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 <fs x-large>**Chapter 30: Confessions and Confrontations**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+In her condition, Cha'rik struggled to hold up Hawk in addition to herself as they stood the main ward of sickbay. Two nurses came running to aid her and took control over the lieutenant. She barely made it to a bio-bed herself before the pain started to kick in full swing. Her legs felt weak and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep after that fight with the Syndicate assassin. It wasn't because the fight was short, or just exactly where she was hit, or the fact that she had been out of the loop for such a long time. She just felt old doing what she was doing now, as she had been doing it for most of her career. It didn't take long for Bashir to walk back into the main ward after letting Doctor Cromwell know what had happened, and it made her cringe for a moment realizing what soon was to come.
+Aided by a pair of medical technicians, the risen Lieutenant Nathan Hawk eased himself onto one of the central bio-beds with the last remains of his own physical strength. He allowed his eyes to close, as if by doing such, he would conserve that much more energy.
+He knew everyone would have questions, but at the moment, he had no strength to answer them. As he lay there, hearing the hushed voices of others throughout the room, the sounds of medical equipment, the sounds of the tricorder being passed over him, he found that for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt safe.
+Roth, Yezbeck, and Bashir had gone above and beyond any expectations he had ever had of anyone doing anything. They had literally raised him from the dead. He had grown to consider John Carter and Leon Cromwell as friends since he had come aboard. Now he added Roth, Yezbeck and Bashir to that list, despite the fact that he knew little of them personally.
+Though he wasn't yet certain, he thought it likely that the Vulcan he knew as Cha'rik also may have had something to do with this all as well. Certainly, she had been the one to eliminate his assassin, which was enough to place him in her debt.
+"Are you insane?" asked Saal Yezbeck in a hushed tone of voice, as he leaned in close to Hawk's ear.
+Hawk had neither the strength nor reason to open his eyes as he replied, "Depends on who ya ask."
+Before Yezbeck could scold him further for his departure AMA, another voice asked the sixty-thousand-dollar question.
+"How?"
+The question had come from Republic's First Officer, who was the first one to speak. As the commotion outside Leon's office continued to brew, John Carter simply stood against the back wall, trying to stay out of the way, not to mention make sense of everything that was going on.
+Carter glanced behind the partition that parked Leon's office, noting that Shannon had left. John thought about that for a moment, but reasoned that as a pediatrician, Shannon might only be an extra body in an already crowded Sickbay. Besides. if Leon really needed her, he knew now that she would literally be right around the corner.
+In one bio bed, he saw Leon Cromwell, tending to Republic's Chief Science Officer. How the young Vulcan woman got herself in trouble was anyone's guess, but right now John had bigger problems. In the next bio bed over was a living, apparently breathing, and, as far as Carter could tell, a very much alive Nat Hawk.
+There was tension in Sickbay. Whenever patients were involved, there was always going to BE tension, but this was different. Normally, the current of emotions came from not knowing whether a patient was going to live or die. This time however, the doubt came from somewhere else.
+Mere days ago, Republic's entire compliment had begun to come to terms with Nat Hawk's sudden and violent death. Even now, as he scanned the situation, Carter could feel the slow boil of rage climbing up his gut. Nat Hawk was alive, and someone had attacked his ship's Science Officer. Quickly, John compared what he knew with what his eyes (now both fully functional, thanks to Leon) told him. Anyway he looked at it, there was something he didn't know, and as the XO of Republic, that upset him a great deal.
+Given the previous revelations of the day, John had expected Leon Cromwell's anger at "intruders" in his sickbay (one of whom had been certified dead for quite a while) to be swift, terrible, and above all loud. In point of fact, it was none of those things. Carter looked on as Leon Cromwell simply did what doctors do. He saw to his patients.
+After seeing that Lieutenant Commander Cha'rik was out of danger, Leon met John's penetrating gaze with one of his own, then glanced up to the room's ceiling. "You better check in with the Captain," Cromwell said coolly. "I'm SURE that she'll will want to be.... advised of everything."
+"Right." Carter said with a nod. "I'll be in touch." Carter nodded and spun on his heel, headed for the nearest turbolift.
+----
+Inside the turbolift, Carter leaned against the curved bulkhead, and weighed his options. As he spent long seconds in thought, he heard the soft whisper of a resolving hologram. "Is this what you meant?" he asked the reformed Shannon. "About the Captain keeping secrets? You think she knew about this?"
+Shannon nodded. "I'm pretty sure. There are no orders to the effect," she explained, stepping closer to Carter, placing her hand on his shoulder, "but if you consider who was looking over Hawk in Sickbay before Leon looked in on things..." her voice trailed off, as if she may have already betrayed a confidence.
+"Who? Bashir and Saal?" Carter questioned. "What about them?"
+Harris looked into Carter's eyes. "Come on John," she offered, "you HAVE to have read Saal's file by now. There's a lot of stuff missing."
+She had a point, Carter knew. Plus, over the months, Saal Yezbeck had done a very good job of not being noticed. So much so that Carter found he was beginning to take the seasoned physician for granted; handy talent for a spy to have, if Shannon was right about him. "Hmm," John murmured. Then his thoughts turned to Bashir.
+Julian Bashir, as far as anyone in Starfleet knew, was one of the Best of the Best (sir). He'd taken a post on Deep Space Nine as an able, if over-eager 'frontier doctor' and over the years had found himself on the front lines of not only the Dominion War, but also the Gowron Mutiny, and the Bajoran Secession, however brief it may have been.
+There had been rumors that Bashir was somehow favored, but from what John could tell it wasn't political connections. While there was no denying that he was a gifted physician, as well as quite personable (indeed, Carter had to admit that he'd come to like Doctor Bashir quite a bit) there didn't seem to be too much about the man that Carter hadn't come to expect from anyone in Starfleet.
+Bashir was a model officer and doctor. Just like Saal Yezbeck.
+"Damn it." Carter hissed as the turbolift opened to the bridge.
+Kim Roth was there, waiting, with Smoke, her bright-eyed companion perched comfortably on her shoulder. "Everything all right in Sickbay, Commander?" Her tone was inquisitive. Not accusing.
+The disarming calm of her voice caught Carter off guard, but he knew that the things he had to admit, as well as the questions he wanted answered, would have to be addressed in private. "I think we need to discuss a few things, Captain," he said a bit too formally.
+"Fine by me," Roth said as the headed down the ramp to the Command Deck. She glanced over at Reia Merrick. "Ops," she said smoothly, "you have the bridge."
+----
+Inside the Ready Room, Roth moved smoothly to her desk, pausing a moment for smoke to slide, like furry, supple ink, onto the top of Roth's office chair. "So," she said as she sat, "Hawk's alive?"
+Carter simply blinked, not expecting that she would beat him to the punch. "Uh... yes, actually." There were two chairs in Roth's office on the other side of the desk. He didn't sit. Instead, he braced his arms on the back of the chair and leaned forward. "Would you care to explain how that can be, Captain?" Carter's tone had no hint of humor.
+Roth's face screwed into a bit of a frown, and she clucked her tongue. "For what it's worth, Carter, I'm sorry."
+John nodded.
+"But it really was the best way, in my opinion, to handle the situation."
+"Any particular reason you kept me out of the loop? How could you let us go through the charade of a funeral? Grozit! We gave the man a fly-by for Gods'sake!"
+Roth sat back in her chair, surprised that Carter's tirade was so measured. "Two reasons, Commander," she offered. "One, we weren't sure, at least initially, how many Syndicate Operatives, or even hired guns for that matter, their were onboard. Second," now, Roth couldn't help but let a crooked smile cross her face, "you're a rotten liar, John."
+"Excuse me?" Carter blurted out.
+Roth waved her hand and smiled, not dismissively, but warmly. "Commander, you're good at a lot of things, and God help the enemies of the Federation when you get a ship of your own, but as strong as you are, there are some things you shouldn't do."
+Carter cocked his head to the side. "Uh, thank you?"
+Roth propped her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her hands.
+"I've seen you work for a few months now, Carter," she explained. "I know damned well that this crew isn't really mine. They're yours."
+Carter rolled his eyes, afraid of where the conversation might be turning. "Now hang on a minute Captain. I'd never..."
+Roth nodded. "I know you're not after my job, Commander," she said, "but I also know that this crew would march lock-step out the main shuttle bay if you told them to. Because they trust you." Kim paused a moment to let her words sink in.
+"After everything this ship's been through, all the shake-ups in command and staffing, the manipulation of Cestus and Sigma Omicron V, the crew knows, to a man, that you will always shoot straight with them. I didn't want to take that from you."
+Carter shook his head. "No, you could have..."
+"John," Roth continued, "in order to give us some breathing room and ferret out Hawk's assassin. He had to die. What's more, the crew had to BELIEVE he was dead, which means you had to believe it."
+Carter dropped his head, genuinely surprised. "Wow."
+"I don't think you realize how lucky you are, XO." Roth commented. "Most ships function on discipline. The idea that you do what the captain says because that's your training, and that's your Captain. End of story."
+Roth placed her hands back down on the desktop. "You, on the other hand could tell the crew to meet you on Romulus, dressed for war, and they'd go!"
+Carter couldn't help a smile at that thought.
+"Trust me when I tell you, that's a damn rare thing. Actually," she admitted, "I'm a little envious."
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter31>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 31: Re-Adjusting**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+In sickbay, Leon was shaking off the shock of two photon torpedo-sized bombshells dropped on him within the space of 15 minutes. He had just begun to accept the truth behind the non-corporeal nature of one colleague, when he was suddenly faced with the renewed corporeality of another. His first inclination when laying eyes on Nat Hawks' body was to ask why they had beamed his casket back on board, but when he saw the bio-monitors registering activity, his mouth dropped open while his brow curled into a deep furrow. After going through three different operational tricorders to confirm that the body was alive and that the instrumentation wasn't malfunctioning, Julian Bashir spent about two minutes explaining to Leon the resurrection procedure to the CMO, without much response.
+"How do you feel?" Leon asked the former helmsman, still slightly unconvinced that it was the real Nat he was talking to.
+"Like shit," Hawk replied, "how d'ya think I feel?" he retorted. "I got stabbed, poisoned, spent a couple hours as a corpse, b'fore gettin' brought back from the dead; it's like every hangover I ever had came back ta bite me on the ass, then karma took it's time bitch-slappin' me 'round." Hawk explained, with obvious effort.
+Although he didn't fully understand all of the lieutenant's vernacular, the response helped to solidify Leon's grip on reality, and that Nat had indeed staged a miraculous rebirth. And while the doctor was of course happy to see he was alive, a renewed knot of anxiety began stewing in the pit of his stomach. It was guilt. Guilt that there was nothing he could have done to save Nat in the first place, compounded by the realization that he had absolutely no part in bringing a former patient back from beyond the grave.
+"Thought we lost you there," the doctor managed to say with a lump forming in his throat.
+"Ya, you, me an Jim Kirk." Nat acknowledged, not explaining the latter inclusion. "Bashir an Yezbeck pulled some sorta rabbit outta their med-kit, though. Damned if I understand any of the how," he informed Cromwell.
+"Yes," his telltale brow-furrow reforming. "About that . . ." While Leon's guilt was strong, it was quickly being overrun by the rising fury against the men who had kept the secret from him. He turned his head towards Saal, and shot him a long, penetrating stare of betrayal.
+For his part, Doctor Saal Yezbeck knew this was coming. He looked down to the floor with a twinge of regret, biting down softly on his upper lip while he scratched his beard.
+"I'd like to have a word with you, doctor," Leon finally said, not turning his eyes away from Saal. "In my office."
+The last three words validated the universal assumption that Leon was beyond infuriated. And as the two physicians began walking towards the door, the CMO glanced in Bashir's direction with such animosity that he was barely able to suppress the urge to expel him from sickbay.
+In the office, no sooner did the doors slide shut than did Leon begin his invective against Doctor Yezbeck. "How . . . dare . . . you . . ." Leon growled through gritted teeth.
+"Look, Leon . . ."
+"Don't ‘Leon' me!" he spat back. "Last time I checked, the sickbay was supposed to be run by ME! It's bad enough I had Lieutenant Merrick stealing tissue samples from the lab, but what's this crap about you using the isolation room transporter to make a slab of meat out of Hawk's DNA?"
+Leon was still bitter over the lost tissue samples from Kuga, and while the revelation about Shannon wasn't as outrageous, this most recent surprise was highlighting a disturbing trend in his mind: Leon no longer felt that he was in control of his own department anymore.
+"Did it ever occur to you that there might have been some ethical questions involved in that?" Leon continued his tirade. "Not to mention what you and Bashir did to Hawk himself? The man is now, for all intensive purposes, a walking CORPSE!"
+Saal did not respond, feeling that there was little he could add to calm his boss. Instead, he stood there, resolved to take the abuse blow by blow.
+"I haven't been this angry since Captain Marshall beamed me off the Zurich!" shouted Leon, as he took a random swipe at a deactivated PADD on his desk. The instrument fell to the floor with a clatter, but not before leaving a stinging pain in his hand, as it was the appendage he had injured the day before when Lieutenant Hawk died on the operating table.
+"He saved your life," Saal commented softly, wishing immediately that he hadn't.
+Glaring at Saal, the pain in his hand subsided as Doctor Cromwell cursed under his breath. "He put the lives of three dozen patients in jeopardy that weren't stable enough for transport! Or have you forgotten that? How many of them did you have to perform emergency bypasses on when their circulatory systems collapsed? Seven? Or was it Eight?"
+"I know that you're probably not going to be able to forgive me for this, but..."
+"Forgive you??" Leon hissed with incredulity. "You and Bashir conspired against me on that diagnostic bed yesterday morning! You lied to me when you injected him with that hypospray! It wasn't the antidote I asked for, was it?"
+"No."
+"So, instead of following the orders of the lead physician on the case, you went out on your own?"
+"Yes."
+"And tell me, how is that in accordance with your Hippocratic Oath?"
+"He was already dead," Saal reasoned. "His life functions were on full support, and the toxin was shutting down every neuron in his brain. It was only a matter of time. Bashir had to act quickly."
+Leon's eyes widened. "So it was Bashir??" He screamed so loud that it was enough to reverberate beyond the office and into the main ward beyond. "Is THAT whose orders you're following now??"
+"No," Saal answered calmly. "He was under orders too."
+"The captain?" Leon asked, remembering Shannon's foreshadowing of a secret. "Is that who?"
+"Yes, and she was under orders from even higher."
+"You mean you're ALL taking orders from a cloistered fool with a braid?" Leon mocked Roth's anti-conspiracy speech she made following the Kuga-Jenkins tragedy.
+With a hesitant nod, Saal confirmed Leon's assertion. "Yes. But it's not what you think. There's a lot more at stake here than anyone realizes . . ."
+Leon rubbed his eyes with excruciating frustration. He had heard that line one too many times in his dealings with Starfleet, and he had heard enough. Two bombshells was his limit for the day, and with resolve to take the subject to the captain next, he handed down a reprimand to his second-in-command of sickbay.
+"You're off rotation until further notice. Report to Fernmoore for ward duty."
+It was a blow to be taken out of a leadership position, but Yezbeck was tough-skinned. In his opinion, it was better than being banned from sickbay altogether, so he assumed Leon still had some trust for him.
+"I understand," Doctor Yezbeck offered in compliance.
+"No, Saal," Leon returned with controlled, yet unrelenting anger in his voice. "I don't think you do." Without another word, Leon left the room, leaving Yezbeck to stand alone in the office.
+----
+"Well," Bashir began, looking a little uneasy, "I suppose today is a day of firsts. Not just one fallen officer back from beyond, but two, in a way" he commented to Cha'rik as she lay on the biobed, trying and failing to use humor to ease the tension after Doctor Cromwell's raging voice sounded throughout the entire ward. Casting a glance at the office door, Leon Cromwell emerged fuming and determined, marching straight out the main doors to sickbay without saying a word. A moment after the CMO left, Saal Yezbeck slowly wandered out of the office looking sullen and quiet, and found his way to Nat Hawk's biobed to tend to the ailing helmsman. Despite his 'seniority' in Hawk's medical miracle, Julian was glad Yezbeck had taken it upon himself to fill in his superior, as it spared Bashir from Cromwell's immediate wrath.
+"In a way," Cha'rik responded quietly to Julian's attempt at humor. She had been sworn to a certain level of secrecy about being who she was especially after a death order had been issued on her head. In a sense, it had been completed,
+"I don't suppose it would make things easier if you knew that I've been fully briefed concerning your... situation... would it?" Julian asked. "Because the Admiral, whom you met with on Vulcan, was indeed the brains of this particular operation. If that's of any relief." Bashir lifted a medical tricorder and began to scan Cha'rik, professional instinct taking charge over personal discomfort.
+She looked at him oddly. "Not really. It would not surprise me of that situation, seeing how little I was really briefed on the situation and the process used. The Admiral never ceases to amaze me." She took a deep breath to help ease the pain that was coursing through her body. "It is nice to see you again, Julian."
+Surprised at her reaction considering the ethical issue at hand, Julian considered the possibility that she was not yet aware of her level of involvement in things. Most specifically, Hawk's resurrection. "Arria..." he began, as he loaded a hypospray with a pain-killer, "...Are you' aware of just why, exactly, the Admiral chose you for this assignment over everyone else at his disposal?" he questioned, as he injected the medication, noticing a decrease in blood pressure, respiration, and muscle tension within expected levels as the pharmaceutical coursed through her veins.
+"Probably because I have been trained on how to keep a situation under control, the fact that we needed someone that knows how important this situation is, and the fact that I am packing plenty of nanoprobes. Just a guess though. I am assuming that you are here for being a master at your craft," she stated as she started relaxing a bit from the pain medication that he administered.
+Nodding, Bashir activated a tissue regenerator and began to pass it over one of the soft-tissue wounds, "It was actually a paper I co-authored with the Voyager EMH that inspired the Admiral. The 'resurrection' technique which we utilized was originated their - aboard Voyager - during their tenure in the Delta Quadrant. Although in those circumstances, it was a post-mortem move of desperation, where as here, we anticipated the Lieutenant's 'assasination' and prepared for that eventuality. It's all really quite amazing, especially when you consider..." realizing he was rambling about medical matters once more, Bashir stopped himself as he switched to a series of bruises and continued to administer treatment. "...my point in broaching the subject, originally, is to... I suppose, to offer some sort of apology for the method in which we... I... used you." he said, finding the words difficult. Putting down the soft tissue regenerator, he retrieved an osteo regenerator, but paused before tending to the broken ribs. "I know you may not feel an apology is required due to your sense of duty or logic or... whatever else. I know... more than you might be aware of... about the things people are capable of when they allow their beliefs to override their judgement, their ethics, and... I wanted you to know that was not the case here. I'm glad Lieutenant Hawk is alive, but I'm not proud of how it was accomplished." he told her.
+"I would have offered them if asked, but I understand why what was done and how it happened. With everything that I have been through, it is not uncommon to be tossed into the unknown." She looked at him. "At least we were prepared for the unfortunate. For all they are concerned, he is dead just like me. At least now he has a better chance of surviving the never-ending battle."
+"Better even than that, actually," Bashir replied, feeling somewhat redeemed by her understanding. As he tended to her ribs, he explained, "The main reason I agreed to take part in this... 'conspiracy' - for lack of more appropriate term - was that besides saving the Lieutenant's life, his 'death' would have positive effects for the Alpha Quadrant. I'm not sure if you know much about the Lieutenant's importance, but it would seem he's the key witness against Keevan Faro and, by association, the entire Orion Syndicate. This Faro apparently has been in hiding since his indictment, but with Hawk 'dead' said indictments will be dismissed and Faro will resurface. At least, that's what the Admiral is hoping for, as are we all. If everything goes according to plan, Starfleet will be able to capture Faro while Republic remains on assignment in the Gamma Quadrant and Hawk remains deceased. At which point the Federation can bring him to justice, Hawk can 'return from the grave' and offer his testimony, and I've been lead to believe this Faro's conviction would be the start of a chain reaction that may well damage or even destroy the entire foundation of the Syndicate."
+"That is pretty much what I have come to believe as well. Hopefully all will work as planned and we can have somewhat normal life to return to the Alpha Quadrant. However, I do not know what will happen."
+Just as Julian was about to say something, he was interrupted by Security and Lieutenant Beauvais entering Sickbay. She directed the two security officers around the impostor science officer. She walked over herself looking between the two of them. "Is she medically fit for transport?"
+Slowing, not sure what was going on, Bashir replied. "Yes, she is."
+"Good. Lieutenant Commander Cha'rik, you are under arrest for murder. You are to come with me," Zoe ordered. She was going to get to the bottom of this, and she didn't care what she was going to have to do to get answers. She had heard of the fight, and had found the mess that was on its way to the morgue. She wanted answers, and she didn't care what it was going to take to get them. This all happened on her watch, and it wasn't fair to those that had been affected by the tragedy aboard the Republic.
+The two guards escorted the impostor of a science officer out of sickbay and to the Brig.
+----
+It was an unusual experience, to watch one's own funeral. It wasn't what he had expected it to be. He had lived his life fast and hard, knocking over anyone in his way. He had always presumed that, when he died - likely as a direct result of some stupid risky stunt of his own creation - he would be memorialized, at best, by a round of drinks from the few pilots who could tolerate him. Nothing more grandiose, and certainly he would not be truly missed by anyone. Or so he had always thought. The reality of watching your own funeral taught him different. He had seen it in Leon's face, heard it in his voice; that raw emotion that he never expected to elicit from anyone. Adjusting to the fact that he could actually be cared for and, vice-versa, care for others, would take him some time.
