Scene: Lounge
MD:4.1200

	 He had to be punctual.  It was a princess he was dealing with.
Dev went into the room with mixed feelings.  She _was_ beautiful.  But
she was also a pain.  It seemed that she was warming up slightly to him.

	 "Princess Deneva, good to see you," That was not a lie.  Dev took
a seat across from her.

	 "You're food here is weird.  I asked for some Gallilel and it
gave me this!"  She showed him a plate of spaghetti.

	 "Replicators are messed way up, unfortunately.  They're only 50%
accurate.  But if you're not going to eat it, I'll be glad too.  I love
spaghetti," Dev said to the princess.

	 "I haven't tasted it.  Is it good?"  Deneva said with a somewhat
inquiring look upon her face.  Dev smiled at her.

	 "Try it, why don't you!"  Dev said pushing the plate closer to
her.  She took it and tried grabbing some with her fork, but it slid
off.  She tried again to no avail.

	 "How the hell do you eat this stuff!"  She slammed her fork down.

	 "It's easy.  You take the fork like this,"  He grabbed the downed
fork, "And you twist up these noodles, and you eat them."  He
demonstrated for her.  He put a noodle in his mouth and sucked it up.
She eyed him strangely.

	 "Like this,"  She said as she twirled it up and ate some.  A
noodle hung out so she tried sucking it up, but she tried way to hard.
The noodle came up with great speed and backlashed her in the face, leaving a
trail of red sauce on her cheek.  "Hmph!"  She grabbed a napkin as
Dev laughed.

	 "Watch out for the backlash....."


Scene: CHILLICOTHE's 'Greenhouse'
MD: 4.2100

	 After giving the Princess a tour of the ship, another flying
lesson in a P-38, and showing her the new fighters the Chilli recieved,
Dev was close to beat.  But Deneva wanted to see more.

	 They now strolled lazily through the rows of flowers that were
set up in the 'Greenhouse', the ship's hydroponics area.  Dev picked a
rather beautiful flower and tucked it behind Deneva's ear.  "There, that
adds to your already beautiful face."

	 Deneva looked at him for a moment, and finally realized that the
man that she was walking with had a crush on her.  She hadn't seen it
earlier.  Two days ago she would have dismissed the idea and dismissed
him.  Strangely though, she felt strongley for him too.  It wasn't
something she was expecting.  He was just a commoner, a pilot at that, and she
was a princess for heaven's sake!  Her hand came up, almost
involuntarily and held on to his hand.

	 Dev's brained raced.  He wasn't all that great with woman.  The
reason he passed 1st in his class for piloting besides being one of the
best, was he was usually to shy for him to get involved with woman.  Now
he was holding onto a one's hand.  Amazingly, for the first time!  When
it came to love and matters like that, Dev was for certainly not very
knowledgable.  All he knew was from watching the holo's and from
friends.  She pulled him to stop and looked into his eyes.  His hands were
shakey a little, and he returned the look.

	 "Aren't you going to kiss me?"  Deneva asked as she pulled him a
little closer.

	 "I---I,"  Dev kicked his brain to shut up, and let his heart go.
He leaned forward and kissed her, full on the lips.  It was too say a
very good kiss for a beginner.

	 He pulled away first, relunctantly of course.  His brain kicked
him back into being nervous, "I---I got to go!"  Dev turned and rushed
out to the lift and went directly to his room.

	 "What the hell were you thinking Snake Eyes?  Kissing a Princess?
  Trig is going to kill you!  You were supposed to be diplomatic, not
romantic!  And why the hell did you run away from one of the best
moments of your life?  How stupid can you get?"  Dev yelled at himself as he
slumped down in his bed.  He just laid the for at least an hour, doing nothing
but breathing and thinking.  He decided to face his fears.

Scene: Deneva's room
MD: 4.2212

	 [Who is it?]  The voice on the otherside sounded a little irritated.

	 "It's me, Dev.  Please let me in, and I'll try to explain...."
Dev said into the intercom.  A CPO walked by and gave him a quizicall look.  Dev
gave him the evil I and the CPO scurried away.  The door finally
slid open and revealed Princess Deneva, scowling.

	 Dev made his way and began his explanation, "I'm so sorry for
running of like that."

	 "You should be!"  Deneva said as she sat down.

	 "It's that I've never held anyone's hand, let alone kiss a girl.
I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'Don Juan'."

	 "A what?"  Deneva asked.

	 "Old earth saying.  I can't find the right words.  What I think
I'm trying to say is.... is."

	 "You're shy, right?  You were shocked by the kiss and you ran off
because you were overwhelmed?"  Deneva said nailing it on the head.

	 "Yes exactly.  I am a true romantic at heart, but I'm not very
good at enacting always what is in my heart.  That is why I write songs.
  I can always sing how I feel, but I can't always just say it,"  Dev said
as he sat down next to her.

	 Deneva laughed.  Dev was a little offended.  He was being all
serious like, and she laughed.  "What?"  Dev asked.

	 "Sorry.  I wasn't laughing at the fact that you write songs.
Those songs you played last night were just lovely.  I was just laughing
at the fact you've never been kissed.  Come on!  You're in you twenties.
You're looking dashingly good, you have a such charm and wit, and you've
never been kissed?  I can hardly believe that."

	 "I've been kissed by you....." Dev said, trying to take away the
title of 'never been kissed'.

	 "Twice."  She leaned over and kissed him on the lips again.  This
time he didn't run.  He returned the kiss.

	 After kissing for awhile, the two sat on the sofa and talked for
the whole night.  By the time the night was over, Dev felt like he knew
everything about her, and like a lot of it.  He stood up, "I've got to
go.  2 hours to sleep before my shift."

	 She tried to stop him, but he kissed her on the cheek and left
for his own room and his own bed.


----
NRPG:

Chris:  There you go sir......

Jen: First Nic has to say it, now it's Deneva's turn.  I think all the
woman should nominate him for Mr. Universe or something. <VBEG>

Mike S. Randles
Lt. (jg) Dev Scott
FCO
USS CHILLICOTHE

___________________________________________________________________
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Free software, free e-mail, and free Internet access for a month!
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Jen wrote:


Notes: Absolutely worthless and probably a waste of bandwidth. ;)


I wrote:

Worthless?  I think not!  You totally described me and my character in
there! <EG>  Specially the dashing and handsome part. <G>


Mike S. Randles

___________________________________________________________________
Get the Internet just the way you want it.
Free software, free e-mail, and free Internet access for a month!
Try Juno Web: http://dl.www.juno.com/dynoget/tagj.

MD: 3.1335
Scene: BLUE Fleet Liaison's Office, USS CHILLICOTHE

Three days out from SALADIN and already Nic was at a loss.

What was a 'Blue Fleet Liaison' supposed to DO?

Flagship of the fleet or no, the CHILLICOTHE was a brand new ship with no
history of its own, no archives to access and study… and even though she had
a rich complement of crew members, there was no real reason for the former
ambassador to go poking around in their lives.

There had been a brief - very brief - meeting with Princess Deneva as she'd
been transported aboard, but Commander Bradford had handled that for the
most part. Nic had recognized the young woman as being quite spoiled, an
altogether thoroughly expected condition for younger members of any royal
family, and wasn't the least upset when Trig had let her know she didn't
have to be responsible for the little chit. She didn't understand his
assigning Lt. Scott to the duty, however… what in the world was he
*thinking*?

Nic had to think on that question awhile. Then it occurred to her that Trig
had an ulterior motive. Perhaps more than one. He likely knew the young
woman wouldn't enjoy being escorted by a female ambassado-- er -- liaison.
And she was sure he was sure he didn't particularly want all his liaison's
time taken up babysitting the royal princess. Mr. Scott was the perfect
solution - dashing, exciting, handsome… oui. The perfect solution. After
all, the CHILLICOTHE was playing both babysitter and taxi; how much special
attention did they have to provide a wastrel princess?

Nic rose from the desk and made her way to the replicator in response to her
body's demand for some tea. "East Frisian Blend," she murmured, still
reading from the PADD in her hand on the cultural traditions of Achron 9 and
the royal family's history. She'd not had enough time to pick up on the
expectations for first-time meetings before the CHILLICOTHE had arrived at
Petch Station to pick her up… and it relieved her to see the French-style
ceremonial pecks on the cheeks she'd given the woman in welcome weren't so
far off from what the princess was used to in her own culture.

Without bothering to look, Nic pulled the hot mug of black tea out of the
replicator niche and carried it back to her desk. Settling herself back in
the chair, she took a sip - and promptly spat the contents of her mouth all
over the PADD and half the desktop.

"Mon Dieu!" she cried, her baby blue eyes going wide in shock and focusing
on the vile-tasting fluid in the cup she'd managed not to throw across the
room. An experimental sniff at the rim caused her to screw up her face into
a very ugly expression. "Zis is… "

Nic couldn't think of anything bad enough to call it. Hopping back up,
leaving the 'tea' behind, she hurried into the bathroom and washed out her
mouth - repeatedly - until the foul taste was gone.

A few minutes later she appeared on the Bridge, looking for Trig. In her
hand was the rapidly cooling mug and on her pretty face a look of
determination. "Mon Capitaine?" she said sweetly.

Trig's face lit up - almost against his will. He'd tried and tried to hide
the way he felt for 'his little French sparkplug', but it was impossible. He
could only smile at her and be grateful that no one had seen his or her way
to teasing him about it. Feeling his gruff reputation had suffered enough,
he cocked a brow. "Good afternoon, Ms. Chiraque… what can I do for you?"

"You can taste zis and tell me what it is," she said, batting her lashes at
him. "I ordered a blend of East Frisian tea… and zis is what I was given."

Trig groaned. "We're having a little trouble with the replicators," he
admitted, as though it weren't evident. He took the mug from her and lifted
it - his nose calling a halt to the operation before his lips reached the
rim. "Holy-- that smells *awful*."

"Oui," Nic agreed, putting her hands on her hips. "I believe I have an idea
what it is… you can feed it to ze plant in your office. It should make it
grow like ze wildfire."

Trig blinked and moved the cup farther away, trying to give it back to Nic,
who declined to take it. It was easy to see - or smell - why she'd think
that. "It smells like… fertilizer," he made a face almost as ugly as the one
Nic had made earlier.

"It *is* fertilizer, Capitaine… have you never heard of ze thé d'engrais ?"
she asked. "Ze manure tea?"

Trig's eyes widened and he motioned for the nearest yeoman to take the cup
and get it away from him. "No! Good God! Why in the name of all that's holy
would anyone make tea out of…" he caught himself before using a more vulgar
term.

"It makes ze crops grow," Nic reported laconically. "It is still in use in
ze more primitive cultures in ze universe.

"Then why would a starship replicator have a need to make any!?" he demanded
as the others on the Bridge tried to stifle their snickers.

Nic shrugged, "I'm sure ze knowledge will come in handy some day," she
smiled. "But until zen… could we see if Mr. Korth could fix ze replicator in
my office? I cannot function properly without my tea!"

Trig's eyebrow crawled further up on his forehead and suddenly he saw
something the woman he loved and the princess had in common. Why was it so
much more appealing in *this* one than the one he'd palmed off on Lt. Scott?
He nodded, doing a little stifling of his own. "I'll see what I can do."
____________________________________

NRPG:

MD: 3.1335 - More replicator troubles.

Notes: Absolutely worthless and probably a waste of bandwidth. ;)

____________________________________

Respectfully submitted,

Jenny Dahl
Karal@...
'D'Alles'
ICQ-UIN 6828803

Lt.[jg] Karal K'ng hSi; CNS, USS TROUTMAN, Silver Fleet
Lt.[jg] Sydney M. 'D'Alles' D'Allesandro; JAG Officer, SFDITF, Blue Fleet
Lt. Ala Chamani (RIP); OPS, USS ASCLEPIUS, Red Fleet
Lt. Cdr. Eilese Riveau; OPS, USS MONTANA, Blue Fleet
Cdr. Alexandra Bradford; XO, USS CHILLICOTHE, Blue Fleet
Ms. Judith Georgina MacDougall; Freelance Writer, SB KAPPA, Red Fleet
Capt. Lydia Granger; CO, USS ALLIANCE, Red Fleet
CPO Sol Sosa; Administrative Aide, Red Command
Romani Ivana Kaslov; Bartender, USS ARIANE, Red Fleet
SGTM Bette Darlene D'Angelo, Secretary, Starfleet Command (NRP)(Ret.)
Dr. Rebecca (Nic)ole Chiraque, BLUE Fleet Liaison, USS CHILLICOTHE (PNPC)
VAdm. Mary Catherine Murphy, CINCSFA; Commandant, Starfleet Academy
Dr. Anna Woodcock-White, aCMO, USS ASCLEPIUS, Red Fleet (PNPC)
Dr. Synnthia Sune Amon, Research Scientist, Advanced Field Studies, SFSCI
(PNPC)

'Writing is easy; all you have to do is stare at a blank sheet of paper
until the drops of blood form on your forehead.' -Gene Fowler

SD 110915.1914
MD 3.1211

----------
READY ROOM
----------

*THUNK*

"GRR!"

*THUNK*

"ARGH!"

*THUNK*

*Smash!*

"DAAAAAAMMMMMMMMIT!"

Christian Gray came storming through the Ready Room doors with Lieutenant
Colonel Quayde in tow, both with phasers drawn and ready.

"Is everything all right sir?!" he asked his eyes darting hurriedly around
the room to ensure there was not threat to the captain. The only evidence
of a struggle was a fallen coffe mug on the floor, it's porcelain broken
and scattered across the hardwood floor. There was also a white liquid that
was seeping away from the mug that had obviously been the beverage inside it.

"No it is not!" bellowed Trig. "This damn replicator can't get a anything
right! I ask for coffee and I get a Shirley Temple! I ask for an orange
juice and I get Andorian Fizz! I ask for Andorian Fizz and I get breast
milk! ARGH!"

Christian made a mental note *NOT* to order Andorian Fizz until the
replicator was fixed.

"Have you tried smacking it?" said Quayde coming over and whacking the
replicator with the palm of his hand. "It always worked back at the Marine
Academy where the replicator there was finicky."

"See that?" Trig said pointing to the marks on the wall.

"Yes?" the other two said in unison.

"I took the boots to it," Trig said with a wry grin. "It that wasn't going
to get it to work, then nothing would!"

"Shall we call for cleanup sir?" asked Christian stiffling the urge to
burst out laughing.

"No, no, that won't be necessary," Trig said waving his hand. "I'd just
wish things around here actually worked! Didn't SFE check this boat out
before we got her?"

"I believe they ran checks on all systems sir, but being that this is a new
starship design with only the ALLIANCE out there the same class, it's tough
to get all the bugs worked out ahead of time," explained the CSO.

"So in other words we are the guinea pigs?" asked Trig more of a statement
then a question.

"Ah...in a way, yes sir," replied Dixon stepping in. "We'll contact
Engineering to have the replicators looked at right away."

Trig thought of the injured Korth down in Engineering gamely trying to
manage his department and his recovery at the same time. The last thing he
wanted to do was to overburden his CEO unnecessarily.

"No that's fine Colonel," Trig said calming. "Just add it to the list with
all the others. "I'll just have to be surprised when I want something to
drink for the time being."

The three left the Ready Room for the Bridge where Trig sat in his chair.
He had to admit the the Bridge layout was quite impressive for the Heinlein
class and the leather chairs were quite a bit more comfortable then the
Solar class model. He'd have to make sure that he did not fall asleep in
the chair at any time.

The ship itself still looked and smelled new. Everything gleamed bright and
shiny and Trig was bound and determined to keep everything looking that
way. No more bringing the ship home all scarred up and barely operational
like the last couple of missions. He wanted to make sure that this one
stayed in prime condition as long as possible.

There were a lot of new features this ship had over the CORONA that would
make her tougher in battle. First were the Mutliphasic shields. The
modulation frequency of the shields can be changed automatically by the
computer to match the frequency of the weapons being fired upon it. This
forces the attacker to change the weapons modulation in order to penetrate
the shields. This allows for more time that the Chillicothe can blast away
and damage the other ship while not
receiving damage herself.

The second feature was the ability to have multiple holographic doctors
assisting the medical staff. With the addition of
holoprojectors on every deck, they could virtually go anywhere on board
just so long as they were not on the same deck on the same time. This would
be a great asset if the ship was under heavy attack and should save a lot
of lives. It was Trig's hope that they would never have to be used, but it
was comforting to know that they were there if needed.

The most intriguing addition to the ship was the HCC; the Holographic
Command Center. Quoting the official description of the HCC from the
Heinlein-class Handbook that comes with all new vessels: "This system is
similar to the normal Holodeck and astrogation lab; however, both systems
have been joined. The Captain and Command crew can observe
the situation they find themselves in from a 3D perspective: they will
actually appear to walk through space and look at unknown ships or spatial
events, just like a normal holo-deck simulation."

It was now time to give this new system a test.

"Commader Holland," Trig said to his OPS/2O. "Please bring the HCC online.
I'd like to see how it functions."

"Aye sir," replied the still youthful looking OPS. He may not look
seventeen anymore after his operation, but he still looked at lot younger
then Trig. "HCC now online."

[AROOGACHOOCHOOGA AROOGACHOOCHOOGA]

"What the hell was that?" asked Trig at the sound.

[AROOGACHOOCHOOGA AROOGACHOOCHOOGA]

"That," pointed Commander Bradford at the nearly naked form dancing on the
holographic display. She had to stiffle a giggle at the sight of a baby
gyrating his hips in tune to the chanting.

[AROOGACHOOCHOOGA AROOGACHOOCHOOGA]

"ARGH!"

*THUNK*

----------
Ready Room
----------
MD 3.1245

"Princess Devena," said Trig smiling and coming up to the female standing
before him in the Ready Room. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise Captain Hawker," replied the Princess scanning the room she was
in. Trig had spent quite some time decorating his Ready Room while the ship
was being completed. The walls were a dark burgundy, with a light trim and
although dark, the room was cozy rather then foreboding.  On the walls were
paintings of various outdoors scenes, some with mountain landscapes and
others with fast moving rivers depicted in them. It gave the room a sporty
feel. On the far wall, he had a fireplace. No not a real one, but a
holographic representation of one. Like his mood, Trig either had a roaring
fire blazing in it or he had just some smoldering embers in the fireplace.
The center piece of the room was the large oak desk sitting on the hardwood
floors directly adjacent to the fireplace. This was in place of  the
standard Federation console-type desks found in most starships. Being the
fleet flagship had its privileges.

Behind the desk was a large painting of the Chillicothe shooting through a
nebula. Underneath the picture was the ship's motto:

"...the bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is
before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding go out to meet
it -Thucydides"

A large window ran from the floor to the ceiling on the opposite side of
the fireplace and with a skylight over the desk, bathed the room in light
from the stars. All in all, it was a place Trig felt quite a home, a place
where he could go to and focus. Every CO needed such a place.

"Has your ship done that?" asked the Princess pointing to the painting
behind the desk.

"You mean explore a nebula like that one, no," said Trig. "This is actually
her maiden voyage. We've not done much with her so far."

"Hmm. That's a shame," said the Princess unimpressed. "Sounds like this
ship is quite boring then."

"Well I wouldn't say that," replied Trig with a frown. Who was she to
judge? "There are plenty of exciting things this crew has done and plenty
of new features this ship has to offer."

"Well I hope things are a little more exciting then they've been so far,"
stated Devena.

"But you just got on board?" said Trig confused. "What could have possibly
have happened?"

