thought she glimpsed a bit of a mist in his eyes. "Sydney." "Oh... Gods..." The Betazoid looked over to a corner, away from Odile. "We'd... we'd talked about getting married, but now... gods, all she ever talked about was getting home so we could meet her family." He looked back to her, his eyes haunted. "The entire area was..." "I know." She cut him off, hoping she was sparing him... or was it a bad thing for him to bottle up his thoughts? Maybe it was good for him to talk about it? Psychology was never something she'd known much about. "I'm sorry." He snorted, defeated and flippant. "Tell it to her -- I'm just hurting vicariously... and worried about us. Makes me selfish, I guess." "No," she answered quietly. "I suppose it's better than her being alone through this." He nodded. "Yeah, maybe. We were trying to total casualties earlier -- there isn't a human in this department who didn't lose someone... or have them MIA." "It's the same all over." He looked like he was hesitating, finally spitting out what else was on his mind. "Have you gotten any of the academy casualty reports yet?" Now... there... "I..." Something she didn't want to even think about. "Not... yet..." He swallowed hard, nodding. "My... younger brother was... is," he forced himself to correct, "a second-year. If you hear anything?" he asked, his voice strained. Odile nodded. "Of course," she answered, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "I'm... sure he's fine, Lieutenant." "Thanks," he answered, and she knew her words hadn't helped. Not as if she'd expected them to. She took another glance around, retreating to her office. It was... too hard... right now... to be out in the main lab. And things weren't about to get any easier.

Odile looked over Harper pointedly. "Is there anything I can do for you? Gods, you've been up for... how many hours?" "Lost count at thirty," she answered wryly. "I'm all right, Odile." "Good. No... injuries?" she asked, blinking innocently. "Not this time." She looked up, then gave the Xenexian a narrow appraisal. "You should go to sickbay." "What?" she asked, doing her best not to cringe as she leaned back in her chair. "I have no idea what you're talking about." "Uh-huh." She shook her head. "Not buying it. Go -- we have time. And the doctors should be done with the first wave of wounded by now." "It's just a bump," she grumbled. "They have worse wounded than I." "Go," Harper repeated. "I need you in top shape." "Order?" she asked, already resigned.

There was something decidedly wrong, and it wasn't just the fact that Agincourt felt as though it was being torn apart at every seam. It wasn't that her ribs still felt like they were on fire from being smashed against the Engineering console, and it wasn't just that red alert Klaxons were ringing in her ears. The drive had worked -- but gods damned, it had deposited them at the boundaries of the solar system -- at Pluto. Pluto! The name of the planetoid was harbinger enough, but then... one didn't have to look to ancient Terran mythologies to recognize trouble. It had taken time -- time they hadn't had -- to determine the enemy trajectory, and Odile was already starting to feel pangs of guilt. Guilt for how long their measly attempts at tracking down the Soltans' course had taken, and guilt for the time (now, she feared, wasted time) they'd spent trying to learn the alien technology they'd needed to maneuver their boat. The humans were home, but it seemed they were home just a little too late. And it was taking all Odile's concentration not to start blaming herself for it. Odile's mind began to wander as she slipped into the (still-functioning, thank gods) turbolift. Home. She'd very nearly convinced herself that she'd never see Federation territory again. Xenex. If they made it through this last leg, she could see her home again. Holodecks couldn't do it justice. Not the dust, nor the heat... not Xenex. Exiting onto the Bridge, she felt another sharp stab of pity for her human colleagues. Watching a hostile fleet sailing viciously to Earth was painful enough, but to see such an armada en route to one's homeworld... O'd'yl shuddered at the thought. If Xenex was the world being assaulted... She couldn't imagine it, didn't want to. Odile's thoughts quickly reorganized as she took her station. Her stomach knotted further when she saw the fleet's readout on her screens, and she cringed. Xenex or no, for everyone, now there would be darkness. Horrible darkness, darkness O'd'yl had never wanted to have to face, but Odile the Starfleet soldier was compelled to. Odile took a breath, and prepared for hell.

No, Shatner's book goes into the Borg-V'Ger connection, as well. :)

"The Return", by William Shatner. As far as books go, Shatner's books are considered to be their own "universe", naturally called "Shatnerverse", mainly because his books have so much that conflicts with what the other authors have established. It's still a good read, though. :) http://www.amazon.com/Return-Star-Trek-Wil...503&sr=8-11

Again, the link above has the official listing of all the Trek books being released in the next few months. Are you ordering them for personal uses or to stock your shop?

One mass-market paperback (the normal paperback size) is released monthly. This is the official website for Star Trek releases: http://www.simonsays.com/content/ene/searc...&pid=523075

That's scary.

Yeah, Zak's a Brikar. The genetically-enhanced Mugato (of "A Private Little War" TOS fame) is Janos. :)

Because bat + cat = migraine.

"Uh yeah... she's in my department, that's right..." "Then do you have any clue what she means?" Odile looked from the "repair" orders to the engineering enlistee, baffled. "Uh..." "You don't, either?" He looked again at the padd which the Xenexian was limply holding. "Is the... big... taboo cat Lieutenant Commander JoN's, Ma'am?" "Uh..." Odile thought hard. "Here, give me that padd." She shooed the engineer off. "I'll call you when I figure it out, 'kay?" "Okay," he replied, shrugging, and left Odile with a distinct "huh?" expression. "Okay..." she echoed a minute or so later. "The bat's having trouble with the cat. Ye gods." She poked, two-fingered, at her console, pulling up the vid-logs of Cargo Bay One. "What the hell happened?" she asked no one (a few months before, she'd told herself she was talking to Knife, which would have made her feel much better about herself). On quick-forward mode she scrolled through the day, watching for... something with Tay and/or something with Kitty. Wait, backing up... There was Tay... and the lighting was diminished. Oooh. And Tay was... uhm... flying. Then there was Kitty. Kitty looking like Kitty was about ready to pounce her bat. Kitty looking angry. Cat and Bat arguing. Oh, damnit... was she thinking like Tay? "Damnit," she answered herself aloud, and finished after Tay had called security -- kitty's own department! -- on her. She seriously was going to have to talk to both of them. There would be a fun conversation. "Hi, Tay. Don't taunt the cat. Hi, Kitty. Don't eat the bat. Now give each other a biiiiiiiig hug..." Fun. Not. She tapped her commbadge. "Ensign Tay, Commander JoN's, please come down to my office..."

Cells replicate quickly... but there were many of them. It was not Tay's place to start things... or to end things. Agincourt people begin. Agincourt people end. Gideon people watched the middle, spending Gamma shift waiting for machines to beep beep beep. Gideon people waited for changes. She made herself comfortable; lowering her metabolism, spending no more energy than most grown people would spend sleeping. Still, Tay wasn't asleep. Not really. Here eyes watched the flashing lights, waiting for change. Her ears too were alert, listening. She hung silently and carelessly from her perch, a bar strung just below the ceiling of the bio lab. Waiting... A little flurry of activity out in the main lab caught her attention. More conversation, a bit of "snapping to it" than usual from the Gammas. And then... "Ensign, uhm, Tay?" The slightly grating voice sounded almost nervous, but definitely confused. "You're... hanging. Upside down." "Tay!" A quick sonar check of the individual who spoke. Female. Yet a different bone structure. Too big to be prey. Wearing cloth. Definitely not prey. Not predator either. Officer. Pips. Using words. 'Uhm'? She did not know uhm. This one likely wanted to use more words. Tay decided to increase her metabolism and look to the one using words. Hanging upside down? Yes. She was. Was this important? The word-user in question blinked, squinting, and twisted her neck uncomfortably to see Tay better. "Could you, uhm, get down for a minute?" "Could? Must???" Tay opened her wings, and withdrew her heel talons. A quick pivot, twist, and one heavy wing thrust, and she landed lightly on the floor, looking up at the two-pip person. "Tay!" She flipped her wings primly shut, and waited for more words. If it was important that she be head up, there were usually more words. Could they hear better head up? "Thanks... that's a little better." The two (at least semi) humanoids looked at each other for a moment, and finally the other one spoke. "I've been looking at some of your work," the two-pip started, "and I've been wanting to fill a spot that Driscol left when he switched to Beta." But I didn't know you hung upside down. Nervously, Odile looked Tay over. So that was why Engineering had that odd request to install... monkey-bars in her lab. More like Tay-bars. Tay smiled. "Driscol was alpha? Tay alpha?" "Yes, Tay alpha." In her mind, Condacin swore. She'd be talking like batgirl here soon! "I mean, I think I'd like Tay to move to alpha shift, yes." "Tay like! What do?" Tay's smile at least seemed compatible with a human smile, even if the teeth were clearly a carnivore's teeth. "Well, same sort of thing you're doing now. More Bridge time. Better experiments." Better food and cushier accommodations. "Less specialized study, though..." "Tay fly? Fly ship? No wing people can't fly." Her voice was very high pitched. In fact, the primary frequencies of her sonar were well above the normal hearing range of most species. Communicating with words was at best uncomfortable. Still, her inflections and pitches carried human emotion overtones far better than her abbreviated syntax. Her scorn for the thought of wingless people trying to fly the ship came across quite clearly. "Well..." O'd'yl thought for a moment. "I suppose you could fly ship. Pilot, that is. Working with astrometrics... no fancy maneuvers..." Her eyes narrowed. "Pilot fly ship? Or pilot tell computer fly ship." "Uhm..." There that word was again. "You don't have a steering wheel, Tay..." "Stick?" Wistful hope. "Uhm..." Again! "Maybe... later... first you use computer. Okay, Tay?" "Computer." She didn't apparently think much of computers. "Computer counts cells. Computer sequences DNA. Computer simulates transform. Computer no soul. Ship has soul. Ship flies!" She unfurled her wings, casually taking a stance that a dancer might be proud of, then folded them again, glaring at the enclosing walls. "Tay!" The walls echoed. "Ship flies." But she was resigned. The wingless ones just did not understand. Now Odile looked downright alarmed. "Ship flies," she started slowly, "because of engines, Tay, not soul." But she was kindly about it. "Know engines. Know science. Know biology. Know computers. Know flight." Too many words. How can one paint an echo picture to one whose ears can't hear high frequencies? How could one describe flight to one who programs computers to move ships around? "Cannot tell. Someday show. Gideon flew. Knew Gideon before broke." Tay shook her head. How could one live in a ship, and not know it could have a soul? Odile frowned a little. "I'm sorry about Gideon. I really am..." "Tay." Sadness. "Well... we can talk about less orthodox flight... and with Harpy, but for now, you do helm, and you do science, and neither involving a joystick." "Tay!" She smiled, a little sadly, not completely happy, morning for the Gideon that was, and for the Agincourt that could not yet be. Still, alpha seemed better than waiting for cell counter computers to beep, to give warning when the Soltan shifts were going to reach critical phase. "Tay alpha. Tay helps." "Good. You start tomorrow morning, unless you need another shift of sleep." "No sleep. Watch lurk. Good morning." Odile nodded. "Until then, Tay." She smiled. "Tay!"