+So much had happened in the time he had been aboard the Republic. So much had changed; and for once, for the better. He had always lived his life on the edge of existence, always pushed every boundary and taken the risks no one else thought sane. He had become so notorious for such that he had been branded as having a death wish; a brand that he, in classic Nat Hawk style, took upon himself as a pilot call sign in defiance. It had been true, though; he had had a death wish. The pain of his life had been such that the prospect of a 'heroic' death in battle seemed the perfect way out of things. An end to the anguish and rage that fueled him without the stigma or waste of suicide. Though, as he thought on it now, it was a bit ironic to give a rats ass about the stigma of what others thought of him post-mortem.
+Irony, like tragedy, like risk, was a recurring theme of his life, though. A part of him hated Starfleet, even now, and yet it was within it's ranks that he had come to find as much peace as he had known since childhood. He had made a career of taking risks beyond the realm of survival and had always survived them; and now, it seemed, not even death could hold on to him. Logically, he knew better; Bashir, Yezbeck and Roth had all been plotting and scheming since just after the Sigma Omicron V mission, when Nat had used up every last iota of good will he had with Starfleet Intelligence. They had prepared for his eventual demise, and planned for the end-result of it rather than try to prevent it, in order to accomplish a far greater goal than simply saving his ass.
+Part of him wanted to be angry that the only way to protect him was to, in fact, let him die. He wanted to be angry for never having known prior to this all about their clandestine plans to resurrect him. He couldn't bring himself to direct his oft-surfaced rage at any of them, though. It would be too hypocritical of him to be angry at them for taking such an enormous risk to save him, when he had made a name for himself by taking just such risks himself. There was also a certain brilliance to their plan that Hawk had to admit, he admired. If all went well, word of his demise would reach that bastard Faro within a matter of weeks, and arrogant bastard that he was, he would return to Orion, believing the case against him to be equally dead as he, and allow the authorities to finally apprehend him.
+Nat couldn't help but pray that when the time came, he was allowed to personally inform Faro of his status amongst the living. The look on Faro's face would be something he could cherish on cold winter nights when he was old and gray. Something that, until recently, he wasn't sure he would ever even have the chance to do. That was, presuming that Bashir, Yezbeck, and likely now Cromwell as well, could all find a way to repair the damage caused by the toxin that had been the true source of his death. The 'cure' that the dynamic duo had developed was mostly a stop-gap measure, they had told him. While it took the teeth out of the monster, it didn't render it helpless. The toxin was still active on some level within his cells, keeping damage it had caused from being repaired by even the most advanced techniques.
+He was alive, though, so he was hardly in a position to complain. Both doctor's claimed to be sure that, with enough time, they would be able to eliminate the last traces of the toxin and reverse the cellular damage that had left him feeling as weak and pained as someone four-times his age. How much of that was them trying to give Hawk hope, and how much of it was medical fact, Hawk didn't want to contemplate at the moment. The assortment of medications and treatments prescribed had already begun to stave off the symptoms and side-effects, which meant that he would begin to feel physically improved within the next few days. Psychologically was another story, though. Though he did not truly understand everything that he had experienced, he had truly gone where no man had gone before - and come back. What that meant for him long-term, he wasn't sure.
+Somehow sensing her before he had any reason to know she was present, Nat turned his head towards the door a second before it divided to admit Leah Warner. She had been on his mind constantly, and yet, he had been unable to contact her since the revelation of his status among the living an hour earlier due to his own uncertainty of how to broach the topic of being alive. Their relationship was an enigma to him; their first encounter had been hostile and sarcastic, but the conflict had eased into an uncertain flirtation, and just as quickly, a deep emotional connection that he had never truly experienced with anyone else before. They had both changed through each other, and for the first time in his life, Nathan Hawk knew what it was to truly love someone else without pain being entwined with that love.
+For the longest time, they said nothing to each other as they stared at one another in the fairly desolate recovery ward. He could tell she had been upset, and as much as her pain pained him in turn, a part of him relished the reality that he did mean something to her.
+"Did you know?" she finally asked him, her voice hushed and her emotions guarded. Though the question was vague, he knew exactly what she was asking.
+"No," he replied with all honesty, "I knew the Cap'n had some sorta plan. Never knew I'd end up dead."
+For a long moment, she simply looked at him, uncertainly. When she finally spoke, it wasn't what he had expected her to say. "I don't think I can do this."
+Confused, Nat furrowed his brow as he asked, "Do what?"
+"This," she said, gesturing from him to herself rapidly, "us," she clarified, "whatever this is between the two of us. I don't know if I can do it." she admitted with regret. "Christ, Nathan, you're a walking target. They'll never stop coming after you." she stated. Shaking her head from side-to-side, she continued, "I can't be with someone that I could loose at any moment. It's one thing to take risks, to be in a career that demands putting your life on the line; I know about that first hand. You... you're something else. Every two-bit thug and hired assassin from here to Rigel 7 would stop at very little to kill you just to collect the bounty on your head. As brave as it is for you to have put yourself at risk like you've done, as much as I admire it... it's too much." she lamented.
+For a long moment, Nat said nothing, as he simply absorbed what Lead had admitted to him. He wanted to be angry, or hurt, or upset; but he had been so through much in just the past few days... he was numb. Not to emotion, certainly not to pain, but to rage and shock. The absence of rage from within himself startled him for a moment. His rage had driven him for so long, in situations he would not have survived without it. The hand-to-hand battle with his unwitting pawn assassin, Evok, on Sigma Omicron V was a prime example.
+"Ya know," he started, pausing to inhale a deep breath, "yer prolly right." he finally managed, no trace of sarcasm in his voice. "I hate ta use the word, but, logically, ya make a valid argument. A relationship with me s'not a smart thing fer mucha anybody, I'd say. I bring danger ta anybody n'everybody 'round me. Ma shipmates can vouch fer that. Much as I..." hesitating for a moment, Hawk tried to find the appropriate word, "...much as I care fer ya, I don't want ya ta someday look back on bein' with me as somethin' that only brought ya pain n'grief cause some low-life finally hit the bulls-eye." he told her.
+Nothing else needed to be said.
+In an instant, she at his bedside; her lips pressed against his as tears trickled from her eyes.
+"I thought I'd lost you," she choked out, as they switched to an embrace.
+"Never," he whispered into her ear, "you'll never loose me." he told her, his own words choked.
+Pulling back, she looked into his eyes with sadness as she said, "You can't promise that."
+With every ounce of bravado he had, he offered one of his devil-may-care grins as he replied, "I just came back from the dead, babe. If I've gotta do it again n'again ta be with ya, then so be it."
+Despite her tears, she laughed. A sound that made Nathan Hawk feel truly alive again for the first time.
+----
+**Location: USS Republic, Brig**
+It had been a few hours since Zoë had locked up the impostor. She finally had her moved from the Brig to the Interrogation room. She was going to get her answers if it was the last thing that she did before she finished up her time here aboard the Republic. She had been placed on the ship to protect it and its crew and yet she failed. She allowed the assassination of Lieutenant Hawk. She even had allowed two impostors and two assassins to live aboard the ship now for the last few weeks without detecting them. They were definitely good at what they did in order to slip by her. That just meant that she had to get better at her job and care less about those around her. She would need to become cold and calculating like them. From afar, Zoë had her arms crossed in front of her chest observing the prisoner disdainfully.
+Not only did she hate the woman that sat in front of her, she also blamed herself for allowing all this to happen -- especially on her watch. It was not fair to watch everyone suffer the way that they did so that, WHOMEVER that `Operative' worked for; they could achieve mastery in a web of deceit and lies.
+The Vulcan that sat in front of her seemed to be looking to the distance, her mind not on the present. Apparently she had been well versed in surviving interrogation techniques. Pain twinges could be seen across her face from time to time as she shifted slightly in her place.
+'Serves her right,' Beauvais thought to herself. 'She took the law into her own hands'. Now there would have no one to prosecute but her.
+Zoë smiled inwardly. It was her turn now to be the one in control. Finally after watching for a few more minutes, she decided that it was time to take action. `Enough of this sitting around and waiting crap', she said silently.
+She entered the interrogation room, with all eyes watching. She had to be careful with how she handled herself. Zoë locked eyes with the Vulcan woman and sat down across from her, setting her hands out in front of her with a small PADD that she could jot down some notes as need be. The room was stark and cold. Metal on all sides, including the reflective table and two chairs that were in there. It was enough that shadows hid from the bouncing light throughout the room.
+"Do you know why you are here?"
+"Yes. I am under arrest for murder."
+"State your name and your rank."
+The Vulcan woman just raised an eyebrow. "Arria, Daughter of Morverik. Commander, Office of Special Intelligence."
+'Special Intelligence', she thought. 'What in Blazes is that?' She composed her face, determined not to give anything away.
+"Why are you here?"
+"My orders assigned me here. I was to watch over Lieutenant Hawk for the the information that he held. However, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry."
+"Aren't Intelligence Officers supposed to conceal or misdirect information?" Zoë asked her sternly.
+"My orders permit me to explain. To a point," Arria calmly replied. She brought her elbows to the tabletop, almost making a point to let her sythium manacles tap the metallic tabletop. "There are, however, things I will not divulge."
+In point of fact, Zoë knew, the woman in front of her was a Vulcan, and conventional wisdom said, without fail, that a Vulcan could not be compelled by any known means, to talk if they did not wish to. She decided to stick with the soft approach. "Why did you kill that woman?"
+"Orders."
+Frustration started to boil beneath her skin, but Zoë took a deep breath. "Do you always follow orders?"
+"Are not all Starfleet Officers supposed to?"
+"There are no records of an Arria, Daughter of Morverik. Actually," Zoë explained, "that's not true. The record states that she is deceased," Zoë declared after getting confirmation from the security officer on the other side of the partition.
+"That is because I was murdered as Lieutenant Hawk was. However, at that time in my life, we did not have the technology to revive me. We do now." She said, matter-of-factly. "My true record is classified and you need special dispensation from Temporal Investigations in order to access it. If you had the clearance to read it."
+Zoë was stunned for a moment. Did a Vulcan just insult her? The Security Chief was pretty sure that was impossible on a molecular level; far too emotional for a Vulcan. Nonetheless, now it was Zoë's turn to dole out how much she knew. "So you are a time traveler?"
+Arria breathed normally. "I am not at liberty to discuss that matter. I am here for the murder of a woman who was herself the murderer of Lieutenant Hawk. Anything further is not a topic for discussion."
+"There's nothing to discuss." Zoë said simply. "I know exactly what you are. Well, besides sloppy."
+There was no emotion on the Vulcan's face, nor did Zoë expect any, but she did FEEL better. "See, the thing about energy...ANY energy... is that it leaves traces. Even when it's from the 33rd century."
+The Vulcan's eyebrow arched slightly before the mask of calm returned to the `Operative's' face.
+'Gotcha! Zoë shouted inwardly. "Oh...you, didn't know that Republic's had contact with time travelers? Well, that's a shame."
+'Yep,' Zoë thought, 'this is gonna be one of those days when I love my job!' She tilted her head, shifting her focus to the Operative's eyes.
+"Anyway, like I said, everyone leaves clues. It was just a matter of knowing what to look for. That, and the fact that I'm as stubborn as a Capellan Powercat, so trust me when I tell you that we wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't already have a pretty good idea of not only what you were, but what you might TELL me you were."
+"This is a charade then?" The Vulcan asked. "Fascinating. My superiors would approve."
+"As will mine."
+Zoë then left the briefing room running through the list of answers she'd give the command officers on Republic. She left the room, heading down the corridor to meet with Commander Carter.
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter32>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 32: Resolutions & Reservations**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+fter his intense conversation with Doctor Yezbeck, Leon left the sickbay with the same "get out of my way" march through the corridor he gave when he left it the previous morning when Hawk died on the diagnostic bed. Those unlucky enough to be in the hallway when the doctor passed had to divert towards the wall to avoid being bulldozed. Fortunately, when he arrived at the turbolift, the doors parted quickly enough so that he did not crash through them. Spinning around, Leon shouted his destination.
+"Bridge!"
+The silence in the turbolift was only interrupted by the hum of the maglift engine as the cab slipped through the conveyor system on it's way to the destination. Leon had almost hoped there would have been someone in the car so he could grumble at them, but his anger subsided as he found it rather silly to fume when he was the only audience. As his pulse slowed and blood pressure returned to normal, he stared to regain his composure when an electronic whisper sounded over the hum of the lift.
+"You were a little hard on Saal," Shannon commented.
+Leon closed his eyes in recognition of the voice. "I suppose I should start getting used to that," he replied calmly, referring to Doctor Harris' holographic entrance.
+"Don't think I was eavesdropping in your office," she remarked. "The whole sickbay heard you dress him down."
+With a sigh, Leon admitted his temperamental outburst. "I know, but I couldn't let it slide. Not this time. I'm happy that Hawk is alive, but . . . all this secrecy surrounding his death . . . I *hate* mysteries . . ."
+"I know," Shannon consoled him.
+Leon's frown returned with an appearance of confusion as he suddenly realized something. "Wait a minute," he puzzled over Shannon's appearance. "The Mark 19's holomatrix can't be used in a turbolift," he finally observed. "I reviewed the design specs after I took over the CMO position last year, and the holographic projection system can only be used in specific areas of the ship."
+"There a difference between the *Republic's* holomatrix and *Saratoga's* holomatrix," Shannon explained. "The Republic system is newer, and is only installed within specific compartments of the ship that are vital to maintain operations, like engineering and the bridge. They're task-specific holo-projectors, linked together within their own computer network routed through sickbay. It's the Starfleet standard that's used on other ships with similar sickbay facilities. The Saratoga system, on the other hand, is older, and runs parallel with the ship's communication system, reaching every nook and cranny of Republic."
+"On the saucer section," Leon corrected her presumptively. "The newer stardrive section only has the Republic holo-projectors, right?"
+"Actually, no," Shannon stated. "The old Saratoga system was originally meant to double as a holographic communications system. Very similar to what's in the Defiant-class vessels, but more extensive so as to reach the rest of the ship. It was meant to be modular, upgradable, and compatible with standard intercom components. When the new stardrive was connected, all that the ship's main computer had to do was upgrade the software in the com-panels and the old holomatrix had access."
+"You mean everywhere there's an intercom panel, the Sara's intra-ship holomatrix is tied in?" For a brief moment, Leon forgot about his anger about Nat's fake death, and his mind focused again on the puzzle of Shannon's unique predicament.
+"Yes," she replied. "It utilizes the optical A/V circuits of the computer screen and control panel. If it can be tied in to the main computer, my program has access, and I can project myself into that area."
+"So," Leon speculated, "if the Mark 19 was given access to Saratoga's holomatrix, could it also project itself into the same areas of the ship as you?"
+"I don't think so. His software is encoded to prevent cross-platform programming conflicts. Although it makes him less prone to diagnostic errors, he's not very flexible. However, my program is much more dynamic, and can readily utilize different types of computer systems and holographic hardware."
+"This is going to take some getting used to," Leon grumbled.
+"You'll get used to it," Shannon smiled. "By the way . . . thanks."
+"For what?"
+"For accepting me for who I am."
+"Hmph," snorted Leon, rolling his eyes. "I've had more than my fair share of computers telling me how to run my sickbay. At least I can actually *reason* with one of them for a change." It was clear he was honored by Shannon's vote of confidence, and his curmudgeonly-laced attitude was obviously overplayed to amuse her.
+As the doors to the turbolift parted, Doctors Cromwell and Harris entered the main bridge and headed to the captain's ready room.
+"Here we go," Leon sighed, pressing the entry buzzer.
+As the doors parted, Leon and Shannon saw John Carter standing in front of the captain's desk, arms folded, and his face bearing an expression of consternation. Captain Roth, however, seemed much more relaxed; her elbows propped up on the desk, and clasped hands supporting her chin. Wearing an amused grin, the captain greeted the newcomers.
+"Well, speak of the devil."
+"I'll wait out here," Shannon commented before turning away from the door. "Let me know when the conversation turns to . . . other matters."
+Leon nodded before turning back to the captain. ". . . devil?" he questioned while walking into the ready room.
+"It's an old Earth expression," Roth replied. "It means we've been talking about you."
+"Yes, well, it seems old Earth expressions are common here on Republic," Leon commented with a touch of sarcasm. "In fact, Nat Hawk just used several of them himself when we talked a moment ago in sickbay. While I still don't know exactly what his words meant, knowing Nat, they were probably meant to be vulgar or insulting. Considering that he shouldn't have been talking at all, I'm inclined to use a few of them myself about now."
+Leon took up a similar pose as John in front of the captain's desk; arms folded, and with a "what-have-you-got-to-say-for-yourself" expression on his face.
+"I see Doctor Bashir wasted no time in informing you of our little secret when I told him it was safe to do so."
+"Perhaps you'd rather have him be your chief medical officer, instead?"
+"Leon . . ." Carter interrupted him with a cautionary tone.
+"It's okay, commander," Roth interjected. "If I were in his position, I'd be angry too."
+"I don't see anything to be angry about," Leon replied, shrugging his shoulders, and his sarcasm rising from suggestive to outright obvious. "I only had a close colleague die on my operating table. Then, along with the rest of the crew, I was simply tricked into a faux funeral while my medical staff went behind my back and used questionable medical practices to bring a dead person back to life. That's all. I don't see a problem with it." Leon turned to John. "Do you?"
+John smirked slightly. "Well, I don't know that I'm in a position to throw stones just now, Doc."
+Leon huffed in frustration. "Oh," he paused. "That? That's nothing," he offered with a casual wave.
+Roth's attention shifted between the two officers. "I hate it when I feel like I'm missing something," she muttered.
+"Well," Leon shot back, hiding MOST of his anger, "I don't imagine THAT'S pleasant at all!"
+Roth leaned back in her chair. "Here's a proposal gentlemen," she offered. "Let's just assume that there are reasons for everything that's going on here," she leveled her gaze at Carter, "Whatever that might be," she looked back at Cromwell, "and I will promise not to be insulted when you feel the need to tell me how insulting and 'damned unprofessional' I might have been."
+"Works for me, Captain," Carter offered.
+"Wait!? Leon cried, shooting an 'are you crazy' glance to John. "That's it? You're just going to sit down and say 'Ok' to all this? I should think you'd be furious!"
+Carter nodded. "Oh, I'm not happy Doc," he explained, "but the woman does know how to make her case. You should at least listen to her."
+Leon took a seat at the desk-side sofa as he let out a series of sub-audible grumbles. Across the table, Roth nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
+"Now, let me say from the start that I am genuinely sorry that I had to keep this plan from the two of you," Leon bowed up as if he were about to comment, but Roth met his gaze with the briefest pause and a raised eyebrow. The doctor received the non-verbal message, and chose to remain silent.
+"It would be too easy to say that there are things neither of you needed to know," she explained. "None the less, that is the truth, and while I will apologize for needing to do it, you should both know that, given the same options, there is nothing I would do differently."
+Leon could feel gorge rising in his gut, and couldn't hold his temper any longer. "Then what the hell am I doing here?" he blurted before he realized what he had just said. "I guess you just run your damned Shadow Cabinet and let me know when I?m allowed to treat your paper cuts!"
+Next to the Doctor, Republic's XO, tilted his head, glaring at his friend, careful to let the right amount of "command voice" give weight to his words. "Leon," he said firmly. "Listen. To. Her."
+It was not a request.
+"I've explained to Commander Carter that my deception in his case specifically was crucial," continued the captain. "And I believe he understands why I decided to proceed as I did. I also feel that it was crucial to this plan's success that you, Doctor Cromwell had to be lied to."
+Leon's eyebrow arched in surprise. "Well, this should be good!" he muttered.
+"Plausible deniability, doctor." Roth said simply. "Let's say for a moment that my plan to 'kill' Lieutenant Hawk had ended differently; that he could not be saved, or that the assassin were either not ferreted out, or took someone else with him. In that case, 'Fleet would be crying bloody murder for a scapegoat. A duty that not only I, but Doctors Bashir and Yezbeck would have been able to perform, leaving Mister Carter and yourself in position to not only keep the remaining crew safe, but also take care of whatever loose ends might have cropped up."
+Resting on Roth's shoulder, Smoke "bleeked". "Yes," Roth nodded with a smile, "that includes you, Stinker."
+Leon waved his hand in front of his face. "Now, hold on," he said, keeping his voice in check. "Don't make this into some twisted, noble act. You deliberately kept me out of the loop, and just a few days ago, you told all of us that secrets would get us killed!"
+Roth felt the sting of her own words forced back at her. Leon was exactly right. After what had come to be called the "Ensign Kuga Debacle", most of Republic's crew had had their fill of secret projects, black-box tech and the words "need to know". Roth pushed the distaste away with a grim shake of her head.
+"Poor timing on my part Doctor," she explained, "But at least this way, the crew can hate me, and not all of us."
+Leon still wasn't buying it, and he let his displeasure show. "That's kind of you, Captain, but?"
+"But, it's not enough, Doctor?" she shot back. "All right, how's this." Roth leaned forward. "I just told Carter, and I might as well tell you . . . I know damned well that I'm only a visitor on this ship."
+"What?"
+"Commander Carter has kept this ship together through thick and thin, and you, Doctor, are his conscience. If either of you had lied to the crew, that would be the end of this ship as we know it. But starship captains lie all the time. We have to. And so do you."