"My point exactly! Nothing has happened yet and that bores me," said the
Princess getting up from her chair and walking over the window. "I was told
that this ship was interesting."

  *I'll give you interesting Miss Priss,* thought Trig. "Would you care for
a drink Princess? Andorian Fizz perhaps?"

"No thank you," she replied whipping back around and heading for the door.
"If you won't mind having someone show me to my room, I think I'd like to
go unpack." With that she walked out of the room and waited with her aides
on the Bridge.

*What nerve!* thought Trig annoyed. Just as he reached the door to go out,
Doctor Effield came up to him and handed him a PADD. "Here are the damage
estimates from Mister Scott's little maneuver the other day," he said.

"Maneuver?" asked Trig. "Oh yes, now I remember." *How could I forget,*
Trig thought. I was holding a cup of coffee in my hand at the time.

"I'm still waiting……" called the Princess tapping her foot in annoyance.
"Who is going to show me to my room?"

Trig looked at the PADD and then at the Princess. "Mister Scott, please
report to my Ready Room on the double. I have a job for you."

Respectfully Submitted,
Chris Aubrey

NRPG: I'm back! Sorry for the delay but I've been swamped lately. Things
are looking much improved so I should be around far more often now :)

Mike R: I need Dev to do what I suggested in the NRPG so I can move the
plot along. We can make it a JP if you'd like?

Rob/Michael: I hope I played Dixon and Christian alright <G>

Jenny: Welcome back from vacation ;>

Melanie: You know I'm STILL trying to get a post together for you. I
haven't forgotten about Callie ;>

MD SUMMARY
MD 3.1211 - Trig fights with the replicator  [CA]
MD 3.1245 - Trig fights with the Princess ;) [CA]

Cheers,
Chris Aubrey
CDOR Trig Hawker
CO, USS CHILLICOTHE
craubrey@...
ICQ #29951766
-------------------------------------------------------
"Do or do not. There is no try." Yoda, ESB.

MD: 16.0116
Scene: Starbase Saladin, Holodeck 2

Several hours had passed since Alexandra had sent out the invitation to the
others on the crew and the little holodeck pub was now noisily full of
CHILLICOTHE crewmembers. Both beings she knew and beings she didn't seemed
to be having a wonderful time.

>From her vantage point in an out-of-the-way corner, Alex watched. Trig and
the French Ambassador turned Liaison to Blue Fleet… there was a story there;
she was sure of it. But she didn't have the energy to track it down - and if
it was what she suspected, she didn't want to know. Somehow, she didn't
think she could bear smiling and telling one or the other of them how
wonderful it was that they'd found one another…

… not when it could end like it had for her and Quinn.

Some would say, no matter that it was over, that she should be glad for the
few months, the few weeks, they'd had. Some would say what they'd had for so
short a time was better than what some have in a whole lifetime. Some would
say that was worth anything.

They'd be wrong.

Alexandra leaned back, letting the shadow of the overhanging decorations
hide her head and shoulders. She'd been drinking rather steadily, enjoying
the warm numbness the alcohol was imparting to her body, and had switched
her attention to the others: Christian. She offered another silent 'thanks'
to God for his friendship - even if he was still angry with her for the scar
she'd left on her arm in the wake of those darkest hours back in Corby. Even
if 'thanks' seemed to be more than he wanted from her.

How she wished she'd never met Quinn Fletcher…

"You shouldn't be sitting back here all by yourself," Keile T'Osio cut
whatever thought that was going to follow the Major's name. "Not when
there's a room full of people to talk to."  Keile had come directly from the
bar, and was carrying a glass of milk--not the most exciting drink, but
something that would keep her sober.  She'd had a feeling a counselor might
be very useful this evening.

"I'm not all by myself," Alexandra smiled up into the Counselor's eyes.
"You're here. Have a seat."

Keile was already lowering her frame into the chair across from the First
Officer. "Haven't had much of a chance to talk with you since we all got
back… did you manage to get any rest while you were home?"

Alexandra nodded. "That's about all I did," she told Keile. "Rest." Alex
lifted the glass in her hand and took another drink. "After - taking Quinn
home, I went straight to Corby and did nothing for almost four weeks."

"Doesn't sound like you spent much time in Scotland," Keile prompted.

"I… couldn't," Alexandra admitted.

"Did... Julia take it hard?"

"You'd have thought she was the widow," Alex nodded and took another drink
from the glass.

Trying hard not to appear to be analyzing everything the First Officer said,
Keile let the remark pass, but she didn't miss the tone with which it was
delivered. Nor did she miss the fact that Alexandra was actually talking to
her about things she'd considered very personal. Before she could speak, she
noticed Alexandra's gaze shoot away from her and focus… and turning around,
the Counselor saw Dixon Quayde come through the door. "Gang's all here," she
smiled, gave the man a wave, and turned back to face Alexandra.

"Marine," the Englishwoman said.

Everything about Quayde screamed 'Corps'. His bearing. The steely, very
nearly cold, look in his eyes. The buzz cut. The ramrod straight way he
carried himself - even off duty.  But for the face, and a different set of
rank pips, he could almost have been Quinn.

"New… MCO," Keile said. "You haven't met him, I take it?"

Alexandra shook her head. "Only in passing."

"Shall I call him over?" Keile asked, wondering if it would be a good idea…
or not. "You'll have to deal with Quinn's replacement - sooner or later."

'Quinn's replacement.' Alexandra smiled. Something about the two words
linked together like that didn't fit. An oxymoron like 'military
intelligence'… which in itself was amusing as hell. Quinn had been one of
the most intelligent men she'd ever met - yet those not in the Marines still
made fun of their 'jarhead' mentality.

Keile couldn't tell what was going on behind the First Officer's dark eyes,
but it wasn't the first time she wished her telepathy was of more use to
her. It wouldn't be the last.  "I don't think this would be a good time for
it, Counselor."

"Keile.  We're in the lounge, for goodness sake, Alex... call me Keile."  It
was phrased as an order, though the tone was that of a plea.  Keile put her
head in her hand.  There had to be some way to get through to Alex, to show
her that it was all right to loosen up.  She had to find that key, and soon,
before the poor woman exploded or, worse, imploded.

"Keile, then.  No one can replace Quinn, Keile.  No one.  Not for the ship.
And certainly not for me."  She took a gulp of her drink.

The counselor decided to switch tacks for a moment.  "What are you
drinking?"  It was a very interesting-looking concoction, red near the top
and yellow at the bottom, the color blending through the middle; the light
shining through it projected a miniature half-rainbow on the table.

"It's called a sunrise.  It's very sweet, and very alcoholic.  I have a
feeling," Alex said, looking at Keile's milk, "that you wouldn't enjoy it."

Keile smiled.  "No, I don't think I would, strong drink just isn't for me
somehow."

"Ah, but there are times, Counselor, when strong drink is very useful."

"And this is one of those times."

Alex took another sip, looking out the window, and nodded.  "Yes.  This...
is one of those times."  She continued observing the stars.  It was
different in port; the stars were stationary, completely immobile, single
points of light rather than spectra drawn out into lines.  "I should never
have met him."

Keile had heard this, vaguely, when Alex was still recovering in
Sickbay--but she wasn't sure what the older woman meant.  She still wasn't
sure.  "Alex," she said in a near-whisper, "whatever can you mean by that?
You and Quinn had a relationship that--transcended the realm of being merely
soulmates.  You were ideal for one another.  Why... why in the name of
seventeen planets' gods would you wish you hadn't met him?"  As soon as she
said it, she knew she'd regret speaking the words; they were pointed and
harsher than what Alex needed right now.  Keile was sitting on her emotional
crest again, though lately her cycle had been less pronounced--but still, it
kept coming through.  She was, perhaps, too caught up in her own feelings to
deal with this woman who wouldn't express hers.

Alex turned to look at her, slightly stunned.  Keile decided to press on;
there was nothing else for it now.  "The two of you had two months together,
perhaps a little bit longer if you include your courtship; can you tell me
that those were not the best two months of your life?  Can you sit there and
tell me that that time you spent with Quinn, the joy you shared with him,
doesn't balance, in some way, the grief and anger and pain you feel now?

Keile took a deep breath, calmed herself a bit, and lowered her voice; while
the noise of small talk in the lounge was pretty loud, she still didn't want
anyone overhearing their conversation.  "You have to look deep inside
yourself, Alex, and find the ability to accept this loss.  Quinn is
gone--and I wish I could bring him back for you.  If there were any way, I
would.  But I can't--and neither can you, nor anyone else."  Keile felt a
tear running down her cheek; she wiped it away.  "You owe it to Quinn to
move on.  It's... it's what he'd want you to do, isn't it?"

Alexandra, who'd had just enough alcohol to be feeling no pain, laughed out
loud, startling the counselor who hadn't expected anything close to that
reaction. "No," the Englishwoman said bluntly, "I think he wants me with
him."

"He wants you with him?"  Keile was even more startled by the response than
by the laughter.  Was Alex suicidal?  Keile had to think of Alex, as a
patient... but she also had to think about the crew's welfare.  Could she be
a danger to herself or the crew... or both?

Alexandra wasn't so drunk that she missed the flash of alarm that appeared
in Keile's eyes. She waved a hand dismissively, "He certainly doesn't want
me to be with anyone else," she said, and took another drink of the
brightly-colored concoction in her hand. "Not that I want to be," she added.
"But - don't worry. I've already tried that - joining him..." She smiled as
the look of alarm intensified. "It's okay, Keile... I didn't succeed."

"Obviously," Keile said somewhat dryly, the look of alarm not yet fading.
She wasn't sure just how drunk the Commander was--in fact, she wasn't sure
whether that was synthehol or alcohol in the glass, come to think of it.
She'd tried to kill herself once, and she was almost certainly depressed
enough to try again.  "Perhaps if you didn't succeed, that means he doesn't
want you with him.  Perhaps he's watching over you."

Alex was a little disappointed that the counselor didn't think her joke was
as funny as she herself thought it was. It was hard for the Englishwoman to
*be* funny... "I'm sure of that," she said, pulling in a deep breath. "Or -
perhaps we were both wrong... and he's just dead and I didn't do a very good
job of committing suicide." She shrugged a shoulder. "Either way, I failed;
I'm here. And I have no intention of trying again... so you can relax."

Keile wasn't so sure, but she was a good enough actress--a skill one had to
have when working with people who were unstable--that she could appear to
relax.  "That's good to know."  She took a sip of her milk, and heard Alex
laugh, presumably at her drink.  "But it still doesn't mean you can
accept--will accept--that he's gone."

Alexandra sighed, squirming around on the bench seat, trying to find a more
comfortable position - knowing there wasn't one. "I can't believe he's
gone," she admitted. "I can't... stand... that he's gone. But what's not to
accept? He's not here with me... not in my bed when I finally fall into
it... not in his office, not on the ship, not in Scotland... not anywhere.
I've accepted that."

"You've accepted that he's not here; have you accepted that he won't be
back?"  Keile was suddenly aware of the large crowd around them; this was a
conversation best held in the privacy of her office.  But it seemed that
Alex would never be able to loosen up in her office, not as she was doing
here.  Keile would try to hold down both their voices.

A gentle smile, quite out of place for the topic of conversation, caused the
corners of the First Officer's mouth to turn up slightly. "Oh, yes... yes,
I've accepted that... this time." She set the glass down on the table and
ran her finger around the rim. "But you know... you know what I'm really
afraid of, Keile?"

Keile shook her head, wondering what Alex could posibly be _really_ afraid
of.  As if merely being afraid weren't bad enough.

Without looking directly at the counselor, Alexandra knew her answer. "I...
I'm afraid he *will* come back," she whispered. "Or... worse. I'm afraid...
he was right. That... we will meet again, in another life... and this will
happen over and over and over..." She paused, but Keile could tell she
wasn't done. Several seconds ticked by before Alex could finish. She raised
her head and looked into the counselor's eyes. "What did I do? What did I
do - in that other lifetime - to have nothing but... *this*... to look
forward to for eternity?"
____________________________________

NRPG:

MD: 16.0116 - Keile has an unexpected session with Alexandra. [ES2 and JD]

Notes (from Jen): GAH! Somebody break up that happy couple, willya!?!
____________________________________

A joint post, respectfully submitted by:

Eric Snyder II            edsnyder@...            ICQ# 8560903
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Commodore Robert Boyd, PhD, Commanding Officer, USS Tempest
Lieutenant J.G. Keile T'Osio, Counselor, USS Corona
Vice Admiral Aurora Jackson, Commander-in-Chief, Blue Fleet
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"There are three rules for writing a novel.  Unfortunately, no one
knows what they are." -- W. Somerset Maugham

and

Jenny Dahl
Karal@...
'D'Alles'
ICQ-UIN 6828803

Lt.[jg] Karal K'ng hSi; CNS, USS TROUTMAN, Silver Fleet
Lt.[jg] Sydney M. 'D'Alles' D'Allesandro; JAG Officer, SFDITF, Blue Fleet
Lt. Ala Chamani (RIP); OPS, USS ASCLEPIUS, Red Fleet
Lt. Cdr. Eilese Riveau; OPS, USS MONTANA, Blue Fleet
Cdr. Alexandra Bradford; XO, USS CHILLICOTHE, Blue Fleet
Ms. Judith Georgina MacDougall; Freelance Writer, SB KAPPA, Red Fleet
Capt. Lydia Granger; CO, USS ALLIANCE, Red Fleet
CPO Sol Sosa; Administrative Aide, Red Command
Romani Ivana Kaslov; Bartender, USS ARIANE, Red Fleet
SGTM Bette Darlene D'Angelo, Secretary, Starfleet Command (NRP)(Ret.)
Dr. Rebecca (Nic)ole Chiraque, BLUE Fleet Liaison, USS CHILLICOTHE (PNPC)
VAdm. Mary Catherine Murphy, CINCSFA; Commandant, Starfleet Academy
Dr. Anna Woodcock-White, aCMO, USS ASCLEPIUS, Red Fleet (PNPC)
Dr. Synnthia Sune Amon, Research Scientist, Advanced Field Studies, SFSCI
(PNPC)

'Writing is easy; all you have to do is stare at a blank sheet of paper
until the drops of blood form on your forehead.' -Gene Fowler

MD:  01.0900
Scene:  Sickbay of USS CHILLICOTHE

"Good morning," Bobby said, smiling at the medics and nurses going about
their business in Sickbay.  He headed directly for his office to get some
things he needed to perform the system shakedown scheduled for today.  As he
sat down in his chair, he noticed that the PADDs that were on his desk last
night were now nowhere to be found. *Hm.  Where could they have gotten off
to?*

Bobby decided to ask Dr. Van Aiken, seeing as how he was the only other
person who ever really went into the CMO's office.  Following the sound of a
Klingon opera led him to the surgical ward, which was much larger than the
CORONA's.

"Jerry, do you have a minute?  I need to..." Bobby was cut short as he felt
the deck below him move.  Suddenly, an entire tray of instruments was headed
directly for him, and he was falling back out the door he had just entered.
"WHAT IS GOING ON???" he screamed as he slammed into a medic, pressing him
further into the wall.  The various instruments impacted his torso, only
slightly before Mr. Van Aiken.

Suddenly, the deck began to shift again.  The doctor sandwich that had
formed now began falling, as a whole, toward the opposite wall, and a
biobed.  The biobed slammed squarely into Jerry's femur, apparently causing
him a lot of pain.  The ship righted itself, and the three men fell to the
floor in a heap.

"OW!  My leg!  I think it might be broken.  Can you get me on this biobed?"
Jerry asked, clutching his leg, and trying to examine himself.  The two men
helped Jerry onto the biobed, and began to examine him.

"I don't think it's broken.  Just fractured, more likely.  I'd say you'll
need to be off your feet for a couple of hours while we repair it, but
nothing major.  And, while I've got you here, do you think that you could
tell me where the PADDs that were on my desk last night got to?"

"I guess I could tell you.  Why do you want to know? "

"They were my to-do lists for the shakedown today.  Apparently I have
something else to add:  get Engineering to check out artificial gravity and
inertial dampers."

"Would you be terribly upset if I had already sent the staff to work on
them?  I saw them lying around, and figured it'd be a good way to give you
more time to get used to Sickbay."

"Thanks, Jerry.  I appreciate the gesture.  I'll get you set up so you won't
have to spend all day on your back, and go see how everyone is doing."

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a shower of sparks flew through the door
into Main Sickbay.  Bobby ran to investigate.  He found a hypospray firmly
embedded in a control panel, and some burn marks on the wall around the
panel.

"Oh, just super.  All I needed was to lose a panel when I'm trying to run a
diagnostic.  Why can't anything go right today?"  Just then, a nurse walked
up to him with a PADD. "Yes?"

"All finished with the shakedown, sir.  Once Engineering addresses these
problems, we'll be ready to go."

"Finally, some good news!  Now, if we could just get them over here to fix
the problems.  I don't want to be performing surgery, and float away with a
piece of the patient."

======
NRPG:

MD Summary
01.0900:  Lt. Scott's joyride costs Sickbay valuable equipment, and makes
the staff paranoid.

Mike:  Sorry, but I had to do that.  It was an opportunity to show that the
ship's not in perfect condition yet, and we still have a couple of flaws to
work out, especially in the medical department.  Have fun with the Princess,
though!

Ryan:  I hope Jerry won't mind a temporary injury thanks to the miracles of
malfunctioning technology.

All:  Just a little post to show that college hasn't swallowed me whole.
I'm still here, but Bobby hasn't had much to do lately, since there was no
real need for a doctor.  I mean, what can happen in dry-dock?

Respectfully submitted,
William Veazey, Jr.
Student Technical Advisor
Wake Forest University
veazwo03@... / vz21@...
AOL IM Screen Name:  Veazey 21
ICQ:  31048368
=/\= Lt. (jg) Tim Edwards (CNS, SB CENTERPOINT)
=/\= Lt. (jg) Bobby Effield (CMO, USS CHILLICOTHE)
==================================
"Many people swear by their PCs.
Many more swear at them."
--Bob's Fridge (www.bobsfridge.com)

MD: 01.0900
Scene: Bridge of USS CHILLICOTHE

	 "Engineering reports everything normal Captain, fit as a fiddle,"
  Korth nodded from his station.

	 Trig looked as composed as he'd ever be.  He stood up from his chair and looked
at the main view screen.  "Open a channel to SALADIN and
request departure from the mooring."

	 "Already done sir.  SALADIN wishes a safe journey," Holland said
from OPS.

	 "Very good.  Mr. Scott, bring us out at 1/4 impulse.  When we
clear the station, let's push her up to full and see how she 'handles'
it,"  Trig said as he sat back down in the center seat.  Commander
Fletcher sat next to him.

	 "Aye, sir!"  Too bad for Commodore Hawker's choice of words.
Trig should have known not to say see how she handles.  That was Dev's
excuse to pull of his manuevers that were so precision that you'd swear the
inertial dampners were offline.  "We've cleared the station and I'm
bringing her to full impulse.  Commencing on 'Shake down' manuevers
now!"

	 Before Trig had time argue Scott punched the speed and began pulling corkscrews
and loops.  He's speed up and slow down to accomplish
manuevers that some of the crew had never even imagined.  And this was in a
starship.

	 Trig smiled at the young man's enthusiasm, but had enough.
"That's good Lt. Scott.  You may stop the shake down manuevers.  Set
course for the Petch System, warp 5.  Engage."