Cat. Bad. Keep away from batgirl.

Odile carried the heavy, silver case into Science, weighed down with apprehension far less comic she'd shared with the Caitian. New technology always made her nervous, wary. It was exciting when she was young, but with age came appreciation for it -- and the proper levels of respect. Engineering had sent the orders -- and Oddly had retrieved a trio of the ball weapons -- up to Science an hour or so earlier when they'd thrown up their hands on the console. Condacin was glad they had. It'd been a few years since she'd made a quiet, respected name for herself in bioweapons studies, and hadn't had much chance to play in the field since. This fit her realm nicely, and by coincidence. The luck of Engineering to have her heading Science. From what they'd been able to tell, this weapon, too, was at least partially biologically-based -- and acted like it. It had memory -- shape-memory, to be more specific. One of the less popular fields, but, to be sure, one that had come up occasionally in the journals. And people had critiqued her for staying in her quarters to read them instead of heading to the lounge -- hah! She missed her journals -- even more than any other communications she ever received, but at least when they were back within reception range, she'd have a large pile to go through... Ensign Meyer was finishing up something in the labs when Condacin entered -- ah, yes, more Soltan-biology-based simulations. Ever a source of amusement. He gave her a sharp nod, turning off one of the consoles. Ah, was it the end of Alpha already? "I was just switching things over to Beta mode, Sir," he said, his hands resting on the edge of a screen. Apparently, it was. Time slipped away so easily... "If you'd prefer I can leave the auxiliaries active," he offered, pausing before deactivating another. She nodded. "Yes, I think it's a late shift for me today." Odile smiled. "Engineering sent up a few things they can't make heads nor tails of." "Or anything in between?" he asked, knowingly, and they both chuckled. "If you'd like, I can stay and help..." The Xenexian cut him off. "Nah, go enjoy yourself. It might be awhile." "Coffee, then, before I go?" "Sure." He brought the cup, black and without embellishment of sugar or cream, just as she liked it. Then he left, and aside from the barebones Beta crew in the main labs outside, Odile was alone with her subjects. USS Antietam December 27, 2393 "Ah, there you are, crewman." Well-knived Crewman Condacin paused in her steps, glancing nervously at the chief. "Yes, Sir?" "I've been meaning to catch you. My office," he gestured to the door. "Yearly review." Ye gods. "You've done very good work for an enlistee," he noted. "Yes," Condacin admitted, not smiling for fear it turn smug. "I have." A quick glance at her made her quickly add, "Have -- have tried very hard to be the best Starfleet could want me to be." "Ah. Yes. Well, you've done a good job at that. Because cleaning test tubes and running comet analyses isn't something a trained nonsentient could do.. "Thank you, Sir." "I've been reading about your species." Now, that was interesting. "Oh, have you?" "It says that you're very warriorlike, driven by pride. 'Arrogant' and 'difficult', as well as 'unorthodox' comes up in a few of the descriptions and files of other Xenexians in the Fleet." "Calhoun natives are stubborn as a rule." Commander Hale half-smirked. "I think that should be altered to say 'Xenexians' are stubborn as a rule. Of the four Xenexians I was looking at, all of them were noted to have some sort of personality 'defect' or a touch of headstrong wilfullness. So I have to ask -- as a member of a warrior species -- and obviously a follower of such philosophy -- why go into Science?" "Obviously?" O'd'yl frowned, puzzled. "I don't think I've sworn blood vengeance on any of the crew..." "Look at your hip, Odile." She glanced down. Just Knife. Nothing unusual. Then it hit. "Oh." "So, why go into a field best suited to exploration and knowledge, instead of warcraft?" "Enlistee command training ensured I'd never lead." "Then why not tactics or security?" Odile shrugged, a bit puzzled. "I was always scolded as a child for taking everything apart..." "Engineering, then?" She shook her head, frowning. "I wanted to know why they worked, not how." "Ah." "Then when I was a little older, I'd be bringing home rocks and little desert plants and animals. And when I studied seriously as a student, I was drawn to the sciences." Condacin shrugged. "Then, even later, if I wasn't training I was learning..." He nodded. "An interesting combination of specialties..." Hale noted, thoughtfully. "Why protect what you don't even understand? Blind pride is no better than foolhardiness." "Fascinating," the chief murmured. "Yes, yes, I see that this is a good fit for you indeed..." O'd'yl wrinkled her nose. " 'This'?" "How much do you know about our upcoming assignment, Condacin?" he asked. She shrugged. "Nothing. It wasn't passed on to the crew, I thought?" "Rumors spread. We'll be patrolling the border of Tholian space, and we're receiving a few items that I'd like someone to help me with." "One of your commissioned assistants?" she offered, a bit humbled. "I could, if you're not interested. They're working on some biologically-powered weapons." She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Why me? I don't have the rest of your department's training." "Unique background? You're unusual -- I want to see what you make of them. If you're interested," he added. "Very well..." USS Agincourt November, 2397 Odile was glaring stubbornly at the little balls, innocently looking like a child or pet's toys in the metal tray she'd finally set them in. The one she'd been fussing with had gone back to its spherical shape after being pried off her hand. She'd turned one on -- that was easy enough. Squeeze it just so, and within a few seconds it gelled, morphed into a neat little weapon on her hand. She hadn't fired it yet -- that part always made her nervous. But nerves she would have to get over. Fiddling with it on her hand, she shifted, aiming at a small metal trash can she'd set a few paces away on the floor. She considered it, reminded herself that she was expendable, reminded herself that the lab was all but compartmentalized from the rest of the ship, and flexed her hand. Odile played with it until the bio-gel controlling it took to whatever signals she was sending, and... There was a word for the result, and through her startled reaction, she muttered it. "Boom." The trash can was gone. The supply cabinet next to it was scorched, the deck plating beneath was black, and... Hell, there probably wasn't a way she could turn down the power on it, not with as much trouble as she had getting the damned thing just to fire. At least it wasn't set to super-disintegrator. Peeling it off, it regelled and reballed in her hand. Still fascinated, she repeated the process, minus the blast, putting it on her left hand, She worked it carefully, unwilling to fire, tricorders recording and scanning constantly. From what she could tell, they drew quite a bit of energy from... some sort of biological component she hadn't seen thus far, to shift the atomic positions and thusly rotate between the two forms. This biological component Odile was determined to locate -- she had a feeling it was related to the console's interface apparatus -- was going to be under the 'skin' of the thing, and, assuming goggles and laser scalpel on her right hand, started shaving away at the casing. USS Antietam February 20, 2394 "So it's like the famed Tholian webs, but miniature and destructive, instead of confining." "Basically," Hale nodded and replied. "So where's the bio component? Do they have radioactive spiders spinning the webs?" "No, the biocomponent controls the weapon. Here -- try it on." Odile complied, and it snapped around her wrist, painfully tightly. "Ow." "It's made for one of those thin Tholian legs, you know," he commented, running a tricorder over the enlistee's hand and tightly-clinging weapon. "And it doesn't adjust to how thick your own hand and wrist are." "Yes," Condacin replied, then with more force, "Ow.." "Oh, come, you're a Xenexian warrior. You've probably had worse in battle." "Didn't know science was a battlefield," she muttered, holding still. "It's burning." "Oh? I didn't notice that. Maybe part of a firing mechanism," he suggested, and pointed towards a target. "Now, point and click -- it'll work." Odile complied, aiming it towards the target -- and her eyes bulging from her skull as the energy burst wrapped around the entire target and disintegrating it, instead of offering a full burst. "My gods..." she breathed, staring. "You've seen Tholian webs," he reminded. "Same concept -- different energy frequency." "Yeah, but... what the..." She looked down at her wrist, shaking the weapon roughly. "Get it off! Get it off!" It took far, far too long for the head of science to comply, and her skin looked an ill shade once he had, a shining, burning red. "What the hell?" he asked, scanning the weapon now lying on the floor. "You tell me!" "Oh..." "Oh?" Odile demanded, her voice hoarse in pain. "Well, uh... the feedback from the energy burst made the wristband hot, and it was so pressed to your skin..." "You didn't tell me it would get burning hot." "Well, the Tholians exist in such hot environments that they wouldn't even notice it. I didn't think of that..." "You didn't think of it?" "Oh, come," Hale replied, all too brightly considering the quickly blistering (she was certain third-degree) burn. "Be glad it's not a commissioned officer's hand -- enlistees only need one to scrub lab glass," he teased. "We'll try it again later." USS Agincourt November, 2397 It burned, and she wrapped said burn quickly in a bit of gauze, scowling but undeterred. That was the problem with having to dissect with the stupid thing on... poking into the bio-nervous components shocked the hell out of her left hand, sending her peeling it -- and a bit of skin -- off in a rush. After a foul bit of swearing and quick "field" dressing, she glared at the inoffensive little greenish ball, leaning over it with violence in her eyes and motives. But... The frowned deepened. She was carving, yes, and it should have been working. But with every little line of the laser scalpel it sealed back over... Damn the thing. Her tricorder had all the intricacies of the nerve-powered "battery" system saved -- and saved again to a second tricorder and third in triplicate. By no method would she lose the data that she'd been electro-burned to obtain. Her attentions turned to the console, sitting also quite innocently in one corner of the cargo bay as if it had no idea in the world what trouble it caused Engineering. Hah! She looked over the alien-tongued display, and gave it a stern look. She'd master the thing if it took burns on her entire body...

