Stardate: 2374.09.01 Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 14:32
Captain Kelsey Gavison was thought to be a loose cannon. It was considered a casualty of war--unfortunate, but unforeseable. A near exemplary record had taken him to a posting of his choice; a terrible loss had earned him the right to be left alone. That specter of death that hovered over his shoulder frightened all but those closest to him, or those forced to work with him, away nearly as much as his scarred face caused children to stare in horror, but Kel had turned this handicap to his advantage as any tactician worth their weight in trillium would.

Immediately following his family's deaths at the hands of the Jem'Hadar, Kelsey had dug as fad into Federation intelligence files as his clearance would allow in search of information that could put him in contact with the enemy--anything that would allow him to satiate his vengeance for the short time that walking through the Jem'Hadar, or Cardassian, ships strewn with their bodies allowed. He'd quickly found that his limited access led to a drought of information, and frustrated by this turn of events, had resorted to dealing with the less than reputable for more information. His appearance and demeanor had set security staff on edge, his rank had held them at bay, and his gnarly attitude had fended off even the persistent questioning Otto insisted on inflicting him with. All of this so that he could sit in Quark's, draped in shadow on one of the balconies overlooking the tables, and hold private conversation with another shadowy figure sitting in the booth behind him.

"Well, Gavison?" the shadow hissed withmore than a little disdain. "You called me here, and I've arrived. Now state your business so I can be on about mine."

Kelsey turned the amber colored cup in his hand and shifted in his seat to further bring his face into the shadows. Station security could read lips. "ever seen one of these, Farrow?"

The Star Fleet captain dropped his hand to his side and offered the crystal he'd received that morning behind him. A moment later he felt the scaly fingers of the shadowy man accept the item, removing if from his grasp.

"Where'd you get this?" Farrow breathed.

"I take it you've seen it before." Kelsey's voice was dry as he reached back for the crystal.

"No. I haven't seen one before, but I've heard of them."

"If you hven't seen one, how do you know what it is?" The captain couln't remember any identifying marks on the crystal.

"I can sense it," Farrow hissed with some urgency as he placed it back in Kel's hand. "Where did you get it?"

"Tell me about it."

"I am not the one to do so, Gavison. You must check in holier places."

Holier places? What in the System does he mean by that? Kelsey pondered the words a bit while pausing to take a drink of his whiskey.

"What place?" he asked.

Receiving no answer, he turned slightly in his seat. Farrow was gone.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - 16:12

Cathica Mas’Riat, brows furrowed in deep concentration, stared at the screen before her, eyes scanning the scrolling words for their deeper meaning but finding nothing. Of her former guardian, Davorius Tek, there was only the briefest of mention; he and his licentious heart had been reduced to a footnote as officials were ruling his death accidental. For so long, trapped in that dark hell, she had dreamed of killing him. It had been the one thing that sustained her, that kept her will to live from fading into oblivion. Cathica had assumed that, once she had watched the lights in his eyes flicker and die, that she would feel, in some way, vindicated.

She had never been so wrong. Instead of pleasure at the sight of his face contorting in fear, and the feel of his blood on her hands, Cathica felt only emptiness and a dull, hollow ache inside that she could not fill or explain or ignore. Though she could not have allowed him to live any longer, knowing that his actions had caused her years of torment at the hands of the Jem’Hadar, she was not proud of herself, though nor did she feel remorse for ending his miserable existence.

She fingered her mother’s earring and chains, something she had worn since her childhood with Davorius. She would have to board the Charon soon, bound for parts unknown. Sisko had not been so clear with his discourse, and she found his diplomatic ambiguity frustrating, at best, but largely only mildly irritating. She turned to the replicator.

“Jumja tea, 27° Celsius. One measure of kava.”

Really, Cathica had no desire to drink it at all, but only needed something to take the edge off. Sisko‘s idea of a good time was not sitting well with her, and for the first time she was uncertain what her next move would be. For so long her only goal had been to survive one more day, to get past one more night. Now, she was being offered a chance for redemption, and now she had more than one choice. She could run, or she could join the crew of a Starfleet craft.