	 The stars leaped forward as the ship engaged warp.  Devon hated
warp.  It was a time he couldn't do anything but wait and run little diagnostics
on his system.  Trig got up and left for the ready room.  Devon
followed his example and left for his office.  He still needed to find
out who the other three pilots of the X1-15's were going to be.

Scene: Bridge
MD: 3. 1234

	 "We've arrived at our destination.  Slowing to one quarter
impluse,"  Dev Scott said from his station.

	 "Very good.  Mr. Holland open a channel to the station,"  Trig said.

	 A man's face appeared on the screen, [[[Greetings Commodore,
we've been expecting you.  Princess Deneva will be ready to be beamed
over in several minutes.]]]

	 "Thank you Lieutenant.  Anything else?"  Trig inquired.

	 [[[No, sir.  PETCH out]]]

	 "Cmdr. Fletcher, please go greet our guest and show her to her
quarters and accomodations.  When she's aboard, set course for the
ACHRON system.  I'll be in my ready room.  Mr. Holland, the bridge is
yours,"  Trig said as he and Fletcher got up and left.  Holland took his
seat in the center chair.

	 After several minutes, Dev turned around and faced  Ryan Holland,
the 2O.  "Why the hell did we get stuck babysitting some royal brat?  It
would have been a nicer shakedown mission if we were to go investigate
an asteroid field or something."

	 "I somewhat agree, but this is a new ship and we need a really nice and easy
mission to test her out.  Besides, you just want to go to an
asteroid field to show how good you are to everybody,"  Holland said
smiling to the younger pilot.

	 "Still, babysitting?"  Dev rolled his eyes.

	 [[[The princess is onboard with all her belongings]]]

	 "Thank you Commander.  Mr. Scott, let's get underway,"  Holland said pointing
to the screen.

	 "Just say the word and we're gone!"

	 "Engage!"

	 The stars resumed their streaking across the screen.  Dev's badge
chirped.  "Scott here."

	 [[[ Please come see me in my ready room]]]

	 "Aye, sir!"  Dev scooted out of his chair and walked to the other
side of the room with a worried look in his eyes.

	 [[Come]] the door swooshed open.

	 "Sit, please Lt. Scott," Trig said.

	 Devon nodded as he sat in front of Hawker's desk, "Yes, sir?  What is it?"

	 "I would first compliment you on your fly skills.  Obviously
starfleet knew what they were doing when the sent you,"  Trig started
off.  Dev just knew he was about to be chewed out for the stunts he
pulled when the first got underway.

	 "Sir?"

	 "You're an excellent pilot, but do you see yourself somewhere
else in several years?"

	 Devon pursed his lips a little, "I was thinking that I'd
eventually be promoted to Executive officer of a ship or squadron."

	 "That is a great goal, and I'm glad you said that.  Because if
you want to be a good XO, you've got to show initiative and some
diplomacy.  So from this point on I'm giving you the special privilege
of taking care of our Princess Deneva,"  Trig said as he puffed away at a cigar.

	 Dev's eyes got huge, "I have to babysit a royal brat?!"

	 Trig chuckled a little, "Yep.  When you're on duty and not
flying, she's your responsibility.  I want you to keep her out of my
hair.  And don't try to schedule yourself more flight time!  Go, she's
waiting on you in her room."

	 "I-"

	 "GO!"

	 Devon lost the fight.  With his shoulder s slumped he walked out
defeated.  The bridge crew look at him wondering what happened.

	 "I have to go and babysit her......"  Dev said as he walked to
the turbolift and entered in.

Scene: Princess Deneva's room
MD: 3.1256

	 "Come,"  Deneva said from her room.  Dev did what he was told, and still had a
defeated look on his face.  He entered and looked around.
A lot nicer than his place.

	 Princess Deneva walked into the living room and Dev's jaw
dropped.  He was expecting a 13 year old brat.  What stood in front of
him was a full figured, mid 20's, aphrodite with slightly tan skin and
black hair!  "Princess Deneva?"

	 She rolled her eyes, "Yes....."

	 *Thank you GOD!  Trig old guy, I own you one!  ONE BIG ONE!*
"Hi, I'm Lt. (j.g) Devon Scott, you're-"

	 "Babysitter, right?  Why do I always get stuck with one of you?
I bet you were ordered by the Commodore himself, right?" Deneva asked.

	 "Y-yes.  But I wasn't going to say babysitter,"  Scott said
explaining himself.

	 "What were you going to say?  Hmmm, Lt (j.g) Scott?  He didn't
even send me a full Lieutenant!"  Deneva said as she threw her ever so
lovely hands in the air.

	 "I was going to say....... Ah, hell.  You're right.  That's
pretty much what I am.  And if you like it or not I'm stuck on
you....with you I mean! And you with me."  Devon's slip of the tongue was
something that he didn't want to happen.

	 "I'm sure you are.  Fine.  What is there to do around here?"  The
princess said gesturing around.

	 "We've got a full gymnasium.  State of the art holodecks, our
lounge, and lots of interesting things to read in our computer files,"  Scott
said as he went through some of the stuff.

	 "Boring, boring, boring!  Unless you've got something really fun
on that holodeck, I'm really going to be unpleasant.  By the way, I've
done just about every interesting holo novel,"  Deneva said.  Scott
thought about that commenting on the word 'unpleasant' that she brought up, but
decided against it.  Although she was beautiful, the woman was
still a royal brat.

	 "Do you like flying?"  Dev asked.

	 "Boring."

	 "Follow me, and I'll show you something in the holodeck that
shouldn't be boring.  At least I have never gotten tired of it," Dev said
reaching out for the princesses arm, but she refused to grab on.  Instead she
got up and stood next to him, leaving his hand suspended in mid-air.

	 *I hate you Trig, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you*

Scene: Holodeck 3
MD: 3.1345

	 "This hunk of junk metal flying thing is fun?"  Deneva said, turning her nose
up at the airplane that sat in front of her.

	 "This my dear, is a 1944 Lockheed P-38 Lighting, the forked-tail
devil that won the Allied Nation's the war.  You do know about earth's
WW2, right?"

	 "I'm not stupid, if that is what you are asking," Deneva said
grimacing as she touched a little bit of grease on the plane.

	 "Good.  You should get changed, flying in that gown will be kind
of funny,"  Dev tossed his famous crooked smile.

	 "Flying, me?  In that.....no, no, no!"  The princess said backing
away from the plane.

	 "What have you got to lose?  Besides, I thought you said you
thought flying was boring,"  Dev said continuing to smile.

	 "Fine!"  Deneva grabbed the flight suit that was hanging on the
holo-hangers wall and went into a door.

	 "Cute, real cute.  At least I'll be able to do something fun
while I'm doing this ridiculous job.  Dev fitted his suit over his
uniform.  He then put on his replica bomber jacket that made him
look like he was in the right time era.  After waiting close to a half
of an hour, Deneva walked back out with suit on and her hair done up different.

	 Dev brought the ladder over to the cockpit and helped her up it.
She tried refusing, but found it was actually a little difficult.  She took her
seat in the front seat.  Dev sat in the back.

	 "This was a special style of the plane, it was what they called a
trainer.  I can take control of the fighter and then turn it over to you
at anytime.  I'm going to teach you how to fly,"  Devon said as he
started the engine up.  He knew she was complaining about the sound, but
he wasn't listening.  He then put on his headset communictor.  She found
hers and put it on.

	 "This sucks, I want to leave!"  Deneva complained.

	 "Not yet!  We haven't started, jut wait for a few minutes,"  Dev
said as he taxied onto the runway.  He increased speed and took off and
climbed high into the air.

	 "This is special, why?"  Deneva inquired irritated obviously.

	 He climbed another couple of thousand feet, "This is why!"  He
punched the joystick down and the craft plummeted towards the ground.
The G's were just pulling him further in to his seat.  He pulled up and
hard to the right and continued to pull some rather nice manuevers that would
have scared the crap out of anybody that wasn't a pilot (and even a
couple of them).  Of course, scaring the _crap_ out of her was his plan.
He was tired of he whining.  He leveled offm at 3000 and began talking to
Deneva.

	 "That is one of the reasons I like to fly,"  Dev smiled.  Hard.

	 He was expecting her to absolutely come unglued.  She didn't.
She looked back at him, and her eyes were huge.  "That
was....was.....was AWESOME!  Teach me how to do stuff like that!"  Those
words meant so much to him.


Scene: Lounge
MD: 03.2100

	 Deneva had warmed up slightly to him, but she was still a brat.
Now she followed him into the lounge.  The bartender called him over to
the bar.

	 "Good to see you Lt. Scott.  And what a lovely date you have with
you,"  He said.

	 "She's not my date.  And her name is Princess Deneva, I've got
the priviledge of escorting her on the ship."

	 The bartender understood immedietely what he was saying
'babysitting', "And what would you like to drink?"

	 "An orange juice for me,"  Dev said as he sat down on a stool.
The drink was put in front of him.

	 "And the lady Deneva?" The bartender asked.

	 "I don't know..... I'll just have what he is having.  It looks
strong,"  She said as she sat.

	 The bartender was about to tell her there was not any alchohol in
an OJ, but Dev quickly cut him off.  "You can handle an OJ, right.  You
have had one right?"

	 "I can handle any drink!  And yes, I've had Orangre juice!"  He
knew she was lying.  She grabbed the drink and swigged it, expecting a
very strond drink.  She was suprised and the slightly tangy sweet taste.
  Dev smiled really hard after she put it down.

	 "You just realized that OJ has no alchohol or synthehol in it
whatsoever, didn't you?"  Devon asked the beautiful woman.

	 She nodded a little.

	 The bartender laughed a little and looked at Devon, "You going to
play for us tonight?"

	 "Play what?"  Deneva inquired.

	 "The guitar, he's rather good.  At least that's what the other
patrons have told me," The bartender said.

	 "Um, not tonight.  MAybe later," Dev said, tired as hell and
wanting to go.

	 "Please play for me Dev, I'm not sure if I have ever hear guitar
music before!"  Deneva said.

	 Devon rolled his eyes and went and got an acoustic that he stowed
behind the bar, "Fine, but just for a little bit."

	 Devon played several slow ones and a couple of fast ones.  And
for once the princess didn't have anything mean to say.  In fact, she
complimented him on his playing
and singing.  He was aware of her ability to be nice.

	 "Now, Princess Deneva, it is time for me to show you back to your
room.  I have to be up early in the morning for my shift.  I'll see you
tomorrow at lunch, got it?" He said as he walked from 10 forward to her
room.
	 She nodded and walked into her room.  Dev walked away, a little
weak at the knees.  She was the most beautiful object he'd ever seen and
she was a brat.  But, just her beauty made him melt.

	 He walked over to his quarters that were not to far and fell into
his bed and stared at the ceiling.

-----
NRPG:

All: I think this is one of the longest posts I've written in a long
time, I just kept going with it.

Chris:  I hope I didn't ruin any of your plans, cause that would suck if
you had to RETCON my very long post that took me quite a while to write
(hint: please don't). <G>  I figured we wouldn't run into any problems until I
we retrieved the prrincess, so I just moved us along.  And I hope
I didn't butcher either Trig or what you had in mind for the princess.

Mike S. Randles
Lt. (jg.) Devon "Snake Eyes" Scott
FCO
USS CHILLICOTHE








___________________________________________________________________
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Scene: Corridor of the CHILLICOTHE
BD 15.1850

<Old Material from Jenny D.>

"Thank you," Alexandra replied, even though 'thank you' seemed an odd thing to
say. She knew what he meant... knew how awkward the moment was... but it felt so
out of kilter. Ribbons and congratulations and pats on the back for surviving
rape and being beaten to within a centimeter of joining Quinn. "I don't feel
like I did much toward resolving the situation. But it's over now... and that's
all that really matters... it was good talking to you away from the din of the
party, M-major," she stammered. "I hope to have many such opportunities once
we're on the way."

"Same here, Commander... goodnight." He gave Alexandra a quick salute - more of
an 'I'd touch my hat brim, if I were wearing one' gesture, and continued on his
way.

<New Material from Rob H.>

Dixon had taken but a few steps. The young commander seemed troubled. He had
obviously interrupted some reverie of hers. He had read the material that Major
Quinn had written concerning the CORONA's operational Marine Command. It was
inspired material. At the moment, however, it was not the operational manual
that concerned him. Instead, it was a manifest footnote that he now remembered.
There was apparently an Alexandra Bradford on board the CORONA that had a tie to
the Major. Quayde was not certain of the tie, but he was sure that this was the
same woman.

He stopped and turned toward the retreating woman. She had called him 'Major'.
Quayde didn't think much of it because he had become a Lt. Colonel only
recently. The 'Major' moniker was comfortable, familiar. In that moment of
revelation however, Dixon empathized with the Commander. His own wife, Emily,
was very far from here. Unlike Alexandra, he would have an opportunity to see
his wife again. Quinn had been a Marine. He had been a Major. Dixon understood
the transference. The encounter had to have been incredibly painful for the
Commander.

"Commander Bradford," Dixon called the name before he had really thought through
the situation. She stopped with the hesitation of one sat beneath Damocles'
sword.

"Yes, Major...." The voice was weak.

Dixon wanted to separate himself from her Quinn. He wanted to tell her that he
was a Lt. Colonel. He wanted to say that he was not Quinn. He wanted to ease
whatever pain he had apparently caused her. However, as she turned her head to
catch his eye over her shoulder, he was suddenly aware of how pointless the
endeavor would be. She would have to fight her own demons; whatever they were.

A wave of panic settled in Dixon's gut as he realized he had called her and that
now she stood waiting for words that he could not deliver. "Um.....do you know
.....how to get ......to the Sickbay?" The question was painful to enunciate.
The Commander gave instructions that Quayde feigned interest in. He knew
precisely where the Sickbay was as well as most everything else on board - he
had been busy getting a feel for the layout.

"Thank you, Commander."

Alexandra nodded with a 'you're welcome' nod and then continued on her way.
Dixon was glad that the encounter was over. She would find out in her own time
that he was a Lt. Col., not a Major. As the sound of his shoes reverberated
through the corridor he also wished that she would not continue to confuse him
with Major Quinn. It was damnable awkward.

**************************
BD  15.1850  Alexandra confuses Quayde for Quinn, in a way..... [Rob]

NRPG
Jenny - Thanks for the opening. There were just too many ties between
Quinn/Quayde to not write this. I had to figure out how to correct the 'Major'
situation. I hope you approve of the method. It might make for some interesting
RP.....

Everyone - Having come back on line, I'm now using MS Outlook for my email. It
is pretty good, but now I don't know how to send this to the
alt.starfleet.primedirective.rpg newsgroup. Could someone send this along to the
newsgroup and/or tell me how to configure Outlook to accept a newsgroups
address.... Thanks. ;-)

=========================
Rob Hensley
=/\= Lt. Col. Dixon Ellis Quayde, MCO, USS CHILLICOTHE

SD 110905.0226
BD 15.1345

----------------------------
SB SALADIN/ USS CHILLICOTHE
----------------------------
Scene: Marine Holodeck

*SNIP*
"Yes. His name is Captain Trig Hawker. I'll see you later." Dixon
gently urged the Parson on and the horse eagerly responded. Dixon had
a hard time reining him in.

Mr. Hansen watched both rider and horse gallop off into the light
mist that watercolored the downs. He shook his head and returned to
wherever it is that holograms go when they are not active. Meanwhile,
Dixon was reveling in the moment of the morning.

*END SNIP*

The door of the holodeck swished open revealing a stocky, cigar
smoking, bearded officer. The Hansen program immediately reactivated
when the presence of Captain Hawker was detected.

"Good mornin'," the hologram stated lighting a cigarette while he
spoke. "You've got to be the 'Captain of this here boat.' Dix has
been expecting you."

Trig looked at the hologram with an inquisitive look. *Who programmed
it with THAT phrase?* he wondered.  "Ah, yes. Lieutenant Colonel
Quayde invited me. Is he here yet?" Trig said puffing on the cigar.

"He's gone for a ride," replied Mister Hansen. "Come on over here and
I'll saddle you up."

With a little hesitation, Trig followed Hansen to the stables where
he selected just the right horse for the CO, a temperamental,
stubborn horse named Tenacious. Trig was not at all comfortable
around horses and he had not spent that much time around them. He was
born and raised around water, learning the ways of the sea not about
these 4 legged, hairy, fly bitten mammals. He like to look at horses
as he thought they were graceful animals, but looking at them and
riding them were two entirely different ventures.

"Er…don't you have anything in a smaller model?" asked Trig as he
took a look at Tenacious.

"Hahaha!" laughed Hansen heartily. "You're funny. Smaller model,
that's a good one!"

"Isn't it?" remarked Trig smiling and playing along. In actual fact,
he'd been quite serious.

"Now up you git," Mr. Hansen said giving Trig a push up onto the
horse. It wasn't pretty, but Trig made it up and seated on the
saddle. From this vantage point, it was a LONG way down.

"Where are the brakes on this thing?" asked Trig looking around at
his feet in the stirrups.

"Hahahaha!" Hansen laughed again. "You crack me up! Now if you hurry,
you can catch Dix, so off you go." Hansen smacked the back of
Tenacious hard, spurring her to gallop away in the direction the new
MCO went.

All Hansen heard as Trig races away was a shrill scream.

"SON OF a bit…………!"

------------------
MARINE HOLODECK
------------------
BD 15.1347

"I SAID STOP DAMMIT!" ordered Trig bouncing on the back of Tenacious
holding on for dear life. He didn't even notice passing by Dix who
had stopped when he heard the yelling. Kicking Parson into a gallop,
he took off after the cursing CO.

"THAT'S IT! YOU'RE GOING TO THE GLUE FACTORY! EVEN HOLOGRAPHIC HORSES
CAN GO THERE!" scolded Trig to Tenacious who seemed to run even
faster the more Trig yelled at her.

"Problems sir?" yelled over Dix as he caught up with Trig and
Tenacious. It was all he could do to keep from laughing.

"STOP THIS THING DAMMIT OR I'LL HAVE YOU TRANSFERRED TO A GARBAGE
SCOW!" Trig ordered.

"Pull back on the reins sir," offered Dix. As an after thought he
yelled, "Slowly!"

Too late. Trig reefed back on the reins causing Tenacious to rear up
and throw her rider. Trig went sailing back and into some nearby
bushes.

Dix quickly dismounted and rushed over to see if his new CO was
alright or not. Reaching Trig, who was lying prone in the bushes, Dix
was amazed to see him calmly pull a cigar out of his pocket, light it
and then start to puff away on it, all while still on his back. It
was a bizarre sight to see someone go from completely enraged to
utter calm in a matter of seconds.

"Are you alright sir?" asked the new MCO. "That was quite a spill."

"Me? Now that I'm off that blasted horse, yes, I'm fine," replied
Trig quite composed. "What is it with Marines and horses anyway?" he
said referring to Major Fletcher's fascination with horses as well,
Pegasus in particular.

"Sir?" asked Dix not understanding.

"Never mind," Trig replied shaking his head. "Help me up will you?"

Dix reached over and pulled Trig to his feet. After brushing himself
off, Trig offered his hand to the Lt. Col. "Captain Trig Hawker. It's
a pleasure to meet you."

Dix reached over and shook the CO's hand. "Likewise sir. Sorry about
the horse. She's got a mind of her own."

"Well the only thing that got hurt was my pride," smiled Trig. "Oh
and my rear is a little sore too."

"Just wait until tomorrow," smirked Dix.

"You mean it gets worse?"

