"Commencement", by Justen Hunter.

Edited by Kira and Mike. This story's to them and my parents; my mother, for giving me the writing genes, my dad for getting me to watch the right science fiction.

Personal Log, Jason M. Craz, stardate…computer, date? Oh, right, 56821.9
The Interceptor is headed to Starbase Republic, where I'm set to take command of the station. Starbase Republic is on the edge of the Coreward Expanse, a region of space for the most part uncharted. I guess we all get to be explorers now.

Captain Jason M. Craz, on a normal day, would have completely tolerated the gossips of his friend Olis Neemar. In fact, he found it soothing, to have an almost constant noise, her rough accented lilt relaxing him as he did his daily reps in the U.S.S. Interceptor's gym.

"And so I tell Taylor that we can either count spots all night-yum yum, or I just treat her out to a nice night out on the holodecks, go ice skating and all, and do you know what she picks?" Olis asked. She was sprawled out over a bench, looking upside down at Jason as he did his daily pull-ups. Her chocolate spots were only a tinge darker than her skin, and her tank top showed off a flat stomach, with two faint scars on her abdomen.

"Let me guess," Jason said, hanging off the rail used for pull-ups. "She wants to spend a night on the holodeck, something we've all been deprived of for five months. If you want a lay that bad, why don't you go ask Shiko, or even try someone with a Y chromosome?"

Olis rolled herself over to sit up, sighing. "But I like girls right now. Men just...irk me right now. I like to scratch itches as well as get mine scratched, if you get my-" Jason gave her a dark look, and she silenced herself with a sigh. Her eyes went dreamy for a moment, but her reverie quickly broke.

"Hey, so, is it true they're giving you a new XO?" Her eyes lit with that look. Do I have a new target for pranks? was the real question she was asking.

"Yes, Olis," Jason said, letting go of the rail to drop to the deck. "Commander T'Lessa. Can you believe it? I got stuck with a Vulcan."

"It's not too bad, Jason. I've served with plenty of Vulcans. They can be…irritating at times, and no real fun to date, but they're bloody brilliant."

Jason shrugged after he replaced his t-shirt with the red undershirt that went under his uniform. "If you say so. Remember, Olis, you've got a few hundred years ahead of me when it comes to dealing with Vulcans."

"Captain," the voice of James Williams came over the comms. He was a Lieutenant, Craz's temporary XO. A former tactical analyst, he would be joining the new crew on the Starbase with them. "The U.S.S. Sitting Bull has entered comms range. Captain Mori has answered the standard hails, and we've shared trajectories. We'll rendezvous with them in ten minutes."

Jason reached for his uniform's jacket, tapping the commbadge on the breast. "Acknowledged, Jim. What's our ETA to the Starbase?"

A moment of silence came from the other end, probably Williams conferring with a bridge officer. "Five hours, sir."
"Thanks. Tell Shiko that I'll meet her in the transporter bay. Craz out." Jason tapped his commbadge again, closing the line.
"Shiko? Since when are you on nickname terms with her?" Olis inquired.

Jason pulled on his jacket as he replied. "Since she was my XO for two years, dope."

Olis followed suit, putting on her uniform jacket as she sat up. "It took you two years? It only took me three hours and a bottle of-"

"Olis!" Jason put his hands over his ears. "I don't need to know about my former XO's sex life."

The Trill simply rolled her eyes and walked to the door. "Your loss," She drawled out.

Jason walked into the Interceptor's miniscule transporter bay, a room that barely held its current occupants. Present was Sergeant Chandra Bukhari, a Marine on attached duty aboard the Interceptor, and Warrant Officer Dreksan, the transporter chief currently on ship.

"Sir," Bukhari said, clicking his boots as Jason entered. "We've slowed to impulse speed for the transport. Commander T'Lessa and the two others report ready to beam aboard."

"What're the names of the other two?" Jason asked, straightening out his jacket as he mentally cursed himself for not bothering to read his morning reports.