The tea soothed her some. Taking it to her bed, she set the cup and saucer on the bedside table. Knots that had formed in her neck and back eased and she lay back upon her bed, eyes closed in contemplation. “Think of it as… as an exchange for the room and board,” Sisko had smiled, teeth gleaming in forced sincerity. “An exchange.”

“Mas’Riat. Cathica. You piloted an alien shuttle though Dominion, took heavy fire, and made it through the wormhole in one piece. Your skills, you talent, would greatly benefit The Charon. Just. Just try it.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

Sisko’s smile spread into a grin. “What a mercenary question, Lieutenant Mas’Riat.”
In the end, it was Davorius Tek himself who made up her mind. The afternoon she met with Sisko she had returned to her quarters to lie down for a bit, thinking over the conversation again and again, and fell into a tortured sleep. Davorius appeared, his face bruised and graying, his clothing torn, bloodied. He snatched the earring from her, tearing it out, and crushed it in his hand.

“I’ll make sure that you pay, little one. You may have escaped them, but now you have to escape ME!” Davorius reached for her and she awoke with a start. Cathica looked around, unsettled by the closeness, the near reality, of her dream.

“Oh, I will most certainly escape you, too, Davorius,” she hissed into the emptiness.

She sat and reached for the brush on the bedside table. Dragging it through the tousled waves of tawny hair, like burnt sienna silk, she fixed her dark eyes on a point in the distance and willed herself to let go, to push past his memory. Cathica breathed deeply, counting, measuring, and when she was calm again she changed into the uniform Sisko had sent to her room, apparently while she had been sleeping. Sure enough, the Charon was docked exactly where Sisko had said it would be.

She fingered the pips marking her as a lieutenant and sighed heavily. Where one would only see the lines and contours of a ship, Cathica Mas'Riat saw only another way to survive, another way to put distance between herself and the captors she had fled from. Ganithon, she prayed silently to the soul of her prison companion. I'll find a way to make them suffer. I j ust have to survive this a little longer...
This was going to be one hell of an escape.

Stardate: 2374.08.31
USS Cerberus – Deck 3 Centurion's Cabin – 1500 hours
Sienae goes to the come unit in her cabin.

She presses the comlink logo. "This is Centurion Sienae i’Mhiessan Khnialmnae I wish to leave a message for to Lt. Commander Rrowl.”

“Lt Commander Rrowl, I would like to set up some time on your holodeck to do some dry runs on mounting the cloaking device. Please forward this to the proper personnel. I would also appreciate the name of a liaison officer that I can contact when needed." She knew Rrowl would not be pleased by her message, but she had no details on who she could contact. This was not going to be an easy voyage with the antimosity she felt from many of the crew, from the Captain down. Hopefully they would get the cloaking device situated and then they could just sit back and ride out the mission, staying out of the way of the Star Fleet personnel. The Mark 5 Cloaking Device was very reliable and could take quite a beating and still function, and Sienae had brought enough spare parts to rebuild the device 2 times over.

"Also I would like those comlinks as soon as possible, you should have them fully bugged by now."

That done she then sat at the table and began to program the information she wanted to disseminate to the others of her team.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 1820hrs

Lt. Cmdr. Talon was not in a good mood as he stood at the Dabo table towering over the other players. Having set his men to gathering what intel they could on operations within the sector, instructing the security detail regarding the Romulans that would be boarding the ship during this mission, he had decided to relax a bit after his encounter with Capt. Gavison.

It had not gone well; he had blown up to the Capt about the Kzinti officer on the Cerberus and had practically insisted that the Kzinti would not be allowed on the Charon. In his rage he had not realized his error at the time. The Captain had no control over the officers stationed aboard another ship, and if the mission required the Kzinti to come aboard the Charon then that would be the case. But despite what the Capt said, if the hated enemy came aboard his vessel he would make sure he would not leave his sight.

Kzinti and Lyran had been blood enemies since they encountered each other between the stars and had fought more wars then any other race in the Galaxy. Other races couldn’t understand their hatred of each other and thought that since they were both feline races that they must somehow be related. This of course was impossible, everyone knew the Kzinti had no honor. The Lyran had always been the peaceful ones and the Kzinti were blood thirsty savages who killed for pleasure.

