Commander Nathalie Gars entered the crew-quarters and unbuttoned her officers-jacket as she did.

"Evening gentlemen" the commander said, addressing the off-duty officers already gathered.

Seven. Gars halted as she realized there was one more person than the usual six. The young trill that had accompanied lieutenant Marcus-Kirk had somehow managed to find his way to the table where the weekly game of andorian poker was being set up. The trill was studying the various cards of the deck. Gars sat down with the regular players, eying the newcomer with some suspicion.

"Basic flat hold" the andorian said, wearing the red shirt of Engineering beneath his cooling-vest, along with the rank of lieutenant commander on his collar. "Straight give with frost on the side."

Cards were dealt and received. Gars glanced at the trill, it was clear he struggled with the given hand, most likely unsure if it was good or not.

"Three open" Gars said and placed three of her eight cards, facing upwards, on the table.

"Two down" a human security officer said, placing two cards facing down.

"Holding" the andorian said, holding on to his eight cards.

"Seven open" the trill said.

Everyone watched with not a small amount of amazement as the federation ambassador placed seven of his eight cards on the table, all facing up.

"You just gave us your entire hand" Gars pointed out. "You sure you want to do that?"

The trill nodded while giving thought to his action. "Yeah, it seems like the best bet at the moment."

The andorian chief engineer chuckled. "You think your last card can win you the game?"

"I'm simply curious how far it will take me" the trill replied with a dashing smile.

Gars had to admit that the trill was something of a rogue. Arrogant for sure, but at the same time, charming.

XXX XXX

Sybok was in meditation when a signal indicated a person at the door. A bit surprised, Sybok got on his feet and headed for the door and pressed the controls that allowed it to slide open. Outside stood a young vulcan, wearing the uniform of Starfleet.

"Sybok T'Rea-born, I am Tuvok T'Meni-born."

"Tuvok" the older of the two vulcans said. "How can I assist you?"

"I require no assistance" the younger vulcan admitted. "I merely found it prudent to introduce myself so that you would be aware that there is a vulcan serving onboard this vessel, as it might be important should you find yourself in need of assistance during your mission on Korvat."

"Most logical, my young friend" Sybok smiled.

A smile that had Tuvok quirk his eyebrow. "Does my action amuse you?"

"Not at all" Sybok held up a hand as a gesture of calming his fellow vulcan. "I merely appreciate it." Sybok took a step to the side. "Please, come in."

"As you wish."

The door shut behind Tuvok as the two moved to sit down by the rooms only table, a small thing capable of supporting no more than three cups. As it were, only Syboks cup of tea was currently placed on top of it. As they sat down, Sybok poured his guest some tea; doing so, he noted Tuvok inspecting him.

"My appearance?" Sybok said and placed the tea to the side. "You find it odd?"

"I was not prepared for it" Tuvok admitted. "My apologies. Logic suggests that you have taken on a disguise for the mission at hand, to not be as easily recognized as a vulcan, and indeed, not to be recognized as the famed Sybok T'rea-born of New Vulcan."

Sybok nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Your logic is sound, young Tuvok" he said and sipped his tea.

"Sybok, may I inquire?"

"You may" the diplomat of New Vulcan said and awaited the question.

"Your mission" Tuvok began. "It has caused the officers onboard to speculate. Even question the validity of your assignment. My inquiry concerns the following; should I keep you informed incase the crew decides to do something... foolish?"

Sybok appeared somewhat surprised. "To spy on them? Is that wise? You will betray their trust and alienate yourself from men and women whose trust, and affection, you will depend upon in the years to come. Is that logical?"

Tuvok did not need to think upon it for any length. "The success of your mission surely must outweigh my career in terms of benefiting the Federation."

"Without a doubt" Sybok agreed. "But I fail to see the need to destroy your future in Starfleet, when there is no need for it."

"Then logic should at least dictate that you consider it a viable option, should need arise in the coming days."

"That it does dictate, young Tuvok" Sybok said with a smile. "But for now, I think it's best if you do not sever your ties with your comrades. Those ties may prove just as crucial in the days to come, as any information concerning the conduct of your fellow officers might."

"A very logical conclusion, ambassador."

XXX XXX

Emelie Marcus-Kirk watched the model of a Constitution-class starship. It was hanging on the wall together with one other model; an Excelsior-class starship representing the USS Excelsior-A.

"They haven't built anything like the Enterprise since she went down."

Emelie turned to face Hikaru Sulu as the captain of the Excelsior poured himself a drink.

"One hell of a ship" Sulu added.

"My father always said it wasn't the ship that made the difference. It was her crew."

Hikaru chuckled at the comment. "Don't tell Scotty that."

Emelie smiled widely in response to Sulus remark, but as soon as she realized that the captain had turned grim, she understood why and her smile faded.

"Scotty" Hikaru Sulu said, looking into the glass of alcohol. "Spock… Kirk…" Sulu slowly turned to the daughter of James T. Kirk and sighed. "I am alive thanks to them. I wish I knew how to repay that debt."

