"Captain's Log, Stardate 57021.3

The Cochrane is en route to the Dalphoid Consortium, into their Overlap Zone. Despite the Federation's peaceful history with the Dalph, tensions in the area have risen greatly, as several Federation ships in the area have been attacked recently. Our hope is that we can determine the cause for the recent hostilities and resolve the problems before the situation escalates out of control.

The turbolift doors opened and the security chief walked onto the bridge. He made a quick turn and headed for the ready room door. After a brief moment to inspect his uniform, he depressed the door chime.

As the door opened, Klaus noticed the captain finishing a conversation with someone on her screen. Klaus stepped into the room and stood before the captain.

"...resolve the problems before the situation escalates out of control.

"In the mean time, I have some more personal business to attend to.

"Computer, end log.

"Ah, Lieutenant. Good to see you. Have you been in touch with Starfleet Intelligence regarding the Dalph?"

Klaus shifted slightly. So, problems already, he thought. He gripped his PADD a little tighter. He was ready for this briefing, so he would just have to present his proposal later.

"Yes, Captain," said the chief of security. "I have compiled a tactical summary of the Dalph's military capability."

"And I assume you're aware of the current situation in that region."

"If you are referring to the hostilities against commercial traffic, then, yes, I am aware. I am also aware of a combined Federation and Dalph colony which our current course will take us."

"Why, Mr. Klaus, that information is anything but common knowledge."

Klaus grinned slightly and said, "Knowledge is everything."

"Are we ready for them if the situation should escalate to violence?"

"That is a difficult question to answer, Captain. Their technological status is unknown but it has increased rapidly since first contact. Because of this, we do not know exactly how advanced their weapons or defensive systems are. What we do know is that the Dalph posses 3 different ship classes and we feel that 4 or 5 of their most powerful ships would be needed to rival the Cochrane."

"You mean the Orca class, right?"

"Correct. The Sperm and Humpback classes are less worrisome."

"Do you think we need to do anything different to prepare for this mission?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Firstly, I have already briefed Ensign Corbin and had the SERT team start underwater combat training. They are modifying some of our environment suits to augment movement in liquid. I have also ordered the replication and distribution of portable rebreathers for security and emergency response personnel."

"Excellent work, Mr. Klaus. Hopefully this extra work will prove unnecessary and we can solve this without violence. The last thing we need is another Neutral Zone. In any case, please keep me briefed."

As Klaus began to voice his proposal, the captain stood and began to walk to the bridge. Klaus turned and approached the captain. The security chief noted the flash of comprehension in the captains eye.

"Was there something else, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain. I have a proposal I would like to present to you regarding our civilian population."

The captain glanced at the chronometer at her desk, then back at Klaus. "Please walk with me, Lieutenant."

Klaus followed the captain into the turbolift.

"Have you ever been married, Lieutenant?"

Where was this going, thought Klaus. Fortunately, years in security kept his facial expressions and body language in check. "No, Ma'am."

"It's not an easy thing to do and still be in Starfleet. I've been married twice. My first spouse was before I joined. My second is on board now. I don't know if you've met Danielle yet or not. It can be tricky to balance the responsibilities of your position and the responsibilities of a relationship."

Klaus did not know where this was coming from, but he did not want to encourage any more. He stayed silent.

After a minute or two, she said again, "No matter how well you know someone, no matter how much experience you may have, some of the same things can come up to deal with."

Another few minutes passed until the turbolift doors finally opened at their destination. Klaus could hear the sounds of the Boardwalk immediately. The captain strode out toward the source of the sounds. "What is your proposal, Mr. Klaus?"

"Captain, as you know, all Starfleet officers are trained in basic weapons, first aid, and basic emergency response protocols for times of emergency. Since our ship does not hold the standard number of Starfleet officers, I believe that this puts us at risk as demonstrated by our mission with the ambassadors aboard. We lacked sufficient manpower to properly deal with the emerging situation. Furthermore, in place of Starfleet personnel, we have a larger number of civilians."

"So we have more beings to protect with less people to do it with."

"Exactly! So why not train those same civilians to be better useful in a crisis? It would not need to be all the civilians, but the more, the better. They would be trained in weapons, first aid, ship emergency protocols and anything else we could think of. They would be held in a reserve status; only to be used in emergency situations. I envision a command including myself, Dr. Jayngo and Commander Nganga."

"What about Mr. Skepti? As the Boardwalk manager, he interacts with the civilians much more regularly than the rest of us."

Klaus knew this was coming. He also knew that despite his feelings, she was absolutely correct. Skepti would have to be involved. As he was about to say so, he glanced up and saw where they were heading. Almost tripping in the process, he turned to the captain and said, "Ma'am, I reluctantly agree regarding Mr. Skepti. May I ask where you are taking us?"

"There are things one must do to keep and maintain a healthy marriage. One of those things is remembering and acknowledging the anniversary of said union. Mr. Klaus, we're going shopping."

Wonderful, thought Klaus sarcastically. He fought the urge to create an excuse and thought, is there any way out of this mess?

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, D.J. replaced his sunglasses and took a swig from his water bottle. The hike to the top of the peak had taken him longer than he planned, and the sun had already crested the horizon. Squatting low to the ground, he took a few more deep breaths, trying to get used to the change in atmosphere before continuing.

Checking his chronometer, he pressed a button for compass mode. Finding due East, he stood, walked a few paces North and dropped his large pack.

**Won't do any good to be staring right at the rising sun …**

Bending down, he contemplated where to start. The pack itself was larger than a standard backpack, obviously designed with a specific purpose in mind. Stored on the outside, on each side, were thin metal tubes varying between 2-3 feet in length.

**Been too many years since I did this …**

Unfastening all the piping, he laid them out in front of him, creating a rough, unconnected framework. The result was not unlike the shape of an arrow, now pointing to the North, with the "arms" spread close to a 70 degree angle to the two base pipes running down the center.

Satisfied that they all lined up with the right pieces, D.J. went to the left "arm" first. Starting near the "point", he picked up the first pipe. Although made of some near-metal alloy, the marvels of the 24th century gave it very little weight, despite the strength of the material. Pressing a small button near its tip, a soft "hsssssst" sound came from the tube, and it extended to nearly three times its length. Placing it down, he grabbed the second pipe of the left "arm" and did the same thing. When both extensions lay next to each other, he kneeled at the point where they met on the ground, picked one up in each hand, and screwed them together, creating one long, thin pipe.

D.J. repeated the process on the right "arm", and again on the center, although the center "arms" were less then half the length of the others when finished.

Going again to his pack, he opened up the main component. Again, D.J. gave thanks for the 24th century technology that made it possible to make his equipment so lightweight and compatible.

**I can't even imagine what it would have been like trying to set up and carry all this on my own back in the 20th century.**

It was a large, tightly compressed bundle of some sort of fabric or mesh material. The underside of the package was attached to the backpack itself. The underside of the backpack was a solid material and contained a small readout and control panel at the top even with the carrier's head when being worn. Laying the bundle ahead of his framework, D.J. reached underneath to the controls and flipped a switch. A green light went on, and he began to unfold the material. The material itself was probably as thin as netting, though still stronger than it looked.

When the material was laid out, it stretched the length of each "arm" of his framework. Roughly a boomerang shape, it was close to 5 feet deep at the center, while the end of each "arm" tapered to about 2 at its smallest. Each arm was about 15 feet in length. Not seeing any tears or wrinkles, D.J. flipped another switch on the underside control panel. A red light replaced the previous green. Testing, just to make sure, D.J. reached out to the mesh and pulled up. Thanks to the micro- filaments imbedded within the material, the entire mesh framework had been pulled taut. He wouldn't be able to fold it back up until the green light went back on.

Almost done, D.J. went back to his wire framework. Picking up tubes one at a time, he went back to the giant mesh boomerang and began inserting them in designated slots, reinforcing the giant wing down the front of its entire length. The center poles were inserted up the middle, into mesh joining directly with the backpack and up through the top of the backpack itself, extending roughly 6 inches above where the wearer's head would be. When the framework for the glider was finished, he went back to the pack one last time and removed several smaller pipes. Basically the same as those creating the main frame, the smaller piping would reinforce key areas down each wing to add stability.

Lastly, D.J. took 3 more tubes, connected them to form a triangular shape, and attached them to the underside of the center support rods near the headpiece. What the hang glider lacked in classy appearance, it made up for in ease of transport, assemblage, and portability.