O'd'yl, like all monarchs of their respective little kingdoms, had places where rarely she would venture unless absolutely necessary. Stellar cartography, in this case, was the Xenexian tyrant's area-to-avoid-when-possible. Not that there was anything wrong with the good gentlebeings in astrometrics. Not at all. They were good, well-skilled officers at what they did. But she'd seen less squabbling on a day-to-day basis in the marketplaces of Xenex than on the average afternoon. The fine details O'd'yl was barely cognizant of they managed to find error in, and hearing rapidfire conversation amongst the group oft made her leave with rumblings of an oncoming headache. "Quade," she got out before any others of the maddening horde could swarm her with their wants for her arbitration on whether one cubic meter of space-dust was a quarter in one kilometer's distance or another, "Project." The human -- ranking and most sane inmate of this particular asylum, smiled warmly. "Those boys -- I swear, they'll be tearing each other apart if they're left to their own mapping devices without direction. They're arguing about old comet residue, of all things." She rolled her eyes. Odile had been joking to herself about the space dust. "Yes," and the Xenexian nodded sagely. "Such, uhm, important data." Condacin steered her aside. "How's integration of all our maps and data and everything going?" Quade shrugged, chuckled quietly. "We're just quarreling over minutiae now. A good sign." "True. So you think you could find something for me?" "You're the boss. What do you need?" "Soltans." The astrometrics lieutenant smirked violently. "There are quite a lot of them, Sir. Did you have any particular Soltans in mind?" She handed over a padd, and rubbed at her eyes for a moment. "Military, but not a fully-fledged base. Something small." Quade was quiet a moment. "Attackable, then, Sir?" "Yes." "I see." Whatever went through her mind she shook off, and nodded. "We'll have it pretty quick. Anything else?" Odile headed for the door, pausing briefly as she thought. "Yeah, the closer the better." * * * She'd knocked, for once, duty-like, distracted by the padd she held and Stellar Cart's results. It was near the end of the shift; O'd'yl hoped she hadn't missed Harper. "Come!" The Xenexian stepped in, handing over the information immediately with a hint of distraction in the quick smile. "Got what you needed. We think." "You think?" Harper took the padd from her. "What've you got?" "Two possibilities. There's a third I didn't put on there, but it's about six days off -- a little far, hmm? Anyway, the first in there's a little over a day from where we are. It's a small materiel depot." Harper nodded distractedly, scrolling through the padd to that section. "Civilian and military mixture?" "Yeah. Nothing there that seems horribly important for safeguarding, we figure." "And the other?" "It's about two days out. Better guarded -- no civilian influence we can detect. Repair station." She shrugged. That got an intrigued look. "Repair station?" Odile nodded. "Medium-ish, repairs Soltan ships. Not their top priority, but they're a little more protective of that than their sundries outpost." "Sounds promising. Plenty of spare parts... things lying around loose..." "Quite likely, yes." "Excellent." Harper smiled. "Thank you, Lieutenant." Odile gave her a lopsided grin. "Any time, 'Dusa. Am I dismissed?" she asked, only letting down her "good chief" mask for a few moments. The colonel nodded. "Yes, thanks." Score one, O'd'yl praised herself, sauntering out even more self-assured than when she'd gone in.

Orions. They think they own the universe. And all the people in it.

Set before the last game... Lt. Maj. Hanna-Beth "Hair" Rieve finished setting up the NNC gym for "Recruit" Odile's training. She waited for her to report. Odile was in no particular hurry, arriving just barely on time and certainly not a minute early. She tossed a bottle of water on a bench and glanced around the gym, half-nodded at Rieve. "Ah, Major. Here I am. Fresh meat." Hair noted the tinge of irreverence that hadn't quite been beaten out of Odile in her first two days of Marine basic. Now, the gym was partitioned, with only about half of it set up for this exercise. The set up of the room was quite simple - simply colored blue padded walls, and a bouncy elastic substance covering nearly every square centimeter of the floor. Toward the center of the room, a circular section of the floor was about a quarter of a meter higher than the baseline. A red line surrounded the higher circle. "Did you bring your rifle, recruit?" "Lieutenant," she corrected under her breath, and nodded, producing the weapon. "Of course." Hair overheard the correction. "Out there, you're 'Lieutenant.' In here, you're 'recruit'. Now, lay down your rifle on the side, pick up a pole and put on a helmet." The "pole" was perhaps the most low-tech of weapons. Quite simply, it was plastic pole, approximately one meter long, with two bulbs bulging out each side. Its name and the details of its design had changed over time, but the basic idea had been in Marine training for centuries. Hair did exactly as she was telling the recruit. "Hmph," Odile muttered, but in spite of the disparaging tone, her expression changed to a definite "game-face". She reached for a helmet and pole, adjusting the first to comfort and weighing the weapon in her hands, getting a feel for it. Having done this many times, Hair required little adjustment to the weapon. Each pole was an identical regulation copy of every other. She stepped up onto the higher platform. "The rules are simple. The goal is to drop your opponent off the platform as many times as you can within the allotted time, without falling yourself. If you find yourself on the ground, don't expect to get back up here immediately. You may strike anywhere below the neck. Above the neck is a penalty. Are the rules clear?" She nodded. "Simple enough. So I do want to let you back up here immediately?" "You wouldn't be the first or the last to try. Ascend the platform." Condacin stepped up, letting the weapon swing in her hands. Not horribly heavy -- she'd wielded heavier -- though certainly not her favorite weapon she'd ever held. Hair held the weapon with two hands, one near each bulb. "Begin." The computer began automatically and silently counting down time. Odile started with a forward thrust, then another, even though she never liked making the first offensive blows -- especially with a new opponent. Hair didn't try to use the pole to defend, she quickly backed off, and turned away from Odile's thrusts, waiting for her to try harder. Odile muttered something, the next attack equally controlled if a little more powerful, moving closer to the Marine woman as she swung. Hair continued backing off until she nearly backed herself to the edge of the platform. Then, she ducked downward, letting the swing go over her head. She then released her own pole from one side, pulling it back and practically letting its elasticity propel it forward, under Odile's blow. It took her off guard, and the Xenexian let out a foul and guttural curse in her native tongue, knocked backwards. Lashing back, Odile let go the weapon, jerking it left at the last moment in a feign. Hair let the pole's bounce of momentum guide it back into her hands as she took a controlled tumble forward. Instead of blocking, she gave the pole, a forward thrust, bulb side first in Odile's direction, and toward the platform edge. Sin tumbled, precariously near the edge, and came dangerously near rolling off. It didn't used to be that difficult. Maybe she was just out of practice Hair recovered from her own tumble, and again used the pole's natural bounce to bring it back under control. She went for the quick putt off the platform. Odile was ferocious after she slipped off, slamming the pole hard against Hair's, fighting to be back on the elevated circle. The pole was clearly not a defensive weapon. Hair allowed her own pole to take the hard hit, even allowing it to bend, risking a close call with her own leg, knowing that the momentum of the crash would simply bounce back into Odile's pole. She hissed, then followed with two quick parries, getting up to her knees. "Gods," she muttered, and kept up tirelessly. Hair practically ignored Odile's defensive moves, instead jumping up, pulling back on the pole and allowing it to slide in her hands until she could grab a hold of it from the center. She then ran closer to Odile and fired two blows in quick succession from opposite directions. Odile missed the first, though anticipating the second came more naturally. It was easier, she realized, the more "into" it she got. More natural was better, and Odile went more offensive, a furious blow towards Rieve's hip, then leg. Hair took a hit to the hip, falling slightly backwards and sideways under its power. When the leg shot hit, she used it to increase her speed in the side direction and turn, taking aim at Odile's torso. Condacin snapped off, away from her and finally up to her feet, twisting to get in a blow near Hair's stomach. "Not bad, jarhead," she muttered. "But not good enough." Hair realized that Odile now learned a bit about what this exercise was all about. Under normal Marine basic training circumstances, it was about bringing out aggression. But, that was something that Odile had in abundance. At first, Hair jumped quickly backwards, almost as she had the first time around. But, not to repeat a pattern, she turned around, doing a 720, and allowed one of the stomach shots to hit her in the side as she took a shot for Odile's left flank. It hit, knocking her to the right, but Odile leapt forward after it, and hit for her arm doggedly. "Just a few days in, and I'm already tired of Marines," she snapped, delivering another blow with the words. "Very sick of Marines." Completing her spin, Rieve bounced sideways on the platform as her arm took a hit. Noting that they were now side to side, she came in low at Odile's back, "Then you should watch your back for them!" "Grozit," she swore again, stumbling. "I do," she muttered. Another blow struck sideways against Rieve, harder than she'd hit before. "You can't trust Marines." Rieve fell backwards toward the center of the platform, hitting her back against the platform floor, then practically flipping herself back onto her feet. Recovering from a hit was one of the things she was well trained in. Without missing a beat, she turned straight into what looked like it would be a full frontal charge, trying to draw a blow forward. At the last moment, she turned off the straight path and went for a blow to the legs. "You may be tired of Marines. But you're not ready to be one," she exclaimed as she attacked. Odile was knocked to the ground of the platform, again teetering on the edge. "Wouldn't want to be soulless in grey, at any rate." Lashing out with the pole, she aimed for the other woman's left arm, then swung right, to her stomach in the last instant. Rieve fell to the right, almost, but not quite, losing control of her pole. As she fell, she pushed her pole bulb-side first toward Odile's side and the platform edge. Condacin grimaced, jerking away from the pole and to the other side of the platform. Her movements turned violent, bottled frustration starting to fuel the blows. Mimicking Rieve's hold on the weapon, she shoved it roughly towards her, then to each side, and finally towards her neck, fast and quite literally furious. "No respect. No concern," she muttered. "And now this training." Another blow at her waist and Odile fell back a pace. Rieve was impressed with how fast Condacin was picking up the art of this fight. For a blue-shirt, she knew her way around martial arts. "Wearing gray is a privelege." Rieve backed off until the blow to her waist, which hit and pushed her backwards. Then, she came forward with a litany of blows of her own. "And respect is something that's earned." "I have earned it, shark!" On the last blow, without thinking she defended with her arm, taking the blow against the bone and grimacing, smacking forward blindly with the pole once while recovering. Rieve used the moment of weakness given by Odile's blind blow to continue her attack, aiming for Odile's knees. "I say when you've earned it." The Xenexian fell. "I haven't asked for yours, shark!" Even from her crouch, Odile didn't give up, doggedly determined not to give in to the Marine. Hair pressed on, watching her underside while continuing her attack. "Then don't expect to make it halfway through basic, <i>recruit</i>." Odile lashed out, turning as if to strike her at the side, then twisting upwards to hit her shoulder instead. Rieve ran right into the shoulder blow, trying to use her own forward momentum to deflect the pole back in Odile's direction. Odile's fakes were getting predictable. She decided to try to end it by aiming for Odile's boots, in an attempt to slide her off the platform. Much to her chagrin, it worked, and Odile found herself sprawling, wind damned close to being knocked out of her. "Grozit," she muttered from her back, taking a minute to catch her breath. Hair looked over the edge of the platform as the computer rang a buzzer. Time's up. She jumped off the platform, and held out her hand toward Odile. Odile glared for a long moment, and finally righted herself with Rieve's assistance. "You wouldn't have done that ten years ago." Rieve decided to ignore the implication, and instead provided her evaluation. "It only gets more difficult from here. Lacking aggression is not your weakness. Channeling it towards the common goal is. That's a part of what being a Marine is all about. And, whether you like it or not, when you're in Marine basic, we will make a Marine out of you." "I'm rusty," Odile dismissed. "The point of this," she supplied her personal outlook on the little conundrum that Rieve was terming "becoming a Marine", "is to make me a better warrior." Rieve grinned at Odile's stubbornness. "We'll see if you still find yourself believing that after platoon training." She left Odile to ponder that as she dropped her helmet and pole and left the gym. She tested her weight, headed for her water bottle and rifle, and let out a defiant "Hmph!" to the quiet of the gym.