----------------
USS CHILLICOTHE
----------------
BD 31.1200

'…..the USS CHILLICOTHE is to proceed to Petch Station and escort
Princess Deneva to Achron 9. The Princess is returning from attending
lectures at the station and the CHILLICOTHE is to ensure her safe
return. It is expected that the crew will use this time to
familiarize themselves with the ship and her new systems. Any and all
deficiencies in the ship's systems are to be identified and if
necessary corrected during the mission. God speed to your crew.'

Trig put the PADD down and made an entry in his personal log that he
had received the first mission plans for the USS CHILLICOTHE. Nothing
too exciting here. Some babysitting session, that's all. Obviously
the higher ups did not think the ship was ready for a serious
deployment, so they send them on a mission that a simple destroyer
could do. Jamming his cigar into his mouth, he grumbled about the
boring, uneventful mission the CHILLICOTHE was about to be sent on.

Or at least that is what he thought it would turn out to be.

Respectfully Submitted,

Chris Aubrey

NRPG: And so a new mission unfolds. Sorry this post just died at the
end. The mission will be a little more exciting then this post was :)
I don't plan on this being a long mission, just long enough for a
shakedown cruise to get used to the new ship and work any bugs out.
I've planned it to be a fairly open-ended mission where your
creativity will move the plot in different directions, so throw on
your thinking caps! <G>.

Rob: Welcome! I hope that I played Hansen and Dix okay. Thanks for
the invite to the holodeck. It was an offer I couldn't refuse!

Melanie: That JP I promised will be out to you shortly. Sorry for the
delay ;>

Just a reminder to vote for your favorite motto. I think 3-4 of you
have not voted yet. If nothing by Wednesday, I will close the vote
and let everyone know what the winner was ;) Also, feel free to start
this mission and have us heading to Petch Station. It will be only a
3 day trip there, but 7 days from the station to Achron 9. Mike R, a
departing post would be grand <Hint, Hint> :)

MD SUMMARY
BD 15.1345 - Trig falls...er rides with Dix  [CA]
BD 31.1200 - Mission orders are given  [CA]

Cheers,
Chris Aubrey
Capt Trig Hawker
USS CHILLICOTHE
craubrey@...
ICQ 29951766
---------------------------------------------------------
"Do or do not. There is no try," Yoda, ESB.

SD 110830.1350
BD 15.1800
==========
SB Saladin - Conference Room 1
==========

<snip from Chris A>

"Finally, I would like to call on Commander Bradford, Dr. Van Aiken, and
Lieutenant Commander Grey," said Trig becoming serious. After several
moments and quite a bit of shuffling, the three were standing beside Trig.
"I cannot begin to commend you on what you three did for the people of
Barona II. Your sacrifice saved an entire world from extinction. Not only
all of Barona, but all of Starfleet owe you three a debt of gratitude. In a
small token of our appreciation, I would like to bestow two awards on each
of you. First, for your heroism and bravery despite torture and abuse at
the hands of the Cdarrans, I hereby award each of you the Prisoner of War
Medal."

A polite applause followed as Trig pinned the medals, one that was bitter
sweet for Trig, on the three. Bitter because no CO likes to have any of his
crew held captive by enemy forces. Sweet because they all made it back so
he could pin this medal on them. It was a small consolation for the
punishment they endured, but at least they were still here to receive it.

"I would also like to bestow on you the Bronze Star. I will read the
description of the award to you now, so all here can know the type of
people you are and the bravery you showed. 'The Bronze Star Medal is
awarded to any person who, while serving in any capacity in or with the
armed forces of the United Federation of Planets, distinguished himself or
herself by heroic or meritorious achievement or service in connection with
military operations against an armed enemy; or while engaged in military
operations involving conflict with an opposing armed force in which the
United Federation of Planets is not a belligerent party.' Your actions were
heroic and through your sacrifice, the planet was saved. I thank you all."

Trig joined the applause this time, which quickly became a standing
ovation. It did not matter if not all the people in the room were from the
CHILLICOTHE or not. They all knew what Alex, Christian and Jerry had given
up to be getting those rewards. It could just have easily been one of them
and they would want people like the three of them at their side if it was.
There was no three more deserving.

<end snip>

After all had been said and done, after the abundance of speeches, Christian
walked his way, alone, to the bar and grabbed himself a scotch from the
replicator. *Thank god* he thought someone had it programmed into the
station's computer.

In one gulp his drink was gone, soon another was procurred, this time
however, he was not so quick to drink it. Looking out among the stars he
lifted his glass, closed his eyes and smile. Those who caught this, had no
idea that they were seeing a tribute to friends long gone. Somwhere among the
stars were those with whom Christian had served. He was ever grateful that
they watched over him and helped him survive through it all. All in all
Christian had known some fine men.

"Ahem" the noise disrupted Christian's train of thought. As Christian turned
he noticed Trig, VADM Jackson and Alex assembled behind him.

Christian put his glass on the table to his right and came to attention,
"Admiral, Commodore, Commander," He said acknolwedging each of them.

"Admiral Jackson, may I introduce Lieutenant Commander Christian Grey, my
chief of security."

"Commander," she replied her hands crossed over in front.

"Admiral, a pleasure," his smile formed easily.

"Commander Bradford here was telling me of the exploits on Barona II. A fine
job, I am most impressed with the three of you."

Christian couldn't think of anything really to reply and merely said a thank
you. As the Commodore went to move the Admiral to his next grouping of
officers Alex placed her hand on his shoulder and said "Thank you."

Christian nodded, curtly and smiled.

===============
BD 15.2320
SB Saladin - Holodeck 2
===============

The salty air filled Christian's lungs.  This exultaion was akin to being one
with the forces of nature. A mere piece of sewn together fabric harnessed the
power of the winds and propelled Christian ever forward. The gusts had picked
up to about 22 knots and the small craft was gaining momentum.

On the bow of the ship, a bull mastif lapped in the spray. Sometimes the wind
forced his jowels to open wide and bark with glee.

There were many ways Christian liked to unwind. This was one of his
favourites. God bless man's ability to never lose sight of where they came
from. Technology sometimes had a way of making one loose sight of the simple
pleasures.

The Galwat coast line was in sight and soon he would make for one of its
jagged crags. Settle in at a pub and listen to the fisher man's tales of the
sea. The scene Christian had created was Ireland of the early 1900's when
living one ocean, meant a way of life for thousands of Irishman.

After some time Christian guided the boat in. There on the pier he was
gliding into he saw a figure standing in the grey highlighted mist. He moved
forward to prepare the bow ropes, lashing down the wheel to maintain his
course.

Upon preparing the ropes he continued to see if he could make out the person
standing at his pier. The mist was too much and a lazy fog, so much a part of
England, began to roll in.

The dog, his, named Bran began to bark at the figure on the pier.

"BRAN, DOWN!" Christian yelled as the wind swept across his face.

As he inched closer to the pier he finally was able to make out the shape in
front of him  - Alex.

"I DIDN'T KNOW YOU SAILED?" she yelled out.

"AYE!" he moved to the side,"TAKE THIS AND LASH IT TO THE PIER." He threw her
a rope. Alex quickly wrapped the wrope in a figure eight knot around the
metal pommel on the pier.

Christian was dressed in a high neck sweater and a slicker coat. His face was
covered with the mist of the salty sea. His face had a grin a mile long. He
come to the pier side deck and called for Bran who dutifully came to
Christian's side.

"Part of the holoprogram?" Alex asked.

"No, he sat around home long enough waiting for me. I'd figure I'd bring him
along."

She looked at him quizzically as if to ask if he'd sought permission.

"It's cleared."  Her look remained unfazzed. Both Dog and man came ashore and
and secrued the rest of the lines to the boat.

"Well I'm headed over to the pub, you're more than welcome to join me."

Alex looked around, though it wasn't home, it sure smelled like it. She
nodded yes and smiled as the trio moved off.

The warmth of the interior fire warmed the chill in that had gathered in
their bones. As the made their way to the table the innkeeper tilted his head
back as to inquire what they would.

"Pint of cider," Christian looked at Alex she replied the she would have the
same,"And two stews please."

Alex and Christian sat a the table closest to the fire. Bran curled himself
up near the fire and before he drifted to sleep let out a yawn that caused
quite a few of the patrons to marvel at his size.

Within moments both Alex and Christian had been served their faire. The stew
was piping and the bread was right out of the oven. Together with their cider
they were expeirencing a true feast.

The duscussion was mild, a little of how Christian had grown a love for the
sea at an early age, etc. A few remarks were made at the simplicity of the
time they were presently witnessing.

Finally Alex, looked at him, "Look Christian, I'd like to thank you."

He looked at her with his head tilted to the side.

"Don't look at me like I just asked the for th thrust ratio of the
Chillicothe's Warp Engines. You are a good friend, I am ever appreciative of
what you have done for me. Quint's loss, was especially hard this time.
Topping that off with what we went through. I owe you a world of gratitude."

"Don't worry about it Alex,  STARFLEET gave me my ribbons." he said
mocklingly.

"Ah, well you're a cheeky one, any way, thank you." she raised her pint in a
toast.

"Thank you," was all he said  as their glasses chinked together.

Into their meal, a few gathered up some instruments. They weresailors who had
  ported in for the nite.  They pulled out some instruments they had in their
gear and began playing music for the enjoyment of themselves and those
gathered. As the music continued, Alex began to look about an notice how
devoid of people the pub was. She began to think.

She tapped her Commbadge. "What are you doing,"asked Christian.

"Starting a party!"

=================

BD 15.1800 Awards from Christian's POV  [MP]
BD 15.2320  Some time away turns into a thank you and the start of a party.
[MP]

NRPG: Everyone, I figured we could get a little holodeck party going at a
little pub everyone is free to join in, whilst we wait for our orders.

Respectfully Submitted,
Michael L Price
=/\= LCDR Christain Grey, CSO/TAC, USS CHILLICOTHE

The Moment of the Morning

Scene: Deck 14, Marine Country
BD 15.1300

Dixon was settling in. Transitions were never easy, and he would be
thankful when the Marine contingent aboard the Chillicothe relaxed a bit
around him. Part of their tension came from the unknown of having a new
CO. The other part came in that CO being a ‘half-bird’.

The Lt. Col. had already established the routine of walking the deck.
His quiet demeanor only reinforced the aura of ‘newness’ about his
command. Most of the leathernecks on board had never before been led by
anything but a DI style CO who punctuated orders with collar popping
veins. It had worked for centuries among the Marines, but it was not
Quayde.

Quayde had a keen icy eye for detail. His closely cropped pate only
intensified the perception of manicured perfection. His spine was always
erect, his manner and gestures were measured – or so they seemed. He
carried himself as an eagle among lesser raptors. This unapproachable
manner was contrasted by a warm smile that he flashed when his Marines
had performed well. The men of his past commands had come to first trust
and then rely on his weathered years of experience. However, trust and
loyalty were commodities that were bought and sold easily. Dixon knew
that he had his work before him as the CO of this contingent.

As he turned a corner he found a young marine sitting on his footlocker
with his boot held firmly between his knees, brush in hand. The Corporal
was in mid-polish when he caught sight of the Colonel. He stood into
military brace with impressive speed and snapped the customary Marine
salute. Had that been the sum total of the encounter, both men would
have continued with their routine without comment.

However, the young Marine also had been balancing a canister of polish
in his lap as he worked. The mild panic that runs through a Marine when
he encounters a superior was evidently more than this young, baby-faced
Marine could manage. For as he stood, no concern for the boot, brush or
polish were apparent. The boot remained tightly wedged between his
knees. The brush, held firmly in his right hand, rapidly came up and
cracked painfully against the side of his head. The opened canister of
polish was launched, by the Marine’s quickly straightened leg, through
the air toward the Colonel. The Colonel watched the whole event
transpire as if in slow motion. The canister hit lightly against his
uniform trouser leg.

Without looking, Quayde knew what he would find on his pant leg. The
look in the eyes of the Corporal confirmed his guess. Dixon released his
own salute slowly as he surveyed the damage. There was a partial, black
circle that was neatly stamped onto his uniform. He raised his eyes to
the terrified Corporal.

The look in the Corporal’s eyes was fearful and panicking. “Sir, begging
your pardon, sir!” The Corporal responded in the only manner he knew:
military rote. Quayde saw the nervous rigidity in the youth. He knew the
importance of competence but he also knew the need to win loyalty and
trust.

“What is your name, son?” Quayde asked the question without hint of
motive. Or, at least he tried.

“Corporal Jeremy Hughes, sir!”

“Let me see that boot, Corporal.” The Corporal obediently handed the
boot to the Colonel. Dixon examined the polished boot and the young
Marine had indeed been doing a fine job with it. It was the kind of
thing that was ingrained in boot camp.

“There needs to be a bit more spit on the instep.” Dixon offered the
boot back to the young Marine.

“Sir?” Try as he might, the Corporal was much to nervous to easily
understand what the Colonel was talking about.

“Spit. Saliva.”

“Oh, yes, sir!” The Corporal took the boot and saluted again; this time
without the brush. His head was beginning a slow red swell from the
earlier pounding.

“I want those boots to look like a Marine’s boots the next time I see
you.” Quayde didn’t smile although he wanted to. The Corporal would have
plenty of time to polish anything he wanted once they got under weigh.
For the moment, however, Dixon knew that the Corporal was most likely to
polish through the surface of the boot trying to make it look right.
“Please proceed.”

Dixon turned on his heel and continued down the corridor. The Corporal,
left standing in the hallway, a boot in one hand and a ‘goose-egg’ on
his forehead let his shoulders sag in relief. “Yes, sir!” There was
enthusiasm in the tone, and it was music in Dixon’s ears. Soiled uniform
trousers was a small price to pay for crew loyalty. There was still much
to do, but it was a start.

BD 15.1345
Scene: Marine Holodeck

Quayde had finished his routine walk through Marine Country. There was
little incident to note except for the incident with young Corporal
Hughes. Dixon’s oiled saddle was slung casually over his shoulder as he
stepped from the corridor into the Marine holodeck. The holodeck door
slid closed behind him as he stood in the control archway.

Taking a disk from his pocket, he slid the information into the computer
that would run his favorite relaxation program. The computer drew in the
disk and began processing the data found upon it. After a few moments
the black and golden gridded room melted into a stabled paddock area.
The stables had the rustic quality of a Roman forum or Greek colonnade.
The sun was low on the morning horizon and there was a definite crisp in
the air. In several various locations groomsmen rubbed down stately
thorough-breds in the morning cool. Steam rose off the backs of the
beautiful animals as the handlers poured buckets of water over them. The
noises of the area were subdued as the men and a few women whispered to
their horses and spoke in quiet words with each other through the
morning routine. There was the fresh country smell of manure, sweat and
hay. Above the muted sounds of the paddock area, a gentle drumming could
be heard from the track as several horses were completing their morning
workout.

“You are late!” The voice belonged to Mr. Hansen. Standing all of 5’8”
he had a deeply lined face. The years had worn heavily upon him. His
black skin and white hair contrasted sharply. The whites of his eyes had
long ago yellowed with age. But the dark brown pupils within were bright
and intelligent. His back had developed a slight stoop which caused him
to look up at the Colonel.

“I am sorry, Mr. Hansen. I hope I’m not too late to get started.” Dixon
spoke evenly and with genuine ease.

“You are causing me a lot of trouble – starting a horse this late in the
mornin’. You know better than this Dix!” Dixon knew his friend well
enough to know when he was being kindly berated. The truth was, Mr.
Hansen didn’t talk this way to people he didn’t like. In fact, he didn’t
talk but to a few people. “Well, come on, I suppose I can find you
something.”

The two men walked through the paddock area past the familiar sights and
sounds of the track. Mr. Hansen paused long enough to fuss at a young
kid who was putting shoes on an older track horse and not quite getting
the job done to the level of Mr. Hansen’s sensibilities. Finally, they
reached a stall that had a bright white ‘seven’ painted on a green
wooden plaque. “Here we are. You can have this one today.” Hansen moved
to open the stall gait.

Quayde looked up and saw a name written upon a piece of medical tape
that was curled from the bottom of the painted seven. It simply said,
“Parson’s Trick”.

“So, it is the ‘Parson’ today!”

Mr. Hansen smiled as he moved into the stall and retrieved the tack from
it’s storage peg on the front wall. “Yep. I’ve been saving him for you
this morning.” Mr. Hansen approached the horse who threw his head in
eager anticipation of the work-out. As he put the bit in the Parson’s
mouth Dixon eased over and laid a hand on the side of the animal. His
muscles were taught and apparent. The animal looked as if he had been
chiseled from granite in some Italian quarry. He placed his saddle on
the Parson’s back and gently began  securing it. The horse rolled its
eye at Dixon, wary of what he was doing.

The Parson drew in his breath, expanding his chest as Dixon tried to
tighten the saddle. This horse was savvy. Dixon waited for the horse to
take his next breath and then tightened the saddle further. He had
learned the trick early in his riding career. It only takes one time
going out on a horse with a loose saddle to teach a rider a valuable
lesson.

Dixon put a riding helmet upon his own head and together, he and Mr.
Hansen led Parson’s Trick from his stall and through the alleyway into
the track. The stands were empty and there was a low ground fog on the
in-field. Horses and riders moved about in scattered places. Dixon
mounted his horse who scittered about until Dixon had his footing and
the rein in hand.

“I’ve invited the Captain of this boat to come down for a ride this
morning. He may show up, he may not. Please make him feel welcome.” The
Parson wanted to go. He was eager to run and Dixon circled him one way
and then the next as he gave instructions to Mr. Hansen.

“Boat? We’re a long way from the river here, Dix. Does this Captain of
yours have a name?” Mr. Hansen looked up as he fished for a cigarette
out of his shirt pocket.

“Yes. His name is Captain Trig Hawker. I’ll see you later.” Dixon gently
urged the Parson on and the horse eagerly responded. Dixon had a hard
time reining him in.

Mr. Hansen watched both rider and horse gallop off into the light mist
that watercolored the downs. He shook his head and returned to wherever
it is that holograms go when they are not active. Meanwhile, Dixon was
reveling in the moment of the morning.

*******************************
CHILLICOTHE Timeline
BD 15:1300  Quayde tours Marine country and looks to win loyalty from
his men   [Rob]
BD 15.1345  Quayde enters holodeck program and invites Trig for a ride
[Rob]

NRPG:
Tim – The invitation is implicit here, but take me up on it as you see
fit.
All – This is more or less an introduction of the Quayde so that you
will know what type of character he is. I’ll write more late. BTW: I’m
still having some computer problems, but hopefully will be back to 100%
by mid-week.

======================================
Rob Hensley
=/\= Lt. Col. Dixon Ellis Quayde, MCO, USS CHILLICOTHE

USS CHILICOTHE - The Cigar

BD 15.1210
Scene: Party on Saladin

Korth wheeled his way through the party talking with a few guests and
casually taking all the jokes about his mode of transportation, a
wheelchair.  Korth would be walking again soon, not on his own legs which
were now gone, but on brand new artificial limbs.  He was starting to feel
like an android.

Korth wheeled around trying to escape the duty nurse assigned to him this
evening.  She was not letting him do anything.  Korth caught sight of the
captain and Nic and saw exactly what he wanted.

"Sir, excuse me, may I hav a moment of your time?", asked Korth.

"Of course Korth, how are you feeling?" asked Trig genuinely concerned for
his Chief Engineer, his miracle maker.

"Sir, I would feel much better with one of those." said Korth pointing to
Trig's cigar.

