Thomas Jaruq

Computer, begin recording duty log for Stardate 37908.20. It does appear as if we're saved. The doctors have determined that the virus which infected the citizens of the Lodi colony as well as Arcadia's away team is only effective in the presence of Lodinite. I started feeling better as soon as I stepped off the shuttle from Lodi, but I thought it was only relief at being back on the ship. Sure enough, all of the infected crew are getting better, and, thanks to the evacuation, the colonists are recovering as well. There are now 900 Lodi colonists being supported by a portable atmospheric generator on a Lodinite-free asteroid in the Granger belt. The generator is capable of supporting no more than 1,000, but 900 is enough to bring Arcadia down to 4,900 passengers, just under our capacity. This does not eliminate our problems. For one thing, 4,900 passengers is exacting a heavy toll on the ship's resources. Life support is back up to nominal, barely, but other considerations include space, replication for food, water, and medicine, and the fact that there are 4,900 strangers on the ship and strangers love to ... touch things. Whenever even 5 strangers are on the ship, things end up getting broken. I'd advise that we get these people off the ship quickly. For now, limits will need to be imposed on replicator usage. The 900 colonists on the Jaruq asteroid (as I've decided to name it in honor of myself) have enough breathable air. However, our problem is that they lack food and water. We have enough equipment on the ship to establish a local replication system, but it would only have enough power to support 200, maybe 300, people. After the incident on Lodi, I'm assuming that many of these people are already malnourished. They need supplies, and the only way they're getting enough for everyone is if we ship them down. That's not to mention that many are probably in need of medical care. I would advise that Sickbay set up a few triage units down there. The cargo bays are all stocked up with portable triage units. Now I hear that the Lodi colonists do not want to leave the Granger belt. Unless science can find some way to purify the atmosphere of Lodi, I'm afraid they may have no choice. We face enough difficulties merely sustaining a camp of 900 of them. The only way 30,000 of them are remaining here is if new colony facilities are constructed on Jaruq or the facilities on Lodi are disassembled and transferred. Either process would require several months and a fully certified construction crew. Their only option is to accept temporary lodging at the nearest starbase until such a construction is completed. Another matter still unresolved is apprehending any culprits still hanging around. Lo'Ami reported that several of the conspirators were killed in the Lodi science directorate, but we still suspect that Tepi, the water plant keeper, was involved. He is still unaccounted for. I've given security my best description of the old man, and also suggested that they look into the intelligence report uncovered by Garnoopy. The Commander Tepi who deserted Starfleet was in his 30's, but old man Tepi, if involved, fits his profile. Expertise in engineering and genetics would have been valuable assets not only in pulling off this conspiracy, but in altering his appearance. If he's being covered by an active changeling net, we can use internal sensors to look for its signature. There might also have been surgery or even genetic mutation involved--medical, perhaps, could detect signs of that. Either way, everyone should keep a look out for this man, based on my description and the visual record of the Starfleet Tepi. Of course, there's a good chance he's on one of the colony freighters, which would rather effectively squash our chances of apprehending him. While I would advise against any future joint missions between security and engineering, I would like to put in commendations for my own officers, Seiben and Trichon. Throughout the mission to Lodi, they were both cool and intelligent under pressure (more than I can say for some others, hahum). They offered valuable input toward solving the mission objectives. And, finally, they made the ultimate sacrifice, plummeting themselves into the depths of Lodi's water reclamation system, risking their own health against the ravaging virus in the murky waters for the sake of the Lodi colonists. Of course, they could have been more careful about watching their steps down there, but the noble intentions remained. They've also been very helpful in the efforts to evacuate the colony. If we live through this (i.e., if Stardust doesn't ram us into the first ship that's crew insults Starfleet) I'm going to induct them both into the Arcadia Engineering Honor Corps. Computer, begin recording personal log for Stardate 37908.20. Trichon and Seiben will, of course, be inducted into the Arcadia Engineering Poker Club, but the Captain doesn't know about that and we're going to make sure he doesn't find out.

PADD, begin recording duty log for Stardate 37908.13. There was a word I heard used many times in the Academy--snafu. Having grown up on Betazed, I wasn't familiar with the term. At first, I didn't even know that it was not a word at all, but an acronym, which I will not translate here so as to maintain my professional dignity. It refers, as I learned, to a normal situation all ... gone awry, often resulting in abject failure of a routine mission. My class, of course, encountered many snafu's in the Academy simulators; being the vast, unpredictable, and oftentimes cruel entity that it is, the universe requires "Snafu Training" of all its explorers. The universe has seen fit this day to throw Arcadia a real snafu; it is my first. We came here to the Granger asteroid belt to inspect and, as it turned out, to repair a Federation colony's water reclamator. Science came to investigate the water contamination and medical came to heal the infected colonists. All of these initial objectives were met. Stage 1 of the snafu was initiated by the fourth component of our little away mission--the security detachment. As the initial objectives were completed, suspicions of conspiracy arose. These suspicions, of course, should have been turned over to security for further investigation. The problem arose in that security was not available. They were too busy being pummeled and/or arrested in the local bar. What security was doing in the bar in the first place is a questionable matter in itself, considering that they were very much on duty. I only hope they were gathering intelligence. Regardless, a fight ensued which resulted in the away team leader, Commander Stardust, being critically wounded, and the marine commander, Colonel Quest, being arrested. Highly unfortunate that the two people responsible for controlling the security force were involved in the brawl. Security's absence became more pronounced when my engineering team was ejected from the water plant by the keeper, Tepi, a new virus was released from the water plant, and Doctor Telano was shot. This was stage 2 of the snafu, which scrambled all of the initial mission objectives. Reentering the plant became a top priority, but we could do nothing until security arrived. We, perhaps, should have been more initiative. We finally gained security support in Marine Lieutenants Black and Duncan. This support wasn't as helpful as I would have imagined. While I was pooling information with Lieutenant Lo'Ami, an explosion occurred at the Science directorate which initiated the final phase of the biological attack. Ironically, this could have been our saving grace. The explosion disrupted power at the water plant, causing the forcefield protecting the plant to drop, and finally giving us access. Unfortunately, rather than doing things inconspicuously, the marines demonstrated their usual bravado, rushing in with guns raised. Lieutenant Duncan then decided, without first consulting myself or Lo'Ami, to head for the local power station, where he planned to cut power to the plant completely. He took most of the marines with him. The exits from the plant were left unguarded, and the facilities were not properly searched. These oversights may have given Tepi the window he needed to escape. Most unfortunate; if Tepi is the one who created and spread the virus, he may be the only person who can cure it. The snafu had reached its fruition. One cannot deny a security force's usefulness. If anything, this mission was a reminder of that fact. All the signs pointed to a major criminal conspiracy to infect an entire colony with a deadly pathogen, but there was nothing to be done about it with most of our security support under house arrest on Arcadia. I find myself questioning whether a marine contingent should act as security on a Starfleet vessel. They lack discipline, have little regard for Starfleet protocol and authority, and look down upon us "fleeters." That's not to mention their desire to solve every problem by blowing something up (an engineer's nightmare, to be sure). They're excellent combat specialists, no doubt, but would a Starfleet security detachment have had better luck uncovering the conspiracy? Of course, we'll all have to face the consequences. It just so happens that mission failure could translate to death. Unless I'm much mistaken, the entire team has now been exposed to a fatal virus. All this from investigation of a contaminated water supply. A snafu of this degree could certainly earn a place in the archive of Academy simulations. If I live through this, I may just begin working on the simulation myself. The colony's now being evacuated. Hopefully Tepi will turn up somewhere in the migration. My top priority right now is to get Trichon and Seiben medical assistance. I sent them into the sewers before the bomb disrupted the forcefield around the plant and they both ingested contaminated water, which can only make the infection worse. They may just end up being the first casualties ...

PADD, begin recording duty log for Stardate 37908.06. We finally were able to join up with some security support in Marine Lieutenant Black. Despite wanting to work a device with a trigger into every problem, Mr. Black has been helpful in interpreting legal protocol for us. He gave us his assurance that it is within our rights to break back into the Lodi water plant. Well, OK, not his assurance. He did seem a bit indecisive about it. It was more like a guess, really. But if he was wrong, and we end up getting arrested, we can simply place the blame on him for giving us poor advice. Security does have its uses. Unfortunately, even with the legal cushion Lieutenant Black provided, we were unable to regain access to the plant. Breaking the seal on the door was no problem for Trichon and Seiben. It was the forcefield contained within the walls of the plant that thwarted our efforts. Trichon suggested modifying the frequency of the phasers to disperse the field--a standard Starfleet procedure. That the field resisted that standard procedure implies that it isn't such a standard field; the generators have been modified from the colony specs. This fact, coupled with the old man's use of site-to-site transportation, implies that Tepi is hiding more than even I suspected. Not all is lost, however. We have a backup plan. Trichon and Lo'Ami (who joined us with his science team) suggested using the water transfer system to our advantage. Indeed, the forcefield surrounding the plant doesn't cover the floor. Our most sure way into the plant would seem to be the underground route. The network of pipes leading to and from the colony establishments is connected to the water plant by three primary shafts, ranging from three meters to six meters in diameter. The shafts, I assume, serve the additional purpose of providing access for maintenance of the water transfer network. Each shaft has two access points--one at the edge of the colony, and one in the water plant itself. The shafts shouldn't be sealed off at the plant end, as that would also block the flow of water. Our scans have only offered vague pictures of these shafts. I'm really not sure what it's like down there. Seiben mentioned something about "sewers," a method of water reclamation once used on Earth that sounds, by his description, as if it was remarkably unsanitary. I'm hoping the engineers who installed the water distribution net here decided to utilize more modern design elements ...