Harper turned up at Odile's door three hours after Alpha shift was supposed to end, a bottle of wine in one hand and her uniform jacket in the other. "Come in before someone sees," Odile teased in a hiss, motioning her in. "Gracious gods; whatever would happen to my reputation?" "Someone might think you had an ounce of humanity, and we can't have that." She tossed the jacket over a handy chair, setting the bottle on the table. "I don't suppose you have a corkscrew?" "Just use --" Her face fell as she realized her substitute for a corkscrew was quite out of commission. "No." Harper tossed her a sideways look. "Sit down, O'd'yl," she ordered quietly, walking to the replicator. "Waiter's corkscrew, two wineglasses. Red." The Xenexian harrumphed but took the required seat, tucking her feet beneath her on the couch. "I guess you know what you're doing," she muttered, peering over at the replicator. Picking up the requested items, Harper made her way back to the table. "That's why they gave me the wings," she teased, setting down the glasses and flipping open the corkscrew. Odile decided not to comment what non-humanoid appendages she really thought the Colonel was gifted with, instead commenting on the choice of vintage. "This stuff supposed to be good?" she asked, leaning a little to look at the label. "It ought to be," Charlie replied, popping the cork expertly. "It cost enough." She poured for them both. The scientist, for all her prickliness and backwater upbringing, gave a fair impression of a member of the cultured elite, letting the bouquet of the alcohol waft to her nose before taking a small sip. "Ah. Yes. Not bad." Taking the other glass, Harper dropped into the plush armchair and took a gulp of the crimson liquid. "Right. So, then?" "So?" Odile looked at Harper expectantly for a moment. "Oh. Yes. You expected I had a good reason for having you come over here. Well, I guess I don't, really." Odile offered an apologetic look. "I guess I wanted to see if you would come, more than anything else." "Of course I would," she replied. "Why wouldn't I?" "I figured you were a little miffed. And I was a little worried about, you know, things. I guess we've never really been in this kind of situation -- with you a direct superior, and my being so subject to your whims." Odile stifled a laugh. "That just made you sound a whole lot more tyrannical than even I think you are." Harper snorted. "I'm not heartless," she complained. "Even if 'the Tabby and Stabby Show' does tend to bring out the martinet in me." O'd'yl remarked, blithely. "I have a very eager young human who thinks I suck at my job, and I know the Kitty has a nice little saboteur who'd probably be excellent in charge." "Besides, I'm not so 'Stabby' any more." A touch of downcastedness. Sobering, Harper replied, "I'm sorry about your knife, O'd'yl." "I know. That means a lot, but it's just a loss that can't be helped now." The rest of her wine -- and quite a lot of it, that was -- followed her words. "Easy on that stuff," Charlie remarked, refilling her glass. "It's stronger than it tastes." "Mmm," was her noncommittal reply. "I suppose it's only natural. I am not sentimental or a softie, so anything that does have memories... poof. Bye-bye. Gone." "Now you're being silly." She sipped her own wine. "I know how long you've been carrying that thing." "Well... crying over it isn't going to help. I don't have my knife anymore. Not for a long time, anyway." "I'm sure we can find some way to repair it." "If -- when -- we get back, I know I can. I told Kitty -- any foundry on Xenex, or... well, they did make the thing, after all... Danter could do it. Though I'll go with Xenex, thank you very much." "Would they remake a Danteri knife?" Harper turned in the chair, hooking her legs over the armrest. It was good not to have to stand on dignity sometimes. "Of course they would. It's not as if one of those squat little bronze-skins would want it done, after all. Just because it used to belong to one, Charlie, doesn't mean it's forever tainted." She considered for a moment. "Though maybe the gods think so." Charlie gave her a concerned look. "How do you figure?" Odile looked at her hands for a moment, not seeing much -- not in the present, at the least. "I gave Day a... a warning, if you will, about old ghosts. How much a conscience can weigh down. I suppose I forgot to mention karma, too. Sometimes you have to wonder if things catch up with you." "And what things do you think are catching up to you, Sin?" Harper asked quietly. "One thing in particular." Odile finished a bit more of the spice wine, and sat back against the sofa, voice intoning the tale quietly, without pretense. "I was seventeen when the son of a bitch killed my mother. I didn't know why, I barely knew how -- all they told me was that I didn't want to see her. I guess it was one of those cases where the deceased couldn't be made to look restful enough to set the family's mind at rest. I suppose it was stupid of me to go after the prick, but then again, a true Danteri confrontation was a hard thing to find by then. And I was young, and hotheaded... "But it wasn't the Xenex you hear about the most often, with daily battles for the freedom of the world. Hell, I wasn't even born until the war for liberation had been over for eight years. I grew up with the Federation's limited reconstruction plans bolstering the economy and the new order settling into place. I think it was engrained into the mind from early childhood stories that Danteri were things to be hated, though. Even the mild, simpering delegations were given filthy stares in the street. They say humans have a long memory for subjugation? 'They' have never met my kind. "Even so, it wasn't commonplace to see true conflict between the Danteri delegation we had on Xenex and the populace. I think both sides were smart enough to avoid it -- the Danteri knew our tendencies towards hating them, and we knew their tendency to blow matters out of proportion and attack. "Some of the best chances we had for negotiation during the war were ruined when there was some small issue made a mountain from a molehill. "Still, though, there remained a few -- a few, I repeat -- Danteri on our world who lacked that survival instinct. Rebels -- terrorists. They were slick; you could never pin them down to being in just the right spot at the right time to stick their heads on spikes, but most people acknowledged and stayed clear of them. "It was one of those ones who'd attacked, murdered Mother. There were witnesses, and my father, being province's leader and such, wanted it handled properly, without much attention drawn to what we'd have to do. Xenex, member of the Federation, had grown beyond the need for tribal symbolism and slayings. Xenex wasn't so primitive and warlike. Xenex was... enlightened. "Which no one, outside the educated and privileged few, really believed. For such an uplifted planet, the shamans and amulet-sellers in the streets certainly heaped in their share of credit chips and barter-goods. Ahh." Odile smiled a little bit. "There're no bazaars like the ones in Condacin for pure superstitious trinkets and toothless spellcasters." "But in any case... I'm not one-hundred percent sure why I set out in pursuit of vengeance. A combination of elements of the time, I suppose. Frustration needed an outlet." Now the Xenexian was wistful. "How ironic -- the same bit of violent emotion causing both the acquisition and destruction. "So I chose a weapon from home -- my father's largest sword. Heavy -- well wrought, but so very cumbersome to wield. The phasers and such were locked away," Odile explained, "and besides, it was hardly fitting to do battle in its finest Xenexian tradition with a plasma or Federation weapon, was it not?" "Of course not," Harper remarked wryly. "Although something more appropriate to your size..." "Youth," she dismissed smoothly, "excuses many errors in choice of blades." "Tracking down information and leads from a few supportive sources -- mainly old spiteful folk who remembered the days when such an occurrence was commonplace and the middle-aged soldiers who'd missed their glory days of taking out the bronze-skinned, short little bastards -- proved fairly easy, and by the late afternoon, I had an address. In retrospect, I don't know how pathetic I had to have seemed. A long-faced teenager setting off with bold plans of vengeance and honor. "I didn't go in through the front door of his room. Funny how I remember and regret that so much. I didn't chime once or knock like a civilized person before I killed him. As if somehow that would have justified or made it all right. "I busted in the back door. I don't know really what I was expecting. The evil Danteri in a torture chamber, sticking little children in the Iron Maiden? Corpses strewn about? Prisoners? Pain and suffering? "He was preparing evening-meal. The -- even now, I can't make myself think of him as a man -- bastard was just cutting up some brown leaves for his supper. Gods help me -- the whole scene was so normal, so domestic and clean. Someone who ate and cooked and grew vegetables in a little yard's garden like a Xenexian. I think it shocked me, because I didn't charge forth with a war cry as I'd seen myself doing the whole day. "He looked surprised. Not frightened, so to say, but surprised. I mean... I guess you have to be if someone suddenly charges into your home with a sword and bloodlust in their eyes. " 'Put the sword down,' he said, as soon as his nerves had calmed enough for him to speak. 'There's no conflict here; the war ended quite a few years ago.' "Either he took me for very stupid, or he didn't recognize me. I tend to think the latter. If only because, for all their faults, Danteri aren't idiots. Foolish, yes, but for a terrorist to survive on Xenex for any length of time? " 'I beg to differ,' I remarked, coldly. 'Or maybe that's a bit odd of me, to assume that witnesses to my mother's murder were accurate.' "Now he looked me over a bit more appraisingly, searching for resemblance, more than likely. He wasn't going to find it. In height, my face, even eye color, I took after my father. But even so, he must have taken me at my word -- one of his ugly, burly hands twitched towards something at his hip. "I started, assuming it'd be a weapon -- and it wasn't as if my sword could deflect phaser blasts. It was enough to send me darting towards him. 'Don't move,' I ordered, before I realized that between burning muscles and my own nerves, the sword was shaking. How... terrifying. " 'You don't even know how to hold a weapon,' he commented, hand still hovering near his hip -- and whatever weapon lay underneath the loose poncho. I didn't reply, and he continued. 'You're straining not to drop your sword, girl. Can you even swing it?' " 'Insulting the woman holding the weapon really, really isn't the smart thing to do right now.' "Then he started laughing. The son of a bitch started laughing, and he even went so far as to turn his back to me, cavalierly assembling his salad again. He was tempting fate. Or maybe I looked like that little of a threat. I about went offensive right then, but he started talking again. "In retrospect, he was stalling, probably, trying to figure out the easiest way to take me out without the slight chance of being caused injury in the process. But he ended up causing himself more damage than, perhaps, if he'd just fought it out. Then again, if he had, I might not be sitting here right now. " 'I don't doubt your story, you know. A woman like you? Really couldn't be anything but T'alia's daughter.' " 'What do you mean?' I asked, a surge of emotions -- anger and hurt -- rising at how... how normally he said her name. " 'You're just like her. Spirited, fiery. You know the cowed women on this world -- you're not like them.' He turned his attention back from those horribly dry-looking little brown plants, and back to me. 'Of course, it makes sense. It's instilled in you because your father needs you to take over the province someday, and he isn't counting on your marrying a well-born tribesman...' " 'Shut up.' I didn't like how... familiar with my life he sounded. Like he knew me. It was... unnerving. " 'She spoke of you often. But then again, she always did care for her family -- and her people -- so.' "I have a temper. I admit it. And it was starting to go on low simmer -- the dangerous setting that tends to take a long time to blow, but burns hotter than blue flame when it finally does. It was happening then, and it happened last night. But it rarely flares up just so very often. Almost too calmly, I shouldn't have asked, 'And how would you know?' "Another of those condescending laughs. 'Oh, I knew most everything about her. She and I got along quite smashingly. It truly was a shame to lose her from our organization, but... sacrifices must be made for security.' "Really, I shouldn't have listened to another word he said. But you know my curiosity, Charlie, probably better than most people still alive. 'What the hell are you talking about?' I snarled, the little waver in the sword now coming from repressing the anger starting to wash over me." " 'Oh, come now. You, of all people, must know that she didn't fully agree with the split between our worlds. The Federation isn't doing as much as they promised, and without the care and nurture of Danter, Xenex suffers. There's less food, less healthcare, less order... look at the main thoroughfare in Condacin, little avenger, and think. Your mother cared less for the drama and empty promise of freedom and liberation than for her people's welfare, and she helped us. That is... until she decided on the path of betrayal.' " "Now I'm confused," Charlie commented. "He was claiming that your mother was a double agent?" "I thought he was lying," Odile replied, distantly. "I honestly thought he was. He had to be, didn't he? But... there was something that rang true about it. She and father were already married during the war, and there were always stories about unexplainable attacks on Condacin -- some kind of an informant even then. But I don't know why she did it. I wish I could have asked her. There had to have been another way. "Father had to have known. But... he loved her, I suppose. I guess it just shows -- when you're so close to someone that you can't be objective... what ill can come of it. "I attacked then, but he countered with a defensive strike of his own. Danteri are smaller, but compact -- stronger, something I was dimly being reminded of as he forced back my sword. And if he thought I was just a child playing... he didn't fight like it. He took me off guard, pulled back, and let a blow hit my arm. "I jerked back, trying to hold my sword despite the pain in my injured arm, and he just kept talking. " 'Yes, girl. Your mother was working with us. Gathered information -- you know your household is an access point for a wealth of information regarding the three major provinces...' "I didn't know what the hell to do. The injury cut deeply; the confidence I had was shattered. All I wanted to do was kill the self-assured monster, but now I was starting to doubt that I could. I realized at that point only one of us would ever again leave the house alive." "Obviously it was you," Charlie remarked, topping up both their glasses. "Obviously," she said with a faint smile, hand unconsciously covering a spot on her arm, which, once she let go to take the wine, revealed a thin and long scar just above the elbow. "I started swinging again, and his short sword kept beating back every attempt. He didn't draw any more blood through that, but it was even more wounding and... disquieting... to see how effortlessly he was fighting my attack where I was giving one-hundred percent. I'm a better fighter now -- I trained tirelessly after that -- but then... I think you'd have laughed to see it. " 'You're a lying bastard,' I finally informed him with about as much certainty as I felt, once I'd pulled back again to catch my breath. " 'So convinced, are you?' "I pulled the last iota of theory I had against his claim. 'You're not exactly authority figures. Terrorists have little sway over what the Danteri government does in regard to Xenex.' " 'Don't be a fool,' he replied, quietly. 'The government of Danter knows what we're doing. They know we'll succeed.' " 'Like hell.' Refueled by that, I renewed my efforts, but things only got worse. I still don't know what kind of offensive he used, but somehow, he was able to back me into a corner, just flat out grab the sword away. "I decided then, in that moment, that if he was going to kill me, I wasn't going to beg for my life. I'm no stickler for honor, Charlie, but... somehow, I determined that in battle, in conflict, it would have been something worse than dishonor. It would have been cowardice. I think I still operate like that, as a result of that day... " 'I'll let you go,' he told me, waving that stupid little sword at me with one hand, mine in the other. 'I'll let you go so that you can go tell your people what a traitor their leader's wife was. It'd dishearten your miserable little lot, and if you promise to do that for me, you'd be more valuable alive than dead.' That fake gentility was gone now, and all that we hate in the Danteri was in full force. 'Like mother, like daughter.' " Charlie snorted. "I'd have killed him just for the bad dialogue." "Have you ever met a Danteri, Harper? They're unimaginative. Battlefield, conversation -- it's why we beat them. "I hissed out a 'never' reply. What the hell did he think I was? Vehemence from my words echoing, I elbowed away the ugly little Danteri sword, and it clattered to the ground some ways away. But then... considering my comparative proficiency with a weapon, he did something even more frightening. " 'This,' he commented, throwing aside my sword, leaving us both -- I thought -- bladeless, 'is too heavy. A worthless weapon.' "It was a good move on his part. Hand to hand against that kind of bulk, and I was finished. He emphasized my stricken fear with a blow, knocking me backwards, and I barely avoided falling. "I slammed my own hand into his gut when he was close enough, but it didn't even faze the bastard. Another try with similar results, though it seemed to be pissing him off. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he'd be sloppy. "Or maybe, as I realized next, it just made him more dangerous. He shoved me roughly, and that time I stumbled into the wall. Weapons on the other side of the room, the Danteri looming over me, my life didn't quite flash before my eyes, but... "He knelt down to my level, put a hand on either side of my face. I thought he was going to just snap my neck, or worse, strangle me. I've always thought that suffocation has to be one of the two worst ways to die. You're so aware in those slow, last seconds. The other one equally horrible, in my book, is being bled dry, which... I wouldn't have dreamed it, but was basically what he had planned. Or close to it. "I finally realized it when he took out his second, smaller weapon. I wouldn't have guessed he had it. I wouldn't have dreamed there was a second after he went hand-to-hand. But he was holding it -- trying to scare me with it, and it was working. " 'Going to beg?' he asked, heartlessly. 'Going to plead and beg me not to cut you apart?' He waited a beat. 'Like your mother did?' "Adrenaline in my veins and unparalleled fear running rampant, I seized his wrist with both hands, shaking with the effort of trying to get his knife. He pried one hand off his arm. "I clawed at his face, gouging at his eyes, and for a fraction of a second, he faltered. The force decreased, I still couldn't get that damned dagger away from him, but I did force his arm back, and the hilt smashed into his temple. "He was dazed; I did it again, and finally got the thing away from him. I kept at it, seized on that weakness again and again, and finally, he was unconscious. "I didn't think at all at that point. I was operating on adrenaline and instinct. I gutted him like a fish, Charlie. He was still alive, and I thoroughly... just... gutted him. He didn't pose a threat to me. I could have brought him in, called in the authorities. I could have been merciful. I could have forgiven him. There were a lot of things I could have done besides... besides that. But I killed him like an animal, with his own knife. I murdered him." Odile went silent, her jaw tight with memory. Harper was silent for a long time, sipping her wine and looking out the small viewport at the stars. "If you're looking for censure," she said finally, "you're talking to the wrong woman." Odile didn't reply, walking over to a small bundle she'd retrieved from her office before resigning herself to her quarters, and unwrapped it slowly. Within it was an undamaged hilt and four pieces of darker metal, which, together, made up her knife. "That's how I got this. That's why it means so much to me. Not because I always have to have a weapon, or I feel insecure. No. Because that afternoon was a turning point I can't ever come back from. "I don't think it's really possible for most people to even comprehend, but when I talk about ghosts, and karma... I know what it's like to be haunted by the past. Every day it haunts me, and it will until I die. And when I do die, he'll be waiting." Plucking one of the shards from the cloth, Harper turned the metal fragment over slowly in her hands. "You have a superstitious streak, O'd'yl," she commented finally, running a careful finger over the broken part of the shard. "But I'm not going to argue with you over it. Look at it this way -- perhaps the reason this knife shattered was because you aren't bound to that death any longer; because you're not defined by that point in time any more." She laid the metal back on the cloth. "I'm not saying don't reforge it, but if I were you... I would think about what I was recreating." "I know," she replied, softly, staring at the knife with an inscrutable expression. "But... I don't know that I would do anything different, now. And if I don't hold onto what's brought me on a life's journey... what good has the journey done?" "The journey is what matters in the end," Harper paraphrased, folding the cloth back over the knife. "What set you on the path is irrelevant." "I suppose," she said, slowly, "But I think the knife serves a purpose in reminding me how long regret can last. The knife keeps me in check, keeps history from repeating itself," O'd'yl admitted, quietly. "I worry that its shattering just shows that control is failing. It scares me," she admitted. "A lot." She thought back over the last few days, and the emotional rollercoaster her old friend had seemed to be on. "I think," Harper said at last, "that if you're worried about it, you still have the control." "I hope," O'd'yl said, then sighed. "I suppose that you were hoping for something a bit more lighthearted, tonight. A bit of teasing, maybe. A bit of fun. Not tales of gore and hearing your friend spill her guts about her dark secrets." "I was hoping," she replied, "to find out what the hell was going on with you. I think I have, now." "There you have it. A little more... sinister than you'd have liked?" Fatalistically, she shrugged. "It is what it is. I told you, Sin; if you're looking for censure, you've got the wrong woman." "I suppose I appreciate it. I'm sure there are some in your position that'd either have me in to a counselor or off duty permanently." "You've been living with this longer than I've known you, and despite a somewhat... how should I put this... casual relationship with military decorum --" Harper grinned at her friend. "--you've always gotten the job done." O'd'yl had to smile back. "Most of the time I can fool the bosses, anyway," she teased. Dramatically she clapped her hands to her ears. "I didn't hear that," she said, humming a little. "I haven't heard anything to suggest my chief of science isn't wholly devoted to her job..." "Oh hush, Harper. You know science is my second dearest love." "After yourself?" She laughed and poured out the last of the bottle into their glasses. "You overestimate my ego." O'd'yl grinned. "It's still Knife." "Sometimes I worry about you, O'd'yl..."