**Almost there …**

Reaching near the "aft" portion of the makeshift glider, D.J. opened a small flap on the underside, dropping down a support strap. Then, going to the fore, he adjusted the harness support of the backpack for its secondary purpose. Lifting the entire contraption up, he slid his arms into the adjusted harness. D.J. tightened the straps, and then checked the firmness of the triangular "steering" bar currently extending outward over his head. The contraption, despite its appearance was remarkably light, though the ensign did find it awkward to turn around.

Removing his sunglasses, D.J. stowed them in one of the pockets of his hiking shorts. He then pulled out a larger visor. Holding the visor in his left hand, D.J. reached above and behind him with his right. Feeling around near the control panel of the backpack/glider, he popped open a small cap, and extracted from it a length of wire. Checking the plug at the end, he blew on it once to make sure it was clean. D.J. looked it over, shrugged his shoulders and plugged it into a connecting port on the right ear-rest of his visor.

The accompanying "boop" let D.J. know that the interface was working. Putting the visor over his eyes gave further confirmation, as relevant text regarding wind speed, elevation, and wind temperatures scrolled above a small topographical analysis of the peak he was on. He looked from side-to-side, testing the data, the wire attachment pulling freely as he looked left, but coiling up smoothly back into the pack as he looked back right so that there was never too much slack.

The data was helpful, particularly for new flyers, but D.J. hoped he wasn't that rusty.

"Glider, datalink off"

There was another "boop" as the text and map inside his visor shut off. All that remained was pure, clean, unaltered nature.

D.J. smiled. Finally.

Bending forward so that the wings wouldn't create artificial drag, D.J. ran toward the edge of the summit. As he reached the end, he bent further to catch the upwind, and felt himself push off the ledge with his right foot, the left now hanging in open air.

The glider dipped low, and D.J. bit his lip, fearing that the trip down would be considerably less than the time spent hiking up. Swinging both legs up parallel to his body, he unconsciously guided them into the leg straps he had lowered earlier, and searched for an upward gust of warm air to push him higher. Finding one, D.J. whooped out loud and launched himself further out over the trees below.

Despite his earlier thought, D.J. dipped to the fore and angled the glider to the East, trying to catch what was left of the sunrise.

**It also won't hurt to fly towards where things are starting to warm up for the updrafts …**

Feeling the wind against his face, D.J. grinned from ear to ear. This was really flying … not like the Cochrane, or the runabout … no, this was 100% his doing, all natural, with no computer to help out …

"Initiating Holodeck shut-down in 5 seconds," a calm, mature, feminine voice intoned from the heavens suddenly.

**What … ah hell, I can't be out of time!**

"Shut down complete," the voice finished. In front of him, the yellow- orange sun vanished, as did the rest of the greens, browns, blues, reds, whites … only to be replaced by black walls with a white grid- like pattern. D.J. hung motionless in the air, still strapped into his glider. Within another second or two, the computer began slowly reducing the artificial gravity and lowered him to the deck. As his feet touched the floor, he heard the familiar "Hhrrrmmmm" sound of the entrance opening behind him. Turning (although awkwardly with the glider still strapped to his back), he yelled "I've got the room for another ..."

D.J. checked his chronometer.

"Five minutes!"

A blue-uniformed Lieutenant walked in, PADD in hand. Behind her, three or four other blues were congregating around some supply boxes in the corridor.

"I'm sorry for the interruption," she said while checking her PADD. "But we need to appropriate the holodeck to run some field tests."

"Yea, well I signed up for this room a month ago … a month! Do you know how long the waiting list is for recreational time …" D.J. blurted.

"You know the regulations. Any Starfleet authorized work-projects have precedence over personal use."

"But I only had five more minutes! Why couldn't you just …"

Glancing up from her PADD, the young woman decided she had had enough. "I take it that despite your absence of uniform, you are still a member of Starfleet … isn't that right," (she checked the PADD again briefly), "Ensign."

D.J. stumbled. "Yea, but …"

"And, is this appropriate behavior for a member of Starfleet? Ensign." The Lieutenant was now staring him directly in the eyes. D.J. felt that the only thing keeping him from not withering under her medusa's stare was the fact that he was still wearing his visor and she couldn't see his eyes directly.

"Uh, no … Lieutenant."

"Good. Well, I believe that now your five minutes ARE up, so I suggest you pack up your things and allow us to do our work." Not waiting for a response, she turned and went back to her scientific team, who had begun carrying several of the containers into the room.

Grumbling to himself, D.J. removed the glider and his visors. Setting the pack down, he quickly removed the support rods, then flipped the control switch on the backpack. The light went from red to green. He pressed another button, and the micro-filaments again did their work, this time folding up the mesh automatically. Disassembling the rods, he strapped them onto the pack, lifted it from the deck, and strode out of the room.

James Gryphon handed the PADD to Sonny Clemonds, who was seated behind the desk in his office.

"I think I have something you'd be very interested in, Mr. Clemonds. And it would blend in with your locale perfectly."

"Well, Mr. Gryphon … let's see whatcha got there." Taking the PADD, Sonny Clemonds scrolled down until he saw the visual. His eyes widened and a big grin broke out on his face.

"Holy … I haven't seen one of those in, well let's see …" Sonny rubbed his chin as he began to mull the question.

"Close to 400 years, I imagine," James chimed in, grinning. "And I can assure you, finding one of these, especially this particular name, which I'm assured was quite popular at its inception …"

"Whoo boy, you can be shore abou' that, there," Sonny interrupted, grinning back. Then hesitantly, like a child hoping to open his Christmas presents early, "Does it work?"

"Actually, yes." Gryphon took the PADD back from the Quark's manager. "I've a friend who recently bought up an Estate back on Earth. The man loved games … had quite a collection. Knowing a little about your background, I thought you may be interested in this particular model."

"I gotta say, there, Mr. Gryphon … I never expected to see one of these again. Why, it was all the rage with us … you can't imagine how many quarters I pumped into this machine. … 'course, it did make this annoyin' sound when you played that jus' 'bout drove you crazy if you were around it fer too long … kinda this "wokka wokka" over and over and ov …"

Gryphon laughed.

Clemonds laughed, too … ending with a loud "Haw."

Slapping his desk, he stood up. "Why, it'll be great. A true blast o' good ol 20th century fun. Course, the power cord will need to be adapted to this century …"

Gryphon stood. "Actually, I anticipated your desire. I had my friend adjust the power core, and fine tune the electronics to make sure it won't suffer any age problems. Of course, this does mean it's no longer in 'mint' condition, but I'm sure the value of having a working item for your establishment is more important than preserving questionable electronics?"

"Oh, shure, shure. When can I get it?"

"Actually, now if you want. I had it shipped to Starbase 219, and picked it up when the Cochrane made its stopover."

"Sweet Josephine, that would be great." Sonny held out his hand.

Gryphon took it in his own and shook. "I'll have it brought over."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Gryphon said to the teenager in front of him. "You can take the dolly with you … I'll be back at the store shortly."

Jonathan was tall for his teenage years, yet still a bit gangly. Answering James with a barely articulate "'kay" he switched on the hover-dolly. After it raised off the floor several inches, he grabbed the steering bar and headed out of Quark's.

Gryphon watched him weave his way through the crowd. His brow was furrowed, and he scratched his left cheek absentmindedly with his right hand. When Jonathan disappeared behind several Bajorans coming in the front door, Gryphon turned back to the object before him, and the man standing next to it.

"… hardly believe it," Sonny Clemonds was saying, unaware that Gryphon hadn't been paying much attention to him.

"Why, yes," Gryphon jumped in, making a safe assumption about what Clemonds had been commenting on. "It is in extraordinary condition, isn't it?"

Gryphon ran a hand down the side of the machine before him. The box- like machine stood about six feet high, and maybe two feet wide in the front. Unlike the side panels, which extended the entire height of the machine, midway up the front the panel ended, giving way to a slightly angled control board with two buttons and a single joystick. Tilting up and back from the joystick towards the back wall of the machine was a glass screen.