Chandra looked to Dreksan, who answered in his gruff voice. "Lieutenant…Jerro Leya, engineer, and Subcommander Jarok tr'Valdore, sir."

"Very well," After registering a double take, Jason replied. "Wait, Subcommander?"
Chandra got the ball on that one. "Yes, sir, from Romulan Fleet Command. With the recent dissolution of the neutral zone and the inclusion of the Romulans into the OEP, Starfleet wants to get them in on the action."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Oy, gevalt. All right, Mister Dreksan, energize." Jason, you really need to actually read those reports. He chided himself. The Tellarite nodded, and three shafts of blue light that marked the initiation of a transporter cycle appeared a few moments later.

There were three figures, the middle of which spoke first. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" She asked, her voice a clipped tone. She was rather short, and instead of a traditional Vulcan bowl-cut kept her hair up in a neat ponytail.

"Granted." Jason said, and the three officers stepped off of the platform. "I'm Captain Jason Craz, and this is Sergeant Bukhari."

"Commander T'Lessa, your first officer." The Vulcan said, bowing her head politely.

The woman to T'Lessa's left was a tall, blonde Bajoran woman. Out of the three, she was the only one to extend her hand. "Lieutenant Jerro, sir." She said.

Jason shook her hand, offering her a smile. "Pleasure to have you aboard, Lieutenant."

And finally, there was the Subcommander. "Jolan tru, Captain." He said, pronouncing the j with a distinct y sound instead. Jason surmised it was an accent thing.

"Subcommander," Jason nodded, trying to make nice with the tall Romulan. Jason mused that he looked like something out of a holodrama, almost. Then again, Jason had only intelligence reports and holodramas to go off of when it came to Romulans, so he thought it best not to rely on stereotypes. "Commander T'Lessa, Lieutenant Jerro, if you could follow Sergeant Bukhari, he'll escprt you to the bridge, so you can meet the rest of the gang.

"Subcommander, could I ask you for a conversation, in private?" Jason tacked on.

Jarok inclined his head slightly. "Ie." He answered, which to Jason's gut feelings meant 'yes'. You should probably learn some basic Rihannsu as well, Jason.

Jason put on his poker smile. "All right, my office is just aft of here on this deck."

Bukhari showed T'Lessa and Leya to the door, from which they departed to the turbolift down the corridor. "Bridge," Bukhari said as they soon entered the turbolift. "So, first impressions?" He asked, with a devious tone that just screamed gossip.

"Out of a thirty second meet-and-greet? I'd say he looks good," Leya replied. "He definitely has that 'homegrown-Terran' vibe going for him."

The sergeant let out a chuckle. "It gets better, trust me, I-" He was interrupted by T'Lessa clearing her throat.

"Lieutenant, Sergeant," the Vulcan said, her voice silencing them. "Please save your gossip until you are both off-duty." The two bided their tongues, put in their place for the moment.

Jason sat down at the chair behind his desk, getting a cup of coffee from the replicator on the top of the desk. "Can I get you anything, Subcommander?" He asked.

"Kevas, if your replicator has it, Captain. If not, I believe I will abstain." Jarok answered.

Jason replicated him a cup, the coffee-like concoction's cinnamon wafts seeming to fill the air instantly, handing it to him. "Now, Subcommander, I'd like to discuss, what are you going to be doing on my station? Position-wise, that is."

Jarok took a sip of the mug's liquid, tasting it and seemingly deciding that it was too hot for the moment. "Captain, I was trained as a weapons officer and hold some of the highest scores in the Rei'krannsu training programs. I believed that I would hold the position of your tactical officer aboard the station."

"I'm sorry, Subcommander, but I already have a tactical officer. I've served with her for four years, and I'm not willing to just let her go."

"Of course, Captain, I understand loyalty." Jarok nodded. "Perhaps…we could find some way to split the duties. A port and shipyard such as Starbase Republic will need a constabulary head."

Jason let a small grin touch his face. "I'll talk with Olis."