"Well, you did get these for me.  What does your nurse say?" asked Trig.

"Not a problem sir.", said Korth lying through his teeth.

"You wouldnt lie to me would you?" said the Commodore with a big grin on his
face.

"Yeah I would, but what does that matter now?" said Korth practically
pleading.

The commodore laughed.  "Here you go Korth, enjoy." said Trig.

Korth placed the cigar in his mouth and Trig offered a light.  Korth puffed
on the cigar to get it going and sat back in his chair to enjoy.  He closed
his eyes and inhaled deeply, tasting the wonderful cuban flavor.  When he
opened his eyes again he stared directly into the face of his nurse.  He
chose that moment to exhale.

After a fit of coughing, the nurse went eye level with Korth and grabbed his
cigar.

"Mr. Drykson, you know you are not supposed to have these.  I am taking you
back right now." said the nurse.

"But.."

"Now, Mr Drykson."

"But..."

"No, 'Buts', you are leaving."

"But, I am a Lieutenant, and you are an Ensign.  I order you to let me stay.
I also order you to give me back my cigar."

"NOW SIR!" yelled the nurse.  Medical personel could order higher ranking
officers around when their medical condition warranted protection from
themselves.

That was too much for Trig.  He busted out laughing.  Nic looked at him and
muttered something about contributing to the delinquency of a Vulcan and
popped him on the arm.  Trig tryed to look apologetic at her but failed
miserably as laughter once again took control of him.

Korth was led out of the room, his head hunched over and a nurse yelling at
him at the top of her lungs.  Most of the room laughed at the specticle and
Korth waved them off in between bouts of being yelled at and bowing his
head.

Respectfully,

Lt Korth Drykson
CEO, USS CHILLECOTHE

NRPG: Just a short fun one to let you all know I am back from vacation.
Thanks Chris for the awards, I really appreciate them.  Korth will be ready
to go before we leave with just enough time to make a cigar run.  Where is
the XO's desk, Jenny?<VVVVBEG>(just kidding)

Scene:  Space (you know, the final frontier)
BD: 15.1200

	 Devon hated to read instruction books.  Hated it with a vengeance.  But, per
the captain's orders he painstakingly went through the X1-15
Rapier's manual twice.  He kind of was glad he did.

	 He was flying alone outside of SALADIN, far enough not too
collide, but close enough to show off to the people in that were
watching out their windows.

	 Dev was by no means an engineer or a scientist.  He barely passed
either of them in SFA.  So when he read about the fighter's DK drive, it
was way over his head.  All he knew was that the DK made it go fast.
Real fast.  Faster than any impulse engine he'd ever seen before.  Not
only was it fast, it manuevered so great.

	 Dev hit the DK button on the joystick and bounced forward at
great speed, twirling left and right, getting the feel of it.  Turning his
phasers onto target practice mode, he fired several targets.  He
quickly 'destroyed' them.  The X1-15 was far superior to any small craft
he'd ever seen before.  He thought that his best friend Maj. Trake Swift
of the 21st was kidding when he tried telling him about it.

	 After flying for several hours, the higher ups in SALADIN requested that he
landed the craft. Dev didn't mind all to much, for he had a
party to attend.


------------------------------------------------------
SB SALADIN - CONFERENCE ROOM 1
------------------------------------------------------
BD 15.1800

	 Dev sat back in his chair and relaxed, his mind only on one
thing.... The Rapier.  He wanted to get back to her as soon as possible,
if not quicker.  He wasn't listening very hard as the promotions were
being given because he knew he wouldn't get one.  It took to much of his
energy to listen, when all his energy was focused on the Rapier.  The
Rapier was the best thing that ever had happened to him.  He was hoping that
it'd come in really handy in future missions.

	 Dev smiled contently.  He was quickly poked in the ribs by Lt.
(jg) Trevor Tre'el, his aFCO.  "Wha-- What?....... Oh, an award?"  Dev
stood up an went to the front.

"Mister Scott, for your outstanding ability to pilot the CORONA through
not
only hostile territory but also some of the most hazardous and
treacherous
terrain imaginable, I hereby award you also with the Starfleet Achievement
Medal," Trig said to his new FCO as he gave him the medal.  Dev turned
and walked down and took his seat.

	 *Why?  It's not like I actually did anything much to deserve
this.  I just flew like I normally do.  Oh, well, I'm not complaining.
Shoot, I didn't even think I was going to get something..... I just came
aboard 6 days ago.  Ok, you may stop talking to yourself in your head,
it's not like anyone up there is going to talk back.  Oh, yeah?  Well,
what I think is-----*  Dev played around in his mind.  He always thought
it's be fun to mess with a telepath when they were probing his mind.  Until
then, he just pretended like he was being probed by a telepath.
*Always keep them guessing, huh?*

<snip>

There were more speeches and more interviews. Finally the dignitaries and
reporters left, leaving only the CHILLICOTHE crew in the room. With the
drinks flowing and the music playing, the celebration was no about to
begin.

<un>

	 Dev took strapped on his electric guitar.  He plugged it in to
the wall jack.  He then spoke into the microphone, "Greetings you rowdy
crowd.  I'm Dev Scott, if didn't already know.  I play guitar and sing, I'm a
pilot, and I'm single.  Trevor Tre'el, my trusty assistant FCO is on drums.  Kel
Sams, another pilot, good, but not as good as me, on bass.
We're the 'Fly-Boys', and this song is for all of you! 1,2......Ah
hell...1234!"  Dev jumped the countdown really quick as he jumped into
the beginning riff of the song.  It was a fast song, up beat, guitars
slightly distorted.  Just how Devon liked it.

	 The Fly-Boys played for an hour before stopping for the night.  It was an
amazing set.  The crowd just loved it.

	 Dev walked over to Korth, who was still in a wheel chair, trying
to have a little bit of fun.  "So, now that I subjected you to Rock n'
Roll, how did you like it?"

	 Korth smiled, "Not bad, Devon, not bad at all.  You play rather
well.  Too bad you don't smoke cigars, you'd play better,"  Korth smiled
larger, "Hey, could you get me a cigar, while no one is looking?  I NEED
one so bad!"

	 "Now, now Mr. Drykson, you aren't trying to break sickbays rules
are you?"  Scott said shaming him with his fingers very sarcastically.

	 "Dammit Mr. Scott, I'm not in sickbay!  Get me one, or I'll heal
right now and hurt you!"  Korth said.

	 Dev looked at the smaller build of Korth, and then back at his
own somewhat muscular build, "Sir, yes, sir!  I can see you own
superiority in that field!"   Devon went off to find the man a cigar.

----
NRPG:

Mr. Hansen:  I regret to inform you that I used your character in a mean
way. <G>  I don't know where Dev can get a nice cigar.... maybe of the
Cap'n?


Chris:  Congrats on the big promotion!  Mr Commodore

Mike S. Randles
Lt. (jg) Devon 'Snake Eyes' Scott
FCO
USS CHILLICOTHE

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>Mike: Could you send me the stats on the X1-15's? I'd like to add it
>to the
>Handbook and webpage to signify the 4 of them on board :) You stole my
>thunder a little bit though as I was going to have them announced on
>board
>in this post ;> No worries though, I'm just glad we have them and I
>look
>forward to seeing what adventures you can use them in <G>.
>

Oh, I promise you adventures!!!! <G>  I've written fighter pilot post for
both the 21st MSS and the 716th NASW for about 2 years!  I love being the
writer of a flyboy.

Here's them stats:


"DSI Stats for the X1-15 RAPIER -----

X1-15 RAPIER (Space Superiority Fighter)

Dimensions:
Length: 16m
Beam: 7.5m
Draft: 5.4m

Maximum Takeoff Weight:
  60 mt

Speed:
  Maximum Range Cruise: 0.32c (without DK)
Shield Limit: 0.83c (with DK)

Acceleration:
  200 km/sec^2 / 1000 km/sec^2 with DK

Armament: Type V phaser
  Number: 2, forward
Range: 100,000 km

Armament: Type Va pulse phaser
  Number: 2, forward
Range: 75,000 km

Armament: Mk IV mini-Photon torpedo
  Number: 1, forward (3 reloads)
Range: 500,000 km

Shields:
  FC-3d

Atmospheric capabilities:
  Yes

Planetary landing capabilities:
  Yes

Escape Pod:
  Mk III POIS ejection capsule

Emergency Transporter
  (one time use)
------


Mike S. Randles <---- Post out soon

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o "Courage is the complement of fear.  A man who is fearless cannot
be courageous.  (He is also a fool.)" - Heinlein



mine


Mike S. Randles

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Here are the choices for the CHILLICOTHE's ship's motto. Have a read over them
and pick the one you like best. The one that get's the most votes will be the
one on the ship's plaque!

----

Please select one of the following:

    o ...the bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is
before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding go out to meet it
-Thucydides
    o This is courage in a man: to bear unflinchingly what heaven sends.
-Euripides
    o "You live and learn.  Or you don't live long." - Heinlein
    o "Courage is the complement of fear.  A man who is fearless cannot be
courageous.  (He is also a fool.)" - Heinlein
    o "Three-fourths of any fight lies in not hesitating when the time
comes." - Heinlein
    o "We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight
on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the
fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills;we shall never
surrender." -Winston Churchill
    o "Great ability develops and reveals itself increasingly with every new
assignment." --Baltasar Gracian, The Oracle
    o "I have not yet begun to fight!" -John Paul Jones


by going to the following Web form:

    http://www.egroups.com/vote?id=935298825072

Thank you!

>Mel: I want to rp a special bit with Trig and Callie in my next post where
>he commends her as well. I've just run out of time here to include it and I
>wanted it to be a little more then just a couple of lines in this post if I
>were to do it now ;)

Cool :)  What did she do to deserve it? :)

Melanie.

NRPG:
I'm having some difficulty with my computer and am having to use my
son's computer. Unfortunately, all of the backpost messages are on my
computer. Therefore, I'm not exactly sure about the story line (since my
reference is on the other HD). I will be able to read whatever is
written from today forward, but I will not have access to my historical
files until late next week (or possibly later).
I'm hoping that this will not hinder (too much) my writing, but I fear
that it will. I don't want to mess up anyone's time line. Therefore, I
will write only that which won't interefere too much.

Rob Hensley
=/\= LCDR T.Carver Jackson, XO, USS OSLER
=/\= LCDR Thaddeus Arius Patella, CMO, USS CLARK
=/\= Lt. Col. Dixon Quayde, MCO, USS CHILLICOTHE
=/\= Lt. Spa'ar, CMO, USS PROMETHEUS

BD 15.1800
Scene: Launch Party, USS CHILLICOTHE

[Old material from Eric's post…]

"Commander Alexandra Fletcher, please come forward."  Alex was on the podium
with Aurora, so it was a short walk.  There was a tear in her eye, matching
one in Aurora's.  Both knew exactly what the medal meant.  "Major Quintus
Fabius Fletcher was a true Star of Hope to all of us while he lived, and he
will continue to be so as he rests.  Commander, it is my great honor..." Her
voice caught in her throat for a moment. "...to present you your husband's
Star of Hope.  Starfleet mourns with you this day, and forever."

Alex stood for a moment, unable to move.  Then she moved slowly, and took
the box from Aurora, another tear running down her cheek.  Aurora watched as
Alex maintained her composure other than that; it was an impressive sight.
She wished she could do the same.  Alex returned to her seat.

"Ladies and Gentleman... the Captain of the USS Chillicothe, and the Fleet
Captain of Blue Fleet, Trig Hawker."

[New material…]

If it had meant the loss of her own life, Alexandra couldn't have said later
what - if anything - Captain Hawker had said upon taking the podium back
from Adm. Jackson. She sat there, numb, feeling nothing, hearing nothing, as
the ceremony continued, wondering what to do with the blinding bright symbol
of Quinn's absence.

Alex had done her dead-level best to remove any and all symbols of him from
her presence. She'd taken his ashes to Scotland. She'd given his sword to
Julia. She'd packed away his personal effects and given them to his sister,
too. She'd dropped her wedding ring in his ashes, swearing she'd never wear
another. Marriage appeared to be not for her - with a divorce and a
widowhood now to her credit, Alexandra decided being alone was far less
painful.

There were worse things than being alone…

"--andra?"

The commander's head snapped up and she blinked owlishly into the scowling
face of Keile T'Osio, the ship's counselor. "Y-yes? I'm sorry… I - didn't
hear you. You were talking - to me?"

Keile nodded, the frown fading somewhat but not going away entirely. She had
been - and still was - very concerned for the mental stability and health of
the CHILLICOTHE's Executive Officer. Her weeks of R&R on earth didn't seem
to have helped her much - then again, this was a difficult evening for her,
especially with the presentation of the Star of Hope… when Alex still had to
be feeling like there was none. "I was asking if you're going to sit here
all night."

Alexandra thumbed the lid of the Star's box shut, jerking a little as it did
so with a loud 'snap'. Nerves a bit raw from all the change she was facing,
this had made her bleed a little from a wound she'd thought healed. "No… no,
of course not. I thought - I'd get a drink. Join me?" she asked quickly.

"I wish I could - but I've got an appointment with a member of the Delta
shift… can I get a raincheck?"

"Sure," Alex answered, offering a smile that was both forced and relieved at
the same time. She liked Keile… she liked her a lot, and she knew the woman
was only trying to help her - both as a friend and as a counselor - but Alex
felt cornered, stared at, trapped-- "Sure," she echoed. "I'll be here."

Keile reached out and patted Alexandra's arm, "I should be back in an hour
or so," she promised.

Alex made a mental note to try and be in her new cabin by then. Or at least
not 'here'. Later… later she'd talk to Keile. Later.

Later:

Alex walked the decks of the new ship, alone, exploring. It was very late…
the party was, she was sure, still in full swing - somewhere. She'd left it,
excusing herself with the most transparent of excuses, slipping quietly away
before it starting sounding like the last launch party she'd attended… on
the CORONA… the night she'd watched a brash young Marine major set his hair
on fire in order to get her attention…

Nothing was the same.

The CORONA was gone… decommissioned and GONE, before Alexandra heard a word
about it. All her things had been moved to the new ship, put in a new cabin.
Stowed in her new drawers and hung in her new closets.

There was no place on this ship where she'd ever seen Quinn stand or walk or
*be*. She'd never heard his voice in any corridor or 'lift. He'd never held
her here. Kissed her there. Made love to her in any cabin.

There were no memories here.

No ghosts.

It was a beautiful ship, this new Heinlein Class. Even if it was smaller
than the CORONA. Sleek. Compact. Shiny and never-been-used. It smelled new -
of grand adventures, great promise, excitement and discovery. It was
well-built, strong, an impressive vessel designed to do all the jobs it
needed to do to carry her crew out into the universe so they could do
*their* jobs… fighting and dying and being posthumously decorated with
silver stars that would be handed to their--

"Good evening, Commander."

The male voice came out of the air behind her and Alexandra whirled around,
startled. There, in the corridor, was a Marine dressed in full-dress
uniform… a sight which was quite sufficient to the task of taking
Alexandra's breath away.

Major Quayde looked a little startled himself. He'd never expected such a
reaction. The woman's face had drained completely of blood - she looked as
pale as the bulkhead, and not nearly so substantial. He started to reach
out, but held himself in check. She appeared to be regaining her equilibrium
quickly. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to startle you," he smiled.

Alexandra pulled in a deep breath and offered the major as good a smile as
she could manage. "I thought everyone was still at the party," she said in
her soft English accent.

"Except for me and thee," he commented. "Taking a tour?"

The First Officer nodded. "I only returned from leave this afternoon… I've
only seen my quarters once - and then I was in such a rush to get ready for
the launch party, I didn't notice much about them." Which was a lie -
Alexandra had noticed how empty they were. How small compared to the
'family' size cabin she'd shared with Quinn on the CORONA. And she'd noticed
how silent.

"Well, we'll likely get to see plenty of the CHILLICOTHE once we're
underway. We better enjoy SALADIN while we can."

"Yes… you're probably right…"

Why did the woman's gaze seem to want to be anywhere but on him, the Major
wondered. "Well," he smiled, "I'll be on my way and let you get back to
yours…" He hesitated. He wanted to say something about the new ribbons
adorning the shoulder of her tunic - but it was hard to know the right thing
when the ribbons were so hard won. "By the way, Commander… well done on
Barona II. The Marines themselves couldn't have done better."

"Thank you," Alexandra replied, even though 'thank you' seemed an odd thing
to say. She knew what he meant… knew how awkward the moment was… but it felt
so out of kilter. Ribbons and congratulations and pats on the back for
surviving rape and being beaten to within a centimeter of joining Quinn. "I
don't feel like I did much toward resolving the situation. But it's over
now… and that's all that really matters… it was good talking to you away
from the din of the party, M-major," she stammered. "I hope to have many
such opportunities once we're on the way."

"Same here, Commander… goodnight." He gave Alexandra a quick salute - more
of an 'I'd touch my hat brim, if I were wearing one' gesture, and continued
on his way.

Alexandra stood where she was for several seconds and tired to will her
heart to slow down. It was harder than she thought it was going to be…
seeing Marines. Meeting the man who'd taken Quinn's place. Talking to a
Marine. Seeing that 'spit and polish' perfection that was drilled into each
and every mother's son and daughter of them.

Now, more even than before, she knew she'd never get to sleep in the bed
that waited for her inside her new quarters… so she walked on, haunting the
CHILLICOTHE's corridors while she pretended to be familiarizing herself with
the new ship… wondering if Quinn walked the CORONA, wondering where she was.

____________________________________

NRPG:

BD: 15.1800 - Alexandra ducks Keile and runs into a Marine. [JD]

Notes:

Bob: Welcome to the CHILLICOTHE! I look forward to writing with you and hope
I didn't massacre Dixon's character too much.

All: Now that the awards are distributed, please get those updated bios to
me ASAP. ;) Thanks!

____________________________________

Respectfully submitted,

Jenny Dahl
Karal@...
'D'Alles'
ICQ-UIN 6828803

Lt.[jg] Karal K'ng hSi; CNS, USS TROUTMAN, Silver Fleet
Lt.[jg] Sydney M. 'D'Alles' D'Allesandro; JAG Officer, SFDITF, Blue Fleet
Lt. Ala Chamani (RIP); OPS, USS ASCLEPIUS, Red Fleet
Lt. Cdr. Eilese Riveau; OPS, USS MONTANA, Blue Fleet
Cdr. Alexandra Bradford; XO, USS CHILLICOTHE, Blue Fleet
Ms. Judith Georgina MacDougall; Freelance Writer, SB KAPPA, Red Fleet
Capt. Lydia Granger; CO, USS ALLIANCE, Red Fleet
CPO Sol Sosa; Administrative Aide, Red Command
Romani Ivana Kaslov; Bartender, USS ARIANE, Red Fleet
SGTM Bette Darlene D'Angelo, Secretary, Starfleet Command (NRP)(Ret.)
Dr. Rebecca (Nic)ole Chiraque, BLUE Fleet Liaison, USS CHILLICOTHE (PNPC)
VAdm. Mary Catherine Murphy, CINCSFA; Commandant, Starfleet Academy
Dr. Anna Woodcock-White, aCMO, USS ASCLEPIUS, Red Fleet (PNPC)
Dr. Synnthia Sune Amon, Research Scientist, Advanced Field Studies, SFSCI
(PNPC)

'Writing is easy; all you have to do is stare at a blank sheet of paper
until the drops of blood form on your forehead.' -Gene Fowler

BD 15.1800

"....so without further ado I will bring up our distinguished host, Vice
Admiral Aurora Jackson, Commander in Chief of Blue Fleet."