The glass screen was dark, and bordered by painted patterns of blue lines and yellow dots. The control panel was done in a similar motif. The interior color of the recessed area was solid black, in stark contrast to the bright yellow sides and lower front panel. Painted on the sides were two colorful characters, amorphous in shape, with exaggerated cartoonish facial expressions. One of them, yellow in color, had what could be two legs. The other, blue, consisted of nothing but an amoeboid form, two eyes with a pronounced brow, and a very large mouth.

There was writing on the top of each side panel, and also on a "title bar" that crested the top of the recessed view screen. Written in a yellow, very angular font, was the word "PAC-MAN."

The 20th century videogame currently rested between two others in the electronic game room at Quark's. To its right, something called "Codename: Armageddon." To its left, a flight simulator titled "Delta Flyer."

"Well, I gotta say there, Mr. Gryphon … I'm just itchin' ta see this thing work," Sonny said.

"Of course," Gryphon responded with a smile. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Shouldn't we oughter plug it in?"

"Oh, not at all," Gryphon responded. "As I mentioned earlier, I've had it updated with an internal power core. Of course, the plug and cord are still attached, but without the proper adapter they're useless. I could have had them removed, but since this is such an old item, I wanted to preserve it as close to its original condition as possible, for both our sakes."

Sonny nodded in understanding.

"Now then … I believe you'll need this." Gryphon held out a strange looking key to the manager.

Smiling back, Sonny grabbed for the key. Instead of having a long ridged surface like most keys of the 20th century, this one resembled a short cylinder, about ½ inch in diameter, that was open at one end. Bending down, Sonny stuck the key into a circular hole on a small metal door below the control panel. Turning it, he swung the door open and reached inside.

A moment later, the viewscreen flashed, and the machine began piping out a cheery, synthesized tune … immediately followed by the infamous "wokka wokka wokka" that Sonny had warned Gryphon about earlier. Looking at the glass screen, Gryphon now saw that a blue maze had appeared. The "pac-man", which didn't look anything like a man, was wandering around the maze, alternating its appearance between that of a yellow circle and a pie with a single piece missing. Pursuing the "pac- man" were four googly-eyed amoebas. It all seemed strangely comical.

"Hot diggity … that shore brings back some memories." Sonny's grin was wide across his face. "Thank you again, Mr. Gryphon."

"My pleasure, Mr. Clemonds." Gryphon said. "I'm just glad I was able to find such a welcome home for it. It's always best when the customer sees value in their purchases beyond merely a potential for further profit."

"Of course. Say, why don'cha let me buy you a drink?" Sonny raised his hand to motion to one of the waitresses.

"Hmmm," Gryphon responded. Reaching under his coat, he pulled out a round, silver object. The item was attached to a chain that was hooked onto his vest. With the push of a small button, the top of the object flipped open like a lid.

"Actually, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me. I really must be getting back to my store." Gryphon flipped the lid closed on his pocketwatch and hid it away behind his coat.

"Shore, I understand, Mr. Gryphon. Can't run a business if you spend too much time away from it. The customer comes first."

"Yes, they do. But I'd be happy to accept that offer when neither of us is quite so busy. I'd actually be very interested in hearing how you've adjusted to the different culture of the 24th century."

"Well, I'll tell ya'," Sonny said as he raised his finger for emphasis, " … despite all the advances you guys've made, it sure is hard to get a decent tastin' martini."

Gryphon chuckled.

"Anyway, you jus' stop by anytime, and we'll have that drink."

"I'll do that," Gryphon replied. "Pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise. And call me Sonny."

Gryphon smiled. As he once more extended his hand, he nodded and offered his own name, "James."

Shaking hands, they bid each other a good night. As one of the waitresses approached with a drink for Sonny, Gryphon turned and headed out of Quark's.

Even the shower didn't help. D.J., now clad in his uniform, couldn't get past his experience at the Holodeck. His pack was still sitting against the wall where he had not very gently dropped it, listing to one side.

**Would it really have killed their "field test" to wait five minutes …**

D.J. stomped around his quarters, looking for an outlet to his frustration. Walking back and forth, be picked up several objects around his room, only to drop them back in their spot, uninterested.

"That's it," he finally said aloud.

The door to his quarters "shhhhhhd" shut behind him as D.J. left his room.

"I need a drink."

Dr. Jayngo walked down the sidealk of the boardwalk, a smile on his face. Thanks to the continued monitoring of Klaus's data via the holographic programs, Jayngo was able to file a preliminary report with Starfleet on his research. While he knew that this proceedure would never take the place of a face-to-face examination, it would aide in the continued care and well-being of crews if proven successful.

Glancing over, Jayngo spotted his friend T'Vala, sitting alone at one of the park benches, looking intently at a datapad. He didn't need to approach to know that she was probably going over efficiency reports for the ship's weaponry or shields, trying to find some way to increase the output in some way. He couldn't help but notice, however, that the bench she had chosen was across from the Klingon Resturant, and that H'Gak was visable through the window of his shop. While she refused to look up from her datapad, Jayngo questioned why she would pick a spot so close to the only other Klingon on the ship.

Inside of the Quark's franchise, there was a new room set off for card games. Sonny Clemmonds was from Earth, after all, and appreciated terran card games. There could be as many as four games played at once in the new Green Room. And there were windows on wall of the Green Room that looked out onto the boardwalk, and allowed passers-by to look in. The most popular games were variations of poker. Clemmonds had been looking for Blackjack dealers to hire but had had no luck. But at one table, near one of the windows, four people played a very different card game.

The group sat quietly for a minute as each of them counted and sorted the cards that Aytilori Dovenka, the Cardassian ambassador who had stayed aboard after having not disembarked at Camp Khitomer, had just dealt.

"Pass," the Ambassador said.

"One club," said Biff Argyle, the off-duty Chief Engineer, who sat to her left.

"Pass," replied Evory DeKelley, the ship's counselor, continuing around the table.

David Nganga looked at his cards again. He had eleven points in his hand. His partner had at least thirteen. He wasn't sure if it was a short club bid, or a legitimate club bid. "One spade."

"Pass," said the Cardassian.

"Two spades," replied the engineer.

The Betazoid passed.

"Three spades," Dave wanted to keep the bidding open in case Biff wanted to go for the game.

Aytilori passed again.

"Four spades." Argyle wanted to go to game.

Rory and Dave passed.

"I'll pass, so you're playing four spades, Commander," observed Dovenka. "I lead, yes?"

"Yep."

The Cardassian tossed the Ace of diamonds into the center of the table:

Biff, having the dummy hand laid down his cards in front of him: the King, Jack, 10, and 3 of spades; the Ace, King, 3 and 2 of hearts; the Queen, Jack, 6, 5, and 3 of Clubs;

With his work in the game ended for the moment, Argyle took a few seconds to reflect and look around. He remembered when Dave taught him this game, back at Utopia Planetia after he was first assigned to the Cochrane Project. The two men had hit it off right away and soon found themselves spending several hours off duty as well as on. After just a couple quick hands, Argyle had learned the game and the two men began a long series of claiming "bridge victims." They hadn't had the chance to play since the ship's launch, between the crunch of completing final preps and Argyle's abrupt transfer, but were right back into form.

Noticing that the waitress called Kelly was hovering nearby, Argyle motioned with his head for her to come over. As she bent over to hear him and provide a sultry view, he whispered "Synthol, please." As she straightened back up again, he also noticed the mountain of a doctor enter, being pulled by the hand by the blonde helmsman.

Turning his head once more, he looked at Rory and smiled, fully knowing that all of this was just added background noise for the telepath's senses.

Aytilori looked disappointed when she saw that Biff was void in Diamonds.

David was faced with his own dilemma. He knew he could play a trump and take the trick. He also knew that if he did, Rory would slough off a low diamond. He looked at his own Queen, 9, 8, 6 of diamonds. Dave knew that Rory and Aytilori had the rest of the diamonds. The question was whether or not Rory had either the Ace or the King. The worst part was that Dave knew that Rory knew he was wondering this, and didn't have to be a telepathic Betazoid to do it. Dave played the 3 of spades from the board. The 2 and 6 of diamonds fell and Dave had to play from the Board.

Continuing down the path, Jayngo was slightly surprised by the sudden weight that had lunged onto his back. Rather than reacting as his years of Security training would suggest, he simply turned his head, suspecting what had happened before recieving visual conformation.

As he suspected, Jayngo had a blonde hanging on his back. "Hello, Nik. Can I help you with something."

The blonde ensign giggled. "You know what I want, Doc."