PADD, begin recording duty log for Stardate 37907.30. Now I'm really getting annoyed. The marines getting themselves into legal trouble provided enough of a headache for me, but this old man in charge of the water plant has me wishing they were back down here on the asteroid. My team has now been transported and locked out of the plant. This is quite shocking. If there *is* transporter technology down here on the colony, why would there be access in the water reclamation plant? The last hour has seen some new concerns. For one thing, an intelligence report from Arcadia points to a Tepi who has been declared missing for two months by the Federation. The report indicates he has degrees in both medicine and engineering (a busy fellow) with specialization in genetic research. It also points to a human in his mid thirties. Whether this Tepi and the Tepi running the plant are the same man is not certain, but the guy who just kicked us out of the plant looked to be over a hundred. If this guy is some sort of genetics expert, he would probably have a more youthful appearance. But I'm not to be quoted on that. Anything to do with genetics gives me the quivers. Another concern arose as Trichon and Seiben conducted a second inspection of the facility. One of the conduits leading from the filters to the storage tanks was punctured and wrapped with what appeared to be duct tape. Seiben assured me that the puncture wasn't there before, but it may have just been hidden from him. This "duct tape" somehow managed to mask my tricorder scans, concealing the puncture completely. It's only barely visible to the naked eye. A good thing it was spotted this time around, but it only raises new questions. If this were the point of entry of the bacteria, why damage the filters? And what kind of material was it to thwart my scans? I would have loved to look into it further, but that was when I was plucked out of the facility by old man Tepi. I still can't conclude whether this plant operator is up to something or is just being protective of his territory. Being protective of one's territory I can certainly understand. But no matter what his intentions, keeping us out of the plant is causing great harm to our investigations and, possibly, to the colonists. I believe this latest act is grounds enough for security to get down here and remove this man from his post. I'm tempted to crack open the door's access panel, break the seal, and do this myself, but I'm not about to break any laws and start an incident. Security at least needs to be present. Why did they *have* to get themselves arrested? The suspicions about Tepi's identity also need to be looked into. Doctor Telano's people can't provide much help as their hands are full with either the infected colonists or the injured marines, but I hope one of them will become available soon. If this is indeed the geneticist Tepi, a medical scan would probably yield surprising results.

PADD, begin recording duty log for Stardate 37907.23. My team has completed our inspection of the Lodi colony's water reclamation plant. Or, at least, we were close to doing so when we received an emergency call from the ship indicating that Commander Stardust had been wounded. Apparently, there has been some sort of ... incident ... in the Lodi bar. I couldn't get much out of the local police force dispatched to the scene, but I'm sure the marines are to blame. Anyway, our team successfully determined how hazardous agents were able to make it past the reclamator's filtration system. All three of the circuit boards (primary and two backups) controlling the system were severely damaged. This wasn't just a short-out or erosion from overuse; it was clearly sabotage. The major question, now, is how did this escape detection? Our scans show that the boards had been out of commission for two weeks, but the whole system should have been placed on automatic standby as soon as the breakdown occurred. In inspecting the main control room, I may have found the answer. My diagnostics of the reclamation systems all came up green. According to the computer, the filtration system was working just fine. Obviously, the computer had been tampered with. I would have investigated this possibility more thoroughly if not for the call from the ship. Another concern was the old man who claimed to be the administrator of the plant, Tepi. He seemed slightly senile, and was unwilling to answer my questions. It is highly unusual that the filter problem went unnoticed for so long, under Tepi's nose, even despite the computer tampering. It should have been his responsibility to regularly inspect every component of the plant, especially after the water contamination started. His negligence offers two possibilities--either he's hiding something, or he's simply an inept old man who was given his position by someone else who is hiding something. His reluctance to answer my questions begs suspicion. If only my Betazoid talents were stronger, I could have been certain. The consequences of the damaged filter hardly need mentioning. Not only has wastewater from the colony not been properly cleansed for two weeks, but anyone with harmful intent could easily have slipped a toxin through the reclamator. As I stated in a previous report, with this system accepting wastewater from every establishment in the colony, it would have been as easy as dropping the toxin down any drain or flushing it down any toilet. We've replaced the damaged circuit boards and the system is now working just fine, but if the saboteur is still hanging around ... This leads into yet another hint of shady goings-on that we have to consider. Trichon talked to the old man, Tepi, and received a PADD from him. It shows evidence of a break-in which occurred at the plant two weeks ago, exactly when the circuit boards appear to have been damaged. I don't know what to make of this. The old man may just be trying to throw us off course, or he may just be as incompetent at keeping intruders out of his plant as he is at keeping it working properly. Our security detachment will need to look into this. If they're still available, that is. Commander Stardust is out of the picture now, and I'm willing to bet that the marines are just as unable to help. I'm on my way to the Lodi jail to see if they were responsible for the barroom brawl... PADD, continue recording duty log for Stardate 37907.23. Well, so much for that. I'm here outside the Lodi jail. According to the keepers, the marines were, indeed, arrested at the bar. I can't even consult them, as a representative from Arcadia has already come down and retrieved them. I'm not sure who can and can't be trusted in this colony, so I don't want to go flashing my suspicions around to the police. My only hope is that there's at least one marine down here who was smart enough to not get arrested...

Computer, begin recording duty log for Stardate 37907.16. I have arrived on the asteroid with Lieutenant Seiben and we have hooked up with Lieutenant Hawkins and Ensign Light. The mission is fairly routine. We are to check the colony's water reclamation plant for faults. A mechanical problem is but one of many possible causes of the contamination of the colony's water supply. Hopefully, this routine systems check won't turn into a repair job. As there are no natural water sources nearby, the reclamation system is the colony's only source of drinking water. It's a very similar system to what we have on board Arcadia. It receives wastewater from industrial conduits linked to the colony's homes and other establishments, filters out the waste materials, and transfers the cleaned-up product to the storage tanks. From the tanks, the water runs back through a separate network of conduits to processing units in each building. The outgoing water supply could be tainted by punctures in the supply conduits, but that would only cause contamination in select areas of the colony. This contamination is system-wide, which indicates that any mechanical errors, or even sabotage, would be with the actual reclamation plant, the heart of the water distribution network. As Seiben suggested, the area we'll focus on will be the filtration system. Anything from a malfunction in the software controlling the filters to erosion of the filters themselves could be to blame. We'll need to check everything. If this isn't a mechanical problem, I can think of two ways that someone could contaminate the water supply. One would be to introduce a harmful agent directly into the storage tanks. We'll check them for any signs of intrusion. Another would be to simply drop the agent down any sink or toilet in the colony, from where it would eventually reach the tanks, but this would require the agent's making it past the filtration system. The perpetrator could achieve this by tampering with the control software, which we will also look into, or simply using an agent that can avoid conventional detection, a possibility which science and medical will need to investigate. I had a chance to talk to Seiben on the way here about heading up a new engineering subdepartment I have in mind. Its goal will be to optimize, upgrade, and expand Arcadia's systems and facilities, and maybe even install some new ones. It's the sort of thing that starship design teams frown upon, but I'm willing to take the heat when it comes. The principle is that Arcadia's a fine ship, but it can be improved. It always can. No ship can reach perfect, but we can make every effort possible to approach it. When I look at Seiben, I see someone who's hard-working, determined to meet his goals, and, most importantly, creative. He's perfect for this job, which, above all else, requires someone who can think outside the box. He and his colleagues would need to study ship schematics, receive reports and requests from other departments, and even personally inspect every corner of the ship that time allows to determine what sort of enhancements Arcadia could use. If anything they come up with is cleared by the command staff and myself, they will then need to draft blueprints and construction manuals based on any spare materials we have on board. Finally, of course, they would actually perform the construction or upgrade. I've always felt as if engineering could use a lounge, not only for recreational purposes, but for department conferences. Too often we have to stand around the situation monitors discussing engineering issues. I daresay that this is just one option Seiben's new department would be able to explore. I'd leave the rest to him and his team. I'll send these plans along to the Captain to see if they meet with his approval. It might be tough convincing him that our efforts wouldn't result in the ship's being wrecked, but I think I've got it covered. I'll offer to have a holographic entertainment center installed in his ready room. We're just arriving at the reclamation plant now, so it's time to get to work.

Computer, begin recording duty log, Stardate 37907.09. Unless there's some special diplomatic procedure of which I haven't been informed, the peace conference was a disaster. Before the processions could even begin, the Brodinbaggin ambassador swelled to twice normal size (at least, what I would consider normal size) and went after the Lilliputian ambassador, who had shrunk to no larger than my pinky finger. The Bodynagbingdong yelled out something along the lines of "Hungry!" before he began his pursuit. I'm now 99% certain of what circumstances precipitated the war between these two peoples. What ensued from there was rather disastrous. The Bodinyinyang started cutting a path of destruction across the ship in his hungered fit. He bashed through doorways, wrecked equipment in the corridors, hurled several crates in the cargo bay, and created a ruckus in Sickbay. Needless to say, this has left engineering with a lot of damage to repair. And this coming after the ordeal that the new recruits had to go through... In order to attend to my diplomatic duties, I left Trichon and Seiben in charge of engineering. Both exceptional officers, but both still ill-equipped to hold the reins during a crisis situation. For one thing, they need more time to work together. Officers within a department need to establish a chemistry between each other, so everything moves nice and smoothly when the pressure's on. They also need to become better acquainted with some of the procedures. Trichon is upset that Seiben was on the Bridge when the crisis struck; he argues that if they had been together, they could have resolved the power issues more efficiently. Seiben was actually in the exact right place. During an alert situation, an officer must be manning the engineering station on the Bridge. Seiben should not have left the Bridge at that point. What followed was proof of this. The officer in charge of the Bridge issued an all-stop order to Helm. Our impulse engines had been deactivated, but neither Trichon nor Seiben knew this; neither one of them was on the Bridge at the time, and neither one looked at the situation monitor in engineering for an updated status report. They kept feeding the warp power to the impulse engines and inertial damping field that was needed to maintain the meticulous flight path necessary for the negotiations. This became a problem when forcefields were raised all over the ship to contain the ambassadors. The resource conflicts sent power levels going haywire! In response, someone on the Bridge told Trichon to bounce the warp core output to 110%. Unfortunately... he did this. This is yet another lesson that the new recruits need to learn--Bridge diplomacy. We may not be experts when it comes to the traditional kind, but Bridge diplomacy is a must for any engineer. There must be contact maintained between the Bridge and Engineering, so both parties are aware of every situation, and the engineers must be firm with the Bridge officers. Trichon should have immediately questioned the order to increase energy output. 110% is unacceptable, and upon being given this demand, that's exactly what he should have told the Bridge. He has to remember that it's *our* power that the warp core is pumping out ... everyone else on the ship is just borrowing it. Most of them don't know anything about safe power levels, so *we* have to set the terms. If he had spoken to the Bridge, he would have been informed that the impulse engines weren't in use anymore. Trichon could have done serious damage to the power grid if he had maintained that output much longer. Having said that, we got out of it alright. Seiben and Trichon both did the best that they're capable of considering their levels of experience. The fault here lies partly with me, for leaving them in charge as the crisis continued, and partly with the lack of experience in the department. With many recent departures, like Mr. Pratt's and Mr. Godchild's, we have a lack of officers capable of handling such situations. There's Alces, of course, but he doesn't spend much time in engineering. Hence the reason Reese, Seiben, and Trichon need to be groomed more quickly. All three of them have the potential to be leaders in the department, it's clear. Seiben has been promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade; I'll be looking into putting him in charge of a sub-department. Trichon won't be far behind; he's already showed interest in maintaining the auxiliary crafts. Hopefully, Reese will be out of Sickbay soon. I'm hopeful that these three will help me carry Arcadia's engineering department above any other in the fleet. But first we need to clean up this diplomatic mess ...