Set before "Advisement" Odile glanced around the unfamiliar Marine office, laying the high-tech scanner carefully on Merril's desk. "Thank you. It proved quite useful," she remarked. "Troll's Lair", as some of the enlisted Marines had begun calling it, looked more like a mad scientist's lab than anything else. Multiple holo-diplays were active around the room, some set to show medical information, others showing information that should have been in a science lab, while others could only be classified as showing marine equipment schematics. Troll moved most of the displays to a background, minimized position, as he gave the new Science D.H. a quick onceover. With a mild grin he replied, "You are most welcome." After noticing her attire he raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the empty sheath. "I had hoped to re-aquaint myself with Knife." He picked up the combat scanner and slotted it into a port for download. Something distant flashed on her face, and her voice went careful and neutral, but she didn't comment on her blade, redirecting her attention to the scanner. "Turns out one of JoN's' middies in for a little bit of trouble." Troll rolls his eyes "Not O'Brien again, is it?" "You know him?" "Well... he decided to make a first impression on the Marine battalion during a yellow alert." Troll grimaced. "He had recently been introduced to the concept of net checks, and tried to take it to an extreme. He reminded me of certain officers going through the Marine OCS who still had an attitude in need of adjustment, while I was a drill instructor there." "... don't tell me that he shot you?" Troll grinned. "No, he shot at Hair and Buddha. I was waiting above the door for him when he entered the NNC." "I feel bad for the cat," Odile remarked. Troll's grin faded. "That was definitely one unhappy Caitian." His eyes lost focus as he remembered the past. "The previous time I met you ... and Knife ... you were a petty officer and I was a second lieutenant. I had stopped by the science labs and you were working on your reputation, even then, as 'The Ice Queen'. I haven't seen you since then; did becoming a D.H. change you that much?" "No. Not off duty, at any rate." Troll looked over Condacin once more, "Are you ice in combat then, or what?" "Icy and prickly in any situation," O'd'yl replied, affably. Troll frowned slightly. "So, what am I doing wrong? You're pleasant company." "I've no quarrel with you, yet." He cocked his head to one side. "You and I have something else in common. We both started in the enlisted ranks and were pressured into the ranks of the officers." His expression closed up, then he asked, "Are you willing to be a sounding board and venting mate, at times?" Odile shrugged. "You know where my office is. I don't bitch about visitors unless they've drawn my ire." Troll's expression smoothed, but was still guarded, "I would prefer places less official than an office." "Of course. But if you ever want to find me..." "Start there?" "Yep." "Thank you for returning my scanner. I may look you up in the near future." "Anytime."