"Thank you, sir," Jarok replied. "To be perfectly honest, I dread the paperwork that comes with my liaison position. I would like to have a position on your staff that would let me on my feet once in a while."

"Isn't that what we all fear," Jason mused. "Confinement to a desk?"

"Ie." Jarok muttered in dark tones.

Chandra stepped out onto the bridge, leading T'Lessa and Leya into the command center of the Interceptor, its forward-facing bridge similar to its parent Defiant-class. "XO on deck!" Chandra called out, causing all present who were standing to immediately snap to, and those sitting to stand up and face the newcomers. A man of medium height and graced with dusky brown hair stood forward, wearing a lieutenant's pips.

"Commander T'Lessa, I presume." The lieutenant said, his voice warm and inviting.

"Indeed," T'Lessa nodded. "Lieutenant…?"

"Williams, Commander. Lieutenant James Williams. I've been filling in as the Captain's XO for the past few months."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. You stand relieved. Status report?"

Williams nodded. "All systems are running at peak efficiency, Commander. We're on a course for Starbase Republic, at speed warp 8.3." He reported.

"Helm," T'Lessa started. "Time until arrival?"

A red-haired conn officer, a young Lieutenant, answered. "Two hours, ma'am." She said.

"Thank you, Lieutenant?" The intonation of her voice implied the request of a name.

The helm officer spun her chair around to face the senior officer. "Lieutenant Jodi Wilson, ma'am."

Williams smirked. "Jodi's the best pilot in the Fleet, Commander." He said, with a bit of comrade's pride on his face.

"Is that so?" T'Lessa said, giving both Williams and Jodi a look that simply said she was not impressed so far. "Carry on," She ordered, and took her seat in the CO's chair. The crew resumed their bustle, the murmur of their activity filling the bridge as everyone took their stations.

Jason and his senior staff headed through the corridors of the docking bay. Starbase Republic so far was turning out to look like other Alexandria-class bases, gray walls and the standard LCARS interface. However, Jason found that instead of the Starfleet delta adorning many of the doors, there was instead a triad of images formed in a downwards facing triangle, comprised of a Romulan crest, a Klingon trifoil, and the Federation star field seal. Then, silently, Jason dreaded the possibility of Romulan and Klingon officers going for each others throats. Not a pleasant thought for any Captain.

Nobody talked much during the walk to the conference room, again a gray affair with the same triad adorning the wall and computer screens. However, Jason found the room to be already occupied, and anything but silent. On one end of the table, a man with hair jet as space was arguing in a booming voice, with a few Slavic curses that Jason couldn't immediately recognize tossed in every few sentences. On the other stood a Klingon woman, matching in decibels, short but with ferocity that belied her stature.

"Do you even know what I'm trying to say?" The Klingon exasperated, which was returned by a few words that the translators weren't willing to handle.

Jason clapped his hands together, snapping the two out of their argument temporarily. "Attention!" Both officers turned to face Craz.

"Sir," The man said, He wore the rank of a lieutenant commander, a black collar that indicated internal affairs or intelligence, and with a posture that reminded Craz of Alpha Centaurian admirals.

"Captain," The Klingon grunted as she seemed to cringe at embarrassment. Certainly not what you got from a Klingon usually.

"I would naturally ask what in the name of Lincoln's ghost you two are arguing about," Jason started. "But I don't even know who you are."

The human answered first, snapping to attention. "Lieutenant Commander Remius, sir. Azimir Remius. I'm your Intelligence liaison." He curtly nodded to Jason.

"Lieutenant Sitara, Captain." The Klingon supplied her name. "Science officer. And if I may explain, sir?"

Jason considered as he sat down, directing everyone else to do the same. T'Lessa instinctively took the chair to his right, Jarok his left, then the rest falling in motley assembly.

"Now," he then said. "Begin."

Sitara took a deep breath, and then began. "Sir, Commander Remius insulted me."