+"Ex-CUSE me, Captain?" Leon again blurted out in consternation.
+"You've never told a dying man he was fine, just to ease his passing?" she asked frankly, more quietly this time. "Told a grieving mother or son that you'd do everything you could, even though nothing could be done? As I said Doctor, I?m not asking you to like it, nor do I expect you to. I'll even accept that you can't fully trust me anymore, but my reasons were well founded, and your staff did their jobs beyond all expectation." Roth straightened up and exhaled, letting out a heavy sigh. "From a certain point of view, you should be proud."
+"A certain point of view?"
+"It's been my experience Doctor that, despite whatever Fleet might want the Middies to believe, serving out here is very rarely black and white. At any rate, I'm sure I'll answer to my maker when She reads from my book."
+"Well, I've never been a Middie, and I've been dealing with shades of gray each time I've had to deal with Starfleet," the doctor replied. "Lord knows why I've actually decided to take the bridge officers test, but if I had to guess, it's out of obligation and trust."
+Again, Roth arched her eyebrow.
+"That's right," Leon emphasized. "Trust. I'm fully aware that there are forces in Fleet that are steering the entire Federation towards a black hole, and during my short stay on Earth last year, I was apprised of them by a distant relative."
+Carter frowned, and looked towards his friend. "You never mentioned to me anything about that."
+"Ignorance is bliss, John," Leon added. "Anyway, trust is a big issue with me ever since I reported on board, and since you were introduced to us by our mutual friend, Admiral Kostya, I've had my eye on you. I'll admit that I was impressed with how you handled the incident with the Tholians, and my respect for you blossomed when you made that speech after the Kuga-Jenkins fiasco. But now . . ." He shook his head. "I just don't know . . . you turned my staff against me . . . made me think that a friend died on my operating table . . . let the whole damned ship think he was dead. It sounds like something Kostya would do."
+Roth's look of interest slowly faded to stoicism when Leon mentioned Kostya's name, and her reaction to the doctor's last few words caused her face to contort into a cold, penetrating scowl. As the captain slowly leaned forward, the atmosphere in the ready room turned frosty enough for Smoke to scramble off her shoulder and seek refuge on the nearby bookshelf.
+"You're out of line, doctor."
+Leon had found her sore spot, and he knew it. He got up from the couch to face her with a similar posture by placing his hands on her desk. He was determined to get to the bottom of the ultimate question on his mind. With his voice rising, Leon put his cards on the table. "Are you, or are you not, still working for Kostya?"
+"Is that what you think?" the captain returned.
+"Sit down, doctor . . ." Carter interjected, but Leon reacted as if he didn't hear him.
+"Yes," Leon said coolly. "That's what I think . . ."
+"I said SIT DOWN!"
+Slowly, Leon retreated back to the couch, maintaining his glare at Captain Roth.
+"As captain," Roth started after a pause, "I could have simply told you to do exactly as I say on all these past mission, and thrown you in the brig had you disobeyed my orders. THAT is the sign of Kostya, doctor . . . blind obedience. The fear of god. I don't believe I've ever . . . EVER . . . tried to control your thoughts and feelings. Point in fact, I've tolerated your emotional behavior. I've even supported it, though it may have been borderline insubordinate."
+"I don't act insubordinate unless I have a good reason," he retorted. "And you still haven't answered my question."
+"No," Roth said, her scowl becoming less pronounced. "I don't work for Kostya. Not anymore. I fell out with him the moment I refused to abandon the Republic while we were fighting the Tholians."
+"What?" Leon exclaimed. John smirked with an 'I-told-you-so' grin at the doctor's reaction to the news.
+"During the fight with the Tholians, I received an eyes-only emergency communication from Kostya in my ready room. He ordered me to evacuate the crew to the saucer section, separate the ship, and report back to the Alpha Quadrant with the stardrive."
+The shock in Doctor Cromwell's eyes was genuine. "I don't believe it!"
+"Neither did I," Roth replied. "At first, I thought he was joking. But considering he chose to use the security frequency to hide any recording, he probably thought he had backed me into a corner and that I would be forced to follow his orders."
+"That's lunacy!" the medical officer exclaimed. "That man is reprehensible! He couldn't honestly expect anyone with any integrity to follow those orders!" Leon paused as he suddenly realized what he had said, and how he had contradicted himself regarding his attitude towards the captain.
+Roth's smile returned, and John's never faded as he enjoyed the moment where his friend stumbled over his own words.
+"Trust me, doc. She's on our side," John finally said as a bewildered Leon struggled between the incredulity of Kostya's orders and the realization of just how bad a black eye Roth had given the admiral. As he allowed the doctor to digest the new information, Carter took a seat in the chair next to the captain's desk.
+"I'm sorry, captain," Leon finally offered.
+"Apology accepted."
+"I suppose Kostya's not too happy with you . . ."
+"Put simply, he's out for blood," she said ominously. "Hence our reassignment to DS9 and out of the main Starfleet operational command structure. We're out of his reach . . . for now."
+"That's why we've been assigned out here for so long . . ." Leon added as facts came together.
+"And why I chose to take action now with regard Hawk. We're essentially cut off from the media cycle." Roth sat back and relaxed a bit, feeling that the turbulent part of the conversation had passed. "And in addition, we're cut off from 'Fleet, at least, if we want to be."
+Carter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, we what? Map a few star clusters? Lick our wounds?"
+Roth nodded. "And take stock." She glanced at both her officers. "We've got a new status quo aboard."
+"Indeed we do," Cromwell said wryly. Carter huffed in equal parts preparation and frustration.
+"Something ELSE I need to know, Commander?" Roth asked, pointedly.
+Carter let his head hang for a beat, then looked up at his commanding officer. "No time like the present." He admitted. "I was hoping this would be a non-issue," he said, in the closest thing John Carter ever got to contrite, "but seeing as how we're clearing the air. There's something you should know about Doctor . . . about Shannon."
+Roth raised an eyebrow. "Well, I certainly don't object to the relationship, XO," Roth offered. "Doctor Harris is no longer a bridge officer, and she falls squarely under Doctor Cromwell's chain of command. So . . ." Roth stopped short, as her mind considered why Carter might have brought up the issue. "She's . . . not . . . I certainly hope you're not leaving?"
+Carter chuckled. "No, nothing like that," he said. "She's uh . . . Shannon's . . ."
+A wash of photons, and the accompanying whine of a hologram field made the air in Roth's Ready Room crackle for an instant as Doctor Shannon Harris materialized in front of Republic's Captain.
+"I'm an experimental ship-wide interactive hologram, Captain."
+Resting on the bookshelf behind Roth's chair, Smoke bleeked in surprise.
+Roth's expression was completely deadpan, but whether that was by choice or out of disbelief, no one could say. "Apparently so," she commented, looking over Shannon with a careful eye, as if inspecting her for something out of place. The idea that one of her officers was a computer-generated non-corporeal life form did not appear to faze the captain in the least bit, much to the surprise of John and Leon.
+Finally, Roth turned her attention to Carter. "How long have you known?"
+"For sure?" he pondered, "Just after the dust-up with the Tholians. There were odd things before that, but that was when I knew for sure."
+Roth leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the desk. "And you didn't think it necessary to inform me that one of my officers was not real?"
+Harris crossed her arms in front of her. "I think that Voyager's Doctor and Commander Data would . . . well, would have disagreed with you Captain." Harris said. "My program is completely separate from the ship's computer, though we do have some hardware systems in common. However," she said somewhat coldly. "My conclusions, actions and . . . feelings," she said, with a click glance toward Carter, "Are completely my own."
+Roth looked at the redheaded hologram sidelong. "A . . . poor choice of words on my part, Doctor." Roth offered. "As it happens, I've read most of the papers regarding holographic sentience. I used to be a scientist if you recall. For what it's worth, I agree, at least in principle, with classifying you as an independent, sentient life-form, but how you function on board this ship does introduce some . . . complications."
+"Go on," Shannon said with a nod. It was clear that she was determined to have the captain focus on her and not the other two gentlemen, as if to underline her argument for equal treatment.
+"Provided that Doctor Cromwell has no objections to your continuing to serve in your present capacity?"
+Leon stopped for a moment. "I have none, Captain. Though, with Doctor Harris' permission I would like to disable the EMH, so that there will be no further conflicts with the sickbay holo-grid. Ideally, I'd like to have Doctor Harris now function as the ship's EMH in addition to her normal duties."
+"Makes sense to me," Harris offered, surprised, but not quite bothered at the turn of events.
+"Then the only other thing I'm going to insist upon is that you no longer hide your status from the rest of the crew. I'm not saying you have to make an announcement, or wear an 'H' on you forehead," Roth explained. "But you must no longer actively deceive the men and women you serve with."
+"I can do that, Captain." Shannon said simply. "But what if some of the crew have reservations about me being their physician?"
+"If they wear a Starfleet uniform, then tell them to come talk to me directly," the captain said with a touch of deviousness in her voice. "If they're a civilian crewmember, tell them they have their choice of physicians in sickbay, but remind them that you have the full confidence of the captain to independently practice medicine on my ship." Roth regarded Carter for a long second. "Are you all right with all of this, Carter?"
+Again, Carter chuckled. "Well, I'm sure I'll get no end of grief from Hawk," John admitted, "but if it comes down to it, I'll just remind him that he had to get his life saved by a girl. That ought to buy me some time. Uh . . . no offense, ladies."
+"None taken," Roth offered with an amused grin.
+"We can talk about this later, John," Harris said with a smile.
+Roth clapped her hands against the surface of the desk. "Crisis averted for now, then?"
+"I suppose," Cromwell offered grudgingly.
+"I'll wait five minutes, Captain," Carter said. "Something's bound to change."
+Roth's face turned in a scowl. "No doubt. I'll be scheduling a briefing regarding our next assignment, after I've had a chance to debrief Lieutenant Hawk. See you all at 1400, Wednesday."
+"Aye Captain." Came the chorused response as the three officers shuffled out of the captain's office.
+On the bridge, Leon and Shannon turned towards the turbolift while John started in the direction of the command pit when he paused. "Oh, and Leon," he beckoned to his friend, "don't think any of this changes your exam date."
+"Are you kidding?" the doctor froze in the open turbolift door, shooting John a wide-eyed, incredulous look. "That's in two days! With everything that's happened, I think I've earned myself a postponement!"
+"Not a bit of it, doc," John shook his head. "If you're not ready by now, you'll never be. Recent events have only emphasized how much we need another qualified bridge officer that the captain and I can hand duties off to. That test is the only thing standing in the way."
+"You know better than anyone else what I've been through! Can't you make an exception?"
+"I don't play favorites," John said, continuing his walk into the command pit where he relieved Lieutenant Merrick at the center seat. "You have forty-eight hours. Ready or not."
+Without another word, Leon walked sulkily into the turbolift where Doctor Harris was waiting patiently.
+"Need help studying, commander?" she asked him teasingly, more for the reaction than for anything else.
+"Don't YOU start!" he grumbled, just as the doors slid shut.
+\\
+\\
+\\
+**Location: Armory watch desk, deck 5, USS Republic**
+There were a lot of misconceptions about the Tactical Branch of Starfleet. The first was that they were all trigger-happy adrenaline junkies, or thickheaded robots that just wanted to blow things up. In reality, since the merging of the starship combat role of the helmsman and the planet-side responsibilities of the old "Security" branch were folded into `Fleet's Tactical Branch, the job had become many different things.
+First and foremost, like almost everyone else on a starship, a Tactical Officer was a problem-solver, and just now, John Carter had a big, Vulcan-looking problem in his brig. Republic's Martian XO folded his arms across his chest, and tilted his head down toward the deck plates. "Zoë," he asked Republic's Tactical head, "are you telling me that..." he waved a hand toward the young Vulcan crewman who was still stewing in the brig, where Zoë had only just left her "She isn't who we thought she was...AGAIN?"
+"No, Sir. She claims to be Arria, Daughter of Morverik, deceased years ago."
+Carter shook his head in disbelief. "So, whom DOES she work for? If she's not Starfleet Intelligence, or if they aren't admitting it, then what?"
+"She claims to be from the Office of Special Intelligence, which would explain why she has two facades. If this Arria was the real person, they would have the ability to falsify her record."
+"Well, I guess that makes some sense. But I've never even HEARD of this, O-S-I" Carter admitted. "What I want to know is who she REALLY is, and more importantly, how the Hell did you put this all together? Black Shirts aren't the types to leave clues lying around.
+"I, uh...looked under the right rocks?" Zoë asked sarcastically. "It really was basic stuff. Checking through some old logs, figuring out WHO knew what I didn't, and... well, not settling for not knowing. The real break came when the quantum signature of the weapon she used wasn't quite right."
+"You thought to check the QUANTUM signature?" Carter asked. "Why?"
+"Well," Zoë explained. "I know my weapons, and what she was using was neither a phaser, disruptor, or compressor rifle. It was CLOSE to a phaser, but was ACTUALLY kind of a mix of all three. There was just something about it that didn't smell right, so dug a little more."
+Carter smiled in admiration of the young officer. While he was many things, John liked to think that chief among them was honest, and if he looked at himself honestly, he had to admit that detective work was not his strong suit. `Nope,' he said silently to himself as Zoë explained the heretofore-unknown facts behind Nat Hawk's shadowy benefactor, `there is NO WAY I would have figured that out.'
+"Surprisingly, she divulged most of the information about the case, her assignment here, and her orders, but the specific orders or who assigned her I have not been able to retrieve from her, nor is she divulging.
+She stated that she was assigned here to watch over Lieutenant Hawk for the information that he held. She stated that her orders also gave her a clause to eliminate any threat to him, past or present that may attack."
+"Past or...?" Carter's voice trailed off.
+"She's a time-traveler, or at least has access to some wicked 33rd Century tech, though I haven't pegged which era she's actually from. Since her records have doubtless been falsified AT LEAST twice, we'd probably have to get Doctor Cromwell to do a cellular analysis." Zoë let a mischievous twinkle flash in her eyes. It'd be ok with me if it hurt...a little."
+Again, Carter took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck, more out of habit than to soothe away any tension. "Ok, then. What do you recommend we do now? Captain wants us to remain in the black for the time being, but I don't want this `Operative' on my ship."
+"She is Vulcan. Technically she can't lie. However, with her being from 'Special Intelligence', she could tell us anything that she's allowed to. I might be able to do something with that.
+She was a good officer at one point, at least, if the original record is accurate. I would say, see if I can get more information out of her. Brig suits until we get home. I'm just afraid that when we get home, if she is truly SI, she'll be scooped up and out of here before we can blink our eyes."
+Zoë smiled again, indicating that she was absolutely looking forward to another `chat' with her new favorite guest. "At the moment though, we have an 'intelligence' officer that may prove to be beneficial in some sense."
+Carter nodded. "Ok, I'll take that to the Captain. In the meantime, keep an eye on our, who-ever-she-is, and make sure we keep her in lock-down. I want her at minimum contact. The last thing ANY of us need is another Kuga incident."
+"Yes, Sir. I will personally see to the arrangements."
+Carter turned on a heel as he headed for the door. "Oh, before I forget," he looked back over his shoulder. "Good work on this, Zoë. Really good work."
+"Thank you, Sir." He walked out of there and she left as well to make the necessary arrangements for the 'quarantine' of their guest.
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter33>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 33: After the Midnight Hour**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Recovery ward, main sickbay, deck 12, USS Republic**\\
+**Shiptime: 03:25 hours**
+The last time sickbay's gamma shift saw any excitement was during the incident with the Tholians several weeks ago. About a dozen serious injuries, mostly from explosive decompression, required overnight stays in the recovery ward, and so, the late-night medical crew tended to the wounded as diligently as they would at any other time during the day. However, pending unusual circumstances, gamma shift was normally quiet to the point of boring. The staff was rotated on a monthly basis, so every member of the medical crew had their chance at gamma shift, and in truth, it was a chance for the staff to unwind and relax a bit, as Doctor Cromwell had a standing order that stated: "Unless the situation dictates otherwise, the gamma shift supervisor may, at their discretion, excuse all subordinates to their liberty for on-call duty after 0300, retaining at least one nurse and one non-commissioned medical technician for the remainder of the shift."
+On this particular night, the gamma shift had only a single patient tucked away in the recovery ward, and so the tending shift supervisor, Doctor Fernmoore, excused all but Ensign Watson and CPO3 Teague for the rest of the night. The sole patient, Lieutenant Nathan Hawk, was banished to the to 13-bed recovery facility with Nurse Watson tending the nurse's station, watching Nat like a vulture from behind the transparent-aluminum partition separating the corner nook from the rest of the room. By the time 0300 rolled around, the atmosphere in sickbay became much more relaxed, as Teague was sent to rotate bed linen in the trauma center, and Watson had taken to watching Nat on an off-and-on basis, tending to other matters such as checking the pharmacy stock, or readying the medical lab for a minor scientific experiment scheduled for the next day.
+For his part, Nat was restless, as being cooped-up in a sterile environment for *any* length of time was not his cup of tea. While feigning sleep, and hoping that the tending nurse wouldn't look close enough to the monitors to see he had not entered REM, Nat carefully waited for Ensign Watson to leave one last time before sitting up in bed and pivoting himself into a sitting position. After one last glance at the empty nurse's station, he slipped his feet into a pair of slippers at the foot of the bed, and proceeded to stand up while donning his patient's robe.
+Before long, Nat found himself wandering past the empty ward supervisor's desk, and into the surgical ward hallway. The lighting throughout sickbay was at one-third illumination, as if signaling to anyone not on duty that they should be back in their quarters and in bed. As he shuffled into the main ward, Nat spied a slightly brighter illumination coming from the surgeon-on-duty desk around the corner. He froze, worried that Fernmoore might have already been informed by Nurse Watson that Nat was up and about, but as a minute passed, he heard nothing stirring in the office area, and his curiosity got the better of him. Peeking around the corner, Nat suddenly realized that the surgeon desk was empty, and the light was coming from beneath the door to Doctor Cromwell's office, forcing a wry smile to form on his face. Before he knew what he was doing, Nat had walked up to the CMO's door, causing it to slide open.
+"Well I know why I can't sleep," Hawk said from the doorway, drawing Leon's attention away from his monitor, "what's yer excuse?"
+"What are you doing up?" Leon exclaimed with a mix of irritation and genuine concern. "You're supposed to be in bed!"
+"Yeah, well, death does funny things ta ya. Insomnia, apparently, is one've 'um." Hawk replied, as he allowed Cromwell to guide him to one of the chairs across from his desk. He didn't like accepting help for such a simple thing as making his way across a room; he downright loathed the fact that he actually needed said help. As he allowed himself to breath, he contemplated the scuttle-butt he had heard from Jess concerning how his death and resurrection and everything related to it had stirred the proverbial pot aboard ship. Never having been shy to ask the uncomfortable questions in the past, he didn't hesitate now. "So ya still pissed off?" he asked his friend. "Word around town is you've got a bone ta pick with a couple of folks."
+"Yes," Leon admitted with a touch of regret. "Well, there are certain boundaries both in medicine and Starfleet protocol that were crossed lately, and as much as I'm happy to see that the results turned out positively . . ." he pointed back at Nat. "Namely you coming back from the dead . . . in my opinion, the ends cannot justify the means. So . . ." Leon looked a touch embarrassed, but his grouchy demeanor partially cloaked it. "I felt it necessary to rough a few people up. The captain included."
+Considering Leon's words for a moment, he became stuck on one item in particular. "Ya know, that's what SI, 'Fleet, just 'bout anybody doin' somethin' they can't really justify uses ta do so. 'The ends justify the means' cliché. Every once'n'awhile, I could go along with it, could understand it. Never liked it, but... I could wrap my thick head 'round it. Bet you have, too. Accepted that 'the ends justify the means' once 'er twice. How we handled things at Cestus III. How we stopped Kostya n'people like him time'n'again; violatin' orders, but doin' it cause it was the right thing, even if not by-the-book. We've all gotta make choices; choices that somewhere down the line, somebody else who ain't in that situation s'gonna judge. In a way, I s'pose that's what yer doin' here. Judgin' what the Cap'n and Bashir and Yezbeck did when ya ain't in that situation; when yer not faced with that choice yerself. Only thing is, the only way ya can really judge somethin' like that, after-the-fact, is by the true ends. The end results. Problem is, we ain't seen them end results yet, Leon." Hawk said, pausing to really look at his friend for a moment. "Me bein' alive, the assasin bein' dead... that ain't the end. The real end is Faro. The real end is the Syndicate. Takin' down the worst organized criminal organization in the known universe. Puttin' a stop ta all the death, n'pain, n'bloodshed, that they cause. Now if crossin' a couple ethical boundaries we might not otherwise cross does that... stops murder, slavery, theft, torture... stops some other 10-year-old kid from loosin' his whole family... who the hell are we ta say those ends ain't been justified?"
+Leon considered Nat's words for a moment. "God knows I've had my fill of shady characters hiding behind the rules, but while I understand that the rules have to be bent on occasion, the person who is doing the bending must realize that they're doing so at their own risk, and that they can no longer hide behind the words 'I was just following orders'. Rules were meant for people to follow them, otherwise they're just words. If people under my supervision bent the rules - especially medical ones - I can't let them get by without some sort of reprimand, no matter the outcome. If I did overlook them, everyone in here would soon start thinking that they can get away with almost anything while I'm in charge of them; that somehow, the rules would no longer apply to them anymore. Pretty soon, I'd find more and more rule violations, making my job harder because I'd have to keep track of each one in order to pick and choose which ones to reprimand. Eventually, someone will bend the rules just because they *could* get away with it, and before you know it, a patient will die for no good reason."