The doctor's boyish charm had already taken over for any dissastisfaction he may have had for her constant sexual induendos. "Let me guess. A double-whipped I'danian spice pudding from 10-Forward?"

"Oooo. That does sound good, but how about, instead, we head over to Quarks for a large bottle of Romulan Ale, get liquored up, and see where nature takes us?"

Jayngo smiled in spite of himself. Glancing over toward Quark's he noticed that the cardroom was finally put in and was occupied. "I'll compromise. We'll go over to Quarks, but we'll pass on the ale and avoid any references to alcohol-induced sex. Deal?"

"Fine by me." The Bajoran lides off the gentle giant's back, moving beside him and taking him by the hand. "We don't need booze to have sex." Pulling him by the hand, she led Jayngo over to the bar.

D.J. moved with purpose. Ahead of him: Quark's.

As he got closer, he noticed a new window put in, and through it a mountainous figure in blue that could only be the doctor.

Standing nearby appeared to be Nik, but Doctor Jayngo blocked the rest of the room from view, preventing D.J. from seeing the players at the card table. Paying it little attention, David entered and went straight for the bar.

Being the evening, there was no shortage of people in the bar, but D.J. was still able to find an open stool. A concoction of tubes, lights, colors, assorted glass containers and strange liquids that would put Dr. Frankenstein to shame was arrayed over the counter.

**Dr. Frankenstein? I've been listening to Xiam too much …** D.J. thought.

Noting the bartender at the other end dealing with another customer, D.J. glanced around. Families, civilian and Starfleet, were dining at assorted tables. Over in the game section, the manager was talking with an older man D.J. had never seen before. The manager seemed excited about something, and was gesturing, though the throng of people prevented David from seeing what he was pointing at.

"What'll it be, Dave?"

D.J. turned to face the bartender. Nova watched him over the counter, a smile on her lips. He still hadn't gotten used to her calling him Dave instead of David (or Ensign) like everyone else.

"Oh, hey, Nova. Just a beer, thanks." D.J. said. He started turning his head to check out the vidscreens, but caught himself and turned back. "Real, this time, not synthohol."

Nova raised her eyes and smirked. "Ooh, you sure you old enough?"

David blinked.

"Just kidding, hon. Here you go." Nova set a mug on the counter, foam cresting the top. Winking at him, she headed down the bar to another customer.

Taking a sip, D.J. swiveled on his stool. Leaning back against the bar, mug in his hand, he looked for something interesting to distract him.

Uriell remembered back at Starfleet Academy one of his fellow cadets made the somewhat sexist comment about Uriell not being so bad at shopping when he was a woman.

Right now, she wished it was true.

Uriell's efforts, so far, had been as fruitless as getting to understand Klaus had been. Then again, that was sort of a side thing. Getting something for her wife was a bigger priority.

She walked into the new shop and looked around. She walked past the furniture - an old Takaran shedding post, a multi-colored jeweled endtable, whose origins Starkin couldn't identify.

As she passed a table, she noticed an intricate 3-D chess set, with the pieces carved from gorcha wood. Right next to it was a somwhat beat up doll of a Tellarite, with an exaggerated snout.

::This isn't getting me anywhere.:: With a sigh, Uriell headed to the artwork section.

Jayngo and Nik had just entered Quark's when the doctor slowed their pace, purposefully placing himself in the line of sight of the card players. Argyle was the first to notice them, followed by Ambassador Atylori.

Nganga played the King of spades, clearly drawing trump. Rory's 6 of Trump, and the 2 from Nganga's hand were played, Dovenka remained inscrutable. She placed the 4 of spades in. As Dave collected the cards for the second trick taken, she remained inscrutable. She waved to the doctor and waved him to their table.

Stopping in his tracks, Jayngo gently pulled the ensign up short. "I'm needed over there for a moment."

"OK. Lets go," she said, redirecting but refusing to release his hand. As they approached, however, the doctor gently pulled his hand away.

T'Vala had been sitting at one of the many tables arranged throughout the boardwalk area when she had spotted Jayngo and the young ensign walk past and enter Quark's. Having known the now-doctor for several years, she was a bit surprised at his choice of comanionship, as he had normally shown interest in women of larger frame and stature, as well as higher intelect, though the latter was an assumption made purely on first impressions which most people understood were not reliable. Nonetheless, having sparred with him on many occations, she knew both of his strength and mastery of such; that he could move shuttlecrafts yet pick the most delicate of flowers with the exact same level of skill.

She had returned to her report for only a few moments before seeing a young man exiting from Quarks with an empty hauler, headed for the new shop that had opened shortly after their launch. The young man appeared to be in his latter teens, which made T'Vala pay extra close attention. While she was accustomed to the battleship mentality formed during the war, she knew that family-oriented ships were more the trend for starfleet, and therefore realized that she must get used to the idea of pre-academy-aged personnel being around. She also knew about the reputation adolescent male humans had for getting themselves into odd situations and causing trouble, either on purpose or by accident. As part of security, that is when it would become her "problem."

Growing up on Vulcan, she had never acually seen that type of reputed behavior, but understood through her Klingon nature - the side she forever struggled to keep under control - how such behavior could exist.

As she reflected on all of this, she saw Lt. Klaus and the Captain approach the area, parting company, and the latter enter the new store. This too was something she was unaccustomed to - a Captain being seen in a social environment without the use of a diplomatic reason - and it brought into question the logical reasons for such an outing. While she was tempted to pursue the Lieutenant in order to submit her ideas for improving the phaser array, she indulged in her curiosity instead.

Likewise appraoching the new shop, the security officer entered the area to trigger the automatic doors to open in time to hear the door chime and the Captain speak.

Dave led the 10 of spades from the board. Rory responded with the 4 of clubs; he was out of trump. David realised that Aytilori must have both the queen and the last trump. Her expression was unreadable, being her inscrutable self. David knew that if he played the Ace of trumps, she'd slough off that lower card, making the Queen good. If he didn't play the Ace, she'd use the Queen now, taking this trick.

Down went the 5 of spades; and on cue, down came the Queen. After collecting the cards, she tossed in the 7 of clubs. Diamonds were to be avoided, what with Biff being void in them, leading trump was ill- advised, and the Ace-King of hearts were on the board.

The 3, Ace, and 2 of clubs all fell, with Rory's ace taking the trick.

"I wanted to thank you and your staff, Doctor," Aytilori was saying to Jayngo once he came over. "My broken arm has healed quite well."

"What happened," Rory asked. He was certain that Dave, not his partner, had the King of clubs. Biff's dummy hand only had one trump left. Would playing the King of diamonds and forcing Dave to use the trump Jack (or lose the trick) help?

"When the ship began lurching a few weeks ago, whilst avoiding the jellyfish, I fell while trying to get back to my quarters. Hard. I woke up in your sick bay with someone from Jayngo's staff mending my broken arm," the Cardassian explained.

"That would have been Crewman Tarses. I read his report. I'm glad that he could be of service, but sorry that you needed our services at all." The doctor impulsively flashed his charming smile.

"I'm sorry, sir," Kelly stated. "What type of synthohol did you want?"

Biff mentally chided himself. He was so used to dealing with the 10 Forward bartender, who he had trained to know that Biff only ordered two types of drinks, real and synthahol screwdrivers.

"Sorry. My fault. Screwdriver with synthahol, on the rocks. Thanks."

Rory contemplated playing the 9 of clubs, voiding his hand of the suite. But there would be no gain. He had no trump. And Biff's clubs on the board would be runable as soon as the King fell (sooner if David has the King.) He realised that there was nothing he could lead that would not be beaten. He decided to force the Jack of trump out.

"These things happen. I've endured worse," Aytilori was saying. She sloughed the 3 of Diamonds onto David's 8 and Rory's King.

As Rory thought, David pulled the Jack of trump from Biff's hand. He had to lead from the board. He wanted to be in his hand. He led the 2 of hearts.

Rory followed with the 5. Dave played the Queen; his transportation wouldn't be cheap. Dovenka threw out the 7.

"So, Jayngo, what are you and Nik up to this evening?" David asked. He led the Ace of spades. Aytilori tossed the 9; the 11th trump played, David noted, knowing he had the last two. Biff's 3 of hearts and Rory's 4 of diamonds came down as well. Dave then led the King of clubs. Dovenka's 8, Biff's 5 and Rory's 9 all followed, and David had made book.