The Lyran Democratic Republic had always had good relations with the Federation, where the Kzinti were once at war with the Federation though it was a short war. How a Kzinti could be accepted into the Federation and serve aboard a Starship was unbelievable to Talon. Regardless, he knew that the two hated enemies might soon be working together on this mission and if so he would keep an eye out for Kzinti treachery which would no doubt come when they least expect it. Talon was determined not to let it take him by surprise.

For now, he was letting off steam by playing some Dabo at Quarks and for once he was winning a little. His little winning streak was not endearing him to the others players: a Bajoran male, a human male, and a Nausicaan male who was almost as tall as Talon. The human was taking his losses in stride, the Bajoran man was peeved at losing money he apparently couldn’t afford to lose, but the Nausicaan was down right pissed.

“You win again Lyran!” the Nausicaan sneered at Talon. The way he said Lyran was meant to entice Talon, but he only sneered back at him.

“You lose again Nausicaan!“ He replied as he raked in his winnings.

The big Nausicaan was almost at large at Talon, that and the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed only made him was to antagonize the Lyran further.
“No one that lucky,” he sneered again as he leaned over the table putting his face right in front of Talon’s.

The closeness of the Nausicaan seemed to get to the Lyran finally, he turned his face to the Nausicaan’s and baring his fangs he growled slightly.

“You want to walk out of here?” The large security officer asked the drunk Nausicaan, “you best do it now before you say something you will regret!” He turned back to the game apparently ignoring the threat.

This only enraged the Nausicaan, not a hard thing to do on any day, and with a roar the Nausicaan launched himself at Talon.

But the Charon’s Security Officer was anticipating an attack and as the Nausicaan came over the Dabo table, sending drinks and chips flying, he met him head on. Catching the Nausicaan by the tunic he hoisted him up and around in a hip throw which used the opponents velocity against him and he deposited the Nausicaan hard on the floor on his back.

Momentarily stunned by the loss of breath, he lay there for a few seconds. Knowing it wasn’t over yet, Talon knelt down by the Nausicaan’s head and jabbed his right thumb into the brachial plexus nerve point located alongside the trapezoid muscle. The Nausicaan stiffened and then went limp as he lost consciousness; the Lyran simply stood up, gestured to a couple of DS9 security by the door who witnessed the attack, and turned back to the Dabo table.

“Sorry for the minor disturbance,” he said with a grin to the others as he straightened his chips and looked at the table and the other players, “shall we continue?”

The other players looked to where the Nausicaan was being taken away by security and they hastily gathered their chips and quickly made excuses about having to be someplace else.

With a sigh he cashed in his chips, took his money and moved to sit at a table against the wall. He ordered a drink and smiled as he waited for it, he felt much better now.

It would not be easy.

Staring at the ship, wondering how many people it contained, Mas'Riat brushed an errant strand from her face and inhaled deeply. The scent of a bay was always nauseating to her, though only for the memories. Turning away, she fought off the sudden surge of anxiety as she imagined the amount of personal interraction that would be required as an officer.

She wondered if she had been too quick to run, Mas'Riat left the bay and wandered the promenade, contemplating the mission. There was little she knew, only that her presence would help in the war, yet she could not help but think there was more to it. She also could not help but wonder who she would be meeting, how many were human or other.

Her feet, she found, had taken her to Quarks, and she arrived in time to see several anxious men leaving quickly. She soon noted the felinoid, unhappy and tense. Mas'Riat knew that look well enough, the tension one feels before embarkng on something enormous.

"You look like you could use something a bit stronger," she called out to him, approaching but staying out of arms length.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
USS Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 0910 hours
Kelsey’s face darkened as Talon leapt to his feet, the felanoid’s deep growl barely contained. “Captain! Romulans about this ship? Is this necessary? I though Federation engineers had been working with cloaking devises for years.”

“You will pull yourself together Lt. Talon,” Gavison growled back. Then, leaning forward, he addressed the room on a whole. “They will be on board only so long as we need them to install the cloaking device—the Federation doesn’t have any working devices at the moment, and the Romulans were kind enough to provide a pair.”

“I do not trust them." Talon continued. "I will demand they only have the number of personnel they need to install the device. I will personally attend to the security details, and I will blast the first one that even ‘hints’ at stepping out of line.”

“Fine,” Kel snarled. “But make sure they’ve installed the damn device first.”