+"Ain't ya ever heard the old phrase 'rules were meant ta be broken'?" Hawk retorted. "Hell, sometimes, the only way outta a problem is ta break a couple rules. Look at Jim Kirk. Hell, half a his career he broke more rules n'ya can shake a warp core at n'they built statues of the man."
+"And if my memory of Federation history serves me, he also paid dearly several times for breaking the rules. My point is that if you're going to even *bend* the rules - for whatever reason - fine. But don't expect everyone to like it, and don't expect to get away with it. When it comes to Starfleet rules, I'm a bit more understanding about rule-bending, and that's probably why I was able to forgive the captain for lying to the rest of us. But when it comes to medical ethics, I'm much less tolerant, and that's why Saal is on my bad side right now. As for Bashir," Leon thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "He's just as much a pain in the rear-end as you," he smiled jokingly. "Only his profession isn't helm control - it's medical, and there's a certain extra standard that he needs to be held accountable to, from my point of view. That, plus the fact that he and I have a major personality conflict, makes the climate between us rather contemptible at the moment."
+"Considerin' Bashir put his life on hold ta come in here n'order ta take yer ass outta bein' put in the same spot as the Cap'n, havin' ta lie ta everybody, I'd think ya'd be a little more forgivin' of the man." Hawk challenged. "Ya don't see eye-ta-eye with him, that's yer business. Ya find him a might irritating, well, so do I. Ya could show a little understandin' though, even if ya don't like who he is 'er what he did - cause he did it ta keep you from havin' ta fight yer inner demons and havin' ta make the choice ta let me live 'er die." Hawk stated, bluntly. "As fer Saal, I think ya need ta take a step back b'fore ya throw the book at him, an ask yerself why yer really pissed at him. Cause from where I'm sittin', it's seems a helluva lot more personal than professional."
+Leon frowned and crossed his arms while leaning back in his chair. "Yeah," mumbled in stern thought. "It's personal . . . Personal in that I trusted Saal about as much as either you or John, and he let me down."
+"Don't ya get it?" Hawk asked, "Nothin' ya could've done would've saved me, Leon. I was dead. Cold, hard, stone dead. Roth knew it'd happen eventually, n'she prepared fer it. You wanna put a reprimand in Saal's file fer the sake of appearances, alright, fine. Ya gotta do somethin' as CMO ta tell yer people ta watch their P's and Q's, I get that. But ya gotta forgive him, and I don't mean professionally, I mean personally, cause seems ta me that's what's really stuck in yer craw. Yer friend, not yer subordinate, lied ta ya. Betrayed ya. But it ain't like that at all. He did what he had ta do ta save my life. He did what I sure as frinx hope you woulda done in his shoes. Because sometimes the cause is right, is important enough, ta do the things nobody wants ta do."
+"Oh hell, Nat!" Leon stood up abruptly. "I'm not going to put a damned thing in Saal's personnel file! He and I have been through too much together for me to go and do something that!" He began pacing the room in a minor huff. "But I HAD to do something! Too many people have kept too many damned secrets aboard this ship, and I wasn't expecting HIM to be one of them! He could have trusted me with what he knew, and not worked with Bashir and the Captain to keep me out of the loop! Tell me . . . go ahead and TELL me . . . that you wouldn't be just as angry if Miss Warner were on that table instead of you?"
+The scenario Leon proposed did give Nat pause, and for the first time in a while, he felt a glimmer of that old rage buried deep within himself. He was not, by nature, a trusting individual; he had rarely trusted anyone so much as he did a handful of people here, aboard Republic. So the idea of any one of them breaking that hard-formed bond of trust...
+"Ya, I'd be pretty pissed off." Hawk admitted.
+"Exactly!" Leon replied emphatically, realizing that Nat was starting to see his point. But the fact remained that he was still upset at Saal, and Leon couldn't see a way out of it at the moment. "I'm not saying that I won't ever be able to forgive him," he finally admitted. "But it's going to take some time to build that trust back up again. And I'm not ready yet."
+"There's just one thing, Leon," Hawk replied, "end of the day, Saal did what he did fer the right reasons. He did what he did ta save a life. The only reason he didn't bring ya in loop on it, the reason he broke yer trust, was fer the same reason Roth did; same reason Bashir's aboard. Ta keep yer sorry ass outta it. Not ta go b'hind yer back. Somethin' that, once I got over bein' angry s'hell, I'd come ta realize maybe made 'em a better friend than I'd known b'fore."
+Leon sat back in his chair and looked at the recovering helmsman in thought. "Maybe," he mused. "But you and I are only human. And whether or not the Captain and Bashir felt it was for the best, Saal should have seen ahead of all this and warned the Captain of the repercussions of lying to the entire crew." Pausing, he tapped his chin lightly with an index finger before grimacing and waving his hand as if excusing the thought. "Hell, I don't know. For all I know, Saal *did* warn her. But I guess that's why Roth has the four pips on her collar -- because she's the one who has to make those kinds of decisions. For what it's worth, Nat, I agree that it was the right decision, and I'm glad that you're alive and still with us. I just think there could have been a better ways to do this without playing everybody's heartstrings like they were toy banjos."
+The two sat in silence for almost a minute, staring blankly into thin air, as if coming to grips with their own human frailties. Nat, with his hard-fought struggle to return to the realm of the living, and Leon, unable to come to grips with the emotional toll of the methods to achieve the miracle. Whether either of them knew it or not, the real struggle was yet to come.
+"So..." Hawk said, letting the word hang between them for a moment, "When can I get the frinx outta here? N'more important, when the frinx am I gonna feel less like I got hit by a shuttle?"
+"Boy!" Leon exclaimed with an amused grin. "You sure are fickle! First, its 'I'll just barge in your office and talk your ear off', and then it's 'when will you let me go so I can go back to duty?'"
+"No offense, but if heaven n'hell exist, than bein' stuck in sickbay s'my own personal purgatory. Ya've got all this fancy medicine, how 'bout puttin' some of it ta use?" Hawk inquired.
+"Well, it's not that simple," Leon explained, the professional tone returning to his voice. "Your body has undergone a tremendous shock, compliments of the nanoprobes. While they've found it easy to jump-start your cells, they're finding that the real trick is to keep them from necrotizing all over again. The pain you're feeling is coming from the probes as they renaturate the integral membrane proteins of your brain's nerve bundles after they forget that they're alive and try to die on you. Once the probes have settled that little argument, and your body starts to act like a living organism again - not like a corpse that's being artificially reanimated - we can safely call the ball game a win for Nat Hawk. However, it helps if you save your energy for the good guys by staying in *bed*."
+Nat simply blinked at Leon for a few seconds, a deadpan expression blanketing his features. "Maybe it's the death talkin' here, but... I didn't understand more 'an two words ya just said." Hawk stated, before letting out a sigh. "'Sides which, I just had a pretty big 'nap' as is - the almost ferever kind."
+"If you can't sleep, we can give you a somnetic inducer. But until I'm confident that the nanoprobes have the upper hand in keeping your cells alive, I want you in sickbay where we have a better chance of reviving you if your body decides to fight back against them."
+"We're on a starship, flyin' around the Gamma Quadrant. If I keel over I'm only a transport away. What's it matter if I'm here 'er in my quarters? Least in my quarters, I might get ta have some fun in bed." Hawk said with a broad grin, as he wiggled his eyebrows, alluding to his idea of 'fun'.
+"I'll tell you what," Leon reasoned with him. "Your vitals are stable this evening. If they're stable tomorrow night, and we find that the headache has subsided, we'll put you on bed-rest and you can go back to your quarters under medical monitoring. At the end of the week, if you've got the energy, we'll give you a full physical and put you back on duty. LIGHT duty," the doctor emphasized. "That means no bridge watch, and no flying any shuttlecraft."
+"Well yer just a fun-suckin' vampire, ain't ya? Only things I like ta do when I'm on duty n'ya put the ole kai-bosh on 'em. Figures." Hawk replied. Shaking his index finger warily, he continued, "It's stuff like this that makes people not like doctor's, ya know." he joked. "So what 'bout long term?"
+"That will all depend on how the nanoprobes interact with your metabolism over the long haul," Leon warned. "There are very few active duty Starfleet officers with Borg nanoprobes swimming around in their veins. Even after five years of intense study by Fleet Medical, they're still found to be occasionally erratic. Sometimes, they'll die off by themselves after realizing that their job is done. Other times, they'll latch onto your body and form a symbiosis. Who knows? What matters is if they decide to work *for* Nat Hawk, and not *against* him. Only time will tell."
+"Great, the 'wait n'see' approach. Yeah, cause that's got a great track record!" Nat lamented.
+At about that time, the door to the office slid open to reveal an irate Nurse Watson.
+"THERE you are!" she scolded Nat like a mother hen. "What are you doing out of bed? And why are you bothering Doctor Cromwell?"
+"Lil' Lady, I just came back from the great beyond. So I figure that gives me license ta take a big ole risk n'wander inta 'nother ward a sickbay." Hawk retorted, restraining himself from making the archaic Nurse Ratchet joke he had floating around the back of his mind.
+For the first time since before the funeral, Leon allowed an extremely amused smile to spread across his face. His friend's predicament was an entertaining spectacle, and while he gave pause to consider letting him stew for a while in his self-brewed transgression, he decided to let him off the hook.
+"It's okay, Martha," Leon waved his hand. "I was giving the lieutenant an update on his condition."
+"At zero-three-thirty hours?!" she replied with incredulity.
+"Um," he paused with embarrassment. "I extended my office hours?"
+The questioning tone in the doctor's voice suggested an ulterior motive, but the ensign, while perhaps in a position to scold a patient, wasn't ready to confront her medical supervisor with the same vigor. She simply raised an eyebrow at Leon while motioning for Nat to leave the office.
+"Keep yer shirt on!" Hawk said to the impatient nurse. He realized only after he had said such that, once upon a time, he would have followed up on that with 'on second thought, take it off', but such no longer felt... right. Which gave him some pause. "Ya know, somebody once said... 'there's a time and a place for a philosophical discussion; oh-two-hundred hours isn't one of them'..." Nat said, trailing off, not quite saying what he was intending to.
+"No problem," Leon replied to Nat with a touch of appreciation. "And thanks for giving me something to think about."
+"Well, don't stay up all night thinkin' 'bout it. Get some sleep. Ya look like hell." Hawk said, his tone vague as to how serious he was. The last thing Leon heard as his office doors shut behind Hawk and Nurse Watson were the grumbled complaints of Republic's helmsman concerning sickbay food.
+----
+It had been less than a day since the crew of the Republic had learned of his resurrection. Less than a day since those he cared for had learned they had mourned prematurely. Less than a day spent awake and aware in the confines of Sickbay. Yet when it came to spending any amount of time confined to Sickbay, less than a day could easily feel like more than a year. At least, as far as the risen Lieutenant Nat Hawk was concerned. Tired as he was, weak as he was, ill as he felt, he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the ship's medical facilities. It was almost enough to drive him back to the drink. So when he first spotted Chief Engineer Vance Devloch enter Sickbay, he had felt a momentary sense of reprieve. It turned out to only be momentary, indeed.
+"You son of a bitch." Devloch spat as he approached the bio-bed where Hawk lay.
+"Well howdy back at ya." Hawk replied, meekly but with enough sarcasm to sound like himself even though he felt like a walking corpse.
+"Pretty lively for a dead fellow don't ya think?" Said Vance in a voice that practically dripped with sarcasm and resentment. "you do realize that coming back spoiled an incredibly Beautiful Brandy Bender. I hope your happy."
+"Next time I'll stay dead a might longer then, just ta give ya an excuse ta get smashed." Hawk replied, pushing himself up to a sitting-like position with considerable effort. The fact that the medical monitors beeped in disagreement with his movement wasn't lost on him.
+"As if I need an excuse," quipped Vance, pulling a flask out of his non-regulation jacket and enjoying a sip of whatever questionable liquid it might contain. "you know, there ARE easier ways to meet the good looking nurses around here I'm sure. You know, part of me wants to knock you on your ass, but it seems you're kind of stuck there for a while anyway." Vance offered the flask over to Nat.
+Hawk eyed the flask for the briefest of moments before turning his gaze to Devloch, refusing the offered beverage. "I ain't desperate enough fer a date ta get filleted like a fish, thanks. Got maself a long-term dance partner, matter a fact. Unlike yerself, who only seems ta keep the company a that flask 'n his own warp core - an I don't mean the big one down 'n engineerin' if ya get ma drift." Hawk shot back, weary of Devloch's tone and attitude. Then again, maybe it was just his general weariness getting the better of him?
+"It's water, actually. I said I WAS on a bender, not that I was continuing the 'mission'. And my Warp Core is fine, both of them thanks for asking. Both are performing above Specs. So what? You think I can lose possibly the last "Wingman" I might ever have, learn he was never actually dead except in a technical sense, and what? I'm supposed to take this all in stride and not be upset? Hell! Damnit Nat, I'm a pilot not a monk." At this point Vance was starting to build up a good head of steam. "Ah hell, What was I supposed to think?"
+Hawk didn't have a response for him.
+"So, how was being dead?" Asked Vance calmly.
+As quickly as Devloch had pissed him off, so to had he come down off his high-horse. "Well, I tell ya what. Was more 'an just in a 'technical sense' a things." he admitted, a thousand-yard stare taking over his features. "It's hard ta make sense outta everythin'... life, death, life again. Ya know, I once read somewhere after Cap'n Spock got re-animated by that whole Genesis planet mumbo-jumbo, he was asked tha same question. Ya know, 'what was it like ta be dead?' an the answer he gave never quite made much sense ta me. Just said he couldn't explain it without a common frame a reference. Now, though, I kinda get what he meant. Ya really gotta... die b'fore ya can explain it 'er talk 'bout it in any detail. Cause it just ain't somethin' the mind can make a lotta sense outta otherwise, ya know?" he rambled. Seeing the look on Devloch's face, he could tell the other man didn't quite follow. "So'd ya get any sympathy sex? Ya know, loosin' yer new best pal n'what not." he asked, quirking his eyebrows and grinning in that trademark Nat Hawk manner.
+"That never even occurred to me. Maybe I WAS a little quick to jump into the bottle in this, one, specific case. Hell, I'm not fooling anyone, haven't been for a while. I'm charging towards drunkard at a remarkable rate. I probably ought to do something about that..." with a Sigh, Vance pulled out his other Flask. "Definitely need to do something about that. So what's next? Anyone have any thoughts on who's responsible for... How was it? Oh yes, you getting 'filleted like a fish'. I hope someone tries to do that to me. Should be an interesting experience for all parties."
+"Trust me, it ain't somethin' ya wanna try fer yerself. As ta the who 'n why... it's a lil complicated. Classified complicated. Not that I give a rats ass 'bout rules and regs on that sorta thing, mind ya. Just means, all I can tell ya is it's the reason we're under a comm-black-out, n' it's got ta do with the Orion Syndicate. So... yeah, dun stand next ta me if we're ever in a parade 'er somethin'." Hawk said.
+"The Orion syndicate? Why'd you have to go and piss them off? As to trying it myself, I'm paranoid, something to do with being a prisoner of war and of course there's some additional professional training I've amused myself with in between benders." Said Vance as he produced a pair of knives and twirled them around between his fingers. Then quickly thrusting the knife into his side against his jacket in an apparent attempt at self injury. "The jacket's heavily armored against damage, and I've always got at least a knife or two. They do tend to come in handy in a large variety of situations. Not really enough for me to deal with a true professional, but it would really surprise the hell out of someone."
+"Damn man, would ya put those away? Yer thicker n' a mule sometimes, I swear." Hawk replied. "Knives ain't exactly ma favorite things in the 'verse these days, ya know?" shaking his head, Nat remarked, "It's a wonder they let ya handle anti-matter."
+"They let me play with anti-matter and nobody told me? What am I doing talking with you when I have such fun toys to play with?" The knives disappeared "Ya know, if I had some serious enemies I'd probably consider taking some reasonable precautions. Just a thought. So, what are you going to do next? I'd think that coming back from the dead would be a tough act to follow." Vance said.
+"Why d'ya think they had a plan ta bring me back from the dead in the first place?" Hawk asked rhetorically. "No such thing as one-hundred-percent secure." he said. "As fer a second act, that's up ta the boys in black back in the A-Q. If things come t'gether right, me bein' dead'll bring the big fish we're after outta hidin' an then the real fun starts." Hawk explained, ending with a grin.
+"I think your definition of fun, and my definition of fun may be just a little too close to comfort. I think I'm going to take some more time out for additional combat training I've got a strange feeling that things could get... Interesting... in the near future." Vance stated finally. "Cue ominous music."
+"Meh, ya worry to much. I been cheatin' death longer n' ya could imagine." Hawk replied.
+----
+A few days later, something was still bothering Lieutenant Nathan Hawk.
+Despite all the twenty-fourth century medical technology Leon Cromwell could throw at him, he was still unable to sleep but for an hour or two. He had even tested a handful of homeopathic remedies suggested by his friends and colleagues to no avail. Sleep simply alluded Nathan Hawk in the wake of all that had happened to him recently. Even their resident head-shrinker had suggested a number of psychological causes for his insomnia. In classic Hawk fashion though, Nat had dodged the Counselor's attempts to aid him. As much as he had changed since coming aboard Republic, some things would always stay the same.
+Thankfully, he was finally 'home' for all intents and purposes. Not only because he was back in his own private quarters, but because those quarters had become less private. Lying next to him in bed, the first person he had permitted himself to love in as long as he remembered, slept soundly as he watched. He didn't know where their
+relationship would take him, and the possibility of loosing her as he had everyone else in his life hung over him always. Yet some part of him, something stronger than the rage that had driven him for so long, refused to let that risk from making the decisions any longer.
+As he lay in the darkness, he couldn't help but think of his time between worlds. How he remembered such didn't make any sense. He had been dead, his brain has ceased to function; so how could he form the chemicals bonds that where the physical form of memories? He had never been the strongest scientist, and by no means had he ever been much of a philosopher, so the question nagged at him all the more. So many questions, so many doubts, so many fears, all seemed to be choking him from within.
+And yet...
+While he had ebbed between life and death, trying to grasp the concept of existence between worlds, a lone voice reached out to him from the darkness. Not any god, nor any demon; none of the things he might have expected from the myths and legends passed down through time. Just a voice, and while it claimed it could have been anyone, as in in challenge to his sarcastic quip and his own disbelief, the voice had chosen to manifest itself as James Tiberius Kirk. Nat, like almost everyone, had revered the Starfleet hero of century's past as a child, and come to respect him as an officer. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask the man. When he tried though, they were evaded with a simple 'you already know the answers.'
+He hated that. He preferred the 'simple question equals a simple answer' formula. It seemed though that nobody with a knowledge of the universe beyond his own would ever follow it. Not even 'Kirk'. Though he knew it was likely not Kirk, the questions he had always wanted to ask had kept coming to him. Instead, he had wasted the moment. A moment he doubted he would have again until he died again; and remained so. At which point... what did it matter anyway?
+He needed answers in the here and now; ones that he could not get lying in bed.
+With a barely audible moan from the sleeping Leah, Nat slipped out of bed and walked into the main living area of his quarters. Taking a seat at the desk, he pivoted the desk-mounted computer console towards himself, and quietly spoke to it.
+"Computer, call up all available holographic programs about the historical figure, James Kirk."
+As his eyes scrolled across the list, nothing seemed to fit the situation. Training scenarios, historical re-enactments, even an encoded adult program. Nothing that would tell him anything more than a history text. He was ready to give up when the final entry on the list caught his eye. The title sounded like a quote to him, but he couldn't place it: "Turn Death Into a Fighting Chance To Live..."
+Calling the program up on one of the vacant holodecks, Nat couldn't help but wonder what he would find as he left his quarters.
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter34>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 34: Recriminations & Mechinations**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+The evening following Nat Hawk's late night stroll through sickbay, Leon fulfilled his side of the promise and released the helmsman to his quarters under bed-rest. There was a question or two from other members from the senior staff on whether it was too early, but a promise is a promise, and there was no medical reason why the lieutenant needed to stay in sickbay. Of course, from Leon's point of view, it was a bit more personal, as he had spent the entire previous evening awake in his office, following through with an all-night cram session in preparation for the bridge officer's test. The doctor was exhausted. As soon as he secured Nat with a medical monitor, Leon went straight to bed himself.
+The morning of the bridge test started of like any other day. He awoke at 0700 hours, showered, ate, and by 0900, he was strolling into holodeck one where Commander Carter was waiting for him. With barely a "good morning, let's get started," Leon found himself in the command seat of the Republic, on patrol along the Romulan Neutral Zone, just as the borders between outposts 6 and 7 were breached by three Warbirds. Leon's diplomatic efforts to stave off combat lasted only a short time, as he failed to heed their demands for surrender.
+Amazingly, Leon managed to survive the ensuing combat, destroying the first Warbird in a fierce volley of combined phaser and torpedo fire. The return torrent of firepower was almost as devastating, knocking out the Republic's weapon systems and warp drive. However, by skillfully allocating power to the shields that faced his enemy, Leon was able to muster enough energy to utilize the ship's tractor beam to drag the second Warbird into the path of the third while it was targeting Republic with photon torpedoes.
