Lieutenant commander Thompson was a large man, he had a heavily muscled body large arms and legs and a thick neck, he was not handsome but not ugly either, his hair was short and cropped to a cut that was regulation when earth was a conglomeration of small nations and constantly at war, and he himself looked like he would be more at home with a large blade in his hand cutting down armoured knights and men-at-arms. But right now, he was working out, the only thing he could do on station K-374, the station was a piece of crap junk pile that Starfleet kept in service for one reason or another, at one time it was state of the art now it was a place where carers die. Not that he cared he was proud of what he had done and would have done allot more if not for the small army of security men that had stopped him, honestly the man was asking for it, how was he supposed to know the annoying racist bigoted oike wanker was an admiral's son.

But the fool had thrown the first punch, against a man who had gone through General Leslie's advanced security and defence training course, not a smart thing to do, by the time the security had pulled him of he had straddled the idiot and proceeded to rearrange his facial features with his own two fists. It had taken months of reconstructive surgery to fix the damage something that in today's advanced society seemed imposable.

He allowed a smirk to spread across his stubbled face, the farce called a court martial that came afterwards saw him demoted and his prospects of commanding a starship all but dry up. But it was worth it even thinking about it as benched the hefty weight sent all kinds of fun feelings through his body, and that wasn't just the endorphins running through his body as he hefted weights.

His pulse-pounding to the beat of Earth heavy metal or terra metal as it was now called; he had no interest in Andorian techno pop, Tellarite grunge, Vulcan opera, Rigelian dance or any other music currently climbing the Federation music charts. He needed one more rep before he could relax, and the violent force of the music helped to will his tired body on; his muscles burned with like fire as he hefted the weight, his arms were shaking with fatigue as he finally finished his set.

He sat on the bench and ran his fingers through his sweat-drenched cropped hair, rolling his shoulders he got to his feet and walked to the showers before shutting down the music, he didn't need that right now he needed to rest his aching body, and he needed the feel of cool water on his skin. Thankfully there wasn't any sonic nonsense here just water, and he was thankful for that, the resonance frequencies if improperly tuned had the potential to shatter bones, and there so called relaxing massage would be very uncomfortable on his aching muscles.

Once he was dry and dressed in his gold and back security uniform he sighed, maybe it was time to call it a day, his career was almost dead promotion prospects were slim to non-existent and even that was optimistic, yeah, he thought as he walked out of the changing room maybe it is time. The corridor was dimly lit but he knew his way even in the dusk like lilting of the night shift he could find his way.

With a classic whoosh sound of the era the red doors parted, and he walked into his quarters, they were about the same in the constitution class he had visited on a trip with his school, the USS Eagle NCC-1718, but it also had some parts that were state of the art. On the wall facing into the room was a painting of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701, the second Enterprise that under her second Captain James Kirk turned her from just another ship of the line into the flagship of the fleet, a ship where legends strode the stars.

He sat on his bed looking at the mighty ship, the constitution class was at one time the most powerful class in Starfleet, but after extensive tests on her by Starfleet after the Reliant incident the class was dubbed unsafe and the whole line was withdrawn and replaced by the ever-reliable Excelsior class. He lied back he allowed sleep to claim him for a moment when.

[Whistle]

The sound of the infernal comm. system woke him for what seemed only a few moments of sleep, he pressed the button of the old intercom a light dimly lit the room.

"Thompson here," he said fatigue evident in his voice

"Sorry to disturb you sir but you're getting a transmission from Captain Janeway "

He snapped awake immediately almost jumping up from his bed he made his way to his desk sitting in the comfortable material chair he spun around to face the painting of the legend,

"Put her through to my comm. station Ensign" he ordered where the painting of the big E had been was now the face of a woman in her late twenties early thirties, she smiled at him from the look around her she was in some kind of office, he had wondered when he would see her again, "hello Kathy what can I do for you" he said his eyes drawn to her new forth pip that adorned her uniform collar, envy seemed to bleed into him like a poison before he clamped down on it.

"It's good to see you again Jack" she smiled

"I see you've been promoted, congratulations"

"Thank you," she said "listen I've heard some things Jack" she looked slightly pensive "about you, and I need to confirm what I've heard"

"What have you heard Kathy" with genuine interest she had allot more friends than him and allot of them were in high places.

"I heard that you have been fighting again," she said with worry and disappointment in her voice

"What I do on leave is none of Starfleet's business or yours" if this is all she's called me for, he thought with disdain so what if he was fighting again he needed something to feel alive.

"Don't be a fool Jack; even on leave you represent Starfleet if you get caught by security you could be drummed out of the service"

"Your concern is touching Kathy, but I may not be in the service very long anyway"

"That is another reason why I called," she said not liking the way her friend was so dismissive of her concern

"Who was it," he asked "was it, Will or Thom"

"It doesn't matter, why are you throwing away your career"

"What career" he roared launching from his chair "that spineless coward desk jokey ass hole made sure that his friends in command blacklisted me for promotions and I can't transfer what is left to me Kathy what" he calmed himself "I would need a starship captain not afraid of command to take me even then I would need stellar reviews" he sighed running his hand through his short hair. "I don't see that happening soon, besides I've had other offers"

"What other offers," she asked not liking this turn of events

"You know what offers, the same offers every near disgraced Starfleet officer gets, and you know from whom as well"

Now she was worried, the marquis were slowly sapping the fire from the federation, taking officers who wouldn't bow their heads in submission; they were old school officers and held the values of Starfleet secondary to the defence of its people. Men like James Tiberius Kirk, would not have thrived as they once had in Starfleet now, she shuddered to think what Kirk would have done with the Marquis if he commanded them.

"Jack your fighting wasn't the only reason I called," she said needing to get this conversation on track, "I have need of a tactical officer"

"Oh, and what happened to that Vulcan friend of yours"

"I don't know," she said he could see the genuine concern in her eyes

"Where did you lose him?"

"The Badlands"

"You want me to take over till you find him" it wasn't a question it was a statement of fact.

"Yes, we'll be at deep space nine in a week to pick up the last of the crew meet us there," she said "I've already secured it with Admiral Paris"

"Then I will see you in a week," he said before he terminated the transmission, the familiar painting of the enterprise taking up space. He made his way back to his bed and collapsed into its comforting embrace.