"Not much. We met up on the boardwalk and the ensign asked me to join her for a drink. If I may ask, Commander, what game is this that you're playing? I recognize the card configuration as those used in poker, but the style isn't familiar."

"'Bridge,'" David said leading the Queen of diamonds from his hand. Aytilori and Rory put in the 7 and 5. Dave tossed away Biff's 6 of clubs.

=^= Yes Commander? =^= It was Lt. Commander Ned McGintly, the ship's third officer.

"Ned?" Dave seemed puzzled.

=^= You called? =^=

"I didn't call. Everything okay up there?"

=^= I guess. All systems show normal. Everything okay with you? =^=

"Things are great. Nganga out." He reached in and collected the most recent trick.

"That was weird," Nik said. "What did you say the game was called?"

"'Bridge,'" Rory smiled.

=^= Counselor DeKelley? =^= It was Ned again.

Aeth Nik giggled. Dave led the 4 of hearts.

Rory looked at his last 5 cards - the 10, 8, 6 of hearts, and the Jack and 5 of diamonds. On the board he saw the Ace and King of hearts, and the Queen, Jack, six of clubs. And he concluded that Dave had the last two trump. "Well, that's it."

"I'd like to play it out, Counselor," Aytilori said. She then took a drink of her beverage.

"It seems complicated," the doctor said, smiling. "What's the objective?"

"May I help you, Mr. McGintly?" Rory was saying.

"It is," Aytilori replied as she tossed in the 9 of hearts. "There is a complex bidding system in which each player and his partner try to discern how many tricks they can take, while simultaneously bidding that number of tricks. This is followed by playing and then taking as many tricks as possible."

Dave played Biff's Ace of hearts.

=^= Why did you call? =^= Ned asked from the bridge.

"I didn't," Rory laid down his 6 of hearts, while replying to Ned. Nganga collected the small pile of cards.

"In this case," Aytilori continued, "Commanders Nganga and Argyle won the bidding with a bid of three spades. This means they have to actually take nine tricks."

"There are thirteen tricks. The bidding assumes that at least half of the tricks will go to the top bidder, so bidding 'one' means you expect you can take seven. Now, here, you can see," he indicated the stacks of four cards each in front of him. "I've done that. We need two more." On the board, he led Biff's king of hearts.

Partway through the explanation, Nik zoned out, and looked into the main room of Quark's, she spotted D.J. over by the bar, she waved him to come over.

Rory tossed in the 8 of hearts. =^= McGintly out. =^=

Void in hearts, Nganga tossed in the 9 of diamonds.

Aytilori tossed in the Jack of hearts, "Now they only need one more."

"And my last two are trump," Dave exposed the 7 and 8 of spades. "Making four."

"Kind of reminds me of an old game my grandmother used to play, but she called it Venture. It was played slightly different, but its probably derrived from the same priniciple. She tried to teach me once, but ...." Jayngo smiled rather than refer to it as 'an old folks game'. At the time, it was; now, he was a bit closer to that age group than when he was a child.

Seeing Nik motion Paxton over, Jayngo saw an opportunity. "I think I'll take a look around. Really haven't had the chance to explore Quark's yet. But if Ensign Nik would like, I'm sure she could watch the game with Ensign Paxton."

Partway through the explanation, Nik zoned out, and looked into the main room of Quark's, she spotted D.J. over by the bar. Making eye contact with him, she waves him to come over.

His attention wandering again, D.J. glanced towards the cardroom. The doctor seemed to be paying attention to someone or something, but Nik's attention had apparently wandered as well. When their gaze met, she raised her hand and motioned to the cardroom.

D.J. was half tempted to look around and behind him, not sure she was motioning to him. The two of them had never developed what D.J. thought of as a social friendship. Nik was always very friendly, but aside from time shared in meetings, training, or bridge duties, the most the two ensigns ever interacted was little more than a greeting in the hallway while passing each other. They definitely associated with different crowds.

Still, to ignore her would be rude. Grabbing his mug, D.J. stood. As he left the bar, he caught Nova's eye and raised his free hand to her. Nova waved in return before serving a glass with an umbrella in it to a nearby Andorian.

As he reached the cardroom, D.J. almost did a complete 180 and went back to the bar, rudeness or not. Aside from the doctor and Nik, he noticed, among the other players, both Counselor DeKelly and Commander Nganga. While the counselor always made him feel slightly paranoid, the presence of Commander Nganga increased the tension. Especially since he still felt guilty after showing up late to his last shift when Nganga was watching the bridge.

Taking a sip from his mug, he entered. As D.J. approached Nik, Doctor Jayngo seemed to finish something he was saying, ending with "… Ensign Paxton."

D.J. was startled to hear his name from the doctor, and could only wonder what Jayngo had been saying about him before he came into the room. Stopping next to Nik, he mouthed a silent "hey" and then turned to face the card players, nodding to them.

**Well, this is awkward** he thought.

"Hi D.J." Nik said. She had found the 'bridge prank' amusing, and had wanted to share it with someone. When she hadn't spotted any of the few friends from the Cochrane she had made so far, she opted for her fellow flight control officer. He seemed likable enough, although they had never socialised much. "What did you say the name of the game was?"

"It's proper name is 'Contract Bridge,' and yes I do believe it is related to 'Venture,' Doctor," Rory replied. He could feel Nik's disappointment. But he had already repeated Nganga's little prank, and he didn't want that much overkill. He could also sense D.J.'s tenseness. "Hello, Ensign."

Dave (rather than D.J.) was muttering as he entered information into the PADD, "We bid Four spades, so at 3 points per trick that's 12 points, and another 3 above the line."

Aytilori looked at the doctor, "And then there is this Byzantine scoring system for the game."

Becoming aware of the new arrival, Nganga stopped and looked up. "Oh, hi, D.J." Dave liked the ensign whose skill at flying ships had impressed him. He hadn't liked talking sternly to him earlier, but what could he do. Now, however, they were off duty, so he had opted for a friendlier tone.

"Commander," the Cardassian ambassador was speaking, "It's my deal, but as long as we're between hands, could you introduce me to your friends?"

"Of course," Commander Nganga said, fully realising he didn't see either flight controller off of the bridge that often. "This is Ensign David 'D.J.' Paxton and Ensign Aeth Nik. They take turns steering the ship. Ensigns, this is Ambassador Aytilori Dovenka of Cardassia."

"You were the one who was nearly ..." Nik said.

"Yes," Dovenka said, "After Cardassia opted out of the Khitomer Conference, they petitioned the Federation to have me stay aboard." The inscrutable Cardassian gave no indicator as to why they asked.

Jonathan put the dolley in storage before returning to the store's display room. He had hoped to be let off early tonight, since he knew that every week some of the other teens onboard reserved a holodeck for a few games of Parisi Squares. Maybe if he got over there early enough, he could get in on the action and get to hang around someone his own age. Until Gryphon got back, though, he was stuck watching the place.

With a sigh, he grabbed a duster from behind the counter.

Starting with the shelves in the back, he climbed up the ladder in front of them. The top of the ladder was secured to a bar that spanned the length of the shelves, and a wheel was attached to each of its "feet". When he had reached the top rung, Jonathan extended his right foot, planted it against the corner wall, and pushed off. The ladder rolled on its wheels down the row of shelves, knick-knacks passing by on all levels.

Before he slowed to a halt, the door chime sounded as someone entered the store. Cursing under his breath, Jonathan reached to a shelf to slow his ride, thought better of it before he could knock any of the antiques to the ground, and grabbed the bar above the ladder instead. The ladder jerked to a stop. Dropping to the ground, Jonathan rubbed his hand, chafed red from the friction. Angling his head to peer around one of the displays, he was relieved to see that it wasn't Gryphon after all. Just another customer, Starfleet judging by her uniform.

She didn't appear to have a clear plan in mind, as her attention wandered back and forth through the store. With a somewhat resigned look on her face, she slumped her shoulders and headed over to the section of the store Gryphon reserved for artwork. Sighing, Jonathan headed to that section himself.

"Can I help you?" he said to the woman.