+Although the second Romulan was destroyed by the combination of friendly fire and structural stress brought on by the sudden release of the tractor beam while the ships were locked in a impulse-speed tug-of-war (a little trick John had taught him during his course of starship tactics), the third Warbird had received only moderate damage by the subsequent explosion. As Republic received a barrage of deadly disruptor fire from the third Romulan vessel, it was only by way of ejecting the antimatter pods that Leon was able to keep the ship from turning into a burning field of space debris. Nevertheless, Republic was crippled, and Leon's enemy was about to pull the trigger one last time if it were not for a little medical trickery.
+While there may be up to 20,000 sensory hair cells in the cochlea of a normal human, Romulans, being of Vulcan decent, have over 50,000. In addition, the frequency range of their hearing is between approximately 40 to 60,000 hertz, while humans can only hear sounds within the frequencies of 20 Hz and 20,000 hertz. This lower range may seem inferior when looking strictly at the numbers, but it has the advantage in that species with a higher range (such as Romulans) are often forced to adjust their com system to an elevated gain when communicating with humans to hear the full range of vocalizations.
+Subspace communication systems between known space-faring races (whether friendly or not) are pre-programmed for what is ubiquitously known as a "handshake": A digital piggyback signal transmitted in parallel to the main audio/visual subspace uplink, and which sends parametric information for processing, translating, and displaying the communication properly on the opposite end. This signal must be transmitted unencrypted from *both* ends in order to establish a clear, two-way conversation. In addition, basic starship etiquette dictated that each end transmit their correct "handshake" to ensure a properly calibrated signal for the opposite end. While most ship captains would follow standard hailing protocols, Leon did not feel bound by this etiquette. So, when he opened hailing frequencies to transmit a surrender offer, he purposely set the transmitter to a static-laced output of between 15 and 30 hertz, and at a gain of only 10 decibels. At the same time, Leon also programmed the transmitter's "handshake" to indicate that the only way for the receiving end to properly parse the audio portion of the communiqué was to turn up their own gain. Since the Romulans already knew that the Republic was crippled, they paid little attention to the mundanely obscure piggyback signal.
+As a matter of simple physics, the power in a sound wave is proportional to the square of the pressure. Therefore, an increase from 10 to 150 decibels is roughly equivalent to a 10 million-fold increase in sound pressure. At maximum volume, the Romulan audio speakers are capable of broadcasting at 160 decibels; a purposeful design to ensure that remote areas of the ship can hear any important announcements during an emergency. Such a sound level is capable of permanently damaging the human eardrum, and higher than the normal threshold of pain for Romulans should they be standing anywhere near the speaker system.
+After listening for a few seconds to an extremely distorted audio transmission, both the Warbird's bridge crew and their communications computer were straining to listen to a quiet, muffled surrender message from the Republic. At about that time, Leon changed the transmission from the whisper-like garble to a full-power, ear-piercing 50,000 hertz oscillating signal, causing the entire Romulan bridge to be paralyzed for about 30 seconds.
+It was long enough.
+The last of Leon's assets on the Republic included emergency backup power, thruster control, and three fully-pressurized shuttlebays. Opening the outer doors of the latter asset caused enough explosive decompression to hurl the Republic towards the remaining Warbird. The momentum was slightly above the Republic's center of gravity, causing it to slip underneath as is passed the enemy vessel by a clearance of no more than 500 meters. Leon set the five dorsally-located emergency fusion generators to overload, and ordered them to be jettisoned as they flew past. By programming the computer to polarize the containment fields on the generators' casings, they became magnetized, and like gravitic mines, latched themselves to the unshielded aft section of the Romulan vessel as they reached critical mass.
+Leon had almost expected cheering when the five well-placed thermonuclear explosions eliminated the remaining attacker, but the holographic bridge crew remained at their stations in silence. Confused, the doctor looked around the bridge: The simulation had not ended. In fact, as he took note of the smashed bridge stations and virtual pockets of fire and smoke throughout the room, the gravity of their situation sank in: They were dead in space.
+Apparently, space combat was only an introduction to the bridge officers' exam . . . survival would be the real test.
+To save on precious life support power, Leon took the logical step of evacuating the remaining bridge crew to auxiliary control on deck 8. There, he consulted his holographic senior officers, who just happened to mimic his real-life colleagues. The dimly lit ready room of the battle bridge was cramped, and each officer bore the sign of stress and fatigue. Their uniforms were torn and singed, and a few even bore some injuries signified by dried patches of blood in their skin.
+As they sat around the small compartment, Leon took note of who all he had left on his staff: Victor Virtus was the most senior, as the computer was kind enough (or perhaps, cruel enough) to reproduce a close friend as the ship's chief engineer. Next was a forlorn Nat Hawk, his condition a bit counter to the real Nat's personality, but perhaps understandable in the current situation as there was no helm control left to the ship. Chief Rainier was also present with his damage control expertise, as was Shannon Harris in charge of medical. Absent was the Operations Officer (a holographic Lieutenant Sullivan died on the main bridge after the first attack) and the Tactical Officer (Doug Forrest had briefly made an appearance, but was incapacitated during the second volley of weapons fire). Also absent was the Science Officer, as the computer failed to produce one for the test (Leon assumed it was intentional to force him to use his own science knowledge). Finally, for obvious reasons, Carter and Roth were not part of the simulation's programming.
+"Everything below deck ten in the stardrive section is completely inaccessible due to damage," explained Virtus, answering Leon's question about the ship's current status. "We've also sealed off the forward and mid sections of decks seven through eleven of the saucer. Aft sections are habitable, but decks one through six, as well as decks twelve on down, are nothing but a jumble of twisted bulkheads open to space. Looks like you got us off the bridge just before the main dorsal plasma conduit gave way."
+"Survivors?" Leon asked soberly.
+"Five hundred and twelve," the holographic Vic answered straightforwardly, his emotionless business-like manner effectively reproducing the real-life Virtus. "Three hundred and sixty two injured, two hundred and forty seven critically."
+"Status of the wounded?" Leon turned to Shannon. His concern for the injured was an automatic response congruent to his personality, and he had almost wished the real Shannon had somehow inserted herself into the program. However, as the answer came forth, it was clear that it was a facsimile, and that John had ensured that one of Leon's closest medical colleague could not bias the outcome of the test.
+"Well, sickbay is obviously gone, and the stardrive section infirmary is inaccessible. We've managed to get most of them to holodeck six, but the EMH is offline, and we're working with mainly first aid kits. The most critical patients are being treated as best we can, and we've set up holodeck five as a triage center."
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 10 minutes"//
+The ominous computer warning accentuated the seriousness of the situation. "Do we have an evacuation option?" Leon asked the group.
+"Not really," Chief Rainier spoke up. "We're cutoff from most of the lifeboats, and there would be no way to evacuate the wounded."
+"Shuttlecraft?"
+"Don'tcha r'member?" Nat spoke next. "Ya blew most'vem outta the landing bays!"
+"Saucer Sep?"
+"Not an option," Virtus replied. "Most of the habitable areas are in the saucer section, and what battery power we have left is in the stardrive. We'd be disconnecting our only power source keeping us alive."
+"Well that does it," Leon concluded with determination. "We have to find another source of power to maintain life support." The doctor ran through a mental list of all the historical situations that were similar to this one. "What about a solar sail?" he finally asked, remembering the USS Yorktown during the Whalesong crisis from 90 years ago. "Do we have enough materials to build one of those?"
+"Yes," Victor finally said after some thought. "But it would take at least a day to build."
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 9 minutes"//
+"Have you pulled the plug on absolutely everything?" Leon asked Virtus frantically.
+"Yes," Vic replied. "We're running on minimal life support as it is. I've even shut the lights off in all the habitable areas except for holodecks five and six for the sickbay staff. They're working with wristlights and console lanterns. There's nothing more we can shutoff to save power."
+As the minutes ticked down, Leon went from frantic to panicked, checking off every possible way to conserve energy for life support. One idea had everyone capable of wearing a survival suit to do so in order to extend battery life. Although that would have bought them two hours, it unfortunately would have taken them 20 minutes to get everyone in suits, which is more time than they had left.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 5 minutes"//
+Leon's final idea was to take every handheld device, from phasers to tricorders, and attempt to use the power packs to recharge the ship's batteries. By the time Vic finished explaining how long that would take compared to how little effect it would have on their energy reserves, there was less than a minute left.
+"Doesn't anybody have a damned clue on what to do?" Leon finally shouted at an unreceptive audience. While he knew the program could not give advice, and that the holographic representations of his colleagues were programmed only to follow orders and respond to practical questions, he could not help a moment of vanity as it appeared his test was ending in failure.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 30 seconds"//
+Wide-eyed with trepidation, Leon looked into the blank faces of his colleagues for any sign of hope or optimism. He found none.
+"Computer, halt simulation," came a new voice. The pulsating red lights of the wall-mounted alert tracers paused, as did the small, inconsequential body movements of the senior staff. From outside the holographic walls, John Carter stepped into the small compartment to face his friend.
+"Sorry, Leon."
+"You're kidding, right?" Leon looked up to John with incredulity.
+"I told you it was going to be tough," he replied sympathetically. "That it was going to test every fiber of your psychological profile."
+"This is crazy!" the doctor exclaimed. "Are you telling me that the past nine months of holo-courses and end-of-chapter exams were for THIS?"
+John simply rolled his eyes and began walking towards the door. "Computer, end program," he beckoned, and the cramped battle bridge ready room disappeared to reveal the spacious, black-walled hologrid.
+"What about warp physics?" Leon exclaimed while getting up from his chair. "What about EPS theory? What about Federation history?"
+"What about them?" John replied, walking into the corridor beyond with Leon in tow.
+"How do they apply in there?" the doctor pointed back to the closing holodeck door behind them.
+"Well, you obviously used some of them to great effect," he commented, continuing down the corridor without looking back.
+"Some of them," Leon admitted, still angry and annoyed. "But what good did it do me? I still failed!"
+"Not everyone is cut out to be a bridge officer, Leon."
+The duo walked past several officers who moved to the side to make room for them in the hallway. It was minor spectacle. Enough to embarrass John, but not the doctor, who obviously was too irate to care. The passing crewmembers said nothing as they went by.
+"That was ridiculous!" the CMO responded. "There was no way to win in there!"
+At that, John Carter stopped dead in his tracks. He turned slowly to look at his friend with such annoyance that it gave Leon pause. "Did you keep trying that holographic simulation program I gave you access to?" he retorted.
+"The Kobyashi Maru?" replied Leon. "That was ridiculous too! I kept getting blown up!"
+John hung his head in despair. "You still don't get it, do you?"
+"Get what?" Leon exclaimed. "What was there to 'get'?"
+"Do you think commanding a starship is all about combat?" John argued, his voice rising.
+"Well? What was I supposed to think? That program is nothing *but* combat."
+John shook his head and leaned up against the wall with one arm, clenching and unclenching his fist in frustration.
+"Leon, you're a scientist as well a doctor. Did you do any research into the Kobyashi Maru scenario? Do you know what the test was for?"
+It suddenly occurred to the CMO that he was taking John's gift of the antiquated holodeck program for granted. Apparently, his friend meant for him to study it in detail, and not run it with the superficial attitude of a novelty present. In fact, Leon was rather surprised that John was so heavily biased towards the tactical scenario, suggesting there was a larger message that he failed to absorb. It caused him to stumble through the inquiry.
+"Well . . . uh . . . I guessed it was for tactical starship training . . ."
+John stared incredulously at the doctor before responding. "No. It's not. The Kobyashi Maru is a test of character. And since you never finished it, I can only guess that you have NONE."
+The reply hit Leon squarely in the gut. It was an insult, and it came from one of his best friends. In addition, it wasn't a fun-loving insult over drinks. It was a very sober and very direct insult meant to harshly jog Leon's personal assumptions. It succeeded.
+"What the hell do you want from me?" Leon whispered, still feeling the pain of John's stinging remark.
+"I want you to start seeing the universe for the way it really is," John directed. "It's not black and white, nor good and bad. There's no 'winning' anything when lives hang in the balance."
+"What's that supposed to mean?"
+"You have twenty-four hours to figure it out."
+With that, John turned around and proceeded to walk away from his friend.
+"Are you saying that you're giving me another chance?" Leon called after him.
+Without turning around, John continued down the hallway and offered his final say in the matter. "Twenty-four hours, doc. If you're not ready to finish the test by zero nine-hundred tomorrow, then you'll no longer be a bridge officer candidate . . ."
+Leon stood speechless, watching as John disappeared beyond the gradual, lateral curvature of the passageway. His emotion had swung from nervous, to jubilant, to panicked, to frustrated, to hurt, all before finally settling on dazed. The doctor was a mind-melding Vulcan's nightmare by the time John had departed, and as a queasy sensation filled his stomach, a quiet chuckle caught his attention.
+The next recessed cove along the corridor wall was that of holodeck two, and the chuckle was coming from Nat Hawk. The lieutenant was in his night robe, and stepped out from within the closed doorway vestibule to lean his shoulder against the wall by the control panel. He was apparently quite amused about John and Leon squabbling through the corridor like a married couple.
+"Boy!" Leon exclaimed, his telltale furrow forming yet again on his forehead. "You just can't follow an order, can you?"
+"Nope, not unless I like 'em," Nat shook his head, still smiling. "But c'mon, what'd ya expect? I been cooped-up like a monkey n'the zoo fer a week. I needed ta stretch ma legs."
+Even though Nat had violated Leon's medical curfew, from a doctor's perspective, he had to admit that the Republic's helmsman was looking much better, even though it had only been a day since he left sickbay. There was color back in his cheeks, and his attitude seemed less withdrawn and more relaxed; as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
+"I don't recall ever writing a prescription for an early morning romp with Orion slave women," Leon commented.
+Nat seemed to consider something for a moment, then finally shrugged and shook his head. "Naw," he replied, "believe it 'er not, I've always been a one-gal-at-a-time kinda guy. Whether she's flesh 'er photons."
+"Well you must have been doing something healthy to bring that smug grin back to your face," he prodded him. "I can only assume it was some sort of mix of physical exertion and pleasure. Both of which you're NOT supposed to be doing, I might add."
+"Strike two, Doc," Nat admitted proudly. "Matter a fact, I was doin' a lil bit a . . . I guess ya could call it research."
+"You?" Leon's expression turned to surprise. "Researching?" He folded his arms to emphasize that we was willing to listen to Nat's explanation. "This ought to be good. Well, what was it?"
+"Well after that lil lovers quarrel b'tween John-boy n'you, I think ya might wanna try it out fer yerself." Hawk suggested. "Somethin' tells me it'd do ya a might a good on yer test."
+"You think that whatever 'research' program you may be running will solve *my* career problems?"
+"Never know til ya try," Hawk teased, "Somethin' tells me this program might just help ya 'turn death inta a fightin' chance ta live' . . . so ta speak."
+"What's that supposed to mean?" the doctor's curmudgeon-like tone resurfacing.
+"Just . . . try it. Trust me." Nat said.
+"Why would I be interested in running a program that *you* designed? Last time I joined you in any other pursuit other than drinking, I found myself dangling from a hopper on a rope over a lava pit."
+Nat couldn't help but smile as he stepped past Leon, making his way down the corridor as Carter had done a few minutes before. "If it helps ease yer mind, I didn't design the program; John-boy did. Just take it from somebody who passed that bridge exam; run the program."
+With a smile that never ceased, Nat shuffled on down the corridor out of sight, leaving the confused Leon standing alone outside of holodeck two. With little choice left, Leon raised an eyebrow before entering the chamber.
+----
+**Location: Outer ring corridor, deck 10, USS Republic**
+John Carter walked briskly, trying to shake the feeling that he'd just punched a friend in the gut. Behind him, moving to a bouncing trot to keep up, Shannon Harris raised her voice. "John! Don't you DARE walk away from me."
+Carter quickly spun on a heel, a little surprised at the yell that almost came out of his mouth. He took a deep breath to try and collect himself, then looked at Shannon again. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I'm just so damned..."
+"Frustrated?" Shannon interjected.
+"Yeah, that," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm really surprised at Leon. I mean, I gave him EVERY break I could and he's been... I don't know... ignoring this."
+Shannon regarded Republic's XO for a long moment. Then she shifted her weight to the other hip. "Have you considered that he doesn't really WANT to take that test?"
+John gave the red headed pediatrician a dismissive wave. "Come on," he said simply, "No one's twisting his arm. Besides, you know as well as I do that Leon is exactly the kind of man that `Fleet needs. Especially now."
+Shannon shook her head. "I'm not arguing that, John..."
+"Then what ARE you arguing?" he shot back.
+Shannon folded her arms in front of her and gave Carter a stern look. "Let me finish, COMMANDER." She let just a hint of venom leak into the last word. "I completely agree that Fleet needs Leon. I'm just not sure that Leon needs `Fleet."
+Carter shook his head again. "What are you talking about," he waved his hands for emphasis. "He ABSOLUTELY belongs here."
+"I agree, John," Harris said smoothly. "He belongs on this ship, with this crew, but needing us and needing `Fleet is not the same thing. Besides," she continued with a wry smile on her face, "you're not the easiest man in the world to say `no' to."
+John tilted his head sideways for a long moment. "You really think I pushed him too hard to take the test?"
+"Honestly? No, I don't," she offered, "Just like the rest of us, Leon needs a good kick in the backside sometimes, but there's something to be said for the fact that he's particularly hesitant to take THAT PARTICULAR test. Maybe it has something to do with the combat. I don't know, but the whole idea sends his system into a highly agitated state."
+John shook his head again. "I told him, the test isn't about combat. Truth be told it's not even REALLY about the `No-win scenario'. It's about the fact that one day, ship commander or not, he might have to order someone to die in order to save the ship, and he needs to be okay with that."
+"You think he can't? He's a doctor John. He deals with life and death nearly every day."
+John stepped closer and put his hands on Shannon's shoulders. "I know, but it's not the same thing. When Leon has to LET someone die, it's because there is literally no alternative. There's a world of difference between being force to let someone die and asking them to."
+Shannon stepped closer, letting John fold her into a hug. "I never really thought of it that way," she said quietly.
+"I know," John said in a whisper. "What matters is if Leon can think of it that way or not."
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter35>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 35: Longings for the T'Kumbra**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Unknown**
+The smell of burned wiring permeated the shuttle as sparks jettisoned out of the panels of the ship. Jaren Tolkath was navigating the ship while Reittan assisted feverishly rerouting power to the engines and the shields.
+Jaren's son began to perspire at the anticipation of another hit. He had to maintain their shields.
+Jaren looked over at his son's control panels and noticed they had just lost the starboard shields. Reittan's fingers rabidly flew across the instruments racing for control of the power grid within the vessel. Father Tolkath said nothing but kept his stoic Vulcan demeanor.
+Jaren returned to his controls maneuvering through some of the most difficult piloting he had ever done.
+As to where the two battle ships had come from was a mystery, but that was moot at this point. They needed to get out and to the nearest star base before the shuttle was destroyed.
+Out of the corner of his eyes, Reittan caught his mother looking serene and calm; she reeked of fear as did his grandmother and the ten other dignitaries aboard.
+His attention snapped back to what he was doing as the panels flickered and the ship jerked; another shot had hit the aft shields. More sparks showered Reittan, and suddenly all power within the ship died.
+Darkness enveloped them for a fraction of a second, until emergency power brought life support back online. As the lights reappeared, Reittan saw his Grandmother laying on the floor unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her face.
+Rage engulfed Reittan, anger and a strong sense of primal self preservation began to build within him like a warp core breach. The emotion erupted; all fell into darkness.
+----
+Reittan suddenly woke up, sitting straight up with a jerk. His robe was drenched in perspiration. He looked around his quarters and grounded himself in the present moment; not in the past, anything but the past. He hadn't been sleeping well recently being effected by the recent commotion and emotional upheaval aboard the ship. He had arranged his schedule to get some sleep, but only found nightmares.
+He closed his eyes and began focusing on the feelings of his shipmates. He targeted some very strong feelings of anger, they were emanating from Doctor Cromwell.
+Leon had been a little edgy since the Hawk incident. Since a large amount of conversation surrounded Lt. Hawk, the Counselor began calling the phenomenon "Hawk talk." Leon would bristle and get angry when Hawk talk occurred around him, but Tolkath could sense hurt too; a sense of betrayal. Upon learning the Counselor had known about the condition of Nat, his interactions with the Lieutenant Commander had cooled. But, the doctor had somewhat forgiven the Counselor, when he learned he had been ordered to stay silent. Reittan wasn't sure if the forgiveness had been genuine, or if Leon had larger fish to fry.
+Since Leon had the most intense feelings aboard the ship, besides the two crew members who were enjoying each other in the extracurricular activities of a relationship, Tolkath would have to credit this last dream to him. The Counselor's conscience wasn't so easily persuaded by this explanation. After all, it was Reittan's fault he hadn't meditated and closed his mind off to what was happening around him; leaving his dreams completely unguarded.
+Suddenly, the intercom came to life overhead.
+//"Counselor, please report to your office!"//
+The sound of panic in the secretary's voice alerted Reittan that this was not at test . . .
+\\
+\\
+\\
+**Location: Deck nine just outside the Counselor's quarters, USS Republic**
+After the assault on the Counselor during the whole Hawk debacle, Tolkath had engineering install what could only be described as a "silent alarm" in the Psychology department. It was activated by strategically-placed hidden triggers that could be reached easily from anywhere around the department offices. Upon activation, the computer would instantly and clandestinely scan the room it was activated in, check the bio-rhythms of all the occupants, and verify that the alarm had been activated by an authorized individual. Unless the computer determined that Reittan himself was in trouble, the system was programmed to contact him instead of security. The reason for this system was that if one of the staff psychologists were in distress while in a counseling session with a patient, it would give Reittan himself a chance to intervene and diffuse the situation before security arrived. While ship security was good at physically restraining an emotionally-distressed patient, it could sometimes do more harm than good, especially if Reittan had a better, more psychologically-sound alternative.