Computer, begin recording personal log, Stardate 37907.02. A diplomatic assignment. What am I supposed to do on a diplomatic assignment? I studied at the Academy, of course. I took the basic diplomacy course. But I certainly didn't pay attention or anything crazy like that. I'm an engineer! Engineers aren't supposed to negotiate with people ... only with technology. If these two parties are out of alignment, I can't just zap them with a phase regulator! And if something breaks, what am I supposed to do? Pull out the toolkit? People aren't machines, unfortunately. There is no way I can apply my engineering knowledge to this mission, so why have I been assigned to it? I know why. It's that Captain Moose. First he leaves me stranded out in space with only the moments of oxygen an EVA suit provides. And now this. And all because of the comments I made out there, comments he was never supposed to hear. This is some kind of twisted punishment, I know it... But then again, what Starfleet Captain would risk interplanetary bloodshed just to discipline an officer? I don't know. This one, maybe. I don't know enough about him to conclude otherwise. Machines are just so much less difficult to figure out. Dad was an ambassador. What did I learn from him? The only thing I can remember was when I asked him about his job. He summed it up in one sentence... "diplomacy is the art of telling someone to go to hell in a way that makes them look forward to the trip." He ended it at that, and I never asked him another thing about his job. So, basically, I learned nothing from him. These two peoples have been fighting for quite a while. The ones I'm representing, the Brodynaggins ... er, Bordynangs ... the Broobdingdongs ... eh, I can't even remember their names! You couldn't tell it when they beamed aboard, but they can apparently reach heights of up to sixty feet. The other ones, on the other hand, average only a few inches. I wonder how much their physical statures contributed to the tensions between them? It reminds me of the tensions back on my own world, Felinia. You have the caste that has embraced technology, space travel, and contact with alien races, feuding with the tribal caste that has stuck to the same traditions for thousands of years, all the way back to when Felinia was still an icy planet. Ever since the "science caste" made contact with the Federation, those tensions have been steadily worsening. The diplomats back home live very short lives (either because of stress, or being killed by the opposing side) simply trying to keep the castes from going to war. It's a messy situation that serves as my own personal reminder of how important these negotiations are. Which only worsens matters. I'd rather spend a week in the brig. By the time this is all finished, I could find myself being held accountable for a planetary genocide. The worst I ever assumed I could be held accountable for was allowing a warp core to overload. I knew something like that would never happen on my watch, though, because I have the ability to stop a warp core overload. I'm an engineer, for Lianos' sake! Well, on that note, at least engineering will be in good hands. Reese, Hans, and Trichon are exceptional engineers with enormous leadership potential. Arcadia is a better ship for having all three of them aboard. A diplomatic mission should give them plenty of time to analyze that Vogart dilithium crystal. I'm also hoping they take some time to get to know one another. They work well enough on their own, but when they put their heads together, they'll be like a well-oiled ... machine. Yeah. Machines are just so much easier to understand ...

If there was one thing in the universe Thomas hated more than water, it was Sickbay. Not for the typical reasons that most Starfleet officers hate Sickbay--the chilled instruments, the week-long bed-stays, the blood extractions. The reason Thomas hated Sickbay was that it violated one of the race traits that came inherently to any Felinian ... his self reliance. Being aided was simply against his nature. Thomas finished his tinkering with one of the medical tricorders he had swiped from a tray on his way to this private cubicle, then looked around the small room. It wasn't a horrible fate being stuck here. A nice comfortable biobed, the rythmic beeping of biomonitors on a console next to his pillow, a lovely white ceiling ... Nah, definitely ditchable. "Catch!" He tossed the tricorder over the wall of the cubicle, and then listened as it crashed against the floor of the next one. He shook his head. "You need to work on your reflexes, Ensign." "Sorry, sir." Trichon's response came over the wall. Jaruq could hear him fumbling with the tricorder. "Now ... how do I do this again?" "Simple. First, just turn the tric on yourself and hit the 'bioscan' key, then the 'record' key." "Ok ... scanning ... recording ..." "Good. Now let it run for a few seconds." Jaruq was now seated in front of his own biomonitor's control console, using it to hack into the Sickbay records. The medical systems were protected, to a degree, but all by standard Starfleet security programs. It was nothing Jaruq couldn't handle with a bit of effort. "That should do it. Hit the 'end' key." "... umm ... it's still scanning." "Not scanning. Just looping back and playing what you recorded. Part of my modification ... it'll keep doing that. Now, hook it up to the biomonitor." Jaruq found the current records and listed them on the screen. Sure enough, there were his and Trichon's names listed as rehabbing in private recovery cubicles for three hours with 'No Disturbance' instructions. With a few keystrokes, Jaruq modified the record. It now showed Jaruq and Trichon rehabbing for eight hours. "Hooked up ..." Trichon's voice said. Jaruq grinned. "Excellent. Now you'll need to make some modifications to the biomonitor's pattern recognition module. It's not as easy to fool as just looping a ten second bioscan ... it would notice the pattern and send an alarm back to the main bay." Jaruq cleared the records from his screen and looked at the repeating bioscans on his own monitor. "I see what you're saying. I think I can manage to work around it." "The module will recognize two things ... one, the break when the signal you recorded loops back to the beginning and, two, the signal's repetition. You need to bypass both. If it recognizes either one, it will be considered a glitch, and the medical chief will be notified. Bad for us. Watch out for the security software" He heard Trichon release a deep breath, and the sound of his fingers working at the console. This would be, partially, a test of the Ensign's abilities. If he succeeded, it would be a deed worthy of commendation. If he failed, security alarms would sound all over Sickbay and they'd probably find themselves transferred from the recovery cubicles to brig cells. Jaruq's standing on the ship was already in the dumpster, what with Captain Moose hearing the comments he made when he was floating in space, so he had nothing to lose. This Trichon on the other hand ... Jaruq believed that true strength could be forged by challenges ripe with danger. This was a very Felinian belief, Jaruq knew. But the life of an engineer is, typically, not a dangerous life. Security officers, who often found themselves in the heat of battle, could test their mettle with the threat of death looming over their heads. This challenge that Jaruq bestowed upon Trichon was no life-or-death scenario, but it provided its own level of danger. He was sure Trichon was aware of the danger ... but that was the point. Either the Ensign would emerge victorious from a risky situation, or he would spend a few days in the brig nursing the moral wounds that he would know he inflicted upon himself by following Jaruq's idiotic scheme. Either way, he would benefit from the experience. "I think that should do it." Jaruq could hear that Trichon's voice was reserved. He was unsure of himself. That was something he would need to grow out of ... "Are you certain?" Jaruq asked slyly, allowing a moment for the trepidation to sink in. Before the Ensign could respond, he said, "Send the tricorder feed to the biomonitor." "Right." A beep sounded over the wall between the cubicles. No alarms. Trichon's biomonitor did not recognize the intrusion of the tricorder signal, which meant that he had succeeded at making that particular modification. Now, would it recognize the repetition? Jaruq waited. The seconds passed. Only the beeping of the biomonitors could be heard, until ... "The signal just repeated. I guess it worked." "Great. We've got eight hours until the docs come here to wake us up. They shouldn't go near these cubicles until then." Jaruq pulled aside the curtain and poked his head out. The coast was clear. He tiptoed through the opening and shut the curtain behind him. "It's safe. Come on." Trichon emerged from his own cubicle. It appeared as if he had been sweating. "Now what? If we try to leave through the entrance, we'll be spotted." Jaruq walked over and patted him on the back. "Another lesson you'll need to learn, Ensign, is the location of every Jefferies Tube access hatch on the ship, including the ones I'm going the show you ... the ones only we engineers are aware of." He showed Trichon a toothy grin "Just follow me." He pointed at the entrance of a supply closet nearby and lead the way to a stealthy escape ...