"I don't know," Uriell replied to the young human. "I hope so. I'm looking for something for someone special... a human, female, from Earth." Starkin was aware of how vague she might be sounding. But she also knew that it was in human nature (and sometimes garman nature) to talk about others, especially those "higher up" in status, celebrity, or in this case, rank. So the captain didn't want to share any more of their personal lives than necessary. "I was thinking some relic, some antique from her planet's past might be nice. Maybe something calssy. Or funny.." Uriell sighed. "I don't know."

Jonathan just looked at the customer, no expression on his face.

Having been unable to stealthfully enter the establishment as she had hoped, T'Vala moved over to the side, close enough to continue listening but also fairly inobvious as to her intentions as well. She saw a collection of Vulcan hair clips in a small case, and moved over to "window shop."

"Uh … okay … ?" The teen rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the store.

"What about … uh," he pointed towards a couple paintings hanging from the wall, "… these are both from Earth. The one on top is …"

Picking up a PADD containing a list of the store's inventory, he hurriedly began cycling through the artwork listing.

"… here it is … er, uh" he faltered, after finding the listing.

Clearing his throat, Jonathan continued, "It's by a 22nd century artist, S. Emil Travers." Then, reading very stiffly from the PADD, "Mirroring Kincaid's style during the late 20th century, Travers is renowned for his ability to take large technological cityscapes and capture within their 'busy' environs a sense of warmth and quaintness."

Jonathan paused, waiting for the woman's reaction to see if he should continue or not.

The LBH looked around the empty room. The lounge had been deserted for the better part of an hour. He had re-cleaned every glass, dusted every shelf and was now questioning if he should just deactivate himself and save on the ships energy reserves. The biggest problem with that, however, was that here he was bored; there he would be bored and unable to do anything about it.

Moving from behind the counter, he stepped towards the entrance and looked out through the small window placed in the door. He saw yet another group of people enter the establishment known as Quarks and became slightly more depressed. He understood the human need for variety, and therefore the apparent need for two social drinking establishments, but with the different types of live entertainment provided at Quarks, it seemed as though people were making their choice abundantly known.

Moving over to one of the chairs, the LBH sat down. He knew that the most infamous of the EMH Mark 1's - the Doctor from the USS Voyager - had created hobbies for himself during his downtime. It was one of the things that enabled the Holographic Liberation Movement to petition for rights to be given to photonic beings and allowed the LBH to finally be released from the laborious task of scrubbing nacelle manifolds and be assigned to the Cochrane. .oO(At least I was never bored on Lynarik Prime.)

As the LBH sat contemplating his situation, the doors to 10 Forward hissed open to reveal a scantily clad blonde entering the establishment. She was probably one of the most beautiful creatures the LBH had ever laid eyes on, in spite of the fact that she barely wore a stitch of clothing; less than the Dabo girls he had seen entering into the competition across the way. Then she flashed a sparkling smile in his direction and his photonic heart melted. Instantly springing to his feet, he stated "What is the nature of your drinking pleasure?"

Glancing around the room, she said "where is everybody?"

The LBH's head dropped slightly. "Not here, obviously." Realizing that such a demeanor was more likely to chase off a customer than entice her to stay, he retorted with "you are the first of the day, and I'm sure that a lady as lovely as yourself will soon have a strong following. As the first customer of many, the first drink is on the house. What can I get you?"

"Oh, nothing, thank you. I was just .... say, you look familiar? Are you someone famous?"

The LBH smiled. While he had taken a couple of liberties with his appearance matrix, he still bore a striking resemblance to the Voyager's doctor, just like all of the other EMH Mark 1's did. "I think you have me confused with someone else." As she shrugged and started to turn to leave, he amended quickly, "my brother is a famous doctor and writer."

She turned back again, a small smile on her face. "Really?"

Technically, it was the truth.

She looked him over again, a proverbial lightbulb going off above her head. "Your an EMH Mark 1!" He nodded, hoping that it was a good thing. "Wow, you weren't kidding. Your 'brother' really is famous."

"Well," the LBH responded, "its not like he's an admiral or anything. Can I get you that drink now?"

"No thanks. I don't drink."

"Then why ..." The LBH stopped in mid-sentence as a little piece of metal hanging off of what could barely be considered a sleeve caught his eye. He recognized it immediately. "Your a hologram?" he asked with shock.

"Yes, I am" she said matter-of-factly. "I work down at O'Sanna's, down at the opposite end of the boardwalk. I was sent out to find some clientele. Business has been surprisingly slow."

The LBH had heard about O'Sannas, especially how no one could believe that the brass had actually allowed a holobrothel aboard. "Your a prostitute?"

He was shocked that it had come out of his mouth a half second after he said it, fully expecting a deluge of guilt-forming accusations to come from her over the use of a derogatory comment. Instead, she simply nodded gleefully and said "Yup."

"Oh, O'Sanna was given three or four of them for us to use. If you'll excuse me, I have to go find some clients."

As the blonde turned on her heal and exited, the shocked look remained on the LBH's face. "But, but, but .... Why can't I have one of those?"

Seeing that things were progressing nicely, Jayngo looked around the room. He saw the owner of Quarks shaking hands with one of the other shop owners in front of three box-like machines. As the other man began to leave, Jayngo saw his opportunity. "If you will all please excuse me, I see Mr. Clemonds and would like to ask him a couple of questions." Smiling at the ensaumble, he begins to step away and head for Sonny.

Ambassador Dovenka dealt out the next hand, four piles of thirteen cards. Each of the player grabbed up his stack and began sorting and silently counting.

Aytilori looked at her cards. 12 points. Ace, jack of spades but only four cards in the suit, and there was that "no five card majors" rule. From the stories Biff and Dave had told her, there were some who would bid on this hand. She wasn't one of them. "Pass."

Biff looked at his cards. 3 points. "Pass."

Counselor DeKelley looked at his cards. He had 12 points. His Bajoran senses told him that the Cardassian had close to opening count. And enough people bid on only 12 points that it wasn't an obvioususe of his abilities. "One club."

Dave became annoyed. He had 13 points, but no biddable suit. "Double."

"One spade," replied the Cardassian, naming her best suit.

"Pass." Biff said firmly.

"Two spades," Rory liked Aytilori's suit.

"Pass," Dave said reluctantly.

Dovenka didn't know the game well enough yet to judge if they could make game. "Pass."

"Pass. Her spades, so I lead," Biff said.

Whatever whoever had planned by putting Calvin Skepti on board the USS Cochrane could never have foreseen the sort of total clusterf*cks he'd be involved in. The sheer number of fires he'd had to deal with when the ship came under direct attack, or even going through evasive maneuvers was a head-ache beyond anything anyone should have to endure.

Now, they were headed towards a joint colony of two races, one being fish-people. Cal shook his head defiantly, his ubiquitous scowl keeping any messengers at bay. Falan was one of the few people willing (God knows why) to join Skepti in his duties during these moods (which were virtually omnipresent with the irritable Mr. Skepti.

Boardwalk comm units had begun going off for the past fifteen minutes or so. Many of the leading officers were enjoying the Green Room which Skepti had staunchly opposed. Of course, the 'Fleet officers were wanting it, so his opinions were basically worthless. Besides, it wasn't like he could use his real opposition with the 'good' Captain. Now, it seemed Osanna had somehow gotten a hold of Holographic emitters and had his prostitutes parading about the Promenade.

"What a clusterf*ck," he muttered for the thirtieth time since exiting his 'office'. Falan merely grinned, somehow, the young man enjoyed his 'Boss's' attitude. Which, was just one more reason to make Cal pissed. It was unnatural. Eye narrowed, Skepti spotted one of the prostitues up near 10 Forward.

"Falan, quit your grinning and go round up those hollo-hookers," he pointed with his single arm at 10 Forward. "I'll go over to Quark's and find the Captain."

Jonathan waited, watching the woman and trying to anticipate her reaction to the painting. He had anticipated a quick answer either way, and was surprised that she seemed to be mulling the artwork over so thoroughly.

He took another look at the painting, wondering if perhaps he had missed some 'deep, inner meaning.' As far as he could tell, it was little more than a depiction of one busy street in an anonymous city, earth-based probably, considering all the humans walking about. There was nothing wrong with the actual painting technique, as far as he could tell, but that wasn't enough to sell the teen on the 'quaint' imagery. The whole thing just seemed a bit schmaltzy and … contrived.