+It was this alarm system that had alerted the Counselor and summoned him to the psychology department one deck above his personal quarters. Although the secretary's voice was calm enough so as to not alarm anyone who might have been with the Lieutenant Commander, the computer had alerted the Counselor that things had gone awry in the Psychology department. Reittan hurried through the deserted corridor to the turbolifts. Upon arrival, and after waiting for what seemed like an eternity to the Counselor, the doors hissed open, and Tolkath quickly stepped in.
+"Deck eight," Reittan barked. Luckily, the Counselor was the only occupant in the turbo-lift. "Computer, report on program RT-3 beta."
+//"Voice authorization confirmed"// the computer replied. //"Lieutenant Reisan, is currently in the main office with a male approximately 167 centimeters tall and 90 kilograms. Both occupant's vital signs and body temperatures are heightened."//
+"Position of the occupants?"
+//"The male is one meter directly inside the door and Lieutenant Reisan is behind her desk."//
+The turbo-lift came to a stop and the doors hissed open. The Lieutenant Commander nearly tripped over himself trying to quickly, yet casually so as to not to draw attention to himself, get to the department. The Counselor thought to himself, "It's times like these I miss the T'Kumbra; much less drama."
+The seemingly unending deserted corridor finally gave way to the main psychology department. Then Tolkath composed himself, and walked nonchalantly towards the doors as though he were just passing through, as difficult as it was not to just burst into the room. The counselor could hear the heated discussion emanating from the room. He paused just outside of the sensors surrounding the doors, so he could eavesdrop and not go inside being unprepared.
+"YOU WILL NOT TREAT ME THAT WAY!" Lieutenant Reisan shouted at the unknown guest.
+Lieutenant Reisan was a short, blue eyed, brunette. Ordinarily she was mild manner, and Reittan had yet to hear her raise her voice. Many times he wondered if she were part Vulcan with her cool demeanor, but her records showed her to be human. Because of her elevated voice, the Counselor waited no longer and entered the room.
+Something was terribly wrong.
+Upon entering the dimly lit room, the first thing Reittan noticed was how frazzled the Lieutenant looked. It appeared that someone had tried to remove her uniform by force. It was evident that Reisan had used the silent alarm because she rightly wanted someone to witness the attack for credibility in any testimony, which would unavoidably happen through an inquiry and investigation.
+The psychology department had been painted in neutral colors to help the ambiance necessary for the therapeutic process. The bulkhead in which Tolkath's fellow counselor was pinned against was painted a pale blue color. However, in this predicament, the pale blue looked terribly foreboding.
+As Lieutenant Reisan's eyes focused on Tolkath, they filled sudden calm; a sense of safety painted her expression. The perpetrator suddenly grabbed the Lieutenant's uniform, as if to finish ripping it off when suddenly, assailant noticed the change in her expression and swung around to find the Counselor standing behind him. Fury filled the Counselor as he recognized the face of the lieutenant's attacker: Talloc Morganth.
+"Why, if it isn't Rei-Rei the Crazy Guy..."
+The taunting stung Reittan, but not as quite much now as it had during his childhood. However, it opened old wounds the counselor thought had healed. Reittan tapped his combadge and said calmly.
+"Security to the Psychology department."
+//"On our way, counselor..."//
+"Oh, come on Rei-Rei you aren't going to . . ." Morganth taunted the counselor in front of his colleague.
+The silence that met Talloc was filled with anger, and enhanced by fear of the consequences that waited for him. The rage boiled over and he threw a right hook at the Counselor. Reittan instinctively grabbed the fist accelerating towards his face, and the strength of his Vulcan heritage caught Talloc completely off-guard.
+"Well, well, well, Reitty-Rei, grew up."
+Lieutenant Reisan watched Talloc futilely grappling for control . Suddenly, the struggle stopped and the conversation turned telepathic. The intensity and the hatred that Morganth looked at the Counselor made Reisan glad she wasn't a telepath.
+It was then that the doors opened announcing the arrival of Security.
+"Gentlemen, place this man in the brig!"
+The red that had filled Talloc's face from his anger suddenly drained until he was a slight green. His eyes melted into pleading orbs towards the counselor. Reittan turned and looked once more towards Morganth. The Counselor then turned the ex-assailant over to the security guards.
+"Save your pleas for your hearing, then you can say them out loud," the Lieutenant Commander mocked Talloc.
+With that, the Counselor turned his attention to the Lieutenant who was in shock. She rested her body weight and head against the bulk head and started to slide down into a fetal position. Reittan rushed over and caught her while she was halfway to the floor.
+"I'll take it from here," Reittan said as calmly as possible. "Just get him to the brig."
+The security officers nodded and began leading their prisoner out of the room to his cell.
+Reisan began shaking uncontrollably. "He was in my head," was all she could say as she rocked back and forth. The words made Reittan sick.
+"We are going to take you to sickbay," Reittan said as he tried to comfort her. "Can you walk?"
+She stared off into space still shaking, but her legs supported her as he placed her weight on them. Reittan walked all the way to sickbay with her, many times carrying her weight whenever her legs became shaky due to shock.
+----
+**Location: Captains ready room, USS Republic**
+Lieutenant Commander Tolkath looked at his Captain with anticipation in his eyes. Though he could have clearly read her thoughts on the matter, he did as he always had and respected her privacy, though her emotions emanated much caution.
+"This is highly unusual Counselor. Why is it that you want to look into the matter?" Kimberly Roth was sitting in her chair behind her desk; opposite the standing Counselor. Smoke was in her lap and had been resting lazily until the Lieutenant Commander had entered the room. He blinked and looked intently at the new visitor. Roth unconsciously stroked her pet as the Republic's Counselor continued.
+"Captain," he addressed his superior, "he is a good family friend. I also may be one of the few who could reach him, should his condition continue to deteriorate." The Counselor had been confused, to say the least, with his encounter with Talloc Morganth. Although they had been rivals as children, Talloc and Reittan had made amends years earlier; he now considered him nearly a brother. It made no sense to Tolkath, something was terribly wrong.
+"Explain." Roth pressed.
+"There was a man on Earth named Sigmund Freud who could explain this scenario best. Freud postulated that there were three main spheres of the psyche: the Id, the Ego, and the Super Ego. The Id is all about impulse and selfish desires, the Super Ego is all about rules and morals; constraint. The Ego is the bartering system between the Id and the Super Ego."
+"Yes, I am aware of Mister Freud."
+"To put it best, Morganth's Super Ego has become incapacitated, leaving him now acting impulsively. The Ego's intact, but without the other force to balance it out . . ."
+". . . he's running off pure instinct." The Captain finished his thought. "I see. But, why would you be one of the few who could face him?"
+"Because I have the training. People with my . . . sensitivity to telepathic energy are trained to block it out or deal with it, or they go insane." With the last statement Reittan's eyes reflected intense pain as he broke eye contact with the Captain; his gaze fell to the floor haunted by ghosts of his past.
+Kimberly had once heard of those who were overly sensitive to psioinic energy. Many were doomed to self-exile, and others would be driven insane by the maelstrom of energy.
+"Counselor, I am concerned with one thing. I heard about the exchange between you and Mister Morganth, the verbal exchange seemed quite heated."
+His most recent interactions with his old friend had not gone the way that Reittan had wished they had. "It is part of the reason I wanted to do this." Tolkath said repentantly. "I am ashamed of how I behaved and I need to find the truth."
+Kimberly Roth looked over the blue uniformed counselor. It didn't take an empath to know that his remorse was sincere. Smoke cocked his head and bleaked. "Yes, I agree with you Smoke. Counselor, I have talked it over with Lieutenant Beauvais. She is currently occupied with other concerns, but will look over your report, as will I. Is there anything you feel you may need?"
+What excitement had filled the eyes of the Counselor quickly drained and he looked as if he were being asked to sacrifice his friend on a prehistoric altar. "Yes, one other. I will need someone on the medical team to assist me. I am going to do a complete psycho-socio-bio report. But, my concerns are about the individual assisting me. Should he or she become angry while I am there due to telepathic side-effects of me working with Talloc, well . . . we know what Betaziods are capable of thanks to the Dominion War."
+"Do you think Mister Morganth is capable of being hostile or violent?"
+"I am not sure. This is the first time I have encountered a condition where the Super-Ego became this incapacitated, but if my hypothesis is correct, yes, he is completely impulsive..." Then Tolkath's voice trailed off as if he was talking to himself, "and there are no force fields we know of that psionic energy can't penetrate."
+Roth paused for a moment thinking of her crew's safety. The answer became evident. "Counselor, I suggest you use Doctor Harris on your team. I will arrange for you to escort Mister Morganth to Sickbay."
+Tolkath looked up at the Captain one eyebrow raised. "I haven't met Doctor Harris as of yet." Reittan had silently labeled her, 'the ghost doctor', as he was the one officer he hadn't been able to due an annual psych eval on.
+"You are dismissed."
+"Thank you, sir." The Counselor turned and began his journey through the bridge to the turbolift. As he approached the doors they gave way with a hiss, and the sounds from the bridge entered the previously quiet room.
+----
+**Location: Main corridor, deck 10, USS Republic**
+Reittan Tolkath was lost shaken from his thoughts as the turbo-lift he was in came to a halt, signaling the arrival of another passenger Republic's Counselor hardly noticed the red-headed Pediatrician enter the turbo lift. The doors closed behind her as she announced "Biology Lab."
+The voice startled the Tolkath as he sensed no emotion from the Doctor with him in the turbo-lift. He looked up to find the source of the voice only to be greeted by Doctor Harris.
+"Hello, Counselor," she began.
+Reittan paused, staring at the hologram standing before him, "Uh, hello Doctor Harris," he said absently. Tolkath's mind was racing trying to figure out why she showed no life force to him.
+"Is something bothering you, Counselor?" Shannon Harris offered. "I was an acting Counselor for a little while. I know how tough the job can be."
+Tolkath looked at her in astonishment. He looked at the obviously human form before him. Doctor Shannon Harris looked all too real, but as the empathic officer regarded her, for Tolkath, it was like looking at a well-animated puppet. His eyes told him she was there. He could even feel a bit of air being displaced by her presence, perhaps even some heat, but the parts of his brain that read emotion and thought in other beings, which would be impossible to ignore at this distance, told him that the space around him was empty.
+Tolkath took another long look at Doctor Harris, fixing his gaze on her eyes. "Forgive me, Doctor..." he said with an air of skepticism, "but, what exactly are you?"
+Shannon looked on, dumb-founded. "Excuse me?"
+"Again, I'm sorry to be so blunt, but, to my empathic senses..." Tolkath paused, taking a moment to try and focus on the other mind in the car that SHOULD have been there, but wasn't. "You're... not here."
+Shannon dropped her head with a soft chuckle. "Heh... I must be getting sloppy."
+"Come again?" The Counselor asked.
+"I'm an inter-active, autonomous hologram, Counselor."
+At one moment, Doctor Harris' answer seemed absurd, but at the same time, it answered more than a few questions. Like all Starfleet personnel, Reittan had spent more than a few hours in a holodeck. Sometimes it was for training or for casework. Other times it was purely personal. In all those times, he'd never been off-put by interaction with a hologram, the way he was now, but upon coming to that realization, it occurred to him that, while on the holodeck, he knew not to EXPECT any telepathic or emotional resonance. Logically then, it's absence would likely have gone unnoticed. Here however the expectation of at least getting a passive sense of Shannon Harris made the absence of that sensation all the more obvious. "Fascinating". He offered.
+"You are a holographic projection?" Reittan asked awkwardly, and then continued, "Why haven't we met until now?"
+"Until recently, I kept the nature of my existence a secret. But the captain has now given me permission to let the rest of the crew know... if they ask."
+"Oh, I see," the Counselor responded; still taken off guard. "It was kept secret... because you were worried that others may be discriminative towards you?"
+"Yes, that was part of it." Shannon replied.
+"How have people responded as they..." The Counselor paused mid- thought, and jumped back to the reason they were headed to the Brig. "Would you mind if we carried this conversation later? I would be interested in learning more about your situation."
+Shannon was slightly shocked by how the Lieutenant Commander was responding to the news, but attributed it to his line of duty. "I wouldn't mind, she answered.
+The Doctor and the Counselor had some things in common. The both knew more than people were willing to admit, or that they would try to hide. Yet, they respected others privacy; they both stayed as much as they could out of people's personal lives.
+Shannon looked at the level read-out, near the lift car's door. "You're headed to the brig?" Shannon asked.
+"Yes," Tolkath answered. "An unusual case, actually."
+"Does this ship have any other kind?"
+With a chuckle, the Counselor continued. "I suppose not." For a moment, the empath paused. "Actually, you might be of some use. Assuming I can take you away from whatever you're up to at the moment?"
+Shannon tilted her head and raised her left eyebrow. "You've got my attention Tolkath." She answered. "My bio-cultures can wait. What's your case?"
+"A friend of mine, actually. A man I've known for years. Morganth is his name. He's a civilian contractor, at least according to his computer file, but I must confess I had no idea he was on board, and less of a clue why he assaulted one of my colleagues."
+"Lieutenant Xera Reisan." Shannon confirmed. "Teague checked her out. She's resting comfortably... Unless there's been some sort of change?"
+"How did you...?"
+Shannon tapped her temple with a smile. "One advantage of being a hologram. I'm literally PART of the computer. I can access anything it knows, with a little effort."
+"Well then, I am glad you are here, and that you are immune to our psionic capabilities. We may need that," the Counselor said.
+"Do you have any idea what is happening to your friend?" Shannon asked.
+"Regrettably, no. That is why I need you to do a complete medical work-up on him."
+Shannon nodded. She saw the pain in the Counselor's eyes.
+The turbo lift halted and the door opened to the corridor leading to the brig. The two walked in silence and the doors opened with a soft hiss, opening the way to the cells. As soon as the duty officers saw Tolkath and Doctor Harris enter the room, the gold-clad security men opened the heavy servo-locked doors that lead to the brig's interior.
+Once inside, effectively isolated from the rest of the ship, the two stopped, taking stock of their surroundings.
+From inside the brig's only occupied cell, Morganth noticed Reittan and telepathically shouted, 'YOU DID THIS TO ME!'
+Reittan suddenly felt the barrage of psionic energy crashing down on his body. His body shook and started to collapse for a brief moment under the weight of the attack. Shannon noticed the Counselor weaken and steadied him by putting her arm around him. It took a moment for Tolkath to recover and put his training in to play. Though he could feel the pressure of the attack, the pain had subsided.
+"Thank you," he said to Shannon as his strength returned and he stood upright.
+"No worries," Shannon answered in her familiar Australian accent.
+Morganth looked at Reittan with pure hate emanating from him. "If you don't release me, I will hurt your friend."
+Reittan half-smiled and suddenly the weight no longer was there. The Lieutenant Commander had learned his lesson from entering the room unprepared. He leaned on Harris a moment longer, mustered his concentration, and focused his defenses into place.
+Morganth stared at Shannon ferociously.
+"You can't hurt her. She's immune to psionic energy."
+Morganth shouted in frustration. 'Fine,' he answered silently. 'If I can't hurt her, I'll find someone else,' he threatened telepathically. "This is an awfully crowded ship." He added the last rejoinder aloud... apparently for the female officer's benefit.
+In the Brig's foyer, one of the duty officers doubled over and collapsed in pain. His partner acted quickly to sound the security alert.
+"I don't even need to see anyone anymore. Face it Rei-Rei. I'm better than you."
+Reacting to the security alert, Shannon Harris shifted her concentration to the web of information constantly flowing to and from the ship's computer. She slipped in between bio-neural impulses and accessed the combadge network.
+"Petty Officer Rolands. Alpha Centauran." She said matter of factly. "He's having some sort of aneurism, I think!"
+Reittan warned Morganth calmly, "Stop... or I will stop you."
+The prisoner laughed outloud and exclaimed audibly. "How are you going to do that, Rei-Rei the crazy guy?"
+Reittan produced a hypospray. Hyposprays had been used before to incapacitate, but where the Counselor had obtained it, Shannon didn't know. She assumed it was a psychiatric drug authorized for the psychology department.
+As Tolkath walked slowly towards the force field, he began to feel the weight of the onslaught again. "Good," he said to his attacker, "focus on me... I can handle it."
+When Reittan began to take on the attack, Rolands regained his composure. Reittan used his medical override code to lower the force field, then to raise it after he had entered the cell.
+Shannon looked on, puzzled by the Counselor's actions. She could only assume that the Counselor's hypo-spray contained a powerful sedative. Something to end Morganth's psionic rampage.
+As he entered, Reittan's one time friend intensified the attack. With hypo-spray in hand, the Counselor inched towards his current attacker. Morganth lunged at the Counselor, but Tolkath was quicker. Mid-lunge the Counselor pressed the hypospray to Morganth's neck and the hiss of it sounded in the room.
+Shannon was puzzled when the assailant did not lose consciousness. The prisoner suddenly went pale and looked bewildered.
+"What have you done to me?" he asked in horror as he sank to the floor.
+Reittan looked down at the empty container in his hand and all he could do was apologize. Turning back, he again used his code to lower the security field, exit the cell, and look back at his one-time-friend as the bluish field snapped back into place.
+Doctor Harris looked at the Counselor. She had seen the look before on doctors who had just informed their patient's family that their loved one was going to die. She didn't understand what was happening. The once angry, violent prisoner was beginning to weep.
+For Morganth, the once buzzing world surrounding him had gone deafeningly silent. He felt empty loneliness in a way that had only been nightmares during his youth.
+"We can take him to sickbay now," Reittan stated hollowly, "He won't be a problem to anyone else for the moment."
+"We're not taking him anywhere NEAR any other patients until you tell me what was in that hypo-spray."
+Reittan took a deep breath and answered the Pediatrician. "It's a compound that inhibits the production of Psilosynine, the main neurotransmitter in psionic energy." He continued, "This specific one will continue to work indefinitely until the 'antidote' is applied. It comes as a heavy price though. We only have a short time before the effects of the drug, the silence, can have a profound psychological effect."
+"Isn't there something else that could have been used? Perhaps you could have made him unconscious?" Shannon inquired.
+"No, I have thought this through. I need him to answer questions. Hopefully the bio-scans will show something."
+"Won't the inhibitor affect the brain scan?"
+Reittan involuntarily twitched at the word "inhibitor", explaining how exactly the bio-scans would show nothing out of the ordinary.
+Shannon noted the unusual authority in his voice that a seasoned expert would display. It was as strange to her, as it was the rest of the crew, to see someone who looked Vulcan expressing emotion. Especially pride.
+Reittan was remorseful as the pair made their way to sickbay. At one point he tried to put his arm around the prisoner's shoulders consolingly, only to have the prisoner jerk away. Tolkath understood the prisoner's anger and resentment, but it was for his, Morganth's, and the crew's safety that the intervention had been taken.
+----
+**Location: Sickbay, deck 12, USS Republic**
+Upon reaching sickbay, Reittan walked to the side as Shannon took the prisoner to the medical bed. She could see pure fear in his eyes; so child-like.
+Now in Sickbay, Shannon felt back in her element. She looked to the duty station and found the somewhat confused face of Saal Yezbeck.
+"Hey Shannon. Counselor," he welcomed the new arrivals. "Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with the security alert a minute ago?"
+"Can't get anything past you Saal." Shannon smiled. "I'll need a hand with a full neural scan." She turned to face Tolkath. "If you would, Counselor?"
+"This man is... or rather, WAS a dangerous psionic. I've administered an inhibitor to block his powers, so there is no danger, but I need to know what caused his illness."
+"Illness?" Saal asked as he readied the diagnostic probes that would adhere to Morganth's temples. "How do you mean?"
+"He's had some sort of psychotic breakdown," Tolkath explained, "but I would like to know the reason why. He was... He is, a friend of mine."
+Saal nodded solemnly. "Right. Let's get you a look then."
+In moments, Saal had refined the scans of the bio-bed to Morganth's brain. The scan, repeated on a large diagnostic board mounted on the room's near wall. The picture showed not only several views of the patient's physical health, but also showed the areas of his brain that were currently active. Saal visibly winced as the scan showed the `dead area of Morganth's frontal lobe, rendered dormant by Tolkath's hypo-spray.
+"Now... let's see if we can tell what's..." Saal's voice trailed off.
+Next to the diagnostic bed, Tolkath looked at Shannon. "So, what's it like?" he asked simply.
+"Sorry?" Shannon asked.
+"You're a singular being onboard Republic, Doctor." He explained. "And if rumors are true, you and Commander Carter are... involved?" Shannon smiled at the thought of John, then looked back at Tolkath. "You want to have this conversation now?" she asked. "Shouldn't I make an appointment or something?"
+"Do you think you need an appointment?"
+"No."
+"Why not?"
+"Stop that!" Shannon chided. "Stop answering questions with questions. It's... unnerving."
+"It makes you anxious? Really?" Tolkath thought outloud. "I'm sorry. It's just that usually when I ask a question like that I already have a pretty good idea of the answer. This really is interesting."
+"Fair enough," Shannon offered. She crossed her arms in front of her and paused in thought. "I suppose it's like being inside a novel, except... if I really want to, I can be anywhere on the ship. I don't have to follow just one plot. That is... if I don't want to."