Brain, begin recording Personal Log for Stardate 37906.11. My worst fears have been confirmed. I have been deserted. When the Captain told me to grab an EVA suit and make for the transporter room (with an edge of urgency, I might add) the worst was all I could assume. I mean, your can never allow yourself any comfort when told to grab an EVA suit, now can you? Even if your Captain's intentions are honorable, or if he issues the order in the name of duty, you're not likely to find yourself in a pleasing situation when you're strapped into something that is made to protect the body from superhigh pressures and provide it with oxygen. I didn't assume anything noble, of course, nor did I assume that I was being called on for duty. I just assumed the Captain wanted to get rid of me and was willing to sacrifice a perfectly good Ensign in the process. Stuff like this happens on Felinia all the time when someone is declared unfit for duty. And my record over the past four months hasn't exactly been commendable, what with my being nonexistent. I'm overreacting, aren't I? Of course I am. Captain Moose would never do something like that. The lack of oxygen is getting to my head. Hrm. Oxygen level: 96%. Ok, maybe it's not lack of oxygen. But I'm floating around in a vacuum with no sign of Arcadia about, not even a simple "hey, we're sorry we beamed you into space" over the comm. Is it fear, perhaps? I'll admit, I've never included slow suffocation on my list of deaths I'd accept with honor. Fear ... preposterous! I'm a Starfleet officer. Oxygen level: 95%. Plenty of oxygen. We'll be fine. Arcadia will show up. It's a shame about Ensign Trichon. His first day in Starfleet. You couldn't mistake that sparkle in his eye when we toured the ship. He was so excited to finally be there, so impressed by the ship. And now he's going to die, before he could even get his first shift of official duty on the clock. What am I saying? We aren't going to die. We're going to be fine. We have hours of oxygen, still. Oxygen level: 94.5%. But what if Arcadia is gone? What if they did desert us? What if they were destroyed? Hoping for a rescue is probably absurd. Unless they broadcast a distress signal? Let someone know we were out here ... before they were destroyed? It wouldn't take long for a ship in the vicinity to show up and grab us, right? Or the Starbase! Right! The Starbase will send someone to pick us up! Unless they've been destroyed too. Oh, Lianos! So many variables! This is why I didn't become a scientist. Oxygen level: 94%. Heh heh heh. The science of rescue. If I wasn't sure that I'm in complete control of my thoughts and emotions right now, I'd say I was losing my mind. "Uhm ... sir ... shouldn't we do something?" Oh, that startled me! Poor Trichon. Such a shame. He's obviously scared out of his mind. "Not much we can do at this point, Ensign. Just have to wait for someone to pick us up. Don't worry, someone will pick us up. Any minute now." That'll do it. Calm him down. He needs constant reassurance. He's young, new, needs to understand that stuff like this happens all the time, like I told him in the transporter room. "But, sir, we haven't been contacted. There could be a malfunction in Arcadia's systems. They might have lost us on sensors." Oh, great, another variable! Why'd he have to go and say that for?! If it is a malfunction, the ship could easily be crippled. With me and Trichon out here, Hawkins in Sickbay, Seiben on a freighter that's gone Lianos knows where ... there's no one left to repair the ship! No, absurd. There are plenty of officers left on Arcadia. "They'd just get it repaired, Ensign. We'll be fine." I need to keep assuring him, yes. Can't have him breaking down out here in the middle of a vacuum. Too many Ensigns are lost to nervous breakdowns. Oxygen level: 93%. What?! 93%? Already? I hope there aren't any tears or faulty valves in this cursed thing. "Alright. Seems like we should be doing something though." What to do, what to do. He obviously needs to keep busy. Needs to keep his mind off the imminent danger. I need to give him a distraction. Yeah, that's right, get his mind off the approaching crush of doom. "1. 2. 3. 4." "Sir? What are you doing?" "Counting the stars, Ensign. C'mon, you can help me. You can start over at that grouping there, and I'll start over on the right side there. 5. 6. 7." He isn't joining in. He must be too frightened, too focused on our collision course with death. Oxygen level: 92%. That drop was even faster! I mean, erm ... "11. 12. 13."

Computer, begin recording Duty Log for Stardate 37906.04. Ensign Seiben has shown me one of the tools that he brings to the engineering staff. He has a good deal of knowledge when it comes to Romulan technology. I recall him saying something about a Vulcan Academy-mate who was well versed in Romulan tech and taught him some tricks of the trade. Wherever the gift comes from, he knows his stuff. He's been analyzing the device we found hooked up to the control console in the main transporter room. His studies of the device have confirmed what we already knew. In addition to masking the transporter's sensors (which would have immediately alerted us to any unauthorized transports) it maintained a continuous feed between our transporters and the mystery ship hanging around outside Arcadia. Seiben has also gathered that the device was downloading crew logs from the ship's main computer. We speculate that this was for intelligence gathering purposes. Seiben is now working on an adapter which will allow us to hook the device's optical chips up to our Starfleet computers, so we can analyze any data they are storing. Once we've downloaded any information pertinent to the mission, we will destroy the stolen personal logs. The privacy of the crew will not be compromised. Now, Lieutenant Hawkins--he hasn't been able to contribute very much to the staff recently, because of repeated trips to Sickbay. I accompanied him to the Bay earlier, when he began doubling over at his console, complaining, I think, of stomach cramps. Apparently, Mr. Hawkins is part Vulcan, a hereditary trait of which our doctors were apparently unaware. Now, I don't know anything about this. My only concern is whether this will interfere with Mr. Hawkins' duties in engineering. I've watched him. He has the potential to be an extraordinary engineer. Such distinction usually doesn't carry the baggage of severe medical and psychological problems, and he's outlined a list of symptoms ranging from dizzy spells to anxiety. As a ranking officer in engineering, I'm recommending that Lieutenant Hawkins speak to a counselor as soon as possible. I want to see him work out his problems so he can have enough room to excel at his duties. When Ensign Seiben returns from the away team, we'll continue extracting what we can from the Romulan device. All vital information will be relayed immediately to the command staff for analysis. Computer, end duty log. Begin recording personal log. I now remember everything. Almost everything. To be honest, there's a heck of a lot I still don't remember. I'm still trying to go through it all in my head. According to the Docs, I was missing in action for almost four months before I reappeared in Lieutenant Fleitcher's quarters under mysterious circumstances. The problem arises in that I don't remember anything from the four months in question. Everything before that checks out, which is a dramatic improvement; when I woke up on the Blue Note, I didn't even know who I was. I remember coming aboard Arcadia, I remember the missions that we were on at the time of my disappearance, and I remember coming off duty that night. From that point on, it's a blur. I remember that I saw a red glow coming down from the Jefferies tube above my quarters and I went up to investigate. My head poked through the J Tube hatch and, next thing I knew, I was waking up in a cell aboard the Blue Note... four months later. The million dollar question is, what happened in between? Is this a gap in my memory that has yet to be restored? The reports say I wasn't even on the ship during my four month tenure on the MIA list, nor is there any indication that I left the ship or tampered with any systems to mask a departure. This is impossible, of course. Even if I had the skill to fool all of the ship's detection systems and make a stealthy getaway and then, four months later, do the same and make a stealthy return, why would I have done so? Doesn't make sense. But if I was on the ship the whole time, why did the sensors fail to detect my presence? Quite the mystery. When I reported the strange red glow that I saw that night, security and engineering both checked out the tube above my quarters. They found nothing unusual. All that will solve this mystery now, it seems, is a complete regaining of my memory. And that might not even help. Who knows? I could have been unconscious all of that time. Anyway, I've got to get in touch with my family and friends back on my homeworlds. I've already gotten a lot of messages from back home from relatives who want to know where I've been the past four months and it's clear that I have a lot of catching up to do. Computer, end log.