Glancing away and stifling a sigh, he looked around the rest of the store. He was starting to get a little impatient. First this woman comes into the store without a clue about what she wants. Next, Gryphon was taking his sweet time getting back to the store. And third, now there was a … Klingon (although there's something different about her) looking through the hairclips and antique jewelry.

Jonathan felt like he was never going to get to the Parisi Squares game.

As T'Valla watched from the corner of her eye, she could tell that the young salesman was getting impatient with the Captain, though doing so seemed very illogical. In her role of Captain, she was obviously the most prominent shopper the store was going to see. In addition, showing such agitation stood the chance of alienating the customer and loosing the sale. Of course, the time that the Captain was taking in studying the painting did appear to be taking longer than expected.

Captain Starkin looked at the painting. It was nice enough, she supposed. There was an almost pastoral feeling to the urban landscape - not an easy feat to accomplish. But it was still an urban landscape. Maybe Danielle would prefer something more pastoral instead. Or would she like the wonderment of the city? Would she think it was nice? Or melodramatic fantasy? Is a painting something she'd like? Is art the best way to go?

Eventually, Uriell was no longer really studying the painting, but using it as a focus while she thought. She really had no clue what to get, and that bothered her greatly.

Deciding to change from a passive role to an active one, T'Valla decided to change the situation to both enlighten and aide. Walking over to Starkin, she said "may I be of some assistance, Captain?"

The Klingon-Vulcan's words snapped her out of her contemplation. She hadn't even realized she came in. Starkin didn't want to appear troubled or weak in front of her officers. And she wondered how effective her advice could really be. Still, an outside perspective might do some good.

"I'm not really sure, Lieutenant. I'm looking for something for my wife, and I'm afraid shopping is really not my area of expertise." She turned to the young salesman. "Do you have any kind of sculpture, perhaps?"

T'Vala looked at her Captain, her eyebrow arching slightly. "Unaware of your spouse's preferences, I am afraid that I would be unable to properly gauge an appropriate gift, sir. Perhaps if you could state the nature of the gift, we could narrow down the field. By the size of the gifts you are looking at, may I assume that it is a major anniversary of some form?"

Jayngo walked away from the bridge table, a small smile on his face. He had fond memories of his Grammy sitting around the table with her friends, laughing and gossiping around a friendly game of Venture. They had tried to teach him the game when he was ten, but he was far more interested in going out and climbing the Jumtron tree in her back yard. It wasn't until four years later, when she passed away, that he realized that he wished he had spent more time playing games with her than climbing trees.

As he approached the owner of Quarks, the doctor watched as Sonny Clemonds took a circular piece of silver metal and placed it into the new machine. Strange sounds began emanating from both the machine and the owner: wonkas and beeps from the former, laughter from the latter. The joy was almost as intoxicating as the drinks being served. Captivated by the fun being had, the doctor continued his approach.

"What are you doing, Sonny?"

The owner of Quarks straightened up suddenly, banging his head on the machine's overhang. Rubbing it profusely, he replied "Oh, hey doc. Just got this from Gryphon. Its a video game."

Stepping forward, Jayngo grabbed the back of Sonny's head and glanced at the injured area. "There's no lacerations, but there does appear to be a bit of swelling. Let me grab a dermal regenerator and ..."

"That's OK, doc. It'll be fine." Sonny rubbed it four or five times and smiled. "See, ol' fashioned medicine. All better."

"Right. If you have any signs of dizziness or nausea, I want you to call me right away."

Sonny continued smiling. "You docs are all the same. Anyway, video games were really popular when I was a kid, and this one was the king. Wanna watch?"

"Sure." The mountainous doctor hovered over Clemonds as he inserted another piece of metal and watched as the flat screen began showing two- dimensional characters moving around a grid. Just as the little ghosts changed color to blue, the two men heard a shout from the entrance. "Oh my God! Is that what I think it is?!"

Bak Xam stood in the entrance to Quarks, a gleam in his eyes like that of a man finding buried treasure.

Klaus contemplated the PADD in front of him. My quarters are really starting to crowd in on me, he thought. Why don"t I go get some fresh air.

The security officer left his quarters and made his way down to the turbolift. Those he past in the corridor gave him a second look. Most were not used to seeing the chief in civilian clothes. He was off duty, after all.

The turbolift started to make its journey and reflected for a moment. I really hope I don't run into the captain again, he thought. She looked as if she might want me to go shopping with her. That would be a little too weird. Regardless, it's time for me to act like a member of the crew and not sequester myself at every free moment. Ensign Corbin had accused him of such earlier that evening.

The Ensign had stopped by to go over the SERT team readiness reports when the conversation turned more personal.

"Are you happy on board the Cochrane, sir?"

"Absolutely! So far, this security position has been very challenging and I find the command staff to be very good," Klaus replied.

"I don't mean professionally, sir."

"I guess I don't follow, Ensign."

"May I speak candidly, sir?"

Uh-oh, Klaus thought. "Please. And Rebecca, we are off duty. Please call me Chris."

"What I mean sir, is that you hardly ever socialize with the crew. It seems that every free moment you have is spent in your office or in your quarters. You even refused to participate in combat tournament last month. With all due respect, you have to get your ass out of your room and get to know your crewmates!"

"I know I can seem a bit reclusive-"

"That's a load of crap, sir, and you know it. You can't stand the possibility that others might think less of you because you didn't attend the Academy." Ensign Corbin stood and headed for the door. "I am going to the boardwalk and I hope that you will join me." With that, the Ensign turned, and left.

Klaus knew that she was probably right. It had gotten to the point that he felt discrimination from every officer whether he knew them or not. Something had to give. So, he was going. Captain shopping or not.

"Do you understand this at all, D.J.?" Aeth Nik asked her fellow helmsman.

D.J. opened his mouth, a finger lifted as though to make a point. After a second of thought, though, he very quickly lowered his finger and shook his head. "uh, no."

"Card games were never really my thing," he said.

Nik nodded. "Me neither."

Gesturing behind her to the bar, she addressed D.J. "You know, someone owes me a drink. And since he just left the room, and everyone else in here is busy with the game … I guess you get to buy it for me."

"Uh … sure, why not?" D.J. said. He wasn't all that excited about the prospect of socializing, but maybe it was time he got to know his peer better. And besides, it was an excuse to get out of the cardroom … nothing against Nganga, or the others, but D.J. had a hard time imagining why his superior officer would be all that interested in him hanging around. Even 'on-break' the commander was probably more 'on- duty' than D.J. ever was.

Aeth Nik had just pulled D.J. away and Rory and Dovenka had just won the hand.

"Who the Hell?" David Nganga said, mid-card shuffle, seeing an scantily- clad unidentified woman walking past the window.

"Commander," Rory DeKelley said, "There is a growing level of agitation of the people on the Promenade."

Biff Argyle looked at his friend and Bridge partner's face, "Counselor, there's a growing level of agitation in here, too."

"We're done for now. Excuse me," Commander Nganga stood up, and started heading purposefully out of Quark's. He started looking for Skepti, who, as it happened was walking purposefully, towards Quark's.

Nodding to the two remaining bridge players, Biff stood as well, following Nganga out of the bar.

"Mr. Skepti," the First Officer said, "Did I see what I think I saw, and are you, by any chance, looking for me or the Captain?"

Cal took a quick surly breath coming to a halt before the two officers. His hardened, scarred features screwed up in evident ire, Skepti responded. "You bet your Starfleet pension I am, Commander." He glances pointedly down the Promenade where Mr. Falan was speaking coercingly with a pair of scanitly clad women. "O'Sana seems to have taken on advertising. The mother's up here have been in an uproar!" With the last word, Cal's speech has grown in tone and he lifts his 'arms' emphatically.

"I can't say I blame them." The Commander turned to the ship's Chief Engineer, "Biff, is there away we can shut down the portable emitters? Can we access his ... establishment's ... computer system and shut it down?"

The Chief Engineer frowned, scruffing his beard in thought. "The emitters are still experimental, reverse engineered from futuristic technology acquired in the Delta Quadrant by Voyager's crew. The fact that he even has access to them is questionable. They have their own internal power supply and computer network, enabling them to be completely independent of the ship's system."

Biff continued to think out loud. "I remember reading an introductory article while we were on Utopia Planetia, focusing both on the technology and the petitions of the Hologram Liberation Movement to reproduce them for use by all 'sentient' holograms. I was weirded out by the idea. I dabbled with different ideas of how we could defend against such a society, in case they got out of hand. The two best theories involved programming and releasing nanobots programmed to disrupt the emitters, but without specific schematics of how the devises worked, there wasn't any guarantee that they wouldn't also mess with the ship's emitters, as well as - potentially - repicators and transporters."