+"And, Commander Carter? I assume he knows?" Tolkath asked.
+"Damned right he does," Harris answered defensively. "He was the first one to figure it out after I did."
+"Wait..." Tolkath looked shocked. "You didn't know what you were? Really? For how long?"
+Shannon shook her head. "Not a clue. I remember waking up in my quarters when Republic was in dry dock after her first re-commissioning. Then, for the next year or so, I just thought I was one of the crew. I was born in Australia. I survived the Borg attack on Earth. I joined Starfleet just after the Dominion War."
+"You did? Or Shannon Harris did?" Tolkath questioned.
+"What?" Shannon was again confused.
+"Your background," Tolkath continued, his voice filled with warmth and curiosity. "Is your history purely fictional? Or were you modeled on a... and forgive me for this, 'real' Shannon Harris?"
+For a moment, Republic's pediatrician stood. Unsure of what the answer really was.
+"Eureka!" Saal Yezbeck shouted. "I think I found it." There were a few short beeps from the console Saal was bent over, then the display they were all looking at shifted to show a multi-colored cross-section of Morganth's frontal lobe. "Look closely. Right here at the pre-frontal cortex." The image enlarged and intensified, showing the area of the patient's brain in fine detail.
+"It looks... smaller, dimmer." Tolkath offered.
+"Exactly." Saal confirmed. "I ran a full spectro-chemical analysis, and your friend's cortisone levels are off the charts, in a highly localized area."
+"He's allergic to something?" Shannon asked. "Or is this some kind of viral reaction?"
+Saal shook his head looking at the scan, then at Morganth's bewildered expression. "My money's on option one. If this were viral, some other parts of his physiology would be either agitated or suppressed. Since they're not..." Saal folded his arms across his chest, stroking his beard with one hand in a contemplative manner. "I'd be looking for some sort of agent or irritant that he might have been exposed to."
+Saal turned to look at Tolkath directly, but the Counselor was already out the door, bolting down the corridor.
+----
+**Location: Talloc Morganth’s assigned guest quarters, USS Republic**
+Reittan entered his friend’s quarters cautiously; the lights were dimmer in the room than in the corridor. As his eyes adjusted to the darker environment, he scanned the room and noticed the quarters were in complete disarray; furniture was turned over and clothing was strewn across the room leaving the abode in utter chaos.
+Reittan spied a PADD walked over to the tablet shaped object that had been left in the mess. With a couple of quick taps to the PADD it came to life then flickered and faded, then came to life again.
+Counselor Tolkath began scanning the PADD with interest. With his access code over-ride he was able to access Morganth's personal entries since the day the Republic had left Deep Space Nine abruptly to five days ago when they had suddenly ceased. Looking over the information, he gathered up the PADD, and righted an overturned table. Reaching for a stool that lay nearby, the Counselor placed the tablet shaped object on the table top. Tolkath had learned that even the smallest detail could lead to the correct answer to the current conundrum, so he began reading the journal entries from the beginning.
+Morganth's voice filled Tolkath's mind, //"Day one aboard the USS Republic. I am not sure why I have been detained aboard this vessel; it was a very abrupt emergency departure. The day started out very nicely, the Tolkath's were gracious enough to allow me to come aboard the ship with them to see Reittan. It will be good to see him again. However, on our way to the Counseling Center, I gazed on one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Her eyes, the way she carried herself made me feel like a boy back in Betazed when I had the crush on Jemma in the second grade."//
+Reittan looked up and laughed in spite of himself; Morganth had been definitely love struck with her.
+Morganth's log continued. //"I lost track of time because we were having a pleasant conversation, then everything erupted. I didn't have time to get off the ship. I can only hope Reittan's family will inform my family about what has happened, because we have been put on radio silence. . ."// Morganth's voice continued onward, but that information had answered why Tolkath's friend was aboard the ship; to see him.
+Morganth's log continued onward with daily events, and meetings with the Lieutenant Xera Reisan, and his infatuation with her. Their voyage had also allowed him sometime, while the Lieutenant was on duty, to engage in his favorite past time; botany.
+Reittan remembered that Talloc was always, even as a child, engrossed with some type of plant and with his talent had resurrected much vegetation. Everyone thought that he would become a great botanist, but that dream took second to his current occupation.
+Reittan glanced around the chaotic room and saw Morganth's latest creation laying on the floor; Talloc often manipulated plant DNA and its subatomic structure to create new plant varieties. Through his doctoring of the plant's sub cellular makeup he was able to create many wonderful new classifications of plants that had the ability to propagate themselves; many types of these "engineered" plants lost the ability to reproduce with their inception. On Betazed, many people frowned on the genetic manipulation of plants, in favor of holistic or "natural" varieties.
+Tolkath reached out and grabbed the plant's container. He then attempted to steady the plant with his opposite hand only to be pricked by one of the magnificent purple thorns. Reittan jerked back his hand instinctively, but maintained his grip on the pot-like structure with the other. Tolkath placed the plant down and examined the wound. A purple thorn protruded from the wound, after removing the thorn, a drop of blood formed over the puncture wound and Reittan absent-mindedly stuck the wounded finger in his mouth.
+Tolkath decided he had seen enough for today and was going to take the PADD back to his office to re-process the journal logs, when he noticed that he was starting to get a headache. Instinctively he thought of ignoring the pain, but his gut reaction that had served him very well in the past, suggested that he go to sickbay. Tolkath didn't recall how he got there, but the thorn lay in the palm of his hand as the Counselor entered sickbay.
+Doctor Harris was the first to meet him. Her demeanor changed from pleasant to a worried expression on her face. "Counselor?" She already knew part of the answer to the question she was going to ask, as the Counselor's biorhythms were abnormal.
+"I have a slight headache," Reittan began, but then concluded. "It's getting worse, but strangely euphoric."
+Then Tolkath started noticing that his ability to think logically was beginning to get greatly inhibited. With one last push of thought, the answer became evident.
+The thorn.
+As the realization dawned on him, he quickly thrusted the thorn towards Doctor Harris, then blacked out.
+Already tapped into the computer's sensor system, Shannon had previously had called for assistance for the ailing Counselor, and had him placed on a biobed. Medical bay suddenly came to life with medical personnel surrounding the bed where Reittan lay.
+The sensors displayed what Doctor Harris had feared: cortisone levels elevated and were continuing on to reach toxic levels.
+"I need a hypospray of corticotropin! Stat!" Shannon commanded in her Australian accent to the attending nurse. A hypospray appeared and Shannon quickly calculated the necessary dosage. Pressing the hypospray to the Counselor's neck, it hissed and the battle over Tolkath's cortisone levels began. "Make sure to watch the amount of copper-levels in his blood . . . he is part Vulcan after all. It should give us another indicator as to what is happening."
+Regulating the cortisol levels was just buying time while the deeper roots to the problem could be solved. Shannon gave orders to the frequency and dosage of the hypospray to be administered, then left with the brilliant purple thorn in her hand.
+Shannon stared at the thorn, studying it using all of the sensors available in Medical Bay. She then cross-referenced all material available to her aboard the Republic and in the Starfleet database; a pattern emerged.
+----
+Leon looked at Doctor Harris, fascinated by the implications of this purple thorn's 'magic'. "It's comparable to an allergic reaction of the brain?"
+"Exactly. Instead of a histamine reaction, it's cortisol. The counselor is doing fine now and has returned to his quarters, despite his protests to remain with his friend. The only reason we can think of that Talloc has had as much damage to his brain as he did is because of his constant contact with the plant; which has been put under quarantine."
+Leon scratched his chin as he listened to Doctor Harris' report.
+"Doctor Ryda has begun repair on the myelin sheathing in Mister Morganth's brain. There has been a lot of damage, but the process looks promising. He'll be out of surgery within an hour."
+----
+Morganth was alone with Reittan in his section of sickbay. Tolkath looked at his friend pitifully.
+"I don't look that bad, do I?" Talloc verbally asked, half-smiling while laying in his bed. Morganth's pre-frontal cortex still lay hauntingly black on the bio-screen above him. The Lieutenant Commander couldn't take his eyes off of the darkened image.
+Morganth had been in a medically induced coma for the past few days while the effects of the surgery were being studied. He had been awake only fifteen minutes when his Counselor-friend had arrived. (Reittan would have been the moment he was awakened, except one of the officers with a histrionic personality had hindered his progress.) All of the bio scans and cognitive functioning batteries appeared normal; only some problems with short term memory.
+"Reittan," Morganth began with a new-found empathy for his friend, "Was it like this every time for you? Deafeningly silent? Empty? A holographic program? Icily still?"
+Reittan looked at Talloc and nodded in affirmation. "But it beat the madness . . . I guess." The emotional scars of years past flickered in the Counselor's eyes briefly, then were gone.
+Doctor Harris came to Morganth's bedside and pulled out a hypospray from her pocket. It was the final neurological stimulant that needed to be applied in order to restore his telepathic abilities following the surgery.
+"Are you ready?" she asked Morganth Talloc.
+"Very." came his reply.
+Shannon pressed the hypospray to his neck. With a hiss, a warm blanket of noise and life entered Talloc's mind. Morganth looked at his Doctor and a puzzled look appeared on his face.
+"Uh Reittan,. . . I'm not sure that stuff is working right. . ."
+Reittan looked at his friend in confusion for a moment, but as he realized that he and Morganth were the only two full telepaths on the ship, he smiled in amusement.
+"Morganth," the counselor motioned towards Shannon. "Meet Doctor Harris. Republic's sentient, autonomous, and fully-commissioned holographic physician."
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter36>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 36: A Fighting Chance to Live**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Holodeck two, deck 10, USS Republic**
+Leon walked through the doors into a well-furnished, albeit dimly lit room that appeared to be a comfortable living space. The ivory-colored carpet matched the off-white walls, and as he perused the various accouterments, took note of the hanging décor that sported objects from Earth's renaissance and colonial eras such as flintlock pistols, spring-wound clocks, and models of old, wooden sailing vessels. A shelving unit just inside the foyer was a tall, wide diamond-shaped unit of brass and glass, and exhibited several items of antiquity. To Leon's right, two empty cushioned lounge chairs faced a marble fireplace on the opposite wall, separated only by a small end table. To his left, a huge, panoramic window presented an unparalleled view of the evening San Francisco skyline. Leon watched in the distance as a lighted external elevator slowly rose to the top floor of a building that was easily 200 stories tall.
+Quietly, a man came strolling into the room from the direction of the fireplace. At first, he did not pay attention to Leon, as he seemed engrossed in a quaint, leather-bound. The individual wasn't very tall, and in fact, was about the same height as Leon. Although he was wide around the waist, he wasn't stout, and carried his extra weight well. With a mop of curly brown and gray hair, his face was clean-shaven, and he wore a pair of ancient rectangular spectacles that accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes.
+"Aren't you a little old for a cadet?" the hologram finally noticed Leon. He asked the question matter-of-factly, peering past the cover of his book, and over the top brim of his gold-framed glasses. The image was that of a Starfleet officer in the old maroon, wrap-around tunic of yesteryear, complete with the black trousers and boots standard with most uniforms. While the right shoulder strap bore the rank insignia of captain, the breast flap was partially open to reveal a buff-white liner; a telltale sign that the officer was off duty. Judging from the ribbed turtleneck collar, Leon guessed the uniform was from the late 23rd century era.
+"Excuse me?" Leon asked the holographic captain with confusion.
+With pursed lips, the officer closed his book, and seemed slightly annoyed at Leon's arrival. Yet, he also acted as if the doctor's presence was completely normal; as if he were expecting it. "I assume that you're another one of Carter's promising fourth-years with 'potential'?" Without waiting for an answer, the captain placed the closed book on the edge of a coffee table and proceeded to stroll across the room towards the wall adjacent to the window. There, he reached into a small wooden cabinet set atop a shelf.
+"One thing I like about the way he programmed my apartment is the randomness of the liquor cabinet," he commented. "Let's see . . ." Fumbling inside the storage compartment, the man produced a long-necked bottle with a slight curve to its muzzle. Inspecting the liquid within, the aged officer smiled with amusement and looked back to Leon. "Saurian Brandy!" he announced while collecting a pair of crystal drinking vessels from the shelf below. "It beats the Klingon blood wine that was here when that fellow in the bathrobe stopped by recently." Filling the two glasses with a dark green liquid, the man put away the flask and offered one of the drinks to Leon.
+The doctor accepted. Sniffing the glass before sipping, the aroma was rich and distilled, and although it had a slightly bitter overtone (Leon's tongue could always taste the chemical artifacts from the ship's food synthesizer), the concoction went down smooth, and warmed his stomach.
+"Not bad for a computer," remarked the Starfleet captain, enjoying his own glass. "Every now and then, it gets it right."
+As the two stood in the center of the posh den, Leon couldn't help but ask the evident question. "Who are you?"
+"James T. Kirk," the hologram replied expectantly. "Former captain of the Enterprise-A."
+Leon squinted at the hologram with both puzzlement and surprise. THIS was Kirk? The legend of the alpha quadrant? The most prominent of starship commanders that had been so idolized in every Starfleet historical text?
+Recognizing Leon's confused expression, the captain pursed his lips again, not in annoyance this time, but more with resignation to the obvious. "I'm not what you expected, am I?"
+"Um," Leon wasn't sure whether to admit as such, as there was hesitation on his part to insult a renowned historical figure. "Not really," he finally admitted. In fact, this hologram looked nothing like the images he had seen in the media. Not only had Leon assumed Kirk to be taller, but also leaner, younger-looking, and much more robust. The computerized facsimile before him was none of these, and seemed to lack the energy and charismatic appeal highlighted elsewhere. It was hard to imagine that this hologram imbued Kirk's legendary persona in what appeared to be a typical, stodgy Starfleet officer.
+Kirk huffed with irony. "That's roughly what Nat Hawk said to me. Do you know how many self-aware Jim Kirk holographic programs exist out there?" the captain asked.
+"Not a clue."
+"Over forty-five thousand," he responded with emphasis. "Most are montages of my early career. Back when I was supposedly bold and endearing," he swept his hand through the air while holding his glass steady in the other hand. His words came forth not with proud grace, but with lackluster appeal and a touch of sarcasm. "Only a fraction actually show how it really was before I died," he looked upwards, pointing around the room. "No dramatic battles, no dashing adventures . . . just this." Kirk sighed, observing his apartment with tired eyes. "Alone, and as a friend once pointed out, slowing turning into one of these antiques I so cherish."
+Taking a sip from his drink, Kirk casually began walking towards the two empty chairs by the fireplace. "Well, go ahead. Ask."
+"Ask what?"
+"What every cadet that John Carter sends here asks, of course," he motioned for the Doctor to have a seat in one of the recliners.
+"I don't understand," Leon commented while watching Kirk flop into his own cushioned seat. Realizing that the captain could have cared less whether he stood or sat, the Republic's CMO decided to sit down in the adjoining chair on the other side of the end table. He looked uncomfortable, but it was more a matter of his state of mind rather than the quality of the furniture.
+"You've been running the Kobyashi Maru scenario, correct?"
+"Um, yes." The doctor paused with slight embarrassment, not wanting to reveal that it had actually been several weeks since he last tried the program.
+"And you've just completed your fifth try, which ended in failure?"
+"Why do you ask?" he replied to the question, nervously taking a sip from his cup. In fact, he had not run the Kobyashi Maru more than three times since John had given it to him, each session ending in a catastrophic explosion. With frustration, Leon had given up on the computer program, and never gave it another thought.
+"Because," Kirk explained. "Any cadet who runs through the Kobyashi Maru scenario five or more times is obviously having difficulty with the concept of the test."
+Leon froze at the statement. He suddenly realized why John was so angry with him. Up until their discussion in the corridor a few minutes ago, it was John's impression that Leon had already encountered the Jim Kirk program via the Kobyashi Maru. The fact that the holographic Kirk thought the same thing led Leon to realize that John had suspected this shortfall, and may have been the reason he gave him a second chance at the bridge officer's test just now. The question then came to mind why Nat Hawk had been running this program is anyone's guess, but it certainly explained why he looked so much more relaxed afterwards, and why he suggested that Leon give it a try.
+Leon swallowed a sip of brandy very slowly, hoping to draw attention away from his shortfall about the Kobyashi Maru, and choosing to answer Kirk with information that John Carter had already offered him. "I've been told that it's a test of character."
+Kirk's look of annoyance returned, and he almost looked insulted for a moment. "As the senior officer here, I believe that's *my* line," he scolded.
+Leon clearly looked much more uncomfortable at his response.
+Kirk ignored it. "Do you know why Carter programmed me?"
+"For entertainment purposes, I assume."
+"Entertainment?" he echoed incredulously. "My good man, do you have any idea how long Carter and I have known each other?"
+"No."
+"Eleven years. He first programmed me from my Starfleet personnel file when he was a freshman at the academy. By the time he graduated, he had logged almost 200 hours with me, studying at that table right over there." Kirk pointed to a small desk in the corner of the room.
+Leon suddenly realized why John was so ready to accept Shannon as a real person: His academy mentor was a hologram.
+"After the academy, he took my program with him to every posting and ship that had a holodeck. Every time he needed someone to bounce ideas off of, or mull over difficult decisions, he'd be in here. Some assignments had him consulting me almost every night. Especially after being aboard the Devonshire . . . did he ever talk to you about the Devonshire?"
+Leon shook his head. "There are lots of things about his life that John Carter doesn't tell me."
+"Eventually, his visits tapered off to where months went by before he would drop by again," Kirk continued musing. "Then one day, he became an instructor at the academy. My role soon became that of a mentor to whatever student he felt needed to meet me. Finally, he linked my program with the Kobyashi Maru scenario, automatically activating it when a user replayed the scenario five times."
+Again, Leon felt embarrassed by the realization that he failed to follow John's advice and run the Kobyashi Maru as often as he could. "When was the last time you saw him?" he chose to change the subject.
+"Who? Carter?" Kirk asked, as Leon's question brought the hologram's mind back to present day. "Well, since Mister Hawk stopped by to see me last night, the last time my program was activated was several months ago. Carter came in here asking about how I dealt with the Gorns on Cestus Three. He didn't elaborate on why he wanted to know, though."
+"Well?" Leon replied, previously unaware that Kirk possessed a link to his homeworld's history. "How did you deal with them?"
+Kirk waved his hand. "Never mind that," he dismissed. "Ask Carter if you're so interested about that. What we need to be discussing at the moment is how you did on the Kobyashi Maru."
+Leon sulkily leaned back into his chair.
+"I realize that you must not be too happy with your performance, and let me tell you, I've never met a cadet that hasn't."
+"And why is that?" Leon mumbled, more detached than ever. Listening to the rambling thoughts of an old man - even a legendary one - wasn't his idea of a fun or interesting time in the holodeck.
+"Because," Kirk explained. "The test wasn't designed to see if you could win the combat, it was designed to see if you could handle the rigors of command. How you tackle a no-win scenario tells a lot about how a cadet will react in a similar real-life situation."
+"I'm *not* a cadet!" Leon blurted out before he realized it. The animosity of being treated as a young student instead of a seasoned adult was eating at Leon, but as soon as he protested, he suddenly wished he hadn't. Kirk's eyes were uncomfortably fixed on the doctor after the outburst, and as the hologram scrutinized him over the brim of his glasses, Leon sunk back into the upholstered padding of the chair in embarrassment.
+"So then, why are you still here?" Kirk finally asked.
+"Because a year ago, some damned Starfleet admiral pulled me out of my civilian career to make me an officer! That's why!"
+"Seems I've had this conversation before," he commented sourly just as he took another sip from his glass. "So . . . you took the test - perhaps several times - and discovered that you were unable to resolve the situation."
+"You could say that," the doctor replied, still looking rather uncomfortable to admit his shortcomings.
+"And you're not happy with your performance?" Kirk continued his line of questioning while taking a seat in the other chair parallel to Leon's. The orange dancing light from the fire reflected off his spectacles.
+"Something like that," Leon admitted, taking another swig from his drink.
+"And why not?"
+Leon was taken slightly by surprise. "Why do you think?" he blurted out again. "The ship kept getting destroyed, no matter what I did. As a starship commander, I'm really pathetic."
+Kirk looked towards Leon with a blank stare. If he was displeased at the doctor's tone, he did not show it. "What is it that you do on board the Republic again?"
+"I'm a doctor."
+"Ah," the captain replied, turning back to the fire with an expression of comprehension. "I've known several doctors throughout my time in Starfleet. Not many of them would have cut it in the captain's chair."
+"Now you see my problem."
+At that, Kirk looked back at him with the same blank stare, hiding whatever emotion he had behind his renowned poker face. "Problem?" he asked emphatically. "You think that NOT being in the captain's seat is a problem? Have you ANY idea of the responsibility involved in commanding a starship?"
+"Of course I do!"
+"No, I don't think you do," Kirk returned to watching the lit fireplace. "The doctors that I knew wouldn't have made good captains because they didn't WANT to be captains. Their command over a starship extended from being able to tell the captain what they thought on a moments notice. Always adding their emotional opinion unimpeded by the chain-of-command, and often insubordinate in their attitude."
+"Are you saying I'm too insubordinate to command a starship?"
+"What I'm saying," he emphasized. "Is that a doctor can get away with speaking their mind, often without consequences, because more often than not, they're looking out for the welfare of the crew. Good starship captains realize that. In the heat of battle, they often lose touch with the fact that their crewmembers are human beings with limitations, especially if they're focused on thinking tactically. The ship's doctor reminds them to stop what they're doing for a moment, and to think how their next command might affect the crew."