This log is rated PG for medieval bodily function humor and violence on a planetary scale. Read with caution ... and be sure to floss. oOo PADDfoot Productions presents a Thomas Jaruq Log The First Face "Jaruq?" "Yes. Jaruq. Thomas? Furry fellow? Well, maybe not particularly furry, but he had patches in his hair. Bit on the moody side, also somewhat--" "Oh, the one who disappeared!" "Exactly! 'The one who disappeared.' You could've learned his name." "Ok, ok. Go on. Why is it all Jaruq's fault?" "Because, as I was saying before your stupidity's rude interruption, the report was filed just before Jaruq deserted." "You think he deserted?" "Well, isn't it obvious? He certainly didn't like it here, couldn't you tell?" "I heard he was yanked back into that alternate dimension that he was lost in with the Captain and Commander." "Look, it doesn't matter! Whatever! What matters is that Jaruq filed the report but never filed the notice indicating that he filed the report." " ... huh?" "*GROAN* Listen, when you file a report, it does no one any good unless you file a notice letting them know that the report was filed, right??. Otherwise, the report just sort of floats around the computer, unnoticed, until someone accidentally stumbles onto it." "Like I did." "Exactly! You accidentally stumbled onto Jaruq's report. He must have filed it right before he left the ship, never getting the chance to file the notice." "You think he definitely 'left the ship,' though? I mean, who knows? Maybe he was kidnapped. Lisa Durn thinks he was kidnapped." "Oh, who cares?? Lisa Durn?! Lisa Durn is a gossip-mongering idiot. If she knew anything, she wouldn't be the ODN network maintenance supervisor, now would she?? But that's not important. Jaruq is probably lounging away on Risa, or some other paradise planet. Meanwhile, we're down here in the basement of the ship, cleaning up two months' worth of the crew's solid waste on account of his negligence." "He did file a report, didn't he?" "But he didn't notify anyone that he filed the report! If he had notified someone of the report, the notice would have been sent to Commander Pratt, Pratt would have looked into the report and sent a notice of the problem to the utilities department, the utilities department supervisor would have sent repair orders to the master chief petty officer, he would have passed the orders along to us, and we could have repaired this blasted waste conduit before it burst." "Gee. With all those steps, maybe not. Uh, Bob, I hate to break this to you, but you're standing in some." " ... UGH! I HATE this job! This is all Jaruq's fault!" "You said that already." "Shut up!" When a person goes missing, and his whereabouts are known not even to his own family, there is always a torrent of questions and theories that is immediately raised. One culture, the Varunzians of Ectod 47 in Galazy 7GR, has devoted an entire branch of science to the concept of missing persons. That may sound absurd to a casual observer, but the Galaxy's seasoned sociologists find it quite understandable. Since Ectod 47 lies directly at the nexus of one of the Universe's largest and most notorious dimensional rift webs, missing persons have never been in short supply there. Not only have the Varunzians adapted to the knowledge that their loved ones have about a .02% chance of simply vanishing before the day's end (less if they stay firmly planted at home), but they have actually developed a system of both scientific and spiritual beliefs to enhance their ability to cope with the bizarre phenomenon. One of the beliefs developed by the Varunzians holds that if a missing person becomes the topic of discussion by anyone, anywhere, that person will instantly reappear. "Speak of the devil! We were just talking about him, when he walked right back through the--" One Varunzian believer will point out before disappearing. While many of the Varunzians who have vanished have indeed turned up later, there has been no definitive link between the reappearances and the discussions. The true believers continually debate with the skeptics. "Just because he didn't show up on the doorstep at the exact moment we mentioned his name," states one argument, "doesn't mean he didn't appear somewhere on the planet. He may have just appeared in the middle of the vast Aga'bagi Desert." Or "Ok, we weren't talking about him when he suddenly materialized in front of us in the living room, but who's to say someone else wasn't talking about him?" The skeptics, of course, pass comments like that off as clever excuses by the believers to refute very logical arguments by the skeptics so they can continue to sell their completely absurd ideas to the public. Without proof, the Varunzians will never quite know for sure. You will, however. As an all-knowing, all-seing narrator, I can tell you that the theory is rubbish. The Varunzians are not complete idiots, however. Existing for 5000 years at the nexus of a dimensional rift web does give a culture an amazing wealth of insight into the mechanics of missing persons. While their theory (in the form it exists now) does not hold water, it does approach the truth. The big-brained Octorugs of Malakon Z live a few light years off the nexus of the same dimensional rift web. While this reduces the amount of experience the Octorugs have with missing persons, it also means that their scientists tend to last a lot longer than Varunzian scientists, which allows their theories more credibility. The Octorug theory linking the discussion and subsequent reappearance of a missing person is much closer to the truth. Unfortunately, neither the Octorugs or Varunzians will ever know that the Octorug theory has just been proven true by a Human-Betazoid-Felinian Starfleet engineer 73 galaxies away. The little tidbit of information would probably put an end to centuries of interplanetary war over whose theory is correct. The disappearance of Lieutenant Junior Grade Thomas Jaruq caused quite the stir in the Federation territories. Well, perhaps not all the territories, but certainly on all of Betazed, Felinia, and Earth and in all of Starfleet. OK, perhaps not that widespread a stir either, but it certainly caused concern among his families on Betazed, Felinia, and the USS Tolkien, and left his crewmates on the USS Arcadia scratching their heads. On Earth, Jaruq's grandfather probably wouldn't remember his own name, let alone Jaruq's. Since not even said family members could offer any insight into Jaruq's whereabouts, there was little solid evidence to go on. One night, Jaruq had checked out of Main Engineering for the night, last being seen by a wandering NCO named Lisa Durn in the corridor leading to his quarters, and the next day, Jaruq had simply failed to check in. A search of his quarters by ship security found all of his belongings very much in place, but the Felinian himself strangely not present. A shipwide search could find no trace of him, nor any evidence that anyone had departed the ship since the night before. The shuttles were all nestled snugly in their bays, the transporter logs were clear and showed no sign that any entries had been prevented or erased, and the ship's computer (which also aided the conclusion that Jaruq was, indeed, nowhere on the ship) indicated that no airlocks had been opened in the previous twelve hours. A hull breach was out of the question, because something like that simply wouldn't avert the crew's attention for very long. So, Jaruq was officially declared a missing person, and, as with any person that goes missing, a torrent of questions and theories was raised. Most of the ship's crew accepted the idea that Jaruq was nowhere on the ship. To mask his presence would require a great deal of skill in tampering with computer systems. Even if Jaruq possessed the sufficient level of skill, what cause would he have for hiding on the ship? And surely his hunt for food and water in a continuing effort to remain alive would get him caught eventually. Also out of the question was the idea that Jaruq had tampered with the computer in an effort to mask a departure. Again, neither the skill nor the motive to do it in secret were present. So, both his presence on the ship and his departure from it had been ruled out. As intelligent beings are quite uncomfortable with blatant contradictions, the inevitable occured ... rumors began spreading. Every wild theory from involvement by Starfleet Black Ops, to abduction by invisible aliens, to the particularly absurd idea that Jaruq never really existed and was simply a joint-figment of everyone's imaginations (a theory supported by his grandfather on Earth), sprouted up to compensate for the bewildering understanding that Jaruq had neither left nor remained aboard Arcadia. Some had decided to take the simple approach, accepting the fact that Jaruq had merely gotten tired of the Starfleet life and run off, and not bothering to try to understand exactly how or why he had accomplished the feat without being detected. Since even the wildest rumors lose their charm, the buzz about Jaruq's disappearance died down after about six hours. Afterwards, he became known to most of the crew as, simply, "the one who disappeared." As much as the story of Jaruq's disappearance will raise a man's eyebrow, though, the full story of what exactly had happened, and his sudden reappearance three months later, will prove even more bewildering. It had been a hectic night in Engineering. Jaruq had been rigorously investigating a flow imbalance in the ship's solid waste transfer network when he decided that it was time to turn in for the night. After once again reminding his poor-short-term-memoried personal assistant, Petty Officer Bob Mack, to file a notice of the report he had drafted on the imbalance, he made his way to the junior officers' quarters. He passed Chief Lisa Durn and wondered briefly what she was doing on that deck. There was an air of strangeness about the corridor that only grew as Jaruq got closer to his door. It was the fatigue, he assured himself. The red glow from the corner of the ceiling was the first thing to draw his attention. It was hardly difficult to notice. The wide beam of light showered down upon the fish tank in Jaruq's living room. He grinned at the Algonian Bloodlizard Grippies swimming around inside. Jaruq so loved to watch them. In his exhausted state it took him a moment to remember that something was amiss and his eyes lazily drifted away from the distraction and to the source of the bright red glow. The light was spilling through the crease in the closed hatch which lead to the Jefferies tubes above. When this fact hit him, Jaruq became concerned. Red glows in the ship's maintenance tunnels seldom spelled good news. Without taking a moment to retrieve any protective gear, Jaruq climbed up onto the tank and pulled open the hatch. At first glance, there was nothing to panic about. No fire, no plasma leak, no snarling demons emerging from a rift to Hell. Just the red glow filling the entire tunnel. While any immediate threats to the ship were ruled out, what Jaruq did see caused him a small bit of personal alarm. It was sitting several feet away from the open hatch, on the floor of the maintenance tunnel. It was his Block. Ever since Jaruq found it four months eariler, the Block had been nothing but an enigma. It was about the size of his fist, with six triangular faces, each bearing a differently shaped and colored rune. Someone had left the curious object in Jaruq's quarters, but he had never been able to find out who, or for what reason. His scans of the item had proved futile, since it seemed to resist any attempt to determine its composition. He had also extensively researched the known runic symbols of several cultures at several time periods, but could not find any matches to the strange runes on the Block. They resembled the ancient hieroglyphs used by the Felinians, but only to a degree; they weren't the same. For four months, he had kept it close, and he had kept it secret. In that time, he was unable to learn anything more about the object, nor did it