Remius immediately interrupted. "I did no such thing. I merely suggested that perhaps she should try rechecking her figures."
The Klingon sneered at him. "Your tone hardly belied that accommodating feeling." The glare that she emitted had raw power that would have made a warp core quiver.

Bad day, begin act three, Jason thought with a lighter air than the situation allowed. "Lieutenant Sitara, give the commander a break. He was just making a suggestion. He wasn't insulting you. We're all officers here, so let's act like it. Understood?"
Both Remius and Sitara murmured affirmatives. "Good. Now, let's get down to business." Introductions were made all around, coffee was ordered from the conference room replicator, and Jason loaded the program of the briefing into the table's holoimager. The first image shown was a map of space, then a more localized section of that space.

"Welcome to the Llewellyn System, people, straight on the edge of the Coreward Territories, as the Federation and the other Allies are calling it. A few people more aptly call it 'the middle of nowhere'." A few chuckles passed around the room. "For the moment, they're right. Not a lot's here yet from our part.

"That's going to change, though. Starfleet, the Galae," Jason pronounced the Romulan word again, fumbling over the foreign nature of it. "And the Klingon Defense Force is also sending ships to explore the new areas, push back the fog as it were. Starfleet sent out a few runabouts from here already to scout out the immediate area from this station."
Jason switched the images, this time to a small, nacelle-less craft. "The runabout T'Narrek. Contact was lost thirty hours ago, approximately. Their last known location was near a system with one M-Class planetary body. Lieutenant Sitara?"

As Jason sat, the young Klingon stood. "Thank you, sir." Now that she wasn't frustrated, the Klingon's voice almost had a lilting quality to it. "The planet is called Siennos, inhabited by a population of two million, of about three or four main races along with a scattering of others. The largest population is that of the Gre'aki. The Siennos population is warp-capable, and seems to be on a level only a few years behind us, but they seem to have no real wishes to leave their system.

"Our first contact with them was made by my people about ten years ago." With a growl tacked on that only a scientist who had to play outside of their comfort zone could muster, she made an addendum. "Federation standard years, that is. On-and-off contact has been kept throughout that time, only three chronicled visits with no data exchange. They're not a talkative people in the long run, so we know very little about them."

Remius tacked on his own comments. "The T'Narrek was not supposed to visit Siennos, Captain. They could have been lured there any number of ways."

"Before we go charging in like the cavalry," T'Lessa drawled. "Perhaps we should determine first if the Gre'aki have foul intentions."

"Which is what I intend to do. We'll take the Interceptor out to Siennos and see what we can find there. Lieutenant Jerro?"
Leya looked towards Jason at the head of the table. "Yes, sir?"

"How soon can you have the Interceptor ready?" He asked.

The lieutenant considered a moment, twiddling with a stylus between her fingers. "I'd say…about an hour and a half, if I start right away."

"How about an hour and we tack up the loose ends while we're in transit?" Jason asked. "Hop to, Lieutenant."

Leya seemed to beam at the challenge. "Yes, sir." She said, and departed.

Jason continued. "Commander T'Lessa, I want you to stay behind to command the station while we search. Subcommander tr'Valdore, Jodi, Olis, and Commander Remius, you'll be on the Interceptor with us. And…do we have a chief medical officer yet?"

Remius nodded. "Yes, sir, but Doctor Niana was unable to attend the meeting. She was in surgery."

Another person Jason had yet to meet…big staff. "If she's wrapped up her work, have her join us. Otherwise, we'll use Thomas." He referred to the EMH that was currently installed on the Interceptor. Okay, we'll leave in an hour and a half. Dismissed."

The red-green planet of Siennos, despite it's unusual colors, had very little to be proud of. Plains and forests dominated most of the planet, with a very few miniscule bodies of water pock-marking the surface. Jason personally had not found it to be of any remarkable reason as to why the Siennosians had only been visited three times in the past decade.

"Jason," Olis started. "I've interfaced with the Gre'aki Nets. I found a record of the runabout's arrival." Her fingers danced around the console, searching. "It was at a place called Spaceport Grenaris, up until a few hours ago."