Aurora headed for the lectern.  The Blue Fleet staff were mildly surprised;
for once she was wearing her full dress uniform, complete with the Blue
epaulets that marked her as permanently assigned to Blue fleet.  She was
carrying two boxes, one quite a bit larger than the other, both of which she
set on the lectern.  "This is indeed an exciting day for Blue Fleet.  A new
flagship sits outside the windows, there, in the docks, waiting for its
first run.  It may be a small ship, but Starfleet has a history of turning
smaller ships into flagships... for some reason or another.  The hope of
Blue Fleet runs with the Corona crew, now ensconced within the Chillicothe."

Aurora looked down at the boxes, trying to decide which she would part with
first.  It was a tough choice; one symbolized earned respect; the other
symbolized the same respect, immortalized by death.

"It is a day of celebration for another reason.  Captain Trigit Hawker, come
forward."  Aurora smiled bemusedly at Trig; she _knew_ he hated that name,
and intended to exploit that fact.  He stepped toward her, leery after the
jab.  "Captain Hawker, you won't be needing those pips any longer."  She
held out the smaller of the two boxes.  "In recognition of your assuming the
position of Fleet Captain, I hereby promote you to the rank of Commodore,
with all the rights, privileges, and duties thereof.  Congratulations,
Commodore."  There was thunderous applause as Trig placed the single boxed
pip on his collar.  He waved at the crowd, shot a look back at Aurora, and
sat back down.

Now Aurora came to the larger box.  "It is also a time of sorrow.  The
Corona lost several crew members along its journey to Barona II; each of
their families has been sent a medal like this one," Aurora said, opening
the box.  Inside, laying against the velvet, was a seven-pointed star, in
silver, with an imprint of the Starfleet delta centered on it, in gold,
suspended from a ribbon of pure white.  "The Star of Hope."

"Commander Alexandra Fletcher, please come forward."  Alex was on the podium
with Aurora, so it was a short walk.  There was a tear in her eye, matching
one in Aurora's.  Both knew exactly what the medal meant.  "Major Quintus
Fabius Fletcher was a true Star of Hope to all of us while he lived, and he
will continue to be so as he rests.  Commander, it is my great honor..."
Her voice caught in her throat for a moment. "...to present you your
husband's Star of Hope.  Starfleet mourns with you this day, and forever."

Alex stood for a moment, unable to move.  Then she moved slowly, and took
the box from Aurora, another tear running down her cheek.  Aurora watched as
Alex maintained her composure other than that; it was an impressive sight.
She wished she could do the same.  Alex returned to her seat.

"Ladies and Gentleman... the Captain of the USS Chillicothe, and the Fleet
Captain of Blue Fleet, Trig Hawker."

------------
NRPG:

Chris:  Surprise!  You forgot a promotion <BEG>.  And congratulations.

All, N.B.:  On board ship, Trig is still addressed as "Captain"--that's his
title, even if it isn't his rank ;)

All:  Well?  Let's party!

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Eric Snyder II            edsnyder@...            ICQ# 8560903
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Commodore Robert Boyd, PhD, Commanding Officer, USS Tempest
Lieutenant J.G. Keile T'Osio, Counselor, USS Corona
Vice Admiral Aurora Jackson, Commander-in-Chief, Blue Fleet
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"There are three rules for writing a novel.  Unfortunately, no one
knows what they are." -- W. Somerset Maugham
--------------------------------------------------------------------

SD 110817.1600
BD 15.1000

-------------------------------------
SB SALADIN - Holodeck 3
-------------------------------------

"Okay, you're doing good but this time try it with a little less wrist,"
called Trig to Nic.

"I AM doing it with less wrist!" she replied the frustration beginning to
show. Learning to fly fish was not easy and Nic just didn't have the
patience to find the learning process enjoyable. She was an able spin
caster and had been doing that for years. She could even show Trig a thing
or two about landing a big ol' bass with spinners and jigs, but when it
came to the graceful motion of casting a fly delicately on the water Nic
couldn't seem to get it right. The more she tried the more frustrated she got.

Trig had picked his favorite spot of all the holodeck programs. The
"Englishman River Program" was actually one he had painstakingly created,
spending hours making sure every last detail was right. After all he had
spent the better part of his youth fishing that very river so he had better
remember it well. He even allowed for variations in the river's current
depending on what time of year he wanted to simulate when he used the
program. Today he picked a spot on the river where the current wasn't too
strong and there were no obstructions for the lines to get caught up on so
Nic could learn without any hazards. Little did Trig know that there was a
hazard he did not know about.

Nic.

"Argh!" grumbled Trig as her line wrapped around him, the hook sticking
into his vest.

"You were supposed to move out of ze way!" she snapped to him as he began
to unravel the line.

"Me?! Why don't you watch where you are casting?"

"I've been casting here all morning! You moved right in ze line's path."

"I did not! You've been winging it around so much I think the birds are in
more danger then the fish!"

"That's it!" Nic said starting to wade away. "I have had enough. If you
cannot be pleasant to me, then I would rather not fish."

"You actually call what you were doing fishing?" Trig said with a grin
wading after her.

"Hrmph!" was Nic's only verbal reply. She pulled hard on her line, tugging
the hook still imbedded in Trig's vest with some force. Trying to balance
on the smooth, grimy rocks and fighting the current was difficult enough as
it was. Now with the added force of the line pulling him forward was just
too much for him to battle all at once. The result was a nose dive straight
into the cold, rushing river.

"Wha!…..<glub>" was all that was heard from Trig as his whole body became
submerged. Nic started to giggle, then erupted into laughter when Trig
surfaced soaking wet, the cigar in his mouth now extinguished and soggy,
sporting an expression on his face of a person less then pleased.

He wasn't.

"You look so…so….so wet!" Nic said laughing so hard tears were forming in
her eyes.

"Get used to the look," he warned. With one quick, swift motion he wrapped
the line still attached to him around his right hand and arm and yanked
down hard on it. Nic was still holding the rod and was not expecting his
move. She too was thrown off balance and plunged into the water.

'You're…..you're…!" she spluttered when she came up.

"Even?" he offered noting her red face and knowing not to push things
further. There the two of them were, standing in the middle of a river,
both soaking wet, both cold and both glowering at each other. Trig was the
first to break the tension. He started to laugh. He started to laugh hard.
It was too much and Nic relented, joining in. Now both of them were
standing in the river killing themselves laughing.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" Trig snickered making his way
towards her.

"Moi? You should have seen yours Mon Capitaine!" she chuckled. "How is your
cigar?!"

"I don't think even CPR is going to bring this one back," he replied
throwing it away before giving her a hug. "You forgive me?"

"No," she said calmly before pushing him hard back into the water. When he
surfaced spluttering out water, wide-eyed in surprise she turned to him.
"Now you are forgiven." With that she walked to shore leaving Trig to make
his own way out of the rushing river.

------------------------------------------------------
SB SALADIN - CONFERENCE ROOM 1
------------------------------------------------------
BD 15.1800

"……….so without further adieu I will bring up our distinguished host, Vice
Admiral Aurora Jackson, Commander in Chief of Blue Fleet," announced the MC
before a thunderous applause. Trig had never seen a conference room so
filled with people. Besides his own crew, FNS reporters and the flag
officers of Blue Fleet, the crews of the tug BULLDOG, the cruiser
WISCONSIN, and the destroyer LIBERATOR were on hand to see this. There were
even a few members of the recently decommissioned CHALLANGER present as
well. Aurora had almost made it mandatory for all crews currently on the
station to attend. She wanted a good turn out and she definitely got one.

"This is indeed and exciting day for Blue Fleet……." the Admiral began.
Trig's thoughts were in other places as Aurora spoke and his mind wandered
from her speech. He thought of the CORONA and what a fine ship she was. He
thought of all the places she had gone, how many worlds she and her crews
had saved. She had served her duty to Starfleet well and on this day of
celebration, he was sad to have to say goodbye to her.

He also thought of becoming the fleet flagship and all the responsibility
that position held. If, the good Lord forbid, this section of space turned
into a warzone and the entire fleet was forced to defend it, Trig would be
the one who would issue the orders in he heat of battle. Now instead of
having only the 700+ lives on the CHILLICOTHE to worry about, he now had
all of Blue Fleets. He was ready for it, but it still was quite a challenge.

Of course he then thought of where the new ship may be sent for their first
mission. Obviously there will be some shakedown time, but where after that?
Back to Barona? To investigate some spacial anomaly? The Borg? Would they
be ready for such a test? He trusted his crew, but this was not the
familiar confines of the CORONA here. This was a brand new, highly advanced
starship they had now and it would take some time to learn the new systems.
He would have to put some pressure on the senior staff to ensure that they
have their departments running smoothly and that they know what to do when
it counts to most. They would come through. They always did.

"……it is now my pleasure to give to you the captain of the new Blue Flag,
Captain Trig Hawker!" announced Aurora snapping Trig out of his reverie.
Fighting the urge to jam a cigar into his mouth, Trig stood and approached
the podium.

"Thank you Admiral and good evening everyone," Trig said as he unfolded his
speech and placed it on the podium. "First off, on behalf of the entire
crew of the CHILLICOTHE, I would like to thank Admiral Jackson for showing
faith in us that we may represent Blue Fleet as her flag ship. This is a
great responsibility not to be taken lightly and I know my crew will
endeavor to be a unit to be proud of. They already are. "

"Like the CORONA before her, the CHILLICOTHE will have the duty to defend
Blue Fleet and all she stands for.  Blue Fleet's territory is expanding
everyday and there are countless worlds that need protection. The
CHILLICOTHE and her valiant crew will be there when needed the most. We
will protect those who cannot protect themselves. We will maintain and
uphold the Prime Directive at all costs. It is our duty. It is our
responsibility."

"Before the CHILLICOTHE sails on her maiden voyage, to seek out and protect
the worlds around us, I would like announce some personnel changes to our
crew. Lieutenant Colonel Dixon Quayde will be joining us as our new Marine
Commanding Officer after the heroic death of Major Quintus Fletcher during
the last mission. Major Fletcher was an intricate part of our crew and he
will be missed. I trust that Lt. Col. Quayde will perform to the same high
standards that Major Fletcher has set before him."

"I also have some other announcements to make and they will require the
participation of my senior staff. When called, please come up to the
podium," Trig said smiling as he picked up a large wooded box from the
table to his left. "Ensign Bobby Effield front and center."

Looking a little surprised, Bobby stood from his seat and walked up to Trig
with his back to the large crowd behind him. "Sir?" he whispered to Trig
not quite understanding why he was being called to the front. Trig ignored
him and continued to speak to the crowd.

"Ensign Effield, for your care and service to the crew members of the USS
CORONA during the last mission, I am pleased to promote you to the rank of
Lieutenant Junior Grade," Trig said reaching up and pinning a half-pip to
Bobby collar. "Congratulations Mister Effield."

The crowd erupted into boisterous applause.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Keile T'Osio front and center," Trig snapped as
soon as Bobby had left the podium area. Within moments, Keile was standing
beside her CO. "Mister T'Osio, for your care and commitment to the
wellbeing of the ship's crew, I hereby promote you to full Lieutenant."
This time he gave a full pip to Keile's collar. "Congratulations
Lieutenant," Trig said smiling to his Counselor.

"Thank you sir," she whispered over the din of applause.

"Lieutenant Commander Holland and Lieutenant Junior Grade Scott, front and
center," Trig announced next. Several moments later the grinning duo was
before him. "Mister Holland, for your service and leadership to the ship
and her crew by performing above the normal duties expected of you in the
last mission, I hereby award you with Starfleet Achievement Medal." Trig
carefully took the shiny medal out of the box and presented it to Ryan. The
OPS/20 was grinning ear to ear.

"Mister Scott, for your outstanding ability to pilot the CORONA through not
only hostile territory but also some of the most hazardous and treacherous
terrain imaginable, I hereby award you also with the Starfleet Achievement
Medal," Trig said to his new FCO. What a time for him to arrive to the
ship, right when they were getting ready to make an attempt to reach the
Preserver temple and alert them to the problems on Barona. With the lunar
system around Barona nearly making it impassible for a ship the size of the
CORONA, Dev had done a fantastic job. This medal and the 4 new fighters in
the one of the CHILLICOTHE's hangers were his reward for a job well done.

When the applause subsided after the two had left, Trig called on his next
award recipient. "Lieutenant Drykson, front and center." The CEO was
injured in the final attack on the CORONA, the very same attack that
disabled the ship. He attended the podium with a nurse in tow. "Mister
Drykson, I hereby bestow on you the Purple Heart for sustaining injury
while serving for the United Federation of Planets."

When the applause died down, Trig announced a second award to his CEO. "Not
so fast, Mister Drykson. I would also like to award you the Starfleet
Commendation Medal for your efforts to retrieve the Away Team from
captivity. We all owe you for bringing them safely home."

There was a bigger applause this time, even a few stood to signify that
Korth had indeed done a fine job.

"Finally, I would like to call on Commander Bradford, Dr. Van Aiken, and
Lieutenant Commander Grey," said Trig becoming serious. After several
moments and quite a bit of shuffling, the three were standing beside Trig.
"I cannot begin to commend you on what you three did for the people of
Barona II. Your sacrifice saved an entire world from extinction. Not only
all of Barona, but all of Starfleet owe you three a debt of gratitude. In a
small token of our appreciation, I would like to bestow two awards on each
of you. First, for your heroism and bravery despite torture and abuse at
the hands of the Cdarrans, I hereby award each of you the Prisoner of War
Medal."

A polite applause followed as Trig pinned the medals, one that was bitter
sweet for Trig, on the three. Bitter because no CO likes to have any of his
crew held captive by enemy forces. Sweet because they all made it back so
he could pin this medal on them. It was a small consolation for the
punishment they endured, but at least they were still here to receive it.

"I would also like to bestow on you the Bronze Star. I will read the
description of the award to you now, so all here can know the type of
people you are and the bravery you showed. 'The Bronze Star Medal is
awarded to any person who, while serving in any capacity in or with the
armed forces of the United Federation of Planets, distinguished himself or
herself by heroic or meritorious achievement or service in connection with
military operations against an armed enemy; or while engaged in military
operations involving conflict with an opposing armed force in which the
United Federation of Planets is not a belligerent party.' Your actions were
heroic and through your sacrifice, the planet was saved. I thank you all."

Trig joined the applause this time, which quickly became a standing
ovation. It did not matter if not all the people in the room were from the
CHILLICOTHE or not. They all knew what Alex, Christian and Jerry had given
up to be getting those rewards. It could just have easily been one of them
and they would want people like the three of them at their side if it was.
There was no three more deserving.

There were more speeches and more interviews. Finally the dignitaries and
reporters left, leaving only the CHILLICOTHE crew in the room. With the
drinks flowing and the music playing, the celebration was no about to begin.

Respectfully Submitted,
Chris Aubrey

NRPG: Congrats to all! I forgot to add it to the post and I may RP it in my
next one, but assume that the entire crew also received a Battle of Barona
II Combat Ribbon. Thanks everyone for making the last mission so enjoyable
and I look forward to the next mission!

Mel: I want to rp a special bit with Trig and Callie in my next post where
he commends her as well. I've just run out of time here to include it and I
wanted it to be a little more then just a couple of lines in this post if I
were to do it now ;)

Mike: Could you send me the stats on the X1-15's? I'd like to add it to the
Handbook and webpage to signify the 4 of them on board :) You stole my
thunder a little bit though as I was going to have them announced on board
in this post ;> No worries though, I'm just glad we have them and I look
forward to seeing what adventures you can use them in <G>.

Eric: I didn't know if you wanted to write the Aurora part so I left it
easy for you to jump in if you did <G>.

ALL: Let me know if you have any ideas for the next mission <G>. In the
meantime, feel free to post yourself to the party and reactions to the
awards and shore leave and…well whatever you want! <G>. We begin the next
mission as soon as I feel the party thead is done ;)

NOTE: I will be away from email from tonight (now) to Thursday night
sometime. Please contact the lovely Jenny Dahl in the meantime with any
immediate concerns ;)

MD SUMMARY:
BD 15.1000 - Trig and Nic get wet
BD 15.1800 - Awards are given, speeches are made

Cheers,
Chris Aubrey
CO, USS CHILLICOTHE
Capt Trig Hawker
craubrey@...
ICQ #29951766
-------------------------------------------------------
"Do or do not. There is no try." Yoda, ESB.

Dixon Checks In, Again

MD 8.1200
Scene: SPACERS, Departure Lounge on SALADIN

“Are you ready to leave yet?”

The man at the bar focused his keen eyes on the Major. “Yeah, just a
minute.” He finished the last swallow of Tennessee’s finest that had
been in the now empty shot glass. Weathered and competent, his demeanor
spoke volumes. There was not much the Lt. Col. had not seen in his many
tours of duty. This was yet another one.

Grabbing his PEC and riding saddle from the deck, he turned to the other
two and said, “let’s go.” The companions had been in SPACERS for about
an hour. There were many memories that they had shared. At least there
were many memories that Dixon and ‘Gunny’ had shared. Major Stein had
been new to the small group of friends and was still in the business of
making memories.

Together they left the lounge. There were no words exchanged as they
wound their way through SALADIN’s corridors. At least there were no
words until they reached the shuttlebay where a small runabout with the
name CHILLICOTHE written on the side.

“Where will you be going?” The question was directed to the cigar
chewing Gunnery Sergeant who had been with Dixon since the BONAPARTE.

The man owned a mug that looked more like a fist than a face. His eyes
were perpetually squinted and all the wrinkles of his years seemed to be
drawn to his eyes, nose and mouth. He removed the wet stubby cigar  with
banana fingers and stretched his mouth into a grin that exposed his
yellowing teeth. “They’ve got me going to the USS REDOUBT. I’m going to
be the MCO there.” He returned the stub to his teeth quite pleased with
himself.

“That’s great. It couldn’t happen to a better man. The REDOUBT is
getting a great MCO.” Dixon paused to look at his friend one last time.

“Thank you Colonel. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Sure.” Neither man believed it.

“Well, Colonel, I guess this is it.” The voice belonged to his lithe MXO
from the CHALLENGER. Janice Stein. With hands behind her back she stood
as a stoic from ancient Athens on the deck.

Dixon considered the Major and said, “yes, I suppose it is. Where did
you say you would be going?”

“I’m headed to Devil’s Moon.”

“Special OPS Training? I’m impressed.” Dixon knew she would do a fine
job there. It would be a prime assignment. Dixon was glad that someone
had listened to his recommendation about her.

“Thank you, Colonel. I’ll miss seeing your ugly face.”

Dixon would miss these two also. But in a small way, he was glad to be
assigned somewhere that the Major wasn’t. “Emily never liked you.”

The Major blushed just a little. “She never had anything to worry about,
Dix.”

Dixon heard the words but also knew the words between the lines. “Yeah.”

“I wish you well.”

“So, do I Colonel, give ‘em hell,” added ‘Gunny’.

“Thank you. Well, I guess I had better go and meet this Trig Hawker
character.” There was time for one last hug and handshake as the Colonel
turned and headed for the runabout. He did not look back to see if his
friends were watching him leave. He reserved that task for after he had
seated himself in the small craft. Once he was settled in he stole a
glance through a porthole and was pleased to see both of them standing
there still watching. It was good to have friends.