change in any way whatsoever. The mystery of the object had been limited simply to its existence and its ending up on a small table in his quarters. Until now. One part of Jaruq wanted to distinctly remember leaving the Block on the table next to his bed before he left for Engineering that morning. Another part of him wanted to distinctly remember stuffing it in his pocket and taking it with him. Both parts wanted to distinctly remember never leaving it up here in the Jefferies tube. The truth was, however, that Jaruq was unable to remember exactly what he had done with the Block. It was as if there was a concentrated fog on his brain, inhibiting his memory of the morning. He assured himself that the fog was fatigue. But the fact remained that the Block had been becoming quite dear to him over the past few months. To have lost mental track of it like this was an unsettling blunder. Jaruq raised himself completely into the tube and crawled over to the spot where the Block was sitting. You can imagine his surprise when he spun it around and saw that one of its runes was now fiercely glowing a bright red. You cannot imagine his surprise when the rune rapidly grew to twice his size, reached out, and engulfed him. Because the Block was sitting in the Jefferies tubes above Jaruq's quarters, the security team never came across it in their search the next morning. As the medical chief later collected Jaruq's belongings in a large box that was to be sent to his family on Betazed, the Block remained fixed in place at the very spot Jaruq had found it the previous night, the red rune now shrunk back to its normal size and no longer fiercely glowing. The quarters were cleared out and closed off until a replacement engineer arrived to occupy them, the Block remaining undiscovered just above the ceiling the whole time. It was two months later that Ensign Rachel Fleitcher was dispatched to check on an ODN conduit in that very section of the Jefferies tubes. Just as Jaruq had first found the Block sitting innocently on a small table next to his front door, Fleitcher found it sitting innocently before her in the tube. And just like Jaruq, she assumed it was destined to fall into her possession, and claimed it as her own. For a month and a half, the Block was investigated and kept close by Ensign Fleitcher. So long after Jaruq's disappearance had fallen out of the minds of the Arcadia crew, no one would offer any consideration of the possibility that the mysterious object was linked to it. Even if Ensign Fleitcher had indicated to anyone the tube in which she had found the Block, no one was likely to recall that Jaruq once lived just below it. One night, after a particular grueling day of work in Engineering, the recently promoted Lieutenant Fleitcher was awoken from deep slumber by a red glow behind her eyelids and a low thudding sound. Before she could look around her bedroom to determine if it was real, or just a dream, the glow had vanished. What she saw instead astonished her even more. Lying, face down, on the floor at the foot of her bed, was the large frame of a Human-Betazoid-Felinian in a red Engineer's uniform. Lieutenant Jaruq could not hear Rachel's ensuing scream, as he was quite unconscious at that moment. The medical team arrived with all the quickness of medical teams and transported Jaruq to Sickbay. They took no notice of the innocent looking object that stood atop the short bureau across from Lieutenant Fleitcher's bed, the Block that had just spit the missing officer's unconscious form onto her bedroom floor. So, rather than answering questions, Jaruq's reappearance had only managed to raise new ones. Word would soon reach the entire ship that Jaruq had suddenly popped back up on the ship, and a whole new wave of rumors was bound to find itself spilling forth before the patchy-haired engineer could offer his side of the story. Despite the fresh batch of mystery cooked up by this latest development, the Jaruq reappearance did provide some amazingly noteworthy finality. It provided the first conclusive proof of a long-standing, but controversial theory stating that a missing person will instantly reappear if a former co-worker mentions his name shortly before stepping in a large pile of his own excrement. Unfortunately, Jaruq will never be aware of his award-worthy achievement, as said theory was formed on a world 73 galaxies away that is going to be destroyed by a Varunzian planetkiller in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The Many Faces of Jaruq Ensign Thomas Jaruq Assistant Engineer, USS Arcadia The back of Thomas' hand traced lines across his chin, and the whiskers that had begun to grow during his stay on the aquatic world. He stopped shaving three days before the away team, and, even safely back on board Arcadia, he had no immediate plans of doing so. He wondered what he would look like with a beard. For some reason, his mission to the aqua world was leaving him with a slight sense of diminishment. His fear of water was visible to all on the away team, despite his best efforts to mask it. Such presentation of one's fears was considered a taboo among the Felinian culture. Certainly not helping matters was the insecurity growing within him since his assignment to Arcadia. Felinians defined status by age and strength and an abundance of either was well respected by any member of their society. On Arcadia, Thomas was one of the junior officers, a second class citizen to several individuals lacking in such age and strength. At the top of the pile was Captain Raishel, of whom Thomas could not even form an opinion. A woman ... in command. On Felinia, the world from which Thomas inherited his spirit, women were considered the servants of men. On Betazed, where Thomas was raised, men the servants of women. On Earth, the third player in the ongoing play of Thomas' heritage, both were considered equals. Captain Raishel was a Vulcan, a people whose ways Thomas could not even begin to understand. His duty was to follow her orders, and the orders of all those above him in the ranks, without question. That obligation was only adding to the conflict. He felt like an extremely weak link in an even more confusing chain. So Thomas stroked at his chin and cheeks, wondering what he would look like with a beard. Beards were a mark of a man's status in various societies, including Earth, and certainly not excluding Felinia. Perhaps he could aide his elevation along the Arcadia hierarchy, and thus better outline his role among the crew, with a tuft of facial hair. Already, his mind's eye was forming images of various beard styles. He had seen beards trimmed down to nearly nothing, forming intricate patterns on the face, the simplest being the notorious 'goatee.' He had heard that females, specifically human females, were attracted to such a style. He could also showcase his Felinian heritage, not halting the growth of the beard until it extended several inches ... then either letting it stick out as a thick bush, or combing it straight down and tying it at various points at the bottom, both popular Felinian styles. He wondered what regulations were in place for beard length. There was also the more simple growth of a beard kept trim all around, not unlike that of Thomas Riker, first officer of the famous Enterprise. Thomas entered his quarters to shower and change his clothes so he could continue his duty shift. His eyes were immediately drawn to an object lying atop the low table next to the door, an object that he hadn't left there. He picked it up and gave it quick analysis. It was a polyhedron, six triangular faces, about the size of his fist. The surface was the color of copper, but the texture was more rough. He would analyze it with his tricorder later to deterine the makeup. Each face contained a different symbol, marked by a bright discoloring of the surface. He didn't recognize the symbols. They bore some resemblance to the hieroglyphs used by the ancient Felinians, but these symbols were not among that alphabet. Thomas learned the ancient language long ago, so he would certainly recognize any of the hieroglyphs. It was a box of mysteries. Who had placed the item in his quarters? Was it meant solely for him? What was its purpose? What did the symbols etched on its faces mean? Was there more to it than originally met the eye? Thomas allowed the small mystery to fall from his fingers and rattle along the top of the table. Although the Felinian enjoyed a good puzzle, there was no time to stand about when duty called. He would analyze the object later, and make some inquiries as to how it ended up in his quarters. Thomas was about to turn toward the bathroom when he was struck by a sudden impulse. The sense of familiarity was vague, but it's impact was enough to indicate significance. He was sure he had never seen that little six-faced object before, but there was an image of it in his memory. He couldn't identify where it was coming from, exactly ... "Who are you?" Nor was the image very crisp ... "Is it not true, young one, that you are not truly one of us?" But he was almost certain that this item existed in his long term memory ... "You are prepared to lead our people as Overseer of Felinia?" He tried to convince himself that if he could not identify the memory, it was probably of no importance ... "Then Thomas Jaruq of Felinia. I hereby initiate you as the Grand Tribe Overseer of all our people." But for some reason, some nagging reason ... Sharply Ara brought the blade down, driving it straight through Thomas' throat. Thomas dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. All the inner musings of mysteries begging to be solved were getting to his head, threatening to affect his judgement. Duty called and he needed to freshen up. The item was probably just a room decoration snuck in by some intrusive crew member looking to spice up the ship with annoyingly mysterious knickknacks. Perhaps it was a gift from a secret admirer. In any sense, Thomas did not take kindly to his quarters being intruded upon while he was away. He would take this matter up with security ... after a shower ...

Life's Twists and Turns Ensign Thomas Jaruq Assistant Engineer, USS Arcadia It was like a funeral. Some twisted ceremony of death and despair. Acoustically perfect was the construction of the Chamber of Lianos. The rhythmic pounding of the ceremonial drums was echoed about the walls, resulting in a dreadful beat which sent shivers up the back of Thomas Jaruq. The lighting in the room did nothing to alleviate the tension. Torches set into nooks sporadically placed along the length of the walls provided minimal lighting, for the most part. The only exception was the relatively blinding beam of sunlight which dropped from a circular opening in the ceiling. That beam of light completely surrounded Thomas, a constant reminder that he was at the center of this particular ceremony. A ceremony which reminded him of a funeral. Of death and despair. But this was a ceremony of rebirth. It was his inauguration as Grand Tribe Overseer of the people of Felinia. For the rest of his life Thomas Jaruq would be the ruler of the Felinian people, until he passed the title down to his first born son... or until another laid sufficient claim to his throne and bested him in ritual combat. The social structure of the Felinians relied mostly on the Leaders of each individual Tribe, numerous and scattered throughout the world's three continents, but the position of Overseer was crucial to maintaining overall peace and order. "Who are you?" A deep rumbling voice which echoed throughout the chamber almost the exact moment that the drum beating suddenly ceased. It belonged to Ara Manjas, the Master Priest of Felinia. His body was covered completely with a thick tussock of dark gray hair, a shade of gray which any educated Felinian could easily identify as belonging to a male well over the age of 100. At his side he held a body-length staff composed of the assembled barks of Boka Trees, simple in makeup, but its length a determination of the priest's supreme status. Many argued