"By taking care of this crew" Emelie said, allowing herself to smile anew.

Sulu nodded and then sat down behind his desk in the captains ready-room. "You know… When your father gave me the order to fly everyone else to safety… I almost punched him in the face. I knew I would make it out of there alive. But leaving the captain to fight a crew of klingons on his own? It could only end one way."

"As I understand it" Emelie said, "they almost made it."

Sulu nodded, eyes locked on something in the far distance of a memory. "Your father had the klingons distracted. Scotty prepped the ship and Spock made sure that the Enterprise would self-destruct. What went wrong, I don't know. But for some reason, Spock had to remain behind; he detonated the ship while he was still onboard, killing three dozen klingons in the process."

"Allowing Scotty and dad to beam out" Emelie added, almost as a reminder. "Commander Spock died a hero."

"Didn't help all that much in the end, did it?" Sulu said, sounding a bit surly. "That bastard, Kruge, didn't die with the others on Enterprise and managed to stick a knife in the captains chest."

"They died so that you could fly out of there, with the entire crew." Emelie walked over to the captain of the Excelsior and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Their sacrifice was not in vain, Hikaru. They saved the entire crew."

Sulu locked eyes with Emelie, a tear running down his cheek. "How do I repay that debt?"

Emelie sighed and gave her answer some thought. "Remember who they were" she said with a smile. "And remain true to your own crew."

"If I could" Sulu said as he wiped the tear from his face, "I would gladly trade places with your father."

Emelie paused, as if the words struck deep inside of her. "So would I."

XXX XXX

"Well, that's enough for me" the trill said, smile wide on his face. "I have lost enough latinum for one evening."

"Please free to join us again" the andorian chief engineer grinned, a pile of winnings in front of him.

The trill got on his feet and left the room. As he was heading down the corridor, a voice called out for him and he stopped to turn. Commander Gars pulled on her gray jacket as she headed up to the trill.

"Curzon Dax was it?" the commander asked.

"Indeed, commander."

"Don't think I didn't figure you out back there" she said as she buttoned the uniform. "You didn't play to win. You played to go even in the end."

"No rule against that, is there?" Dax wondered.

"No" Gars had to admit. "But why play if you don't intend to win?"

"Ah" Dax theatrically said with a dashing smile that was most charming, "you see, commander, I have found that at times you will get what you want in the end, if you let your opponent gain a little when it doesn't really matter."

Gars gave the words some thought. "You intend to rob Shrav blind, don't you?"

"Not at all" Dax assured the commander. "I like your chief engineer. And after tonight, he likes me too."

"Just making friends? Is that it?"

"Believe it or not, commander" Dax shrugged his shoulders, "that is a crucial part in my line of work."

"As a Federation ambassador" Gars added, smiling and nodding. "You want friends in case your mission on Korvat goes wrong?"

Dax did not argue. "Why else would Starfleet assign an ambassador to a mission like this? After all, friends rarely try and kill you."

"I was tonight's target, wasn't I?" Gars said, unable to hold back a smile in the corner of her mouth as she realized why the trill had charmed his way into joining tonight's card-game.

"You couldn't care less about Shrav or Ferenka. You wanted to gain my attention. Right?"

Dax turned on his most handsome smile. "You should be working for Starfleet Intelligence, commander. Flying around, scanning for dust-particles in space, is a waste of Federation resources."

"So, tell me" Gars crossed her arms over her chest. "Was tonight a success?"

Dax chuckled and headed down the corridor, leaving the commander behind. "You tell me" he said aloud back over his shoulder before entering a turbolift.

XXX XXX

The two rapiers, sporting a one inch wide blade each, three feet in length long, moved rapidly in order to parry and attack. The two swordsmen, wearing protective suits, tried to outwit one another with each move, with each thrust, riposte, with each sidestep and each lunge. Other crewmen working out in the gym took no notice of the swordplay, used to it by now. In the end, the two combatants silently agreed to end the duel and placed their swords to the side and removed their helmets to get themselves a drink of water.

"You're slower than before" Eckenwald said and drank a cup of water.

"You're not exactly in your prime either, doctor" Sulu countered and they both smiled.

They sat down to rest, allowing a pair of crewmen to enter the ring and exercise some boxing. As the two boxers began to dance around one another, looking for the right time to strike, the two senior officers realized that age was taking its toll on them.

"I hate getting old" Eckenwald said.

"I didn't know you had ever been young" Sulu said and earned a smile from the doctor.

The chief medical officer drank some more water. "So" he then said, "what's all this talk about us being on a clandestine mission to Korvat?"

Sulu glanced at the doctor. "Some foolish idea thought up by our friends over at Starfleet Intelligence."