“Are you ready, sir?” Dixon saw the youthful pilot of the craft for the
first time. He felt very old. “Yeah, let’s go, son.”

The little runabout powered up and rose off the deck of the shuttlebay
and then turned for open space of the station. It did not take long
before the forms of Major Stein and Gunnery Sergeant Banning disappeared
completely. Dixon did not have much time to consider his loss for the
USS CHILLICOTHE loomed before the little craft and grew steadily by the
moment.

The pilot had performed all the necessary embarkation protocols. They
had received permission to come aboard. The aft shuttlebay doors were
opened already and the pilot eased the runabout into position in the
center of the deck.

It was a short flight and Dixon had not even bothered to put his PEC
down. He still held it in his lap. As the craft settled down and then
powered down, Dixon noticed three figures crossing the shuttlebay
platform.

“We are here, sir.” The pilot was very helpful as he rose and opened the
bay doors to the runabout. Dixon stooped and stepped off the craft and
came face to face with a man who possessed Captain’s pips.

“You must be Lt. Col. Dixon Quayde,” greeted the Captain. “Welcome
aboard.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Dixon was a bit perplexed over the Captain’s
personal greeting. Usually the XO, or even the OPS greeted new arrivals.
“You must be Captain Trig Hawker.”

“Yes, I am. This is Lt. Dhar.” The Captain indicated a Cygnan who wore
Marine green that stood next to him. “Lt. Dhar will be your right hand
while aboard the CHILLICOTHE. He will show you to your quarters. Then he
is scheduled to show you around Deck 14, where the Marines are
billeted.”

“Hello, Lt. Dhar.”

“Good afternoon, Colonel.” The Cygnan proved himself thoroughly Marine
as he performed an ‘old style’ Marine salute. Dixon returned and
appreciated the gesture.

“This is a new boat for us, Colonel. We will be leaving dock soon, but
in the mean time, you may want to get to know your men a little bit and
acquaint yourself with the ship like the rest of us are doing.”

“Thank you Captain, I will.”

“Well, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Lt. Dhar.” With that, the
Captain turned and was followed by a man who was left un-introduced by
the Captain but who could be little else but the Captain’s yeoman.

“Are you ready, Colonel?” Lt. Dhar had already grabbed the Colonel’s PEC
and saddle.

“Here, let me take that.” Dixon relieved the Lt. of the saddle. “You can
carry the other.”

The two men walked across the deck of the shuttlebay and then through
the bay doors into the corridors beyond. Dixon still felt very old for
this, but it was familiar country and he felt right at home.

********************************
MD 4.1200  Dixon Ellis Quayde, MCO, checks in with Trig Hawker  [Rob]

NRPG: Hello again everyone. Glad to be among you again (you know, from
my TFC days??). Anyway, attached to this is Quayde’s bio for anyone who
wants a copy. Also, I’ll be sending along a short list of NPCs that I
usually have trailing around in the Marine contingent. Included will be
some info in general about the Marines that most might not know (helps
when writing). Chris, thanks for letting me on board.

============================
Rob Hensley
=/\= Lt. Col. Dixon Ellis Quayde, MCO, USS CHILLICOTHE

Scene: SB SALADIN, Vice Admiral Aurora Jackson's Office
BD ??

The Lt. Col. had only arrived at SALADIN seven hours ago. He had already
transferred his gear to temporary suite offered  to officers who
were in transition. He had hoped his time on SALADIN would be minimal.
Time spent spinning around in orbit was wasted time.

Maybe he was getting too old for this. He straightened his green uniform
and returned to his ramrod posture in the chair as he awaited the Vice
Admiral. He hoped that he could keep a few of his people with him in
this particular transfer. At least with that, he wouldn't have to start
cold. It was never easy to do that.

The Colonel's wait was not long. The beaded curtain slid apart--Dixon had
wondered about that when he entered--and a very beautiful woman entered the
office. The fact that she was beautiful in itself was not peculiar, but
rather that she was so attractive and still wearing Admiral's bars.  Of
course, the somewhat non-regulation uniform attributed to it too.

"Good afternoon, Colonel. Please, keep your seat."  Aurora moved around him
and sat on the front of her desk, crossing her legs.  "Colonel, I've noted
in your records that you have only just recently
been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel" The Admiral tilted her head
as if to better hear Dixon's response.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, a man of your qualifications certainly needs to have a post
commensurate with your experience and rank."

Dixon did not respond. He was waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"I have written orders for you to take immediate command of the 74th
Marines. You are to report immediately to the Regimental headquarters on
Mars within the next 72 hours. Congratulations, Colonel. I understand that
the 74th has a rich and storied history." Aurora smiled across her desk,
though Marines weren't normally her favorite people--she in fact hadn't a
clue what she was saying.

The 74th was indeed a prime assignment. They had taken part in many
significant battles at several critical points in history. Mars would
allow him to be closer to Emily. Who knows, he might even talk her into
moving from the San Bernadino area on Earth.  Yet it still did not
satisfy that stirring of the spirit that Dixon felt when the thrum from
the engines of a Star Fleet vessel was approaching some unknown land.
There was a thrill in being the FIRST!

"What's wrong, Colonel?" Aurora could see the thoughts run across the
broad forehead of the Colonel but had no idea what they were.

Dixon searched for words. "The assignment is .. very..nice. Rather, it
is an honor, ma'am."

"Then why do you look so concerned?"

"I don't know." Dixon really struggled to put words to the way that he
felt. "I've been in space so long, I don't know exactly how I'd adjust
to being permanently dirtside. The 74th is a fine Regiment. A man would
be a fool to turn it down."

"Dixon, you are a Lt. Col. A man of your caliber should not be in charge
of a mere Company. Most of the ships under my command carry a Company of
marines, or even smaller. I'm not sure that Star Fleet could afford to
assign you anywhere else." Aurora watched Dixon carefully.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm aware of the responsibilities associated with the
rank." Dixon was beginning to wish that he had never received the O-5.
He was beginning to wish that he had not survived the BONAPARTE. But he
backed from that thought very quickly.

Aurora looked quietly through Quayde's record as he pondered the
information that he was receiving. He had distinguished himself quite
well. He did seem to have a flair for working in the environs of a
vessel. He was a man that she would want in charge of the ship's marines
if she were again a boat's captain.

"Well, Colonel. I don't know what to say. I have not had anyone turn
down an assignment before." Both knew that the words that Dixon was not
saying were louder than anything he was. "I will consider your concerns
and get back with you. For the time being, you are dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am." Dixon rose and formally left the Admiral's office.
Thoughts swirled in his mind. In his heart he knew that the 74th would
be death for him. It had the feel of General Hoarton's staff all over
again. He hated it. As he walked the corridors of the Star Base he
steeled himself. He knew that the only thing he would be able to do
would be to resign his commission. Perhaps it was time to go home
anyway.

Suddenly there was a noise behind him.  "Colonel?"

"Yes, ma'am?"  He looked at her.  It was obvious she had run to catch up to
him.

"I just might have something for you.  You'll have to understand... this is
not standard procedure for me.  Generally the Marines give me the orders for
their people, and I merely relay them.  But it this case... I think we can
make an exception."

"Ma'am?"

"Well, while it's abnormal for anyone with a rank higher than Major to
command a company, it just so happens that the Blue Fleet Flagship is
without a Marine Commander at this time... and I'd love to be able to have
you on the Flagship."

Flagship?  Dixon's ears perked up.  "That would be... a great honor,
Admiral."

"The only catch is, you'll have to wait a month.  The Chillicothe isn't even
finished being built yet.  And you'll have to deal with a Marine contingent
that's lost their CO... twice."

Dixon blinked.  "Twice?"

"It's a long story.  Would you take the job?"

Dixon considered a moment.  Being closer to home would be great--but the
lure of the stars, the thoughts of distant worlds, was far greater.  "I'll
take it, ma'am."

-----------------------------------------------------
NRPG:

Chris, Jen: You know Rob :)

Rob:  How does that ending work for you? <G>

Chili-ans: Your new MCO has arrived (finally :)

=============================
Rob Hensley
=/\= Lt. Col. Dixon Ellis Quayde, MCO USS CORONA

...with parts by...

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Eric Snyder II            edsnyder@...            ICQ# 8560903
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Commodore Robert Boyd, PhD, Commanding Officer, USS Tempest
Lieutenant J.G. Keile T'Osio, Counselor, USS Corona
Vice Admiral Aurora Jackson, Commander-in-Chief, Blue Fleet
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"There are three rules for writing a novel.  Unfortunately, no one
knows what they are." -- W. Somerset Maugham
--------------------------------------------------------------------

BD 12.1200
Holodeck 3, SB Saladin

The disc whizzed past Keile, spinning slightly as it did so, then bounced
off the opposite wall.  She caught it with her phaser on the rebound,
sending it toward her opponent, a holographic replica of herself.  As she
hit it, the disc turned green; she was safe from a hit until her opponent
shot the disc with her phaser.

Which she did, turning the disc red again and sending it careening toward
Keile.  The computer had a pretty good handle on how Keile played
Velocity--she saw her mirror continuing to target the disc, hoping to score
a shot just as it crossed the midline and catch Keile off guard.  Instead of
taking the panic shot, Keile ducked, waited for the carom from the wall
behind her, then added force to the rebound with her phaser.  The disc
turned green and rammed into her opponent, at which point it vanished.

"Seven points to five.  Computer serves."  The computer was keeping score
for them, as well as playing; it struck Keile as perhaps a bit unfair, but
then again it _was_ the computer, and it wasn't accustomed to cheating.

Physical activity was what Keile needed right now, after the mission they'd
just returned from.  While she hadn't been exactly sedentary, and the
doctor, were he still around, probably would have said she ought to be lying
in bed resting (and Keile had no doubt that that was exactly what Bobby
himself was doing right now, back on Earth), she knew that she needed some
exertion to work off her emotion.

Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to find an opponent, and had to make do
with the holographic mirror of herself, which was a pretty good opponent;
she won about half the time.

She hadn't had a chance to see Alex before she left for home.  That was
probably better; Alex needed some time alone, and Keile figured that Trig,
or Ryan, or Christian, had made sure that Alex was off the Corona within
fifteen minutes of their docking; the first officer hadn't even been with
Trig when he learned of the Corona's decommissioning.

Keile watched as the red disc rammed into her, vanishing painlessly.  "Six
points to seven, T'Osio serves."

She wondered if Alex even knew that the Corona crew was getting a new ship,
or if she knew they'd been made the Flagship... and figured it would be
better, at the moment, if she didn't know one way or the other.  Maybe she'd
be able to talk with Alex when she returned; she doubted it.  The first
officer had never been particularly forthcoming with her emotions, and Keile
didn't suspect that was going to change anytime soon.

------------
BD 12.1430
Keile's Quarters, SB Saladin

"Computer, lower the temperature to 20 degrees."  There was something about
lying in cool air after a hot shower after exercise that was refreshing and
invigorating all at once and, with no one around to bother her, Keile was
going to take full advantage of that fact, let the water evaporate from her
body and give her goosebumps.  She lay down on a towel in the middle of her
bed...

...and was immediately interrupted by the door chime.  She scrambled a
moment, then put her bathrobe on and went to the door.  Ryan was there.

She hadn't seen him for... well, since she'd gone to him in the Ready Room,
after speaking with Alex, and cried voluminously on his shoulder.
Certainly, she'd seen him in the week or so since then; they hadn't been
avoiding one another, but they just hadn't had the time or the energy, or
perhaps the initiative, to speak again for any length of time.

Maybe they hadn't wanted to say anything after everything the ship had been
through.

"May I come in?" Ryan asked.  Keile realized she'd been standing with the
door wide open, staring at him, and hadn't asked him in.  "This isn't a bad
time, is it?"  He suddenly realized she was wearing a bathrobe.

"No, please, um... come inside.  It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He walked in, letting the door shut behind him.  "It has been.  Um... yeah.
So... what are you doing for your shore leave?"

Keile could tell Ryan was slightly ill at ease, but she wasn't sure exactly
why.  "I don't know yet," she said, sitting back on the bed.  She looked at
the towel, wondering if he would ask about it.  "But I don't have family to
visit like everyone else, so I figured I'd explore Saladin a little bit."

He looked at her inquisitively.  "You don't have any family?"

Keile smiled shyly.  "Well, I have family, but I don't care to see them.
Father wouldn't be likely to want to see me anyway; I haven't talked with
him in almost twenty years, what would we have to say?"  Keile realized
that, in fact, she didn't know if her father was so much as alive; for a
moment she shuddered at the realization.  Perhaps she _should_ get in touch
with him.  "My mother didn't like the fact that I joined Starfleet and
doesn't like the fact that I express my Vulcan side at all--I'm not
particularly interested in seeing her either."

She stopped for a moment, then said, "Perhaps I don't have any family, come
to think of it.  I was right the first time.  And how about yourself?
Visiting family?"

Ryan sighed.  "Yes... in a way.  I'm like you, my parents wouldn't want to
see me..."  He trailed off; it was obvious this was a sore point.  "But I am
going to see my aunt in Australia.  She... she hasn't seen me in a long
time, but I'd like to see her again."

Keile tilted her head at him.  "Would you, perhaps, like to come along?  I
know it's not your family, but--I think you should see someone."

"I think I'd like that very much, Ryan."

------------
NRPG:

Well, it ran out of steam at the end, but... I'm back!! :)

MD Summary:

12.1200: Keile plays against herself at Velocity
12.1430: An invitation, accepted...

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Eric Snyder II            edsnyder@...            ICQ# 8560903
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Commodore Robert Boyd, PhD, Commanding Officer, USS Tempest
Lieutenant J.G. Keile T'Osio, Counselor, USS Corona
Vice Admiral Aurora Jackson, Commander-in-Chief, Blue Fleet
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"There are three rules for writing a novel.  Unfortunately, no one
knows what they are." -- W. Somerset Maugham
--------------------------------------------------------------------

SB SALADIN
MD 04.0000

Korth was finishing up the last of his letters to the families of the dead
in engineering.  Having never had to do it before, Korth was learning that
this was one part of being an officer he didnt like.


He placed the PADD on the table by the bedside and contempated what he had
just done.  He had said good bye to all of his fallen crewmates.  He learned
that each one had a family that cared for them.  He learned that they each
had special lives and that Starfleet duty ended them early.  The most
important thing he learned was how to heal emotionally.  He learned that
emotions helped to cope with the loss of someone special.

Korth looked around for a nurse and when he found one he motioned her over.

"Well Korth, looks like you are quite active today.  You might get to start
some therapy tommorow.", said the Nurse playfully.

"Nurse, can you make sure that these get sent out on subspace imediately?"

"Korth, you must have alot of friends.  I can try to send a few a day.  They
might let me get away with that."

Korth turned serious.  "Tell them that I authorized it and that they are
letters to families of Starfleet personell lost in the line of duty.  They
will send them priority then."

"Oh my!" said the nurse shocked.  She had dealt with death many a time as a
nurse, but it never hit her this way.  "I will get them out right now." she
stammered trying to hold back some tears after seeing that there was 35
messages on the PADD and that each of those was one dead crewman.

"Thanks, I really appreciate that.  When you get back I can show you how to
blow smoke rings with a cigar.  Just grab me a few out of my personal
stash."

The nurses attitude changed yet again.  A smile replaced her sadness.  To
Korth  it was like a ray of sunshine.  "No cigars for you." she ordered,
wagging his finger at him.  "Those things will undo all we did to save your
life."

"Speaking of that, I want to speak with the staff doctor here on Saladin.
They really havent told me much of my condition." said Korth.

"Well, I can see what I can do.  I will get these letters off for you
first." said the Nurse.

"and retrieve a doc on the way.  Listen.  I am a big boy.  If there is some
bad news that you all are keeping from me, I want to hear it.  Get the doc
now before I become ugly." said Korth.

"OK, OK, settle down.  Besides you could never be ugly." complimented the
nurse with a wink and she set off to get the doctor.

MD 04.0020

"So, Nurse Rihbolt said you wanted to see me." said Doctor Julia Makarov.

"Yeah, you all are hiding something from me and I want to know what it is.
Now."

"You are very direct." observed the doctor.  "Korth I am going to dive it to
you straight.  You may never walk on the legs you have now again.  I was
going to come to you on this fairly soon.  A decision has to be made."

Korth looked sullen for a minute and regained compsure.  "You want to take
my legs to put on prostetics.  Right?"

"That is what you need to decide.  There is no danger of infection and the
legs can stay.  I will say this.  If you keep them, you will not walk, you
will require a wheelchair, you will lose your career in Starfleet.  If you
get the prostetics, you will walk like you did before in a month.  It will
require alot of physical therapy but I think you can make it through."

"Well doc, I dont like to beat around the bush either, lets just do it.  I
am not going to sit in a wheelchair the rest of my life.  This whole
incident is one of the hazards of being a starfleet officer.  I signed on to
face those hazards.  This is the price to pay to help keep the Galaxy safe.
Do it.  Do it today."

"Very well, I will schedule you tommorow."

"Will I be able to get out for our ship's flag ceremony?"

"Yes, I think you can get wheeled around by Nurse Rihbolt.  I think she has
a crush on you anyways."  The doctor smiled and winked at Korth.

The doctor walked away and Korth began to feel his legs for the last time.
It was obvious this shore leave would be spent in a hospital room.

Respectfully,

Lieutenant Korth Drykson
CEO, USS Chillicothe (The Chilli boat, lot of spice in this name if you know
what I mean, wink wink, nod nod.)

NRPG:  Korth is messed up pretty bad.  He will not look real good at the
party, but he will be there.  Whomever writes him at the party, make sure to
make the nurse real overprotective of Korth.  Especailly if(read when) he
trys to take one of Trig's cigars. <G>  I am gone for the week, see you when
I get back.

Chris, Eric:  You could have chosen something easier to spell <G>  Korth is
calling it the Chilli from now on, so there! <G>

BD: 14.0900
Scene: X1-10 Cockpit, Bajoran Space

	 [[[Copy that 2, Monkey swing?]]]

	 "Damn, I've been away from you guys to long.  I haven't done the Monkey
Swing in ages.  On three let's pull it off!"  Devon Scott said to his
friends in the other crafts.  There were three others not including Dev,
they were all members of the famous Odd Squad.  They were all in the
Bajoran Defense Corp as fighter pilots.  There was Ilan Ser, a bajoran
who came from a very wealthy family.  Then there was Ilan Valla, his
brother.  Last but not least was the 'quietest' member of the Odd Squad,
Sam Rinn.

	 [[[1]]]

	 [[[Duece]]]

	 [[[Three, swing away!]]]

	 The four craft intertangled so closely that Dev felt the heat of Sammy's
engine.  Too any passerbyer, it would have been a very amazing sight.
They had been compared numerous times to the 20th century stunt group-
the Blue Angels.  Devon didn't mind that comparison at all.

	 The four of them flew several more hours before they headed back into
Bajor.  Dev laughed as he noticed about 17 civilian ships had 'parked'
and watched the pilots.  He enjoyed the recognition.

Scene:  Scott Residence, Bajor
BD. 14.1745

	 "Too bad the other Oddities couldn't come.  We haven't all gotten to
together since Elijah and Trake left for SFA," Ser said.

	 "I tried contacting them all, but they seem to all be on missions.
Jeliki is over in the DANTE system playing XO for a naval fighter wing.
Reanna and her husband are over on that new WOLFSEYE stationm having big
trouble.  Elijah just left with USS CLARK as the XO, and good ol' Trake
is once again in trouble.  This time, he is in it deep!  Court Martial
because he went over the Neutral Zone with some of his fighter wing to go
and rescue their CO.  Hope he gets out of it, alright,"  Devon said as he
brought his three friends up on the rest of the Odd Squadron.