that he was the only Felinian whose authority could exceed the Overseer's, for he was the supreme voice of Lianos. And as a leader could not be named without the blessings of Lianos, the Master Priest was charged with initiating new Overseers. Kneeling in the center of Lianos' light, Thomas' gaze would not shift from the face of his inquisitor. He knew that the greatest leaders of the Felinian people were watching from the three galleries above and around him, but the initiation demanded a calm and disciplined demeanour. Even the intense pressure of the attention he was drawing could not stir his poised state. "I am Thomas Jaruq of Felinia. Son of Tigro and Theresa. Greatest of our people. Rightful heir to the throne." When the great Priest began circling Jaruq, the young Felinian kept his gaze ahead. "And what is your purpose, Thomas of Jaruq?" "To serve the people of Felinia," he answered quickly and methodically. Answering was no challenge. Dozens of Felinians had answered the very same questions before past Grand Priests. "And how can you best serve the people of Felinia?" Ara asked. "By leading the people of Felinia," Thomas replied, in a tone which suggested that the answer was obvious. The priest once again came into his view, but did not cease the slow circling. "And how will you lead the people of Felinia?" "With a strong arm and a firm tongue." It was all coordinated. All scripted. Every question, every answer, every gesture. Nothing breaking the pattern that had been established by 800 years of Overseer leadership. Until..."But what makes you think you are capable of achieving this, Thomas Jaruq of Felinia?" The priest's face hovered directly in front of Thomas', the piercing gaze of his deep silver eyes drawing a shift from the young Felinian's expression. His composure was visibly affected by this unexpected break from 800 years of tradition. And an answer to the unscripted question could not find him. "Is it not true, young one, that you are not truly one of us?" the priest continued. The intent of his questioning was becoming more clear. "That you are not truly 'of Felinia?' You were not born here. You were not raised here. Your lesser parent is not Felinian. Your greater parent is only partially so. And though that small bit of Felinian blood does flow through your veins, it doesn't quite show, does it, Thomas Jaruq of Felinia?" Now the line of questioning was beginning to draw anger from Thomas. "Your hair. It does not grow all over your body, does it? Your skin is almost completely exposed. Your fingers are longer. And alas ... no claws. And your teeth are not the teeth of a Felinian predator, don't you agree? And worst yet," the priest shifted from his position to move around Thomas. This was comforting to a degree, as the elder Felinian's deep gaze was no longer locked on his face, but Thomas knew that the verbal grilling could only get worse. "That which marks our people. The greatest determinant of our status, both among ourselves and among others. Nowhere to be seen on you, Thomas Jaruq of Felinia. A leader should have a tail which reaches three feet behind him. But what do you have, Thomas Jaruq of Felinia? You have...a stub. Not even three inches long. Is this the tail of a Felinian? "No, Thomas Jaruq. You do not look Felinian at all. I would say that you look more like ... a Betazoid." Ara's gaze again met Thomas'. The young leader-to-be was making a great effort to contain his rising anger, an emotion which came in great torrents in a Felinian mind. "Though our stellar neighbours have maintained good relations with our people, I doubt we would ever initiate one of them as leader of our people. And of course, you do not just look like a Betazoid. You spent your entire childhood on their world. You learned their customs, interacted with them, kept your warrior spirit in check by the part of them which has become a part of you. Why should we believe, Thomas Jaruq, that you are of Felinia and not of Betazed?" Thomas could not help but assume that this priest was deliberately provoking him. His background was somehow insulting to Ara Manjas, so the man was attempting to draw an angered reaction out of him in order to invalidate his claim to the Overseer's throne. But tradition, not law, dictated the usual questions asked by the Master Priests. Ara could ask whatever questions he wished and Thomas had to remain steady in his composure. "I am of Betazed," he replied quietly. "I cannot dispute that. Nor would I wish to. But my father's father was a true Felinian. And his father, claimant to the throne. A part of his spirit rests within mine at all times. To dispute my heritage as Felinian would be to dispute his honor, to sully his spirit. To dishonor him would be to shame the name of all Felinians, and thus cast yourself aside as one of our kind." The last statement may have been mistake, too much of an echo of his desire to lash out at the Priest for his badgering. It was, perhaps, too tactful for a leader expected to rule with overt strength. But the statement did not appear to be received as the gravest insult. The Priest's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed to slits, but the ceremony continued. "You believe that you are fit to rule our people?" "I am the strongest of our people. Any who would dispute my position would meet my wrath," Thomas straightened his back and gazed ahead. Ara's free hand grabbed the top of his wooden staff, twisted, and pulled out the blade which was encased within. It was the ceremonial Boka knife, a short dagger with two rounded edges. As the light of Lianos reflected off the exposed blade, the beating of the drums continued. Thomas inhaled sharply, but quietly, as the blade approached his face. One edge traced a deep gash along his left cheek. Then the other along his right cheek. "You are prepared to lead our people as Overseer of Felinia?" "I am prepared," Thomas replied firmly. Ara grabbed the back of Thomas' head by the hair and yanked it back. He drew the bloodstained blade above his shoulder and prepared to strike. The beating of the drums became more rapid, more ferocious. And there was another sound he couldn't pinpoint. A bleeping sound. "Then Thomas Jaruq of Felinia. I hereby initiate you as the Grand Tribe Overseer of all our people." Sharply Ara brought the blade down, driving it straight through Thomas' throat. The young Overseer's eyes widened as the blood gushed through his mouth and out onto his face. As the beats of the drums became more frequent, Thomas felt his life fade away. The black waves of his dying brain overwhelmed his vision and his muscles began to wither. His last breath had been gasped painfully... When his eyes fluttered open, Thomas realized he was seated on the sofa in his quarters. His muscles were tense and sweat ran down his face. He could feel the rapid pounding of his heart. Though initially disoriented, he was aware enough to realize that it was all just a dream. At his side, a PADD copy of the novel he was reading dangled from his fingers. A mid 22nd century mystery novel set in the dark and dreary 19th century of Paris on Earth. A fellow officer had recommended it. It was hardly appealing. Thomas realized what drew him from his cat nap when the console on his desk repeated its audio indication of an incoming message. He lifted himself up against post-slumber fatigue and slid in front of the console. "Receive incoming message," he commanded. The face of Captain Arnold Rocker looked back at him. Thomas lifted an eyebrow, not expecting an intraship message from his commanding officer. "Captain." "Ensign," Rocker replied with a nod. "You're off duty, so I saw no need to call you to my office. But I'll need you to drop whatever you're doing and start packing. You've been transferred." "'Transferred?!'" Only two weeks out of the Academy, Thomas had just settled into his new quarters on board the Roland. Part of him hoped his Captain was joking. Another was pondering which regulations he had broken during his short tenure on the Roland. "I never requested a transfer, Sir. Have I done something wrong?" "No, no, Ensign," Rocker chuckled softly. He was not the most firm of commanders. "Nothing like that. You see, you aren't even supposed to be here. You're aware that there was another cadet in your graduating class by the name of Jaruq, correct?" "I'm aware. A Vulcan fellow. Apparently, the name isn't too uncommon on their world either, but still, it's some coincidence." "Indeed. And it caused some confusion for the folks in our recruiting and assignment division. Your names somehow got shuffled around; he was supposed to be assigned to the Roland, you were supposed to be assigned to the Arcadia. Not an unprecedented mistake. And with a name like Jaruq, which isn't too common on Earth, well," The Captain shook his head. "It was almost inevitable." "I see ... " Jaruq was beginning to wonder if this Starfleet was run by a band of Pakled children. "Why not just make it easier on us, switch around the assignment orders?" "Because, Ensign, it's not as simple as just assignment orders. It's a matter of bureaucracy, you see. Bureaucracy is what caused this mess, and it's the reason we can't just leave you both where you are. Command's determined that having you simply switch places would require less effort than modifying all the paperwork that surrounds your assignments. It's an awfully inconvenient circle, I realize. But maintaining a galactic Federation of alien races calls for sacrifices from its brave soldiers." Captain Rocker grinned. Jaruq couldn't help but let out a sigh. He had always believed that Starfleet officers were far more than names scribbled on a bunch of PADDs. Obviously, Command couldn't wait to prove him wrong. He wouldn't mind leaving Roland too much. Captain Rocker was too passive a command officer for his tastes. He had made a few acquaintances, but had been aboard hardly long enough to form any lasting relationships. And packing, unpacking, and waiting aboard a Starfleet transport would be a minimal inconvenience at worst. It was just the principle of the thing. "You'll like the Arcadia, Ensign. The fifth ship to bear the name is about to be commissioned... a brand new Sovereign class vessel." And that's when the lights in Thomas' eyes went into high-beam mode. Captain Rocker's grin indicated that he expected such a response. "Sovereign, sir? As in... Enterprise Sovereign?! 80 decks? The size of a small planet? Five warp cores?" Despite Thomas' exaggerations, the Sovereign class was still the biggest and the best Starfleet had to offer. And in addition to Thomas' appreciation of great strength, such a large vessel would be paradise to any engineer fresh out of the Academy. "That's the one," Rocker chuckled. "Now like I said. You'll need to be packed and ready to go as soon as possible. We'll be arriving at Deep Space Nine in just under two days. That's where she'll be launching. Hopefully, you'll make it in time for the commissioning ceremony." "Aye, sir! Will do." Jaruq responded, grinning broadly. "Good. I'll have the appropriate documents sent to you as soon as I've received them all myself. Since you're not officially a member of my crew, I can't expect you to report for duty. So get yourself packed and ready ... and try to get some sleep, Ensign. You look like you could use it." The Captain grinned briefly and cut the transmission. Jaruq paid no heed to the Captain's comment. Nor did he even remember his nightmare. All he could feel at this point was eager anticipation. As early as his childhood, he devoted a great deal of his studies to space-faring vessels--the larger and more powerful, the better. The majestic Sovereign class naturally held his greatest interest during his Academy years. His direct experience with the model was limited, however, to a few glimpses of the Enterprise during her visits to Earth. Now a generous stroke of luck had found him serving aboard one of that vessel's sister ships. He would be an engineer on the USS Arcadia. Unaware of the twists and turns that the following years would bring ...