Harper was waiting in her ready room for her two resident miscreants to appear. They were late -- not unexpectedly, but in a few minutes they were going to be in even bigger trouble because of it. Reluctance she could understand; avoidance was another matter. Both miscreants were standing outside of the ready room doing a classic "You go. No, you go" stalling tactic. "Oh, fine," Odile finally muttered, entering the colonel's office. It wasn't as if Harper was going to phaser the both of them. Or skin them. Or spread-eagle them to the viewscreen. Right? JoNs put her paws up halfway in the air, and muttered to Condacin’s back. "You are just the right parameters for a shield." She turned, pinning them both with a cold stare. "At last they arrive," she commented neutrally. "Aye, Colonel." Suddenly, she felt ice forming in her veins. JoNs quietly adopted a relaxed parade rest. Was it cold in here? "So." The colonel looked them over. "Would either of you care to explain which part of "security lock-down" you have trouble comprehending?" "It wasn't Commander JoN's' fault, Ma'am," Condacin replied quickly, unexpectedly. "I further request that she be taken out of reprimand for this incident. "The last time I checked, Lieutenant Condacin," Harper said coldly, "the Lieutenant Commander was the chief of security, and as such, in charge of granting access to the brig." "Indeed. And she believed the access she was granting was legitimate." That took some serious guts. Harper stared at Condacin for a moment, flabbergasted by the bald-faced lie. "Unless you have taken to dressing up as me or Colonel Day, Lieutenant, I doubt that." A feline ear silently flipped back, as in asking for permission to speak. Harper glanced at the Caitian, one eyebrow lifted. Kansas cleared her throat in a purring trill. "Sir. Despite the best efforts of the Lieutenant, " she nodded toward Odile, "I was well aware of what I was authorizing. Rather, de-authorizing." "Well, at least one of my officers is honest with me." She gave Odile a sharp look, then returned her attention to Kansas. "And why did you feel this was a good decision?" "To possibly glean more tactical information from the prisoner; we were marginally successful, as our report showed." "And you consulted neither Day nor myself -- why?" "I knew what your answers would be," Odile cut in. JoNs flashed a warning glance at Condacin. Her feline eyes clearly telegraphed 'ix-nay on the foot in mouth-ay'. Her face darkened. "Clearly you didn't, Lieutenant, as I would have authorized such a visit -- by Security." The Caitian cleared her throat. "...Ma'am, we did not consult...rather I did not consult you or Colonel Day because Sin seemed to make some headway with her first round of questions. It was prudent to give it a second try." "That explains why you felt she should do the questioning," Harper pointed out, "not why you didn't clear it through us." "Ma'am, I have no excuse for not informing you or Colonel Day; I merely went with the moment so to speak." The colonel folded her arms. "Impulsiveness is not a trait I like to see in my chief of security." "Yes ma'am. Apologies ma'am." The blue eyes narrowed, judging whether she was being facetious. Then they swung to Condacin. "And you, Lieutenant?" "Colonel?" "What have you got to say for yourself?" "The ends justified the means?" A low murmured purr of agreement met with that statement. "The ends, in this case," Harper said, a hint of a snap in her tone, "are hardly impressive. And given that you had no reason to believe that a legitimate interview would be denied, I hardly find that argument compelling! JoNs's right eye twitched and her left ear flipped back at the hard tone. Odile's eyes darkened. "Considering the way this entire matter is being handled, I didn't have the slightest idea what to believe with regard to the interview. Colonel." JoNs interrupted. "Sin, do not let your personal feelings regarding Noleph creep in..." "I don't believe I care for your tone, Lieutenant." Condacin waved off the Caitian and came damned near glowering at Harper, not replying. The Caitian huffed. "The situation is being handled fine Odile. Noleph is a rat bastard who just happens to have a diploma in the fine art of manipulation and tugging at heart strings." "Argue the matter on your own time," Harper cut in. "I don't want to hear it. The decision's been made." "And it doesn't matter a damn to you that he's providing us with legitimate information? Wait. I forgot. You don't believe him." Odile's rational consciousness kicked in, and she closed her eyes for a long few seconds. "That. Will. Do." The colonel's tone had taken on depths of temperature not usually found outside of deep space. "You're both on report, and you're confined to quarters when not on-duty. For starters. I imagine Colonel Day will have something to say about the blatant disregard of her authority, as well." Kansas spoke quietly into the void. "...the Selshan truly has no reason to lie to us now Colonel; I believe the information he gave Sin and I to be tactically legitimate and useable." Harper glared at the Caitian. "And we'll use it." "You're welcome," Condacin breathed, barely audible. A small - though weak - smile played at the Caitians muzzle. Thunderclouds visibly rolled in on the colonel's face. "If I were you, Lieutenant, I'd be counting myself lucky not to be sitting in the cell next door." No reply. Odile stared forward, at attention and staunch-faced. JoNs ran a paw through her copper mane, the nervous energy manifesting itself in the action. "Dismissed," Harper bit out, turning away from the pair." Kansas cleared her throat. "Colonel?" "Our decision to do what we did did not come lightly - please understand that." She glanced back at the security officer, weighing possible responses. Finally she shook her head. "You're dismissed, Commander," she repeated. The golden furred feline merely inclined her head in respect to the ships commanding officer and beat a retreat from the Ready Room, giving Condacin the 'are you coming?' eye as she went. Odile nodded, but waved her out with the "right there" look in her eyes. JoN's went back on the bridge, but leaned into the shut entryway, one ear pressed against the cool surface to eavesdrop. Harper glared at Condacin. "Hearing problems, Lieutenant?" Odile considered, and shook her head, but didn't make an immediate motion to leave. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I didn't have a choice." Her voice had lost its edge. "You could have talked to us." "How could I have known that? Neither of you've been particularly swayed by my requests lately." It wasn't confrontational this time, just matter of fact. "You haven't made requests lately," Harper replied heatedly. "You've just blundered about doing your own thing." "Would the results have been any different if I hadn't?" "Which result?" she countered. "Noleph going back to his people, or you being confined to quarters? The latter certainly might have been affected." "Noleph," she replied, quietly. "No," Harper replied, in the same tone. "I see." Odile sighed. "Then I suppose there's nothing more to be said." "Again, sorry, Sir," Odile replied. Her hand reached to touch the knife that wasn't there, and then fell back to her side as she turned to leave. "Sin." Harper's voice halted her. "Where's your dagger?" Odile didn't look back. "In my safe," she replied, tensely. "What safe?" she persisted. "And why aren't you wearing it?" Odile's eyes were sad as she looked back at the Marine. "My office's safe. I'm not wearing it because it's broken, Colonel." Harper froze. "Broken? Oh, stars -- O'd'yl --” "Yes, broken. Into quite a few small pieces. It doesn't matter, Sir," she dismissed, bravely. "Don't worry about it." "Of course it matters," she countered immediately. "Grozit, O'd'yl, that blade was everything to you!" She came over, putting a hand on her prickly friend's shoulder. "What happened?" The Xenexian's veneer shattered much like the blade, and her lip quivered. "I was frustrated, Charlie. It's in a report -- one of the juniors was giving me lip, and with the argument about Noleph and... and... and then I snapped... and... and then I broke it." "Oh, gods, Sin." She was quiet for a moment, her fingers tightening around Odile's shoulder. "I'm sorry." "Nothing that can be done now. Someday, maybe I'll have it repaired. But what's done is done." She sighed, looked Harper head on. 'It's been a horrible week all around." "I can imagine," she replied, "and I'm sorry to add to it." "It's okay..." Odile replied. "I don't mind confinement," she admitted, "but don't up my punishment as a result of that. All I've been doing is sitting in my office or in my quarters, with the status quo, anyway." Odile looked down at the worn deck plating. "If you're not too angry, maybe you could come by a little later for a bit of coffee -- or maybe a stronger drink. A small drink," O'd'yl added. "When I get off-duty," Charlie promised. "I've got a bottle of Kriosian spice wine packed away -- I'll bring it." "That'd be nice, Charlie." She offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry for my part in all this, too. I guess there's no easy way through any of this, is there?" Harper shook her head. "No, Sin," she said sadly. "There're no easy choices here."