Stardate: 2374.09.01
USS Charon – Captain’s Quarters – 0945 hours
Captain Gavison had returned to his thrashed quarters after the meeting with his command staff in order to set another meeting up, this one on DS9. He was bent to retrieve a picture of Sheri from the shattered remains of the frame it had been in when the door swished open on security protocol. Kelsey spun about, the phaser he always wore at his side being leveled at the intruder before he’d even come to rest with his back against the couch.

“A KZINTI!...The Cerberus has a Kzinti onboard! I would sooner have an entire ship of Romulands than a Kzinti onboard!” The felanoid wasn’t finished, but Kel was. As Talon stalked about spouting off something in his native tongue that Kel only half registered through the universal translator, the captain stood and stepped right in front of the towering officer, blocking his path.

There was a trilling sound as the phaser power cell was set to maximum just before Kel placed the weapon underneath Talon’s chin. Peering at his officer with narrowed eyes, the captain spoke through a clenched jaw.

“I don’t care if you and that other cat tear each other’s throats out once the mission is over, Lieutenant. Never really cared all that much for him when we served together on the Discovery, but if you take away my chances to spill Dominion blood by acting out your rage, I’ll vaporize your furry head.

“Contain it, Talon. Hell, feed it and use it when we encounter the Jem’Hadar! I don’t care! But you will perform your duties whether he’s on the other ship, or on mine—You’ll perform your duties if he’s using your damn leg as a scratching post! Do I make myself clear?”

(OOC: allowing a response.)

Kelsey lowered the weapon. He wouldn’t have used this approach on Fletcher, Jones, Hamilton, or any of his other officers, but he knew the Lyran well enough to know what worked best to corral the creature’s emotions, and a quick show of force, a quick display of who was still in charge, well, that was necessary. Besides, Captain Gavison was already on edge, as he always was just before the clandestine meetings he arranged periodically…meetings that had often resulted in the edge he needed when facing his enemies; when enacting his vengeance.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
USS Charon – Captain’s Quarters – 0945 hours
There was a trilling sound as the phaser power cell was set to maximum just before Kel placed the weapon underneath Talon’s chin. Peering at his officer with narrowed eyes, the captain spoke through a clenched jaw.

“I don’t care if you and that other cat tear each other’s throats out once the mission is over, Lieutenant. Never really cared all that much for him when we served together on the Discovery, but if you take away my chances to spill Dominion blood by acting out your rage, I’ll vaporize your furry head.

“Contain it, Talon. Hell, feed it and use it when we encounter the Jem’Hadar! I don’t care! But you will perform your duties whether he’s on the other ship, or on mine—You’ll perform your duties if he’s using your damn leg as a scratching post! Do I make myself clear?”
Talon snarled at Capt. Gavison as he held the ready phaser under his chin. No doubt the killing fury blazing in his eyes. There was no fear there only rage, and anyone watching would surely think that the Capt would have to kill the Lyran in order to keep him from killing him.

There was a tense few moments after the Capt finished speaking in which they looked each other in the eye, then the snarl on Talon’s face faded and he nodded.

“You know I would never do anything to disobey you Captain!” he said through clenched teeth then he took a step back and bowed his head briefly.

“I will ‘contain’ myself as you so order,” Talon says as he raises his head back up to look at him.

If anyone else had done what the Capt had just done he would have disemboweled them on the spot, but Talon respected Captain Gavison as he did no other man, Lyran or Human.

“Forgive my undisciplined outburst Captain,” his tone now calm with a hint of embarrassment, “I let the age old hatred cloud my wisdom. It will not happen again!”

He stood still at attention as if waiting to see if the Capt would warrant any punishment for his breach of protocol.

(OOC: Response if any)

“By your leave Captain,” he asked for permission to leave, once given he would salute, in traditional Lyran fashion with his right fist pounding his left breast. Turning he would leave the Captain’s quarters to attend to his duties.


Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 1825hrs
Lt. Cmdr Talon took the mug of Alderberan brandy from the waiter and growled slightly to speed his departure. He grinned and took a sip enjoying the fierce burning sensation as it coursed down his throat.

Looking up at the room as more people began to seek out Quarks for a little relaxation. His eye caught the arrival of a Female Bajorian as she stepped into the room. She wore a Starfleet uniform with Lt pips and for some reason she seemed to stop her visual scan of the room upon him and she walked over towards his table.