+"How does that affect whether or not a doctor can command a starship?"
+"Simple. It has to do with their point of view."
+"I don't understand."
+"If a doctor spends most of their time thinking about only the crew, then they lose touch with what's happening outside the ship."
+"Or with it," Leon whispered in thought, the gears beginning to turn in his head.
+"Absolutely," Kirk answered. "I remember this one time when my entire crew was infected with a behavior-altering virus that caused anyone infected to act as if they were intoxicated. One infected officer had actually locked himself in engineering and shut down the ship's engines while we were attempting to maintain orbit around a planet with an unstable core. If I had lost my objectivity and continued to chase down and reprimand every crewman that had misbehaved, my chief engineer and I wouldn't have been able to regain control of the ship. Our orbit would have decayed, and everyone would have died."
+"Well, that's easy for the immortal Captain Kirk," Leon exclaimed. "Your entire career was about how you escaped from the jaws of death, and turned situations around to give them a more favorable outcome."
+"You're wrong. I didn't turn them around. Not without paying for it. Usually, I had to sacrifice something in order to get the outcome I wanted. And maybe that's my point: You *have* to sacrifice something." Kirk emphasized the last four words of the sentence by nodding his head in rhythm to the words. "And it can't be just anything either," he added. "It has to be something of extreme significance. *That* was what the Kobyashi Maru program taught me. Only I learned it's lesson later in life; decades afterward in fact. When I originally took the test, I sacrificed my integrity to beat the no win scenario. I cheated. I was the only cadet to actually have *won* because I reprogrammed the computer. I missed the entire purpose of the test . . . at first. But the truth was that I paid for it later in life."
+"What do you mean?"
+"Most of the time it wasn't *me* making the sacrifice," Kirk explained. "Sure, I may have orchestrated the outcome, but each time I turned a situation around and was supposedly victorious, someone else paid for it, even though I didn't know it at the time. Later on, the sacrifices became more personal. Decker . . . Spock . . . my ship . . . even my own son. Each of them had paid for my victories. It wasn't until after the Khitomer Conference when I read the casualty lists for the Enterprise and the Excelsior that I realized how many had died before we could turn the situation around. After that, I came to understand that the no-win scenario truly could not be beaten. If I cheated death, someone else had to die. *That* was the order of things . . . *That* was the lesson of the Kobyashi Maru."
+Although Kirk hadn't realized it, Leon had stopped drinking. His half-empty glass was sitting in his folded hands as he stared into the fire, hanging on every word that Kirk spoke. Leon finally found the magic and appeal of this particular holographic program, and why Nat found it so important for him to run it. With a look of comprehension on his face, the doctor abruptly set his glass down on the table next to him, and got up from the chair.
+"Was it something I said?" Kirk asked with surprise, glancing towards Leon as he marched towards the door.
+"Yes," Leon explained. "But don't worry, it was all helpful."
+"Glad I could do something for you," the hologram replied, turning back towards the fireplace before adding one last sentence over his shoulder. "Do me a favor and tell Carter to stop by more than once a year, will you?"
+"No problem," Leon replied over the grinding sound of the opening holodeck doors. "And thanks."
+"Just doing my job," Kirk replied nonchalantly as he leaned over to reclaim his leather-bound book from the coffee table.
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter37>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 37: Interludes**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Somewhere in the Delta Quadrant**
+Fierce wind whipped across the rocky plains of the primitive looking settlement as a cloaked figure glanced into a fiercely burning binary sky. "Damn." The cloaked figure hissed at the bright blue star just rising over the jagged mountain peaks in the distant. "Blue moon's blood," he whispered. Then he ducked into the shadows of a rough hewn cut-out in the side of a small rock hill.
+Hidden from view, the figure rapped twice quickly, then once again after a longer pause. After a moment, the rock face he was pressed against pushed in and then slid away with a heavy, low, grind. Stepping quickly into the revealed opening, the cloaked stranger wound his way down a spiraling path deep into the bedrock of the planet. The flickering light of torches lit his way, but the figure slowed his pace, still firmly aware that he could still slip and break his neck.
+Stepping gingerly down the path, he wound his way to the bottom, where a cavern opened up. As he stepped in, he bowed his head, six other assembled figures turned with surprise to look at him. Each of the beings in the cave were humanoid, save for the large pupil-less eyes, and the ranges of blue skin that were now visible in the dim light.
+Three males and three females were already present; each wearing little more than silken wraps serving as loin clothes. The females wore similar coverings on their chests, though, considering the diaphanous nature of the fabric, these additional coverings were clearly ceremonial. Small pieces of metal and polished stones also served as ornaments and symbols of station; worn both on the body and worked into the hair, which all assembled persons tended to wear long.
+Like other natives of desert worlds, the blue-skinned inhabitants of this planet also had ears that crested into graceful points, lending a truly alien appearance to their otherwise familiar builds.
+At the head of the cavern, an older male looked across the assembled crowd. "Now that we're all here..." he said with a scowl, directed at the late-comer. "My friends", he stretched out his arms, as if embracing the crowd. "For years now we have lived under dangerous skies. Our enemy lives in the air, and has forced us to scurry like vermin into caves and hiding places. We have tried to appease, tried to negotiate," he turned his attention to a female in the crowd who, unlike her fellows was armed with a scimitar style weapon worn low on her hip. "Some of us have even tried to fight."
+The older speaker turned his attention to a large, covered object behind him that was draped in the darkness of the cave. "Our faith in the Mother and Father who watch over our world has finally been rewarded. I have devised a means to communicate DIRECTLY with our gods, and, using the finest science my and many other brains could muster, I am confident that our deliverance is at had."
+"Rubbish!" the armed woman spoke up. "How many times, Zharon? How many times have you promised that your science and your faith would save us? Eight? Ten? Twenty?" She looked to the other men and women assembled and continued. "Keep your science, and your gods! I'll rid this world of the invaders by myself if I have to, so long as I can pick up a sword!"
+"Dadjinn has a point," the late-comer agreed. "I believe in the gods as much as all of us do, but is it right, or even feasible to think that we should need to go through such outlandish lengths. Perhaps they do not hear us because they no longer wish to."
+Zharon fumed, his eyes blazing. "NO!" he yelled, then turned to light a torch, which revealed the large construct behind him. It was an enormous metal and glass box filled with pulsing lights, roiling gasses and a dancing conglomeration of dots that seemed barely contained in a fragile-looking glass bulb.
+"I know that the last attempts were...less than ideal," he explained. "But I have tapped into the molten core of the planet itself, solving the power problem from before. I simply know that the Theta Project will work."
+"Like your Alpha and Beta projects, and all the rest?" The armed woman remained unconvinced. "Throw the switch then, if you're so sure!"
+Zharon did so, and in the half second of perfect silence, he waited, relieved when the cave was soon filled with the cacophonous noise of whirring machinery and building energy.
+Amid the clatter, the gathered beings stepped back as the machine began to glow. Then, with far less fanfare than it had started, the contraption stopped and seemed lifeless. For long moments, Zharon regarded the machine. Finally, after checking, tightening and tapping all manner of things, he simply let his shoulders drop. "Another failure..." he whispered. "But, how? The science is right." He looked back at the crowd, pleading. "Please friends," he asked. I know it works. I just..."
+"No, Zharon," the sword-wielder interrupted. You've wasted enough precious time and resources on this..." she indicated to the mechanical mass behind the crest-fallen man, "this, Zealot's folly!"
+Before Zharon could respond there was a frightful shriek and the sound of scraping stone. "It's worse than that!" the late-comer spat as he looked to the sword wielder. "They've found us!"
+----
+**Location: Crew quarters, USS Apex**
+"Computer, begin recording."
+//beep-eep//
+"Hello Leon. I hope everything is going well in your thorax of the woods. S.C.A.R. is making great strides in identifying and cataloging nanoscopic sub-spacial tears. Unfortunately, they are great strides in the wrong direction if one were to inquire as to my ever so humble opinion. We have the technology to repair anything up to nineteen millionths of a meter across, but instead of fixing several hundred thousand such holes 'Fleet has decided to study them for an indeterminate amount of time to see if they can be quickly closed or expanded remotely."
+"I don't believe you ever met my number three guy on the Defiant II, Rick Leonetti. The best field weapons engineer with which I've had the pleasure to work. He once theorized a warp capable probe, similar to a quantum torpedo, that's only function was to catalyze a catastrophic subspace breach within maneuvering range of an enemy. Given the right location and proper timing, the probe would be an elegant and effective weapon against the Romulans."
+"Thus I find myself once again distrusting my orders and wondering if I am yet again designing weapons of war instead of quietly tending to my required research."
+Victor looked around the tiny room and his eyes fixed on a small bronze and black colored old-timey photograph of himself, Leon, Victor and Shannon, dressed in the style of the western herd drovers of the late 19th century. The costumes were outlandish and gaudy, Shannon's most of all, consisting of an enormous skirt with concentric metal rings sewn in. Top hats came back into style for a handful of years in the mid 2300s so that was acceptable, but the cloth short coats and leather long coats had been a multi-hour flirtation with uncontrollable laughter. Even the weapons of the time were reproduced and seated in a holster low on the hip. Vic chuckled at the memory of two hours stuck in a malfunctioning holodeck 'Western', not because of a software problem, nor because of a hardware problem, but because of a human problem. Someone had been repairing the wiring behind the holodeck controls' console and accidentally vibration welded the doors shut. Thus the only options were sit down and wait or continue on with the original plan. As "Saloon Girls" went, Dr. Harris made a fine soiled dove.
+"If you have some time, shoot me a message. Our survey will be done in about a month, and then a short 126 hours until we get back to Spacedock. Any idea where you folks will be going next?"
+"Have a good day Leon. Tell John I said hello."
+"End recording" //beep//
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter38>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 38: Caduceus of Command**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+Leon's return to the holodeck the morning after his conversation with Captain Kirk was nearly identical to his first encounter with the bridge officer's exam the previous morning. John Carter greeted him, and the test began just as it did before. Although Leon attempted to avoid combat yet again, the outcome remained the nearly the same, and with only minor variances to his original solution. Before Leon knew it, he found himself and the simulated Republic crew in the exact same critical situation: the ship dead in space, and only five hundred and twelve of the crew left alive with life support power fading quickly.
+This time, however, the doctor did not run down the usual list of remedies. He knew all the dead-end options now, and to try to go over them again with minor tweaks would be wasting time. There was only one way to face this crisis, and it wasn't with the humane diagnostic dogma of a trained physician.
+"Vic," Leon asked the engineer with trepidation. "How long would the batteries last if you had only two hundred personnel to keep alive under life support minimums instead of five hundred?"
+Lieutenant Commander Victor Virtus was a smart man. Although the officers around the table didn't pick up on the inquiry right away, Vic did. And he had already extrapolated it to its logical conclusion. With no more than a blink, he answered the question stoically. "About six hours."
+"Is that enough to deploy that solar sail we talked about?"
+"If everyone pitched in . . . yes. But, it would be tight."
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 10 minutes"//
+The clock was ticking, and Leon knew it. How the next few moments unfolded would decide whether he passed or failed the bridge officers exam. Taking to heart Kirk's lessons from last night, he chose to take a risk and set a new course to try and resolve the situation. Only this time, he had to learn how to throw his medical training out the window, and force himself to perform tasks completely contrary to who he was as a person.
+Reaching for the ship-wide intercom, the electronic boatswain whistle sounded throughout the smashed vessel, beckoning the attention of anyone still left alive onboard.
+"Attention crew: this is the captain. As you already know, our situation is dire. We have sustained numerous casualties, most of the ship is destroyed, and that which is left is near collapse. Life support power is quickly fading, and our only option to stabilize it will not work with the number of people still left alive onboard."
+He paused momentarily, struggling to find the fortitude for his upcoming sentences.
+"I understand that what I am about to say will disturb many people, but I am asking . . . I'm pleading . . . for volunteers, both healthy and injured, to . . ." he paused for a second, bracing at the words as they came forth from his lips. ". . . sacrifice their lives in order to preserve life support power.
+Disbelief welled in the eyes of the holographic senior officers around him. A few dropped their jaws, and all but Chief Rainier showed signs of controlled panic as Leon continued his announcement.
+"Euthanasia procedures will be painless, quick, and under my strict medical control. I alone will be the one held responsible. Know that your selfless decision will be in the spirit of allowing others to continue living, and you have my personal promise that your memory will not be forgotten."
+He looked around the table at the shocked faces of his officers. He returned a stoic glance to each of them, offering the merest glimmer of regret in his eyes before noticing the chronometer on the panel screen in front of him.
+"We have very little time left," Leon continued. "So I ask those willing to report to holodeck six in the next three minutes. On arrival, you have one minute to write a last message to loved ones. Captain out."
+No one spoke.
+Minutes ticked by in silence as the holographic officers struggled with the realization that Doctor Cromwell had just asked members of the crew to submit to medically assisted suicide. For his part, Leon knew it was only a simulation, but the guilt and stress behind his decision was real. As the clock approached the three-minute mark, he turned to the ship's COB.
+"Chief, how many people have gathered in holodeck six?"
+"Eighty seven," he returned ominously.
+"It's not enough, is it?" Shannon asked to no response.
+"Vic," Leon continued giving orders. "Gather the people you need to begin construction on the solar sail. Chief, order any non-essential Starfleet crew to holodeck six. Begin with the lowest ranking, and work your way up the roster. Allow them to spend no more than a minute to record a last message to their loved ones."
+"Aye aye, sir," the chief complied, and began typing commands into a nearby computer console. With a glazed expression, the holographic representation of Victor Virtus slowly stood up from his chair and walked out the door to commence expedited sail-building activities. Vic was gone for no more than 30 seconds when Nat Hawk began to stir, standing up from the table with a wild-eyed expression that caused Doctor Cromwell concern.
+"Mister Hawk," Leon addressed the helmsmen with as much authority as he could muster. "I didn't excuse you."
+"Ya wanted volunteers, din'cha?" the native southerner returned with a rasp to his voice. He looked around the room as if it was the last time he was going to see it. "I've got nuthin left ta do onboard."
+"You're a senior officer," Leon said calmly. "You're not a non-essential crewmember. Sit down."
+"Yer crazy!" Nat bellowed while running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Yer jus' gonna kill us all off, one by one! Aren't cha? Well, here I am! Jus beggin ta get spaced Captn! You jus give the word!"
+"You're dismissed, lieutenant," Leon ordered with a deadpan face. "Report to Commander Virtus to assist in building the solar sail."
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 5 minutes"//
+The alert seemed to bring the holographic Hawk back to his senses. He locked stares with Leon momentarily before relaxing his eyes, then swallowed coarsely while reluctantly nodding his head. As he turned to face the door, Nat peered over his shoulder one last time as if he had something more to say, but words seemed to fail the helmsman, and his eyes dropped to the floor before exiting the ready room.
+As Hawk left, Leon turned back to Brad Rainier. "Chief, how many people have gathered in holodeck six?"
+"Two hundred and sixty two," the senior noncom reported. "Still not enough."
+"Christ, John," he whispered to himself. "You're gonna make me do it, aren't you?"
+Strangely, Starfleet had contingency plans for exactly the kind of situation that the doctor was currently enduring. Attrition procedures in LOD (life or death) emergencies dictated volunteers first, then non-essential Starfleet personnel beginning with the lowest rank. This was the only instance where, in the military-style rank-and-file system of Starfleet, that a lieutenant commander could be considered less important than a crewman first-class, should the latter be of a vital occupation onboard the ship. Unfortunately, the contingency stopped there, making Leon's next order the most difficult.
+"Shannon, how many critically injured patients do we have that possess less than a 50% chance of surviving until we're rescued?"
+"No . . ." she whispered incredulously. "You can't . . ."
+"We have to."
+"I won't participate!" Shannon stammered.
+"I understand," Leon replied calmly. "You're relieved."
+Shannon stood up and shuffled backwards a few steps while turning a pair of fiery eyes towards Leon with an angry mix of horror and revulsion. "You're a doctor!" she gasped.
+"I'm also the captain."
+"As medical officer, I can relieve YOU!" she screamed defiantly.
+"To do so, you would need grounds that I am medically unfit to command," Leon explained, knowing full well of the medical protocols needed to relieve a starship commander from his post. "That would require evidence that my behavior has somehow changed erratically, or that I have been physically injured enough to affect my mental faculties. Since I am uninjured, and my recent decisions have followed Starfleet protocols, my current line of thinking is simply an attempt to extrapolate the protocols to our current situation. Therefore, there is no basis for a medical declaration of unfitness for command."
+"You won't get away with this!" the Shannon facsimile seethed.
+"I repeat: You are relived, doctor."
+With an expression that ripped through his soul, Leon witnessed what could have been described only as emotional evisceration emanating from Shannon. As she stormed out of the ready room, her penetrating scowl driving home the point that the only feelings she had left for Leon was burning hate.
+A quiet pause ensued after the doors slid shut. Leon scanned the small ready room, and realized that only himself and Chief Rainier were left.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 3 minutes"//
+"Better see to getting those casualties moved to the holodeck yourself, chief. Take only the most extreme cases, and no more than what we need to reduce our compliment to two hundred personnel."
+"Aye, sir," Brad Rainier agreed as he somberly stood up and excused himself from the room. As the most militarized man on the bridge crew, Leon knew that the Chief of the Boat was the one soul he could count on to follow his orders to the letter. That was the design of Starfleet's non-commissioned officer corps. Experience plus a disciplined subordinate disposition was a formula for getting the job done. Saving him for the most vital and yet most displeasing task imaginable was the only way Leon knew it would be completed correctly. Unfortunately, it was just him left in the ready room now.
+A minute went by.
+Two minutes went by.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 60 seconds"//
+Leon stared at the internal sensor feed as it indicated exactly three hundred and twelve souls gathered in holodeck six. Reviewing the roster, his heart sank as the bio-readouts from their combadges displayed their names on Leon's screen. He knew all of them. Every one of them was a soul he had, at one time or another, worked with onboard the ship. Depach Narundi . . . Hayden Kroeger . . . Christopher Teague. Tears welled in Leon's eyes as he saw Susan Hayworth's name alongside Saal Yezbeck, and he hissed "damn it!" when he read Nat Hawk's name, realizing the helmsman had yet again disobeyed orders. Finally, the last blinking light gave him pause: Bradford Rainier. The chief had entered the holodeck, but wasn't leaving.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 45 seconds"//
+There was no time left.
+Using the computer console, Leon charged the Anesthizine gas cylinders in the holodeck walls to 200 parts per million. It was nearly three times the concentration to put humans into a deep sleep, and in doing so, would cause a calming, euphoric effect in it's victims. He felt it was humane enough to ensure a comatose slumber before the next phase.
+The doctor pushed a few more buttons to release Neurozine gas into the holodeck. It was a convenient way to anesthetize Romulans, but for other humanoids, it induced a neuromuscular transmission blockage causing every muscle in the body to relax and fall limp . . . every single muscle. That included the lungs, it included the heart.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 30 seconds"//
+Leon's finger hovered over the blinking red button that read "ATMOSPHERE PURGE". He knew that if he used all of his medical knowledge and skill, he could still save the 300-plus souls lying dormant in holodeck six. There was still time to revive them, bring them back to consciousness, and allow the whole crew to die a dignified death together. But ever since last night, the title of John Carter's holodeck program echoed in his head:
+"Turn death into a fighting chance to live."
+Leon now knew what those words meant. His finger fell upon the console, and the blinking red light turned to a solid green.
+The deed was done.
+The program ended, and the empty battle-bridge ready room shimmered with an effervescent light before fading away into non-existence.
+"Congratulations, commander," John's voice echoed off the ebony, yellow-lined walls. He approached Leon with both approval and concern on his face. "Looks like you you've got what it takes after all."
+Leon said nothing. He simply sat there, staring into space, unable to find absolution.
+"Look, I know this was hard on you, but you did it. When the time came to stop thinking like a doctor, you did it."
+"Go to hell," Leon whispered without looking at his friend.
+"I suppose I deserved that," John replied, his anger regarding the incomplete Kobyashi Maru test melting away. "I've been hard on you, and I'm sorry," he consoled. "I won't throw you into uniform and make you do bridge watch right away. You've been through a lot recently, so take some time off. Say, the rest of the week?"
+Leon remained silent, acting like John wasn't even present.
+"You know," John added. "There *is* a reason I didn't program the counselor into the bridge test."
+The doctor finally looked John in the eye, but still said nothing.
+"He's got a full schedule these days, but I'm sure Commander Tolkath will make time for the chief medical officer. Only promise me you'll take it easy until Monday, okay?"
+Leon's silence persisted. In light of that, John felt there wasn't much left to say. He knew deep inside that they both would eventually get over what happened here today, whether it be at the poker table, over drinks at the Hill, or perusing the promenade on Deep Space Nine. It was only a matter of time.
+Taking the doctor's silence as affirmation of his advice to take a short holiday, the Republic's XO walked away, leaving him by himself. As the grinding noise of the holodeck doors subsided, Leon remained motionless, coming to grips with knowing that had the simulation been real, he would have just sent 300-plus people - some of them critically injured patients - straight to their deaths.
+Leon stayed seated on the empty holodeck for over 30 minutes, his chair the only remnant left of the holographic program that brought him to his moral breaking point. He sat staring into space, with the same blank 1000-mile stare he had on his face when Nat Hawk had died on his operating table a week ago.

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