JoNs stood nearby the cell, watching both Condacin and Noleph carefully; her phaser was out and drawn, right at Noleph’s head. "Sir," Odile said, quietly. "Is being so... forward that necessary?" "Yes." Noleph lay on the bunk, his head still aching from that other woman's... whatever it was. He did his best to ignore the furry one and the one in blue. Without further argument that, after all, the forcefields were up, Odile sighed, leaned against the wall just to the right of the cell. "Noleph?" she called out, quietly. Without opening his eyes, the Selshan replied irritably, "What?" The furry one backed off a bit, but the phaser did not waver. "I came to talk to you again. I've spoken to my superiors about you, passed on what you told me." He cracked one eye open slightly. "That would be why my head aches, I suppose?" JoNs's green eyes shifted from the prisoner to Sin and back; she made no comment regarding what had transpired between Noleph and Day. Odile glanced at the Caitian in confusion, her forehead furrowed as she peered in at the Selshan. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned. "I imagine I will live long enough to attend my execution," Noleph replied dryly. He opened his eyes with a sigh, turning towards her. "What is it?" "I spoke to the two in charge," she replied neutrally, devoid of emotion. "It was determined that you'll be turned over to the Selshan authorities." "Yes, I gathered that," he replied. "Though it's nice of you to tell me directly, as neither of them bothered to. Was that all?" He made to turn away again. "I wanted to apologize for it." Her voice broke a little. "I did everything I could to prevent it." The Caitian security chief looked at Odile askance for a second, surprised at the display of emotion. "Sin, don't shed any tears, it's really not worth it at this point." Odile glanced at her with a dark look touched with warning, but otherwise ignored the comment. "I'm sorry," she readdressed the Selshan. "I'm touched," Noleph replied. He shifted on the bunk. "You know, if you were really feeling remorseful, you might find a cot long enough for me. Might as well spend my last days comfortably, eh?" Okay, enough of this. He's starting to bait. Kansas let loose with a gentle growl that carried within the confines of the brig. "Mister Noleph, yes I will be honest and confirm that your days with us are numbered. We need more information; that is the bottom line.” He eyed the furry one. "And you decided to be nice about getting it, this time?" "...let’s just say I'm not going to get...rough." "And I only want one thing - can you give us any information on the movements of your Soltan ships? So we can avoid them?" It was a blatant lie, but one good turn deserved another. Certain he would get no peace until he answered, Noleph sighed. "I wouldn't know," he explained gently, as if speaking to a child. "They don't keep traitors up-to-date on military movements." "Surely you have some idea of where the Soltan caste patrols? I mean, all traitor movements do have some kind of information network." "Wherever my people's interests lie," Noleph said. "There will always be Soltans." Kansas merely stayed silent, a thoughtful look settling on her feline features. Odile, who'd been quiet, put a hand on the security officer's arm. "Can you tell us anything more about them? Anything at all?" He looked at them silently for a long moment, and then shook his head. "What more is there you would know?" "Weaknesses, perhaps?" "I don't know." A low murmured growl of displeasure issued forth from the furry one. "Kansas," Odile hushed. "You're sure?" "I'm not military," he pointed out. "Nor am I an engineer." "You're a rebel, and sometimes that can be better than either." The lieutenant commander glanced at Odile before her gaze latched back onto Noleph. "We need to wrap this up Sin; we can't dally in here forever." "You probably know more about them than I do," Noleph admitted. "We don't deal much with them on Shel'shaala. She glanced at JoN's with a long face. "Kitty... two minutes alone with him? You can watch on the security monitors. Please -- I won't do anything stupid." "Oh, hell no." "Noleph," she addressed, mentally ignoring the Caitian for a moment, "you know you're going to die. I'm sorry, and I've tried every damned tactic to avoid it. But the fact remains, and whatever you tell us could help your movement. You don't have any reason to lie. Are there more of your people, and would they be potentially willing to help us?" "Of course there are more of us," he said somewhat scornfully. "A movement of one wouldn't be much of a movement." "Would they help us?" she repeated, sharply. His eyes were wary and his lips thinned. "If it wouldn't bring the government down on them... perhaps." "Would you tell us how to locate them?" Now he was giving her a look that suggested he thought her slightly insane. "We don't have a mailing address." "I'm sure you have some sort of central rendezvous point, or way to identify yourselves." "What part of 'underground movement' is too difficult for you to wrap your mind around?" Kansas merely stood, arms crossed over her chest, tail swishing, content to let her partner in crime run with the astro ball. "You're not a fool, Noleph. Obstinacy won't help you. Please. I'm only trying to help both of us." The feline spoke in a low tone. "We need to call it a session, now, especially if we are going to doubletalk. I rigged the brig cameras to go off line for twenty minutes only; the aux power relays will kick in soon Odile." Noleph sighed heavily, finally responding. "Mostly we talk through the global net, on a hidden line," he said. "You can use my ID, if you can hack into it without raising every red flag." Rattling off a string of numbers and letters, he gave Odile a narrow look. "Think you can handle that?" Two feline ears flew back in shock. She repeated it back a bit slower, but without omission, glancing at the Caitian. "Yeah. I think I can. Anything else I should know?" "Don't get caught, and don't get them caught, or I swear I'll haunt you." With that, he rolled over on the too-short bunk, the conversation clearly over, at least from his perspective. JoNs jerked her head toward the outer offices, a clear indication for Odile to follow her. Odile swallowed hard, her jaw quivering, and followed the cat, stopping before she reached the door. "Thank you," she whispered, just loud enough so she knew he would hear. "... so much. The gods' blessings on you," she said, not allowing herself to look at him again before leaving the brig. Once they were out of earshot of Noleph, Kansas spoke quietly to her fellow officer. "Okay, we have some more tangible information that may give us a lead on getting home. We are going to compose a report, then both of us are also going to digitally sign off on it. Then, I don’t know about you, but I am going to the farthest section of the ship or something... and, like...hide." Odile didn't exactly reply, but she did mutter. "If that's not someone useful to have around and take a few risks over..." She shook herself. "Right. Digital signature. Got it." Scrambling for a padd, she made a quick note of the code before it was forgotten. "...I still say he's a rat." A paw tiredly wiped at her face. "Gods, they really don't cover this sort of thing in command school..." She began to walk towards her office. "Send it to me." Odile headed out, headed for her own office -- or was that the hills? "I'll sign off on it as soon as I get it. I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight. And Kitty -- senior officer or no, I'm taking the blame for this." Kitty paused in the doorway to her office. "Last I checked, I did have free will and a perfectly functional section of the brain devoted to reason." "You don't need to go down in flames, too, Kitty." "Sin, don’t make me hug you again." It was probably just overactive imaginations and guilty consciences that made both of them think they heard a woman's voice yell, "They did WHAT?!" Probably.

Kansas stalked down the corridor, and it did look kind of odd, her being on all fours and in civilian attire to boot. She wasn't exactly mad, either, just very much in a low profile mood. The feline stopped just inside the main entrance to the sciences offices, sniffing the air slightly for a familiar scent. It was there, and a midshipman pointed the way to the office where, undoubtedly, Odile had holed up in her little lair. Of course, the chief would have disagreed -- she was working, after all, not moping about like she could have been. JoNs nodded to the middy and then stood upright, walking with a predatory ease to the main office. She chimed for entrance. "Delivery for Ms. Condacin!" A couple of the officers on duty gave her a funny look. "Oh, come in, Commander," Odile greeted. Her office was neat -- the walls had no damage, and although a few bits of statuary had been swept into the nearest garbage receptacle, the recent carnage wasn't evident. A feline head popped through the doorway, sporting a small smile. "Drop the rank; this is purely an off the record visit. If I wasn't worried about our track record with alcohol, I would have brought some." She moved easily into the office, sliding into one of the chairs facing the desk. She reached to pull the gauze wrapped dagger - rather, what remained of it - from the back of her waistband, depositing it gently on the desk in front of Condacin. "Ah," Odile replied, simply, stroking the simply-wrapped knife carefully through its bindings. "Thank you, Kitty. You don't know how much this means to me." The Caitian settled back in her chair, crossing her cat-shaped hind legs and resting her paws on a knee. "What are your plans now?" She indicated the broken dagger with a nod of her head. The Xenexian pursed her lips. "I don't know yet. It's not religious or ceremonial, needing blessing -- but the metals and alloys are fragile. A Xenexian forge could potentially repair it. Or," she muttered, softly, "a Danteri one. But that won't be happening." "...not exactly close to either place are we?" "No," she replied, quietly. "But we will be, someday. Until then, I'll keep it in my safe." "I wish you well in the hunt of the re-forge O'd'yl," the Caitian managed an accurate pronunciation of the name, if a bit mangled, "but, I do have some minor business to ask you about." "Of course." An ear flipped back. "What in the Holy Rings of Betazed were you doing in my brig interrogating my prisoner?" "I wasn't interrogating him," she replied calmly, her face open and honest. "I wanted a bit of cultural insight. Nothing tactical, and I didn't coerce or torture him." JoNs was open and calm as well. "Come on Odile -- work with me here. Feline, territorial, likes to be informed. That's all I ask. At least you could have cleared it through one of my Lieutenants." "Well, I didn't know. Besides, I didn't want to bother you when you weren't well. I didn't mean harm. No problems there, Kitty?" "Aye we're good," she let the 'no harm' comment pass; Sin might not have harmed Noleph, but someone else sure did. It wasn't Kansas's place to spread that information around though. "My only other concern is...will you try it again?" Her head cocked to one side. "I'd like to, if you'd allow it. The rest of the ship thinks I've lost it entirely, but... I'd at least like to talk to him again. Tell him what was decided. He deserves that much, even if he deceived us." Condacin shrugged, a little dejectedly. "He's all but condemned." "I flat out admit I don't trust the veken..." Kansas paused, reigning in her temper, "I don't trust him at all. He used the entire crew, made us do his dirty work and just up and killed a couple hundred of his own compatriots," she stopped herself again with an annoyed shake of her head. "Look, let's just say I've washed my paws of the whole mess with Noleph. As for you seeing him again...Sin, you know. Can you imagine the fall out if I let you?" "I keep having this image of myself being the new bridge upholstery and you spread-eagled across the main viewer..." "This whole mess isn't right. You and I both know it. He's not a telekinetic -- letting me talk to him won't hurt anything. And you know I didn't cause trouble the last time." "...you seriously think that another round of questions will benefit our situation in some way..." The Xenexian breathed deeply, and looked at JoN's with intense, sad eyes. "No, I don't. But damn if I don't feel bad about our part in this. He's... he's not so evil if you talk to him. Misguided, yes, but aren't we all, about one thing or another?" She almost chuckled, darkly. "Here, again I plead his case. But Kitty -- you can leave a guard with me if you don't trust my motives. I won't try to help him escape. I just want to talk to him." "Sin, the brig is in lockdown per orders from Day. If, and that's a big IF, mind you, I let you speak with him again, it would be off the record and after hours, and then I'd have to make the brig recorder 'go offline', " her paws waggled in mid air, "for a bit as well." "Lockdown?" Odile frowned. "Why lockdown? Did he pull something?" With some effort, Kansas kept her features neutral. "Just some extra precautions, I guess you could say. Not my idea, I'm just following the protocol." "I see. Well, then... I'm for after hours. Shift's over pretty soon anyway." Kansas wiped a paw across her face. "If he so much as twitches, I will stun him. And if he hints at anything remotely that can help us in this corridor of space, we need to run with it and report it..." "Of course. I'm fine with that." Odile smiled, that same sadness in place. "Thank you. I mean it -- you didn't have to agree." "See if you can find out more regarding the sway the Selshan have over the Soltan as well. Anything tactical...you understand that Odile?" "Anything at all. Right-o." Kansas put both paws in the air, and started moving them this way and that as if she were a director setting up a head shot for Odile. "...you're going to look good strung up on the viewscreen..." the statement came out deadpan. "You'll make a nice cushion for Medusa." "...twenty two hundred tonight. I'll make sure the offices are clear. We go in, glean what tactical information we can use from that rat bastard, and then get out. No unnecessary lingering." "With that cat-itude, let me do more of the talking?" Odile shook her head. "Gods. I never thought I might be the more level-headed of us." "You were not smack dab in the middle of about a dozen dead Selshan on a ship that had become a floating tomb." "And your people weren't in a situation like his within the past few generations," she commented, a little tersely." A small sigh. "I'm sorry, kitty. I really am. But... let's just agree to disagree about him. I'm not waging another argument about his motives today."