"You look like you could use something a bit stronger," she called out to him, approaching but staying out of arms length.
He grinned at her statement, his grin showing most of his fangs, “You mean competition or drink, Lt?…” He left the invitation open for her to give him her name.

As he waited he sized her up by appearance. She was Bajorian which raised her up a bit from most of the other races around here. He admired the Bajorian people for they were fierce fighters in the defense of their home world and he had heard much of their resistance against the Cardassians and the Dominion. Even the Bajorian females were fierce combatants, therefore he was curious if she was challenging him or not.

Stardate: 2374.08.31
USS Cerberus – 1500 hours deck 5

When Rhiana entered the room, Shiarrael was sitting on the couch at one end with her feet tucked under sitting side ways with one arm resting on the back of the couch her other arm was busy holding a PADD that she was reading from. Her boots where on the floor by the couch and her over shirt was neatly draped over the back of the chair by the desk.
At her roommates question she will stretch and reply

“That sounds good, I could use a drink”

She will then press a couple of buttons on her pad to see where the crew lounge was

“The lounge is on this deck just down the hall, which can be VERY convenient”

Getting up she will slip on her boots, grab her over shirt and puts it back on.
“Since we are already in formal attire a change of clothes is not needed. Oh by the way you only need to tell the room what you want temperature and humidity wise and it will accommodate you. I had set it to 80 with a humidity of 15 a little bit higher then the 75,30 mix it was on before, Fell free to adjust it to what you want”

While Rhiana is getting in touch with the rest of the group, Shiarrael will remove any trace of herself from the common room and neatly stow her pad on her bed side table. Stop at the dresser to make sure her hair is correct then will wait by the door.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 1825hrs


He grinned at her statement, his grin showing most of his fangs, “You mean competition or drink, Lt?…”
Of the myriad thoughts racing through her mind, she considered, only briefly, attempting to take him down, if only to show her dominance. She'd learned long ago that animals respond best to displays of power, yet she dismissed throught as quickly as it came upon her; it would not look good for Sisko's newest pet project to be carted off by security.

"Mas'Riat," she finished his truncated query. "Cathica Mas'Riat. I suppose there is something to be said for having both on hand. What is that you're drinking?"


Placing fingers to her lips she released a shrill whistle, flagging down the servant.

"I'll have what he's having," she requested. As the servant scurried away, she turned to the Lyran and appraised him, her head cocked slightly.

"So," she asked, "just what do you think we are up against? Surely, they don't send a ship named for a mythic death figure to send out party invitations..."

Stardate: 2374.08.31
USS Cerberus – 1500 hours deck 5

Rhiana took the turbo lift down to deck 5 where her quarters with Shiarrael were located.

Lieutenant Rhiana stepped out smartly into the hallway passed the security team outside the Centurion’s door and a thought crossed her mine. As she walked to the turbo lift she quickly typed in the essence of it into her palm pad, to share with Shiarrael. She would not mention anything outloud too many big ears. Sometimes an imp of the perverse erupted in her creative mind. Having examined this one carefully she thought it the most delicious idea that she had had in a long time. Star Fleet was watching them and would be recording just about every thing they said or did especially when using their "communicators" That is why her idea was written out only on her personal pad.

Rhiana picked up her step and quickly got to her assigned rooms.

Entering she found Shiarrael cozily ensconced on the sofa feet tucked up under her. Rhiana moves over to where she is sitting, "Ready to go to the lounge?" If you are take a look at this while I take a quick shower and change.” Rhiana hands Shiarrael her pad and then explains, “It is an idea I had or improving the efficiency of the power couplings."

Anyway that is what she said. What she had written was something totally different. "Read this and tell me if this would not work."

The words written on her pad were......(WOULDN'TYOU LIKE TO KNOW--ROTFLMAO.) "Check it out and tell me what you think. I have all the relevant material I need to make it work." There is a wicked grin on her face.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 1826hrs
"Mas'Riat," she finished his truncated query. "Cathica Mas'Riat. I suppose there is something to be said for having both on hand. What is that you're drinking?"
Talon was a bit disappointed at her dismissal of a challenge, but he smiled in a friendly manner which still managed to look menacing.