Jason looked over to Olis. "Can you get where they went?" He asked.

"You kidding?" She smirked, and her fingers began the waltz again. "Breya-osa!" The Trill exclamation was from Jason's experience never a good one.

"What happened, Olis?" Jason asked, his gaze growing a worried glance.

Azimir sighed. "They have it locked out, sir, and Lieutenant Neemar tripped a security alert." A low comm bloop sounded. "We're being hailed. It's a...Director Kanlo, the spaceport manager."

"Put it onscreen," Jason ordered, stifling a sigh arising in his throat. "This is Captain Jason Craz of the Allied Starship Interceptor."

An alien with gray mottled skin and a receding hairline answered, his chipmunk cheeks following his jaw as he spoke. "Captain Craz, I'm Director Kanlo, facilitator of the Grenaris Spaceport." His voice carried a cultured level to it, the kind that Jason previously considered only a best-selling author or other prominent artist had. "My technicians reported to me that you attempted to access a file that was restricted."

"Yea," Jason started, scratching his chin. "Funny thing. A ship of ours, a shuttle by the name of the T'Narrek, was reported at your dock recently. We'd like to track her down, immediately, Director, and your records on their departure."

"Oh, but of course, Captain," Kanlo stuttered out. "If you would meet me in our building, I can have the mainframes accessed for you and we can find out just exactly what happened to your...shuttle."

"If you'll pardon me for asking, Director," Jason started. "Couldn't you just upload it to our computer?"

"Captain, we prefer to give information hand-to-hand. It prevents any information being intercepted."

The captain nodded. "Very well, if you'll send us the coordinates we'll beam down. Interceptor out." He nodded to Azimir, who closed the comm channel.

A dull silence hung through the bridge. Everyone looked to each other, before Jim spoke. "Permission to speak freely-" He started but was immediately cut off by Olis.

"Jason," She blurted out. "If we go down there you're walking into a trap, and you're an idiot."

His response was to chuckle in amusement. "I know it's a trap, Olis. But we need to find out where the missing officers are."

Jason mulled his thoughts over and finally said. "I'll go."

Olis looked over at her friend, and shook her head. "How many languages do you want me to say no in?!" She exclaimed. "I'm not letting you go down there. Me, Subcommander tr'Valdore, and Sergeant Bukhari will beam down, with combat gear and emergency subspace transponders. At the first sign of trouble, we beam out!"

"All right," Jason conceded. "Get down to the armory. Good luck, guys." The officers nodded, and stood up from their respective stations to leave the bridge.

The reception area they beamed down to reminded Olis of a palace she had helped retake during the Battle of Aeonar, though much smaller. Everything had an organic look, with vines growing along the walls, both distorting the natural color of the other. Olis checked the safety on her weapon, what Starfleet now classified as a 'personal defense phaser', in reality a compact carbine that hung out on a harness from her shoulder. Jarok, on the other hand, made quite the dashing (and appealing) figure, his disruptor tucked along a weapon's belt that also held his Honor Blade. Chandra Bukhari seemed comfortably at home in his stance, his carbine slung low on his side, but his eyes were focused, dedicated.

"Any bets on what kind of architecture this is?" Olis asked, idly tapping her foot on the ground. "My money's on Aeonaren."
Chandra glanced over at her. "Aeonaren? More of a...what was that one planet during the War, the place where Captain Craz got shot in the arm..."

"I thought that was New Azetbur."

Jarok cleared his throat, napping the two from their conversation. Kanlo, even more unthreatening in reality, was walking through one of the doors. Accompanying him was a group of six soldiers, clothed in red uniforms. Here it comes, Olis thought.
"Greetings, and welcome to Siennos." Kanlo said as the troops fanned out in front of them. "I hate to say this, but you've been tricked. My superiors wish to meet you, and I'm afraid that they would prefer to have you in a partially damaged state." Each soldier raised their rifles.