	 "So man, you're the FCO for the USS......Chilli something, right?"
Valla asked.

	 "Yeah tell me about it, they assign me to a ship that I can barely
pronounce.  It's the USS CHILLICOTHE,"  Dev said rolling his eyes, "But,
whatever, I'm flying something at least."

	 "Yeah you traitor, it's not a fighter!"  Ser said smacking his fist into
Dev's shoulder playfully.

	 "I go where they send me."

	 "Still a traitor to what _we_ believe in," Ser said sarcastically.

	 "Well, then you should go after our beloved Cmdr. Collins, I bet he
hasn't been in a real fighter in a long time!"  Dev said defensively.

	 "You knew that Elijah was never the best of us.  He is the leading type
of person.  An XO slot is perfect for him.  Besides, anyone who has a
fighting style called Collin-fu, shouldn't be behind a fighter stick,"
Sammy said laughing.

	 "True, true,"  Dev said sipping on his juice.

	 "So when do you head back Devy?" valla asked.

	 "Don't call be that.  Tomorrow I'm supposed to take off and head back to
SALADIN.  The Admiral and my captain both said there was something there
I'd really like, and they requested I only take a couple of days of
Leave.  They said it was going to be worth my time when I got back."

	 "Figures, you just got here."

	 "Oh, well.  Anywho, we should go back out and fly some more.  Let's go."

Scene:  SB SALADIN
BD: 21. 0900

	 Dev strolled into the Admiral's office.  Capt. Hawker sat across from
her.  "You wanted to see ma'am, sir?"  Dev said putting his hands behind
his back.

	 "We've got a suprise for you.  Actually, a couple of suprises.  Do you
know why you were sent to the CORONA?"  Adm. Jackson asked.  He shook his
head.  "You were brought in because of your expertise in flying small
craft."

	 "Ma'am, the CORONA didn't have any small craft."

	 "Yes, but the USS CHILICOTHE, does.  I'd like like to show you the X1-15
Rapier, a fighter that was designed for pilots just like you.  There is 4
of them in SALADIN's shuttle bay, take one out.  See how you like her.
Her specs or on a PADD in the cockpit, read them over really good.  Have
fun Mr. Scott,"  Capt. Hawker said with a smile.  Devon was out the door
before he was done speaking.

-----
NRPG:

There's my perspective on shoreleave

Chris, Eric:  I brought the X1-15's aboard, alrighty?

Mike S. Randles

___________________________________________________________________
Get the Internet just the way you want it.
Free software, free e-mail, and free Internet access for a month!
Try Juno Web: http://dl.www.juno.com/dynoget/tagj.

================================
BD:  01.1800
Scene:  CMO's Quarters, USS CORONA
================================

"...and don't forget to bring home something for your brothers and
sister.  They've never been that far out in space, and I'm sure they'd
appreciate it."

"Yes, mom.  I'll try to get them a coffee mug shaped like a Ferengi, or
something."  Bobby begrudgingly listened to his mother over the
viewscreen.  All this because she heard that the CORONA was coming in to
drydock.  How she heard, he didn't think he'd ever know.

"Can't you be nice to them for once?  What did they ever do to you?"

"Charlie pushed me out of the tree house, Sarah put glue in my shampoo
on numerous occasions, and Gene stole my English term paper and hid it
in his pants.  Don't you think _that_ is enough of a reason for me to be
leery of them."

"But that was ages ago!  Charlie's a lawyer, Sarah's going to Yale, and
Gene's running a joke shop."

"I know this mom, but they're still the same people who messed with my
mind and caused me no end of grief."

"But look who's in Starfleet, protecting the galaxy from Borgs and
Dominions."

Bobby grinned.  "Thanks, Mom.  You always know how to cheer me up.
Look, I'll be home in a couple of days.  Then, we can have all sorts of
fun."

"OK, sweetie.  I love you.  Bye!"

"Bye, mom."  The screen clicked off, and Bobby wiped his brow.  Those
conversations with the family were always somewhat taxing.  Though his
whole family loved him to death, Bobby still felt a little like an
outsider.  They were always hugging and doing things together, while he
just sat idly by, working on something.  For a while, it was robotics,
when he thought he was going to be the next Noonian Singh.  Then, it was
carpentry.  In fact, the bookshelf he built when he was fourteen was
still holding up his awards in his room.  They were close-knit, and he
was a loose thread.  But, at least he had some people to go and see.  A
lot of crew members didn't have families, because of various
circumstances, so Bobby was glad he had what he had.

==================================
BD:  05.0600
Scene:  Lt. (jg) Bobby Effield's house, Earth
==================================

"Rise and shine!  It's a beautiful day, and if I have to get up to go to
classes, then you have to get up, too!"  Sarah was bent over Bobby's
bed, smiling her most plausible fake smile, as she shook her older
brother awake.

"Huh, wha...?  What's going on?  Are there casualties?"  Bobby jerked
himself into an upright position, causing Sarah to move back, or risk
getting cracked in the cranium with her brother's head.

"What are you talking about?  I'm waking you up, because you can't sleep
forever.  And, since I'm up, you should be, too.  I'd think that a
Starfleet officer would be able to run on less sleep than what you've
been getting."

"Oh, I'm at _home_!  That would explain why you're in here, and there's
no starfield out the window."  Bobby rubbed his eyes and swung himself
into a standing position.

"Boy, you're a really smart doctor.  And, how many lives have you
saved?"

"I lost count around 40.  But, shouldn't you be catching the shuttle to
school?  You'll miss your 7:00 class, Miss Super-Genius."

"You're right.  Now that you're awake, my work here is done.  See you
this afternoon!"  Sarah left, closing the door behind her, and allowing
Bobby the precious hours of sleep he demanded.  Despite her irritating
behavior, she was right about something.  Bobby usually ran on less
sleep than he seemed to be getting here, but that was because the entire
house was asleep before he got home.  He'd spent his first day back
reminiscing with the family, and bringing them up to speed on what
little of his previous mission was declassified before they took him out
to dinner at a local seafood place.

While they were there, Bobby had run into some old high school buddies
and decided to go out with them and have a good time, since this was his
shore leave.  They had stayed out till all hours of the night, doing
whatever they felt like doing.  It had felt good not to be under rules,
regulations, and layers of standard-issue clothing.  It had been so much
fun, in fact, they had decided to go to Miami the next night to immerse
themselves in the club scene.  Again, Bobby had gotten in so late, that
no one was awake to know how late/early it really was.  And, every
morning, Sarah came in to wake him up right as she was about to walk out
the door.

*I guess it's payback for all the times I stuck her hand in a glass of
warm water when we were younger,* he told himself, chuckling, before he
rolled over and dozed off.

The weeks flew by for Bobby:  sleeping nearly all day, partying all
night, and only occasionally interacting with the family.  That part
wasn't really that hard, since Sarah was studying all the time, Gene was
managing his small business, and Charlie had a practice to attend to.
Mom and Dad were their usual, busy selves, bustling about their daily
routines, and only stopping when they had something important to say.
What a life it was to just relax and not worry about anything.  It was
like the summer between his senior year in high school, and his freshman
year at the Academy.

But, the good times had to come to an end, as Bobby received a message
from SB SALADIN a couple of days before he was scheduled to leave.  It
had informed him that he should try and report in a couple of days
early, even though this *was* his shore leave.  Something about
familiarizing himself with new equipment.  And, since he was "the new
guy" on board, he figured he might as well do it.  So, he packed up his
few things, had one last good time with his buddies, hugged his family,
and boarded a runabout for the starbase.

===========
BD Summary:
===========

01.1800:  Bobby discusses his homecoming
03.0600:  Bobby realizes why he doesn't miss home so much

NRPG:

Sorry about my slack posting, but I was getting stuff ready for college,
and let my Internet fun-time go slack.  Once I get my ThinkPad hooked up
in my dorm room, I should be back on top of things.  See you all the
18th.

Respectfully submitted,
William Veazey, Jr.
vz21@... / vzfamily@...
ICQ:  31048368 AOL IM:  Veazey 21
=/\= Lt. (JG) J. Timothy Edwards, III (CNS, SB CENTERPOINT)
=/\= Lt. (JG) Bobby Effield (CMO, USS CORONA)
==========================
Many people swear by their PCs.
Many more swear at them.
--www.bobsfridge.com

=================
SD 110813.0035
BD 02.1130
Temporary Quarters
SB SALADIN
=================
<Bee-bee-BIP!  The current time is eleven-thirty hours.>

Not really "jarring" him to his senses--more like reminding him that he was
still alive--the computer's announcement woke Ryan Holland up, fairly late
in the day.  But it didn't matter.  He was on shore leave, and he had
nowhere better to be.

Slowly he raised himself to a sitting position and swung his bare legs off
of the bed.  He had noticed that his "aging procedure" from several months
ago had left him with very little body hair; his arms and legs were
completely smooth.  *No great loss,* Ryan smiled as he thought about what an
improvement he had noticed in himself since the treatments.

He stood up, yawned, and rubbed his now very toned stomach.  His body was in
terrific condition, partially due to the treatments, but also because Ryan
had decided that it was time he needed to take better care of himself, even
though he'd always been fit.  *I'm a different person now, I need a
different body,* he had decided.  Gone was the thin runner that he once was;
now he had bulked up to maybe soccer or rugby player status.

After a long shower Ryan decided there was no use in sitting around naked in
these cramped quarters all day, so he threw on a pair of "board shorts" that
his aunt had sent him, a white t-shirt and a pair of new sandals.  "Let's
go," he said to himself, and headed out to the promenade.

Along the way Ryan noticed all kinds of people--none of them he recognized
as being from the CORONA.  *They've probably all gone to visit family...* he
thought.  Suddenly confronted with the Promenade, he was also confronted
with another realization.  He had nowhere to go.

Ryan's mind began to race and he sat down on the nearest bench, overlooking
the lower levels of the Promenade.  *I have nowhere to go,* he thought.
*The last person my parents want to see is me--heck, I haven't even heard
from them since I joined Starfleet... they won't let Josh come near me... my
grandparents are all gone... only Aunt Beverly is 'left.'*

A single tear rolled down his cheek.  He didn't wipe it away.  With his head
buried in his hands, Ryan didn't see or hear Will sit down next to him.
Gently he put his hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Hey, man, what's up?  Something wrong?"

Ryan blinked and looked over at his subordinate--but more importantly, his
friend.  "Oh, hey, man... why aren't you going to visit family or
something?"

"Eh... well, to be honest, I'm having a little spat with my dad and I don't
really want to face him right now.  Maybe later on during shore leave.  But
what about you?"

Ryan glanced around apprehensively.  "Can we talk somewhere else?  This
isn't very, you know, 'condusive' to conversation."

"OK, well... uh... what about that restaurant there?" William asked,
pointing to a small coffeehouse across the bridge on the other side of the
Promenade.  Ryan didn't say a word, but rose and walked to the shop.

After taking a seat at a table in a darker corner of the restaurant, a
nondescript waitress took their orders and retrieved the requested items
almost instantaneously.  Ryan took a sip of his coffee before even trying to
begin.  "Very few people know this about me, but I was abused when I was
younger.  Physically, mentally, verbally, sexually, name it--it got thrown
at me."

William nodded as Ryan continued.  "Even in college, on several different
occasions, I was tied up and basically raped by a couple of guys who I
thought were friends... but I don't want to go very deep into that.  So you
can see that I'm a pretty messed up guy.

"And it doesn't help that my parents, who were the main abusers, don't want
to see me.  They've still got some grudge against me for joining Starfleet.
They've even gone so far as to say that I can't even see my little brother
Josh.  I haven't seen him for years.  My grandparents are gone, and the only
family member I have that really cares about me is my aunt, Aunt Beverly."

"Man, that's rough."  William looked into his mug and looked back up at
Ryan.  "That is really rough.  I can't imagine what it was like."

"You don't want to," chuckled Ryan.

"But why don't you go and see that aunt of yours?  Where's she at?"

"On Earth.  In Cairns, Australia.  Right on the beach, right there at the
reef.  You know, not much has changed there since the end of the 20th
century.  It's like going back in time.  That's probably why Australia was
the only country that didn't join in with the united government when that
happened..."  Ryan trailed off.

William put his hand on Ryan's leg under the table.  "Go and see your aunt."
He chuckled.  "Hell, I think I'll come with you.  I've never even seen
Australia."

Ryan nodded before responding.  "Cool.  Let's go."

Respectfully submitted,

Ryan Eanes
Lt. Cmdr. Ryan D. Holland, MD (2O/OPS, USS CHILLICOTHE)
Capt. Tevin Anarra (CO, USS TROUTMAN)
rseanes@...
ICQ: 14799161 / AOL IM: RyanSEanes
--------------------------------------------------
You know you've found a friend for life when
you discover that you use the same kind of deodorant.

<<NRPG>>

MD Summary:
BD 02.1130.  Ryan, with a little help from ENS Trentman, realizes he needs
to find someone--his aunt--who loves him.

All:  OK, please slap me, since I've virtually abandoned everyone for so
long.  I've just been lazy and haven't written.  So maybe this'll catch me
up for now.  I'm planning to write a little more about Ryan's visit to his
aunt's house tomorrow or Saturday.  Heck, I didn't even KNOW he had an aunt
until tonight!

Chris:  It might be a little while on that web page.  I'm moving to college
next Wednesday, and don't know when I'll get to work on it unless I do it
before then, so please bear with me.  And the address, in all likelihood,
will change.

SD 110812.2225
SLD 2.1900
=============
Grey residence, Sheffield England
=============

The long constitutional had been well rewarding, after months in space his
nostrils filled easily with the lost familiarity of home. He walked the
ground leisurely thinking of all that had past.

A new ship decommissioned; a new one waiting for him when he returned. The
Corona, though he had only been on her a scant time had provided the home in
space he had longed for. The companionship of the crew was welcome for this
man who kept more to himself than most should. It was a trait of his
business, his former business that he kept with him. He never allowed himself
to get close to anyone, it wasn't prudent. He thought of the death of Major
Fletcher, Alex's husband and knew that, that was proof enough.

Alex, he hoped that she was allright. He had taken a separate transport home.
Even though the both lived only a scant jaunt from each other. His friend was
hurting. His thoughts of her pain made him think of all they had been through.

He soon came to the entrance of the family manse and made his way through the
foyer. There inside he looked in the mirror that stood in front of everyone
that ever entered the home. the faces that mirror must have seen in it's 850
year old history.
Now it showed the still slightly bruised face of the Corona's, Chillicothe's
Chief Security Officer.

He ran his hand over the bruise, its dull pain reminding him it was still
there. He smiled.

Not thinking he went to bed.

=============
SLD 3 - 7
=============

Days past and Christian reacquainted himself with his home. His mother and he
had gone to London twice and he had reported to the Office of OSFI to meet
with some of his former mates.

In all his first few days at home had been relaxing, but as was always the
case with leave, it wore out all too quickly. He was eager to get back o work
and for the last few days had thought of returning back to SALADIN prior to
the CHILLICOTHE's arrival at the base. He had been sent the schematics for
the ship from Trig. The Captain wanted his senior staff to do 'some' work
while they were away.

He soon thought though that if the he couldn't go back to work, he thought he
would at least make a visit to his XO and friend that way he would beat this
emptiness that being away from his ship often led to.

=================
Corby England
=================

The transport had dropped Christian off at the ground to Alex's ancestral
home. He had made his way to the door. It was a quaint country home. It was
definitely Alex, Christian thought.

He made it to the door and used the knocker before him. Somehow through all
of technology, certain things were more welcome then the standard STARFLEET
designed technology, to Christian, door knockers were one of them.

When he door opened, Alex barely recognised the man. Had it not been for the
slight discolouration over his right eye, Alex would have thought it was
someone else.

"Surprise," he said, his arms open wide, one hand holding a bottle.

"Er, Christian how are you?"

"Well, Alex I had hoped for a warmer reception than that." He smiled as he
spoke.

Alex lowered her head and laughed as her head came back up, "I'm sorry," she
moved to the side as the door opened,"please do come in."

Christian walked in and looked over the entrance way to the this fine piece
of English craftsmanship.

"Very nice," he said spinning around,"oh here this is for you, from the
family vineyard."

She took the bottle from him and looked at the label,"thank you." She was
edgy he noticed. His visit had been unexpected and probably a little unwanted.

"How have you been," she asked.

For the next hour or so the two avoided the obvious questions concerning how
Alex was holding up. Topics floated around concerning the new ship. What
their next mission might be. the upcoming celebration regarding the
CHILLICOTHE's selection as BLUEFLEET flagship. Many things were discussed and
many things avoided.

Finally as they walked through Alex's garden,"Alex how are you?" he
pasued,"Really?"

She looked at this strange man, was it insolence that brought this ought. He
knew she didn't want to talk about it. It was precisely what he knew.

"I'm okay," she mustered.

"How come I find that hard to believe Commander."

"Mr. Grey..." he stopped before she could continue.

"Alex you and I have become friends and frankly, since becoming such, you
have been nothing short of a shell of your former self."

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU WANT FROM ME COMMANDER!" he voice echoed
throughout the winding green paths.

"Alex, Commander, death is very much a part of life. We all know that, it
hurts and there never is a reason. Is it part of the 'grand plan', who knows,
who cares. Major Fletcher knew the risks inherent to the job. You both fell
in love and yet you both continued your job and yet you both - knew - the -
risks."

"Your point." She said reminding Christian of a child being scolded.

"Commander, by honouring his life you celebrate his being and begin a healing
process. The Irish have always had it right, you take your grief get
absolutely drunk, cry and yet have a great time doing so."

"its more than that."

"Alex I know your scars. I have them myself. There are things about my past
you can only imagine. I'm not a hot shot operative for nothing. I was very
good, cold, calculated. I sleep at night with vision that would make your
skin crawl. I have been party to and victim of some things I would just as
soon as forget. But as it was once said, that which we do not greet with open
arms and embrace will surely be our undoing."

She sighed,"get drunk eh?"

'Yes." He wanted to finish though and though something of a smile appeared,
he went on,"Alex it would be a shame for the CHILLICOTHE to be deprived of a
fine officer like yourself, have faith in your own strength. When all is said
and done it is all we truly have. As for the Major, I think a final good-bye
in space by those who knew him would be in order, give him a proper wake, let
each and everyone say their good-byes as they must. Though you are his wife,
many crewmen admired him and many have not had the chance to say good bye,
you can give them that chance."

She thought hard about these last words. With all the confusion of the
mission and the destruction it had wrought she hadn't let any one get close
to her. Christian was right, many of the crew, especially his marines, needed
closure.

"I'll think about it," she smiled, "now about that wine you brought."

"Klingon's only wish they had the recipe!" As a friend he wrapped her up in
his right arm and walked her back into the house were two friends got
hilariously drunk. Together they told stories of their past and got closer.
They decided to travel back together, trying to pick up Jerry who had also
been given orders to come home and rest.

========================

SLD 2 - 7   Christian at home
SLD 8.2105   Christian shows up at Alex's and gives her food for thought. [MP]

NRPG: Oooo I think I may have the first post out on the new
list....yeah!!!!!!!!!!

Respectfully submitted,
Michael L. Price
Lieutenant Commander Christian Grey, CSO/TAC. USS CHILLICOTHE, BLUEFLEET
et al

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