“Lt. Cmdr. Talon of the USS Charon,” he introduced himself and gestured to his drink, “Alderberan Brandy.”

Placing fingers to her lips she released a shrill whistle, flagging down the servant.

"I'll have what he's having," she requested. As the servant scurried away, she turned to the Lyran and appraised him, her head cocked slightly.

"So," she asked, "just what do you think we are up against? Surely, they don't send a ship named for a mythic death figure to send out party invitations..."
Talon’s smile faded at her words and he looked at her closely, she wore a Starfleet uniform but he didn’t recognize her so she wasn’t one of the Charon’s crew, unless she was being assigned as a new crewmember. If she was then he thought he should have learned about it by now. Any new crew assignments were usually sent to the Capt, the XO, and the Security Chief.

“What do you know of ‘our’ mission?” he asked suspiciously, and before she could answer he added.

“Since I am the Chief Tactical and Security Officer on the Charon I know everyone aboard,” he leaned forward looking at her suspiciously, “I don’t recognize you, Lt. Mas’Riat.”

As he spoke his right hand moved to rest on the grip of the modified Type II Phaser holstered at his right side. The Phaser was specially modified to accommodate the larger grip of the Lyran, and it rested in a low slung gunslinger type holster which was not standard Starfleet issue.

If Mas’Riat was intelligent in the least, she would recognize that the feline creature before her was only one wrong word away from drawing his weapon and firing on her. She could see in his yellow slitted eyes that he was not bluffing and that the answer she gave him this very instant would either kill her or save her.

Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 1826hrs


“Since I am the Chief Tactical and Security Officer on the Charon I know everyone aboard,” he leaned forward looking at her suspiciously, “I don’t recognize you, Lt. Mas’Riat.”

As he spoke his right hand moved to rest on the grip of the modified Type II Phaser holstered at his right side. The Phaser was specially modified to accommodate the larger grip of the Lyran, and it rested in a low slung gunslinger type holster which was not standard Starfleet issue.
Her lips twisted in a wry smile, a subdued smirk of near satisfaction. At least, she considered, he would make an interesting sparring partner when she tired of the monotony of shiplife. She shifted almost imperceptably, tensing a shoulder, narrowing her eyes.

"You would have no reason to recognize me, Sir. I've only recently accepted to the Charon," she replied, her voice low and her tone even, smooth. Though she refused to back down, she knew well enough not to provoke the wild things of the world. "It was brought to my attention that my experience would be a bonus of sorts to Starfleet."

Her eyes did not need to travel far to note the hand upon the holster. "I don't think there's any need for that now. I'm sure you'll find my personnell file up to date by the time you return to the ship."

Mas'Riat counted the beats of her heart, curious to see if the cat would draw and fire.

Stardate: 2374.08.31
USS Cerberus – 1500 hours deck 5

Rhiana took the turbo lift down to deck 5 where her quarters with Shiarrael were located.

Lieutenant Rhiana stepped out smartly into the hallway passed the security team outside the Centurion’s door and a thought crossed her mine. As she walked to the turbo lift she quickly typed in the essence of it into her palm pad, to share with Shiarrael. She would not mention anything out loud too many big ears. Sometimes an imp of the perverse erupted in her creative mind. Having examined this one carefully she thought it the most delicious idea that she had had in a long time. Star Fleet was watching them and would be recording just about every thing they said or did especially when using their "communicators" That is why her idea was written out only on her personal pad.

Rhiana picked up her step and quickly got to her assigned rooms.

Entering she found Shiarrael cozily ensconced on the sofa feet tucked up under her. Rhiana moves over to where she is sitting, "Ready to go to the lounge?" If you are, take a look at this while I take a quick shower and change.” Rhiana hands Shiarrael her pad and then explains, “It is an idea I had or improving the efficiency of the power couplings."

Anyway that is what she said. What she had written was something totally different. "Read this and tell me if this would not work." The words written on her pad were......(WOULDN'TYOU LIKE TO KNOW--ROTFLMAO.) "Check it out and tell me what you think. I have all the relevant material I need to make it work." There is a wicked grin on her face.