"Hey, Chandra, Jarok?" Olis muttered. "I have a suggestion." Her hand drifted slowly to the carbine on her waist.
Jarok glanced over to her, catching view of her movement and letting his own fingers linger near the disruptor he carried. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

Olis looked between the soldiers, who upon closer inspection appeared only to be shaking new recruits, and the three officers, professionals who all were ready to act. "Give 'em hell." She whispered.

Jarok looked between the two Starfleet officers, and the three simultaneously they grabbed their weapons, each taking a target and stunning them before the soldiers even had a chance to react.

"You. You killed them!" Kanlo gasped.

Olis rolled her eyes. "Stunned. Now tell us where the runabout went."

Kanlo's cheeks flushed green, aghast. Jarok felt that it was not very hard to surmise that this wasn't a military installation. "I'm sorry, I can't do this," He cried. With a gesture of his hand, the soldiers lowered their weapons. "The Cerva took one of your officers, Captain. The other is in our infirmary."

Jarok holstered his disruptor, sensing the shift in tone in the man's voice. "Can we see the officer?" The Romulan asked. "And who are the Cerva?"

Kanlo's soldiers started tending to the shot as he explained. "They're the species who control our world, tyrants who rule from their ships." The green coloring drained from his face as he spoke. "As for your officer, he is in our infirmary. He's sick, but we don't know what's afflicting him."

"We have a doctor. She'll be able to help. In the meantime, perhaps you and our Captain should speak in person."

Olis had gone to the infirmary of the government building, finding an Andorian ensign in one of the beds. He had taken a shot from a plasma weapon, an injury even she could have fixed it with the limited medical knowledge from past hosts her symbiont held. However, she had taken the precaution of beaming her up to the Interceptor, preferring to let the doctor take care of it.
Beaming up to the ship, she called for the doctor, who was in the adjoining labs at the time. Rushing out of the labs into sickbay was a woman who Olis could describe as luscious. An Orion woman in uniform and blue lab coat, Doctor Niana hurried over to the bedside of the Andorian. "What's his sitrep?" The doctor asked, her voice soft, maternal in every syllable.

"Plasma wound." Olis said, getting a medical tray for the doctor. "I'd say weaponized, Doc."

Niana picked up a dermal regenerator and a hypo off the tray, activating the first tool over his wound and injecting him with the latter. Olis watched and assisted as she worked magic. Yikiel Neemar would consider her an artist in her work, her efficiency, the care her tools and supplements made with each binding, each cut.

After twenty minutes of surgery, Niana pulled off her surgery gloves and turned off her tools. "Patient is stable, Lieutenant..."

"Neemar," Olis said, cleaning up the medical tray and putting the expended materials into the waste repository. "Olis Neemar."

"Doctor Zasora Niana, at your service," the Orion said. She bowed with a courtesy that made Olis wonder what exactly that meant.

Olis grinned. And they say slave girl fantasies aren't healthy. "Well, I-" The comm buzzed.

"Olis, meet me in the transporter room." Jason's voice came through. "Director Kanlo's beaming aboard, and I'm going to want you sitting in on our talks, just for that Neemar intuition. Capiesh?"

The Trill mentally groaned as she tapped her commbadge. "Gotcha, Jason. Be there in a snap." She tapped her commbadge off,and hurried out the door.

The Interceptor's mess hall, due to lack of proper facilities, was used as a conference room when the need arose. Director Kanlo and his aide, a bulky man with wolfish features who reminded Jason of a character from his childhood comic book days. The two were seated at a table there, and stood when Jason entered the room.

"Director Kanlo," Jason nodded to the pair. He pulled out a chair on the opposite side, and sat down. "If you don't mind me asking, what is it you wanted to talk about that we couldn't discuss over the comms?"

Kanlo scratched idly at a dark grey freckle on his cheek. His face grew downcast, "Captain, I come to you aboard your vessel because my world is one in danger."

Jason took a breath before speaking. He doubted Kanlo's sincerity, mostly for the reason that his away team was ambushed. "Director, would you care to explain?"