Day stood at the door to her office, monitoring Condacin's progress through the NNC. As she made for the door to exit, Day called to her, "Lieutenant. My office, please." "Ah. Colonel." Odile acknowledged and nodded cordially, approaching the required office swiftly. She waited for Condacin to enter the office, then sat behind her desk, at the same time motioning the Xenexian woman to a chair. "Computer... once again, enact privacy protocols," she said, and gave her authorization. "Now, then, I believe you had a problem?" "Yes. With junior lieutenant Driscol." she replied, neutrally. "Blatant and public insubordination." Day wasn't too amused. "The kind you're familiar with, having done it yourself?" Oh, was this how it was to proceed? How lovely. "My past transgressions are immaterial, Sir." Her voice went carefully icy. "What matters is the here and now." "Oh, I see.. isn't that a little like the Klingon calling the Romulan war-like? Do you have any idea what caused the incident? Attempting to be objective, why did he do it?" Day inquired. "Frankly, Sir, he was telling me how to do my job. When I didn't handle a matter in the way he preferred, he kept pushing and pushing until he finally resorted to a verbal attack." Day raised an eyebrow, "I see. And were you doing your job, Sin? I know this change hasn't been easy for you, becoming an officer and all. Regardless of his actions, and understand that I will handle that matter in a bit, was he warranted in his concern?" She was going for 'calm voice of concern', though with the headache, it may not have quite achieved that aim. "No, Ma'am, he was not," the Xenexian remarked, coolly. "I've been doing my job. Now, I admit that perhaps I wasn't bubbly, but I certainly wasn't rude. He had what he thought was news, and since I had quite a bit on my plate at the moment, I told him to put it in a report for me. I'm not the first chief to do that." Paradox nodded, then immediately regretted the action. She tried hard to keep the wince from her face. "What do you want done?" "I'd like some kind of heavy reprimand in his file." Odile lifted a hand. "Before you tell me it's not fair to judge someone based on one incident, this was major, Sir. We're talking some major attitude issues that manifest themself on the job." Her voice softened. "Gods, Day, you can't even say that about me." "Well, I won't say you don't have attitude issues, but generally you keep them in private. I'm just trying to understand if something specific brought this on... He seems a bit overeagar at times. But to go to out and out insubordination.. that doesn't seem to match his file.." "Personal issues?" Day shrugged, "I don't know... but I think it's worth finding out. Don't get me wrong, Odile, it does not excuse his behavior, but let's try to keep this from escalating, okay?" "He's temporarily relieved. I won't be vengeful, Sir -- it's not my particular style. Not with issues such as this, anyway," the Xenexian quickly amended. "But unless he tries anything further, no more should come of it. Perhaps he needs a counselor?" "Don't we all? I'll speak to him, O'd'yl. In the meantime, why don't you take some time off?" "I'd prefer not, Sir," she said, stiffly. It's easier for me to sort through things when I keep busy and routine-oriented." Odile paused. "Oh yes, that reminds me. Shadow mentioned you'd had some sort of problem? A bit ago? Something to do with power exchange. Perhaps I'm prying, but... I was a little worried." "I'm fine. Just a little problem we had to resolve. So, fine, stick to the job... for now. I'll let you know after I've talked to Lt. Driscol." "Aye, Sir." Odile started to stand, then retook her seat. "One other, brief thing, Colonel?" Day raised an eyebrow. "I know Colonel Harper mentioned she'd speak with you. Did you reach a conclusion about the Selshan, Noleph, yet? Whether or not to return him?" "Yes, we have. Will that be all?" Odile glanced away, her face distant, then rubbed her forehead tiredly. "I see, Sir," she replied, monotonously. "That's all, then, Sir." Day nodded, "I'm sorry, Lt.. But the safety of the ship is on the line. We can't risk that." O'd'yl's jaw visibly tightened, and her eyes were hard when she finally met Day's again. "Am I dismissed, Colonel?" Day sighed, then nodded, "You are dismissed." Odile gave a nod of reply, but paused when she reached the door. "Off the record, Sir?" "Yes?" "You and Harper -- you're making a terrible mistake." "I'm sorry you feel that way. But we have to look after the best interests of the crew, not the desires of one person." "Of course, Sir." Her expression was hollow. "But be careful, Sir? Try not to get in the habit of being responsible for the death of individuals too often." Condacin's eyes darkened. "Ghosts do tend to accrue, Colonel, and whether or not you believe they'll be waiting for you in the afterlife, as I do... they'll be on your conscience until you die. Blood stains, whether or not they come from your own hands, or if you sign the order to have someone killed, are very, very difficult to wipe off." She nodded briskly, and exited the X.O.'s office. "Good day, Colonel," she replied as she left.

The desktop was cleared in a single, sweeping blow. Padds clattered to the floor, and a half-finished raktajino splattered on the wall. Token knick-knacks hit the same bulkhead and shattered, exposing the mindless carvings into the surface that they'd been placed to conceal. Somehow, seeing the gouges just incited the flames searing through the Xenexian, and with force, she slammed one hand into the desk, her jaw trembling with rage. The dull throb the move caused didn't have enough sway to cut through the rouged haze in her mind, and numbly, she slumped between her desk and the chair behind it. This was a nightmare. Why, why, why in the names of every god she'd ever been taught to revere, had she been assigned as department head? It was shockingly, painfully -- no, agonizingly obvious that she wasn't thought competant for the role. She was just some handy substitute. Yes. That was what she was. A stand-in; a substitute for what they'd been lacking come disaster-time. And why, why the hell had Harper picked her? Gods be damned, why didn't she just pick Driscol from the start -- the precious little Academy graduate who seemed to know everything about science, scientific matters, organization, leading a department, giving orders? Maybe then this day would have gone better. Their little Selshan evil baddie would have stayed an evil baddie in everyone's minds, Driscol could have commanded the department as he goddamned saw fit, and Odile... ... Odile could have stayed a petty officer. Oh, who the hell was she kidding -- she still was a petty officer. She was treated as such, wasn't she? The lack of respect in her department was palpable. And when they got back to civilization (which, given their current success rate all around, wasn't a definite), O'd'yl would be more than likely back to Petty Officer. Maybe she'd be lucky and they'd even boost her to First Class. She stood up, paced now, over the rubble of her mangled office, hearing an occasional crushing noise from some broken object under her boot as she traversed the deck-plating. It wasn't as if Harper would be interested in putting in a good word for her now. Asking her department for recommendations -- now there was the first opportunity for a laugh she'd had all day. Yes. O'd'yl of Condacin can't lead. Of course you don't want her as a senior lieutenant. You don't want her in Starfleet at all, actually. She wanted to support a terrorist who killed a shipful of people. Yeah. Her future career was so fracked now that she felt serious need to come up with an alternate plan for the future. Grozit. Pacing only was doing so much good, and that inner, lingering fury was... starting to build again. That stupid, impertinent, malevolent prick -- calling her incompetant in front of her own people. That idiot. If she hadn't possessed the lingering shreds of sanity that'd remained (and there was a majority-part of her that told her she still should), Driscol would have been in the infirmary with a stab wound. Time to deal with that. Jerking her chair roughly to the computer terminal, she slammed her fingers against the controls, typing up a brief, acrid summary of events that'd transpired, firing it off to Day a minute or so after she'd started writing it. So he was an insubordinate, scheming, malevolent fool who apparently thought he'd do better at her job than she. On a normal day, she could accept it. But on top of the rest of the day's stressful debacles... there was still the horrible, horrible pit in her stomach. Harper was going to hate her. No -- scratch that. Harper already did. And this concerned Odile far, far more than she'd ever admit. Going on without the only long-term friend she'd managed to hold onto -- being at odds with her, no less! -- terrified the Xenexian. O'd'yl felt tremendous, horrible guilt for Noleph. Guilt stemming from the fact that he was going to a death sentence, and there wasn't a damned thing she could to to stop it. Noleph, who, despite any assertion she'd make otherwise, despite all the atrocities he'd committed, sounded more like a Xenexian than anyone else not of her species that she'd ever met. Noleph, the terrorist, who she identified with to an uncomfortable level after a brief conversation. Noleph who terrified her by sounding out the rationales she'd have easily made herself were it Xenex at risk. Condacin was shaking, leaning into the cool of the bulkhead in hopes that the chill of metal would pierce through to her temper. Gods be damned. Every last one of them. Every last wisp of deity that had put her in this situation. Let them burn in the hells they ruled over. Odile was blind for a long moment, the inferno of wrath taking hold. Bruised hand curled around her dagger, she lashed out at the wall, driving the blade against the unresponsive surface again and again. Something again snapped, this time literally, and dazed, Odile took a step back. Her knife. It was broken, snapped between hilt and blade. Dropping the cracked bronze hilt, shocked, she stepped back, back towards the door, and breaking into a stride, all but ran. But O'd'yl of Condacin knew -- she couldn't run forever.

Lexia had just left the labs to find Shadow and Aidan was left behind. Her sudden disappearance had infuriated him, his Chief's dismissal had infuriated him, and everybody behaving like mad infuriated him. He kicked his desk and hurt his toe, which infuriated him even more. What on earth had happened to "top priority"? Angrily he tapped his comm badge not caring about Condacin's mood. It was about time the Chief learned to behave like a chief. "Chief, I have news on the Selshan incident." He tried his best not to have his voice betray him and show how angry he was with little success. Disturbed temporarily from her seething, Odile's voice was low, almost monotonously slow. "Put it, Driscol, in a report, and send it to me." "Chief, with all due respect," actually he wasn't in the mood for respect, "this was top priority a couple of hours ago and now you just want me to put it in a report?" Slowly but surely he felt like throwing things. "It can go," Odile surprised herself with how even her voice was, "in a report. I've had new information with the Selshan which I'm... processing at the moment." "Fine Lieutenant Condacin, it will go in a report, as long as you explain to Colonel Harper why she didn't have the results any sooner. I would hate to think that your... processing would reflect badly on my reputation." Why couldn't he just have a normal Chief who actually cared about the department and didn't hate his job, or the Colonels. "Lieutenant..." Odile, as she'd found herself over the years, had two breaking points. When she snapped that first time, it was fiery and hot, with woe be to any he or she that encountered her. The second was a blue flame that flickered and flickered, but when it lashed out, it was even more of an explosion than the first. She was painfully becoming aware that she was approaching the cyan flame, and quickly. Snappishly, she replied, "I don't give a damn if you're worried about with your reputation. Write the damned report, send it to me, and you'll have done your duty. Your responsibility will be done, and your 'reputation' will be intact. If it's late for the colonels' liking, the onus will fall on me, not you." Aidan was glad Condacin couldn't see him roll his eyes. She just didn't get it. "Fine, I shall let the Colonels know that we could have proved this to be an unfortunate accident to the Selshan as they start ripping the 'Court apart then." He threw a PADD in the direction of the monitor that displayed the Selshan blood cell. "Mind your attitude, Lieutenant, when you're speaking your superiors. I don't like your flippancy or your tone." Odile threw her knife on the desk with a clang that didn't quite register over the comm. "If you want to be treated like a superior maybe you should start acting like one." There, he had said it and he knew he might very well lose a pip for that one, but she had pushed him just that wee bit too far. There was no reply over the comm. There was no reply for a good minute. Then Odile emerged from her office, golden eyes lit with a fire none in Science had witnessed. "Tell that to my face, Lieutenant," she snapped, approaching him, standing in that nebulous area of "too close". "Repeat that to my face." Aidan was a bit taller than she was and looked down into her eyes, not flinching, not backing away. He spoke very slowly and distinctly. "I said, that if you wanted to be treated like a superior you might want to start acting like one, ma'am." He was too angry now to consider any consequences right now. Her hand twitched around the hilt of her knife. "Get out. Get out of my Lab. You're relieved from duty indefinitely." "Fine! Don't forget you have a report to write." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the lab. What a great day he was having. "Oh, I won't," she hissed under her breath, stalking back into her office after a decided "nothing happened here" glare around the Lab.