Shiarrael will take the offered PADD, and looks at what is on it. The only reaction visible is one eyebrow will lift up. She will look up at Rhiana, then type in.

/=\\\\That will drive them INSANE!!!!/=\\\\ But will say out loud “That sounds good, I could use a drink”

She will then hand Rhiana back her PADD. Picking up her own, she will press a couple of buttons to see where the crew lounge was located

“The lounge is on this deck just down the hall, which can be VERY convenient”

At that point she will type on her PADD the reply of /=\\\\ want to start, Now in the lounge? /=\\\\ and passes her pad to Rhiana while she will then gracefully get up from the couch, grab her boots and her over shirt and puts them back on.

“Since we are already in formal attire a change of clothes is not needed. Oh by the way you only need to tell the room what you want temperature and humidity wise and it will accommodate you. I had set it to 80 with a humidity of 15 a little bit higher then the 75, 30 mix it was on before, Fell free to adjust it to what you want”

While Rhiana is getting in touch with the rest of the group and getting cleaned up, Shiarrael will remove any trace of herself from the common room and neatly stow her pad on her bed side table. Stop at the dresser to make sure her hair is correct then will head towards the door. Stopping half way she will turn around retrieve her PADD, and will return to the door.

When Rhiana joins her, they will then leave the room and head towards the Lounge. Only stopping once at the lounge door, turning her head Shiarrael will ask the security officer closest to her and asks lightly

“Would you like to join us? I do not want to feel like I’m being rude. I’m sure the two of you can prevent any mischief on our part as well as keeping any rude males from bothering us.”

The foursome will make their way to a table near the window. Shiarrael will ask Rhiana what she would like to drink, turning to the guards with a questioning look to see if they would like to order as well. They turn down the invitation like she knew they would.

( Cuddles probably would of made Ter’ak chow out of them if they fraternized with the dreaded enemy )

She will go to the replicater, order the drinks and return to the table to chat with Rhiana about power couplings. The PADDs will be written on and passed back and forth as the conversation goes on.



occ: Hummm my Italices do not seem to be working

Stardate: 2374.09.01
Deep Space Nine - Quark's - 1825hrs
"You would have no reason to recognize me, Sir. I've only recently accepted to the Charon," she replied, her voice low and her tone even, smooth. Though she refused to back down, she knew well enough not to provoke the wild things of the world. "It was brought to my attention that my experience would be a bonus of sorts to Starfleet."

Her eyes did not need to travel far to note the hand upon the holster. "I don't think there's any need for that now. I'm sure you'll find my personnell file up to date by the time you return to the ship."
Talon’s eyes narrowed at her words and for a few tense moments they seemed frozen in time, then he slowly lowered his hand away from the phaser and drew a small PADD from his belt. He raised it where he could see it and still keep her in his view as he tapped at the screen.

His brow furrowed as he glanced down at the screen then he seemed to relax his threatening posture.

“Lt. C. Mas’Riat, “ he repeated as if reading it from his screen. He lowered the PADD, replacing it on his belt as he looked up at her. “It doesn’t say what your assignment will be… what is it you will do on the Charon, Lt?”

Talon didn’t know why he had not been told early of a new crew assignment, but his PADD confirmed that the assignment was just made today. He thought it strange that the Capt had not mentioned it at the briefing this morning, but maybe he would have it Talon had not angered him so today.

He turned his attention back to the Bajoran, who showed considerable nerves in staring him down when he could just have easily ripped her throat out with a rake of his taloned fingers. She had steely nerves which, in his opinion, spoken much to her character.

Stardate: 2374.08.31
USS Cerberus – 1500 hours deck 5 The Lounge

Of course there ws no reason to exchange their P.A.D.D.s across the table. They could as easily sent it to each other but the oddness of it might just alert their watchdogs who sat nearby watching them like hawks. This please Rhiana no end. Ah well, it would give them something to discuss about and wonder and fill up their empty hours on their watch. She sat back satified with their little exchange.

"Tell me what you think about this." she asked Lt Shirreael as she passed her P.A.D.D. back yet again. I think this might work out. As she did one of their sentries stod up and tried to see what was on the screen with it had a privacy screen on it. Only those looking at almost straight at the screen could see what was on it.

SHhe typed in the words. //Oh, we got one looking right now// and finished passing it.