Eckenwald nodded in agreement; for being a department labelled Intelligence, he had yet to see evidence that the department in question had earned that name. "Curzon Dax does have a reputation" he then said. "He likes women as much as he likes a drink, and he doesn't shy away from bragging about his achievements."

"He's young" Sulu said.

"Young?" Eckenwald chuckled at the comment. "Sulu, the man is a joined trill. He has probably lived eight lifetimes. The man is not young, he is, simply put, reckless and arrogant. No wonder he gets along with klingons; he bloody well acts like one."

Curzon Dax had, despite his young age, already made a name for himself thanks to showing unorthodox thinking when dealing with a klingon strike-force that threatened to plunder a dozen Federation colonies. But no-one could deny his success as the klingons, in the end, decided to not attack. Rumor also had it that Curzon became a close friend of the klingon warlord he had negotiated with.

"That may be" Sulu said, "but he might just be what is needed to navigate around cardassians and klingons and ferengi. In a system without Federation representation, there is no need to think, or act, like the Federation."

"I don't know, Sulu" the doctor shared honestly, "my gut tells me he is nothing but trouble. He solves political conundrums for his own glorys sake. He does it to enhance himself, not the people he is supposed to help."

Sulu shrugged his shoulders. "Well, once we drop him and the others off at Korvat, he is no longer our problem."

XXX XXX

Curzon Dax was on his own by a table in the ships recreational lounge, looking out the aft-facing viewports. A few crewmembers sat by various tables, enjoying some time off, but Curzon did not feel like making new friends, or try and lure some unsuspecting fool to play a game of hazard with him. Instead, he enjoyed this quiet moment, drink in hand.

"May I join you, ambassador?"

Looking up, Dax was surprised to find commander Nathalie Gars standing next to him, wearing casual clothing.

"Please" Curzon said and offered the woman a seat by his table.

She accepted with a smile and sat down with her own drink.

"What an unexpected pleasure, commander. Or should I say Nathalie?"

"Nathalie will do fine" she smiled. "I'm off-duty after all. So…"

"So?" the trill inquired inquisitively.

"You're reputation for being a womanizer" Gars said and comfortably leaned back into her chair, "well deserved or not?"

"I suspect you'll know in an hour or two" Curzon smiled and winked.

"Doubtful" the commander said, sipped her drink and was not immune to the trills confidence. "But I suspect the next hour or two might be quite interesting."

"I'll do my best not to disappoint."

Gars decided to ask what she had wanted to ask ever since the game of cards. "Is it true that you are a personal friend of a klingon warlord?"

Dax chuckled, drank some brandy and returned the glass to the table. He then nodded. "Yes, I am. Kor, son of Rynar. His father is a noble lord and the leader of a great household."

"Noble lord?" Gars almost laughed at the notion of a klingon being noble. "No need to be formal with me, Curzon."

"On the contrary" Dax insisted. "The Federation, and Starfleet, have misjudged the klingons for years. While many of their ways seem barbaric, they hold to a creed of duty, loyalty and martial prowess that is unparalleled in the Alpha Quadrant. No one performs his duty like a klingon, and no one is as loyal to his friends as a klingon."

"And no one enjoys killing and murder like a klingon."

Dax sighed as Gars made her comment. "It is true that their society does promote combat."

"Combat?" Gars smiled with disbelief. "Killing innocents is not combat. Killing children is not combat. It is murder. They are murderers and thieves, praying on the weak. Hell, they don't even have the guts to declare war, just cross the border and attack defenseless colonies."

Dax had heard the arguments before, in fact, his entire life. It was the very reason why he had made it a personal mission of his to face the ultimate challenge; make peace with the Klingon Empire.

"I have patrolled the klingon border for three years, ambassador" Gars said, quite agitated. "I have seen what they do to civilians. The barbarism, the cruelty… the horror."

Dax sighed, knowing that it was nearly impossible for people living in the Federation to grasp the nature of the klingons, and come to terms with it. "To a klingon" he began, "being taken prisoner is the ultimate shame. It is not only a symbol of being defeated in battle, but also, being defeated on a more personal level. To be held captive is to be robbed of duty, honor and glory. When a klingon kills in battle, to them it is a sign of respect."

"Respect?!" Gars could not believe what she was hearing.

"The other option would be to take prisoners, take slaves, and that to the klingons would be to shame the enemy to a degree that would be equal to ridicule." Dax turned to look out at the streaking stars left in their wake. "The fact that they kill, is to honor us, to show that they respect us as an adversary. There is a reason why klingon labor-camps are overflowing with descendants of romulans taken captive in previous conflicts; to the klingons, it is the ultimate insult."

Gars shook her head, sipped her drink and had trouble being pleasant company. "You are a diplomat, a politician" she said, "you have the luxury of talking to klingons. Starfleet, however, we see what they do. We see who they are. When they are done talking, the killing starts."

"Believe me, Nathalie" Dax said, and using her given name, he gained her attention, "I have been around when klingons stop talking… And I am thankful I am alive to this day."