-=/\=-Starfleet Personnel Records-=/\=- USS Arcadia 1742-E Entry: SD 37803.15 (Updated SD 37904.24) Officer Name: Thomas Jaruq Rank: Lieutenant J.G. Assignment: Assistant Engineer *Personal Information* Species: 1/2 Human 1/4 Betazoid 1/4 Felinian Gender: Male Age: 25 Terran Years Height: 1.88m (6'2") Mass: 103.23kg (227.58 lb) Hair Color: D. Brown w/ several L. Brown Patches Eye Color: Gold Skin Tone: Light Psi Rating: 1.8, Latent Empathy *Geneaological Information* P. Grandfather: Musta Jaruq, Felinia Science Institute, xenobiologist P. Grandmother: Dr. Dubalas Mira, Starfleet, xenobiologist Father: Tigro Jaruq, Betazoid ambassador to Felinia M. Grandfather: Arthur McKinney, Oxford University, history professor M. Grandmother: Barbara McKinney, London Infirmary, medical director Mother: Lieutenant Theresa Jaruq, Starfleet, USS Tolkien, security officer Siblings: 1 Brother, Pumo Jaruq, Felinia Science Institute, xenobiologist Marital Status: Single *Background* The legacy of Starfleet's only current Felinian officer began when the Federation first made contact with his world in 2313. At that time, Felinian scientists perfected the warp drive design and made their first leaps outside of their star system, in the Beta quadrant. This occurence was overseen by scientists, mostly Betazoid, attached to Outpost 301B. A Federation convoy made first contact with the Felinians and relations were eagerly welcomed by their science community. During the first few months of formal relations, a wealth of information was collected on the people of Felinia. The Felinians were named by a Human scientist, after a species of animal existing on Earth, the feline. The Felinians bear a striking resemblance to that species, in outward appearance and physiology. They evolved on a cold, mountainous world, competing with many other hostile species. To adapt to the harsh conditions, they developed physiologies geared for survival: thick body hair to accomodate the cold, sharp claws and teeth to combat their competitors, and powerful leg muscles to traverse the rugged terrain. Regardless of their advanced technology, they are a tribal and somewhat primitive species, socially speaking. Even after the Felinians emerged the dominant species of their world, they remained a race prone to aggressiveness. The greatest separating factors between the Earth feline and the Felinians are increased size, bipedal structure, and, most importantly, intelligence. Only a select few decide to put their intelligence to use fully. These Felinians make up the more civilized clans of Felinia, and were responsible for advancing the world technologically. As they perfected warp travel, they received the Federation contact. The more savage Felinian clans are somewhat hostile to outsiders. Dr. Dubalas Mira was the head xenobiologist of a panel of Federation scientists assigned to study the Felinians from the surface of their world. In addition to observing, firsthand, the Felinians and providing reports to the Council, they kept in close contact with Felinian scientists. One such scientist, Musta Jaruq of the Felinia Science Institute, worked directly with Dr. Mira. Together, they exchanged a great deal of information on their respective species... and more. Due to certain mating cycles that were not properly explained to the Federation scientists in time, Dr. Mira first departed Felinia carrying Musta Jaruq's child. They conceived Tigro Jaruq, the first hybrid between a Felinian and an off-worlder, and diplomatic ties between Betazoid and Felinia were formed. Five months later, Tigro was born on Outpost 301B. Medical experts were uncertain of Tigro's chances of survival, considering the many differences between his two parents' physiologies. The two species turned out to be quite compatible, however, and Tigro grew up a healthy man. He became an instrumental component of the diplomatic relations between Betazed and Felinia, even before he was named Ambassador between the two worlds in 2342. When a minor conflict broke out on the colony of Tchrezna IV, which contained both Felinians and Betazoid, Ambassador Jaruq was assigned to alleviate the tension. He was given escort to the colony aboard the USS Tolkien, where he met Ensign Theresa McKinney. Kept in close contact during the escort, the two fell in love and later got married. Providing yet another project for the Federation's medical experts, the two conceived a child, a hybrid of three unique races, Thomas Jaruq. They later had a second child, Puma Jaruq, who works closely with his grandfather at the Felinia Science Institute. *Personal History* When Thomas was born, Tigro settled down on Betazed with Theresa. It was there that most of Thomas' childhood was spent. Though Tigro's field work took a back seat to caring for his child, recreational travel did allow Thomas to experience much of the Galaxy, mainly the other worlds of his lineage, Earth and Felinia. There was much debate between the two parents as to how they would raise the child. They decided that bringing him up with the customs of his homeworld of Betazoid would be best, but also intergrated Human and Felinian culture into his education. As Thomas grew up, travelling the galaxy with his family, he developed a fascination with the cosmos and, especially, the fleets of starships roaming the stars. In keeping with his Felinian lineage, he was always impressed by the power of starships, and spent a great deal of his time studying their schematics and functions. He knew at an early age that his place was on board one of those vessels, preferably in the very organization that his mother served, Starfleet. Aspiring to join Starfleet, at the age of 17, Thomas took the mandatory one year Starfleet Preparation Program at the Betazed Science Academy. The newly created Program was aimed at encouraging more Betazoids to join Starfleet, while providing potential recruits with an edge in the Academy. Arduous, but thorough, it gave basic instruction in the practices of a Starfleet officer and in the cultures, sciences, politics, and principles of the Federation, with emphasis on a Betazoid view of the Galaxy. Continuing his pre-Starfleet study, Thomas served aboard the Betazoid freighter Antaj, assigned to the trade route between Betazed and Felinia, as an apprentice engineer. Of the old style Arji class, almost due for decommisioning, the freighter was prone to frequently sustaining internal damage, giving Thomas plenty of experience with repair work. With the proper experience and credentials, Thomas joined the Academy at the age of 20 to study engineering. His major focuses were on Starship Mechanics, Warp Physics, Weapon Engineering, Temporal Mechanics, and Starship Design. He excelled at all the required courses and graduated without incident in 2378. *Medical Profile* Thomas' unique mix of three distinct races represents a medical milestone. Understanding all three races and how they are intergrated into Thomas' physiology is necessary to providing medical care. Outwardly, Thomas has the appearance of any human or Betazoid, with the exception of three Felinian attributes. Because of the odd hair pigmentation of the Felinian species, Thomas' hair contains very distinctly colored patches. While Thomas does retain this trait of his Felinian lineage, his body hair grows only as thickly and only in the same places as the average human's. His eyes, a deep gold in color, are not commonly seen among most species. Additionally, an abnormal extension of his tail bone has lead to the presence of a fleshy "stub" on his lower back. It is obviously not as long as the typical Felinian's tail, which can extend as much as three feet, but it is barely visible in a standard Starfleet uniform. Though it is rare, the stub will sometimes vibrate in response to intense emotional stimuli. Thomas' brain is largely based on Betazoid anatomy; he possesses latent empathic abilities. It takes great effort for him to read even stronger emotions, but the most intense emotions can slip into his mind; he does not have the ability to block them. In either case, a very strong empathic reading can leave Thomas in a weakened state and result in rather long term headaches. These can be treated with common painkillers. Most unique is Thomas' physiology, which is based largely on that of the Felinians. There are several points which require particular consideration: -Cardiovascular system. Thomas' heart rate averages 95 beats per minute. His normal body temperature is 37.9ºC. -Musculoskeletal system. Thomas' muscles are, in general, more developed than the average human's. This carries with it the obvious advantage of increased strength. The muscles of his legs and arms are particularly powerful, allowing him to sprint and leap great distances and excel at climbing skills. The increased muscle mass is substituted for a more slim skeletal structure, which leaves Thomas more suspectible to injury. His joints, however, are extremely flexible. His greater ability to twist, turn, and bend his body are invaluable to performing engineering work. Because of the increased agility, he is also more reflexive than the average human. While Thomas' fingers do have the customary Felinian claws, he does not have the means to extend them. -Sensory systems. Felinians exhibit heightened senses of taste, smell, hearing, and sight. Their ability to spot changes in light patterns from great distances and hear even the faintest sounds were once crucial to survival on the harsh world of Felinia. For Thomas, the heightened senses allow him to perform meticulous engineering work more efficiently and hear energy resonance fluctuations before they have a chance to develop into mechanical problems. Because of his unique brain structure, however, this can often lead to headaches. The heightened senses also contribute to his sharper reflexes. -Nervous system. Several additional "sensitive areas" on the Felinian body include the jaw region, the lower back, the abdomen, and behind the ears. Contact with any of these areas can arouse Thomas' emotions, positively or negatively depending on the situation and his mood. -Communication. Evolution has granted the Felinians linguistic ability. Today, they communicate mostly with words, as would any other intelligent species. Before the advantages of evolution, however, they communicated with vocal sounds and changes of their appearance. Thomas is known, rarely and in states of intense emotion, to resort to these primitive forms of communication, which most notably include hissing and yowling. Additionally, intense emotion or illness can cause rapid vibrations of the Keritad bone, situated near the heart, against his spine; this results in a soft "purring" sound. -Medical personnel should be warned against using any drugs containing the herb Nepeta cataria, used in the production of some sedatives and painkillers, to treat Thomas. The aroma of the herb is known to have narcotic effects on Felinians. Injecting the herb into Thomas' bloodstream could cause him to completely lose his inhibitions. Thomas' clash of three races' anatomies has, so far, not risen any medical concerns. His condition should be continually monitored with medical checkups in the event that such a concern should present itself. At the time of his last examination, Thomas was at perfect health for a being of Human, Betazoid, and Felinian origin. *Psyche Evaluation* Coping with a mixed species origin can be a challenging endeavour for a child. It is known that, growing up on Betazoid, Thomas was somewhat of an outcast. The instincts of his Felinian background, especially, clashed dramatically with the norms he was expected to follow in Betazoid civilization. According to accounts, Thomas was a troublesome child, outspoken, prone to aggression directed at his peers, and preferring to swing about trees in the Betazed forests rather than calmly and patiently sitting through his school instructions. Luckily, those raw instincs that have survived ages of Felinian evolution are most evident in the youngest of their kind. Even as a full Felinian grows and matures, he allows his reasoning to overcome his instincts. Thus, as Thomas matured on Betazoid, he learned to better meld himself into society. The Thomas of today is a normal officer fully capable of following Starfleet protocols and socializing with his comrades. The unpredictable nature, creative urges, and unique charm of a Human combine with the refinement and unrestricted passion of a Betazoid and the deeply rooted--but ever ready to spring to the surface--hunter's instinct of a Felinian to form the psyche of Thomas Jaruq. In the workplace, Thomas is known to perform beyond, but not necessarily above, the call of duty. He is an extremely creative engineer, never passing up the opportunity to pull apart and rearrange mechanical devices, or even concoct inventions of his own. This could both get him into trouble and make him an invaluable member of an engineering team. But his Felinian side also leaves Thomas with great respect for strong authority. More reserved authority, on the other hand, he tends to view with skepticism. The emotional awkwardness of Thomas' three species, as well as the fact that they are all clashing in a single mind, makes him an extremely moody person. The aggressive side of Thomas can be expected to surface in heated situations, though his calmer Betazoid side goes to great efforts to keep his aggression in check. He can also be fairly careless and prone to acts of mischief, like most Felinians. As of last evaluation date, Thomas has no mental or emotional problems which should require special attention. *Career History* SD 35703.17: Entered Erol Tynes Early Education Center SD 36806.20: Entered Erol Tynes Middle Education Center SD 37104.27: Graduated Erol Tynes, 9.7 Scholastic Scale SD 37108.18: Entered Betazed Science Academy, Starfleet Preparation Program SD 37212.03: Graduated Science Academy, 9.8 Scholastic Scale, received Minor Scholar Degree SD 37304.05: Began engineering apprenticeship aboard Betazed freighter Antaj SD 37407.28: Entered Starfleet Academy SD 37803.08: Graduated from Starfleet Academy, 3.8 GPA SD 37803.14: Assigned to USS Arcadia 1742-D as Assistant Engineer SD 37804.10: Transferred to USS Arcadia 1742-E SD 37812.15: Promoted to Lieutenant J.G. SD 37901.20: Vanished without a trace, declared MIA SD 37904.23: Reappeared on Arcadia