The director's head bobbed. "It's the Cerva, Captain." Though the word was foreign to Jason, he knew from Kanlo's tone that it seemed to have some sort of fearful connotation.

"The Cerva." Jason repeated. Skepticism marked him for the moment.Kanlo nodded.

"If you haven't heard of them, you're bound to soon, Captain. They rule this sector, though the average person doesn't know it.

They operate in secrecy, but if you plan to keep exploring this space, I'll suggest you prepare to meet them." He cleared histhroat, a cough that seemed unhealthy. "Basron?" He looked over to the wolf-man, who produced a hypospray of some sort, and pressed it into Kanlo's neck.

Kanlo wheezed, prompting Jason to inquire. "Director, if I'm not too bold to ask..."

Basron replied. His voice matched his appearance, quiet and husked. "Director Kanlo suffers from a condition affecting his lungs, I'm afraid." The wolf-man proceeded to withdraw a scanner from his coat, activating it and running it over the director.

"I'm sorry," Jason offered, and continued after Kanlo waved his harm dismissively. "These Cerva, what can you tell me about them?

"The Cerva are a predatory race, Captain." He coughed again, though he recovered this time. His face's line grew deeper. "The Jolas, the ones who are in power, they tax us with food and resources, in exchange for protection. We don't need that protection, Captain. Siennos and others like it are ready for independence from their taxes and armies."

Jason studied Kanlo a moment. "Director, I represent Starfleet, the military arm of the United Federation of Planets. And, well, our first and foremost directive is one of non-interference."

Kanlo regarded Craz with a smile. He placed his hands on the table, palms up. "And yet you came to our world. What does that say?"

"We're explorers, Director, not professional revolutionaries for hire."

"We don't ask you to join our cause, but merely to acknowledge it. Word of the Federation has reached even this small corner. And with word that you recognize our cause as even viable, that is enough for our people."

Needless to say Jason felt a bit taken aback. He hadn't been expecting this when he woke up this morning. A nervous twinge grew in his stomach, telling him to go with training. "I'd have to talk with my superiors, and our government. I can't make this decision on my own."

"Of course, Captain." Kanlo nodded. "You'll find that the inhabitants of Siennos are patient people. As a sign of good faith, we offer you our entire databases. There isn't much on the Cerva, I'm afraid, though we can let you study it."

"Thank you, Director, the Federation appreciates the gift." Jason stood and shook Kanlo's hand. "Lieutenant Neemar will escort you to the transporter room so you can beam down before we leave." Courtesies were exchanged, and Kanlo and Basron were escorted from the mess hall. A few moments later, James and tr'Valdore entered.

"Listening in?" Jason piped, glancing over the two.

James found himself a chair, pulling it out to face Jason and sitting down. "Of course. Captain, we shouldn't get involved."
"And why not?" Jarok inquired. "They are potential allies."

"I could name a few reasons off the top of my head," Jim started, his voice reaching a low growl. "Like that we have no clue what they stand for."

The Romulan glanced over, the look on his face serene, to a point. "We can we find out. We're getting their databases, are we not? Let's study them, and each government of the Allies may make their own decision regarding the Siennos population."

Jason sat back down at one of the tables, wishing at the moment he'd slept in a little later this morning as his eyelids weighed heavy on him. It wasn't age that made him sleep easier, he could be sure of that. At forty, he wasn't particularly aged to be a Captain. "Sounds good. As soon as we've got their files, put them in a secure hard copy so we can scan for viruses when we get back to the station. James, get Jodi plotting a course back to Starbase Republic."

The freckled redhead nodded. "Aye, sir," He said, standing from his chair and removing himself from the room.
"Captain Craz?" Jarok piqued, folding his hands behind his back.

"Yes, Subcommander, I'd like to talk with you." Jason looked up to face the tall Romulan. "How familiar are you with Starfleet tactical systems?" Jason had never seen a Romulan grin before. He had almost expected to have seen fangs, but the rows of perfect teeth were just as assuring.

Captain's log, stardate 56825.7,
We've been back at the station a day now, and Commander T'Lessa and Lieutenant Sitara have spent the past ten hours looking through the databases the Gre'aki gave us. They've promised to give a report at the end of the day about their findings, and Starfleet Intelligence and the Federation Council will be doing their own research. In the meantime, Starbase Republic and the attached ships have been given the green light for exploration missions to more thoroughly map the rest of this sector; and search for the missing runabout pilot. I only hope that their exploration will turn something up.

Jodi had been pacing around the waiting room outside the OR of the infirmary for well over an hour. One might've been expected her to be waiting on a friend's childbirth from her pacing, but she was here for concern for Shoy Craz, the wounded Andorian. He'd had injuries that weren't fully mapped out previously, and he needed to be "patched up." She watched as the blue In Surgerylight still glared at her at the door. She finally sat herself down in one of the chairs, brushing a hand over her lap.
Jodi had met Shoy two years earlier, him a bright-faced newly-minted ensign, she the unruly lieutenant who had just gotten piloting duty on the U.S.S. Interceptor. She'd narrowly missed the end of the Dominion War in her assignment, and joined the steely comrades who had taken her in as one of their own. The two had worked on a long-distance relationship, writing letters every day to each other. And when they finally did have time together they'd spent nights on Earth, long hot nights in his home city of Singapore that both remembered very fondly.

Shoy had mentioned last week that he would be leaving Earth for some exploration project, out of contact for a week, but she hadn't known that he would be heading out here. She couldn't help but feel a little hurt he said nothing about it.
But she couldn't hold anything against him now. Not in his present state, helpless on an operating table. Jodi also brought into consideration that his smile could melt her, she knew that. She sighed, resting her arms on her chin. The panel on the OR room door still said In Surgery. Jodi waited another half-hour, until the light changed to All Clear.

Doctor Niana came out a few minutes later, a smile touching her face. "Lieutenant Wilson." Niana said. "He's all right. We got the bleeding taken care of, and got rid of the infections from the wounds.

"Honestly, those…Gre'aki are on the medieval half of medicine. If we hadn't gotten to him when we did, I only shudder to think…" Niana shook her head, frustrated. Dusting her scrubs off, she added. "But he's fine now."

Jodi smiled. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you." She repeated, her voice soft, relieved. "When can I see him?"

"In an hour or so. He needs some time to recuperate, but he will be up and about before you know it."

Jodi took a relaxed breath. "Oh, thank you," Shoy was all right. He was just too damned perfect for him to die.

The clap of a pool cue hitting a ball, and the corresponding minor curse that accompanied a bad hit, rang through Russell's Tavern. Russell's was the only bar on station, so far, and with bars accompanied the officers and crew that it drew. Jason would have guessed that three out of every four patrons was somehow employed by Starfleet. Republic was a minor port so far, being more a military outpost than a trading one. But Jason didn't mind particularly.

"Cheers," Olis, sitting next to him, clapped her glass against his, downing a drink of warm ale. She set her drink on the counter, and started sorting through peanuts. "So, Jason, do you trust Kanlo?"

Jason considered for a moment, picking out a peanut he liked. He crushed the shell and put the fragments of it in a small bucket while taking out the center. "I don't know. Are you faithful to Taylor?"

"Touché," Olis said. She knocked him on the shoulder. "Speaking of which, I've got to go try and apologize for missing dinner."

"After two rounds?" Jason rolled his eyes. "Olis, you're incorrigible, you know that?"

Olis winked, taking another swig from the ale. "How do you think we make up so easily, Jason?"

"I don't want to know." He shook his head.

The two stood up, and paid their tabs. They turned their heads back to the bar doors. Olis was about to speak, but she was interrupted by the blaring alarm of another shop on the promenade.

"Imosya," Olis cursed. "Here we go again." The two got their jackets and left through the front door, hurrying towards the alarm.