"The other idea was to flood a controlled area with chronoton particles to disrupt the holomatter, but again, you run the risk of also disrupting other holographic programs in use. For instance, if we were to flood the boardwalk with it, we'd run the risk of damaging the LBH and Moss's pet park creation, just to name a few. Holographic technology is heavily used here, as you well know."

"One more reason to avoid any temporal anomolies and time warps," Nganga said. "Although why holograms are affected so adversely by temporal particals is beyond me."

Biff got that look on his face that told David he had come up with an answer. "Of course, if we were able to get close enough to them, we could always just yank the emitter off them, disrupting the signal and shutting down the program, or just go to O'Sanna and order him to recall them."

"He was ordered not to have them out wandering about," Nganga said. Holo-hookers wandering about the arcade of a family-carrying ship were as welcome as street walkers would be, hooking at Woodfield or the Mall of America in the early 21st century. "Is there a reason I should expect him to actually comply with another order?"

"I would've rather avoided making a scene. O'Malley." Nganga called over a security officer. "That holographic woman. Remove that thing from her arm."

"Yes sir."

The security officer went over to where one of the holographic whores was propositioning the annoyed father of a six-year old.

"Excuse me, miss." O'Malley said, and he reached for her holo-emitter. There was a bright flash as he made contact with the device. His muscles spasmed and was thrown back.

"O'Malley!" Nganga rushed forward to where O'Malley lay unconscious, or worse. The acrid smell of ozone was in the air. "Nganga to Sick Bay. We have a man down in the Arcade." :: The bastard booby trapped them against being grabbed! ::

"Sule here. A team is being dispatched."

The Beta shift doctor looked over at Nurse Tarses, watching as the man took off in a sprint out the door. He knew that Doctor Jayngo had mentioned going to the boardwalk for the evening, and knew that the Chief Medical Officer would want to be alerted.

Jayngo was just about to accept the proffered coin from Sonny Clemonds to take a turn with the "video game" when his communicator chirped.

=^= Sule to Jayngo. =^=

Tapping the communicator, Jayngo responded. "Jayngo here. What's up?"

=^= Commander Nganga just reported a medical emergency on the boardwalk. Simon is in route. =^=

Jayngo was already moving as he responded. "Understood. I'm on it."

It took mere seconds to exit Quarks. Jayngo was surprised to see that the situation had formed mere feet from the front of the establishment he was in. Running over to the downed officer, Jayngo slid in a crouch next to O'Malley as he stated, "What happened?" His hand went to his waist to pull out his medical tricorder, flipping it open to examine the patient.

"He was hit with some kind of energy discharge -- electric, I think -- when he went to remove the holo-emitter from that...," Nganga pointed to the hologram of the not-quite-naked hooker, "... that."

As soon as the turbolift doors opened to the boardwalk, Klaus could sense something was wrong. He quickly scanned the area and saw O'Malley on the floor unconscious. With that, he quickly ran to the scene to find out what was happening.

Jayngo continued to examine the patient with the tricorder, assessing the full extent of the damage. Second and third degree burns on twenty- five percent of his internal organs. It was as if the security officer had been hit with a lightning bolt, only without the exit wound.

"I would suggest that no one try to grab our emitters. Our lord and master has taken steps to protect his investment." The voice was O'Sanna's. It appeared to be O'Sanna, save for the emitter on the arm. The hat, vest, chaps, neckerchief, and boots were all from the style of Earth's ancient west. The g-string that made up the rest of the holo- gigolo's attire was not. The holo-gigolo tuned and started walking away.

Jayngo tapped his communicator. "Jayngo to Sule. Prepare for incoming burn victim. Get the cortical stimulators, cell regenerators, and thermal units ready. We may also need to prep for surgery." Another series of taps, then "Jayngo to Tarses. Get back to sickbay and help Sule." Another series of taps. "Jayngo to transporter room three. Emergency transport from my location to sick bay. Two to beam out. Energize."

As Jayngo and O'Malley disappeared into glittering light ...

"Lord and Master, my ass!" Skepti exclaimed and moved forward, a determined grimace on his face.

(Or his.)0o. Nganga thought, as the O'Sanna lookalike's bare cheeks were exposed and facing the commander.

When he reached the holographic image, his gloved hand reached forward towards the emitter...

Biff Argyle lunged forward, trying to stop the boardwalk manager from grabbing hold of the emitter.

Skepti's artificial hand clasped around the emitter as Argyle ran into him. Again their was a bright flash. Thankfully, the false arm is insulated; both Argyle and Skepti feel the electric jolt, but other than a brief moment of pain, and their hair standing on end, there is no immediate ill-effect.

Cal does find, however, that it takes more effort than it should to control the arm. It's not out of control, just moving slowly.

"What in the world were you thinking?" Biff runs a hand through his hair, attempting to get it to lay down, only to feel the static electricity as he does so.

"Commander. I would like to recommend that someone visit O'Sanna and 'encourage' him to recall his toys. Meanwhile, I'll get together with someone from science and work out a way to create a condensed chronofield that we can use on these .... hazards."

Still holding the emitter, Calvin grunts, his teeth clenched with the exertion of making his prosthetic arm work, "You may run your hole down in Engineering, Lt. Commander. But, this is -MY- Boardwalk!" Skepti forces the hand holdking the emitter to squeeze with all of its strength.

"If you don't mind Mr. Skepti, we could probably use that." He put his hand on Skepti's shoulder, above the prosthetic connection.

"Biff, we don't need Temporal Investigations breathing down our necks," Nganga said. "We need to examine THIS emitter. If Starfleet hasn't been able to backwards engineer the 29th Century technology, I have a hard time believing O'Sanna could. Despite the outer similarity, I don't think we're dealing with the same technology."

Argyle was about to inform his commanding officer about the latest intel on the reversed engineering done on the holo-emitters when something on the one in Skepti's hand caught his attention. Reaching out and snatching the emitter from Skepti's spasming hand, he stated in a lowered voice, "if it wasn't for my hole in the wall, you wouldn't have a boardwalk." Straightening back up with the emitter in his hand, Biff also stated "you should probably have someone take a look at that, " nodding toward the malfunctioning appendage.

Biff turned the emitter over in his hand, confirming a suspicion; the outer casing was made from a non-Starfleet issue substance, making the Commander's statement truer than he had known and explaining the 'extras' attached to the devise. "You're right, sir. Permission to take this for a more in-depth investigation? I'd still like to get science involved in this and get their opinion as well."

Assuming that Nganga gives his permission, Biff turns from the pair and taps his communicator. "Argyle to Sulu."

=^= Go ahead, Commander. =^=

"I have reverse engineered version of a portable hologram emitter, similar in style to the type recovered from Voyager. Are you familiar with the devise?"

=^= I've heard of them, but not personally, no. Cadet Santiago wrote a paper on it, however, a couple of years ago, when it was first examined by Starfleet. =^=

Biff mentally worked to recognize the name, connecting it with one of the four Starfleet cadets who was serving their senior internship aboard the Cochrane. "He is currently serving as a junior science officer, isn't he?"

=^= Yes sir, he is. =^=

"Would you mind if I borrowed him for a little bit to examine this problem?"

=^= Not at all. =^=

"Excellent. If you could have him meet me in engineering, we can work there. Argyle out."

=^= Sulu to Santiago. =^=

=^= Yes sir Santiago here! =^=

=^= Report to Engineering as soon as possible. Lt. Commander Argyle has an assignment he would like your assistance on. Sulu out. =^=

As Lt. Commander Argyle and Cadet Santiago examined the retrofitted portable holograph emitter, Captain Starkin, Commander Nganga and Lt. T'Vala went to question O'Sanna about his more-than-questionable practices. The holographic-flesh peddler refused to allow them to hold him accountable for any "moral turpitude," stating that he held expressed permission to run his business in any and all ways he saw fit by Admiral Anthony Haftel of Starfleet Command. Around this time, Biff arrived on the scene with a short-range EMP emitter, designed to disrupt the internal power sources of the PHE frequencies. In using the emitter in O'Sanna's vicinity, they also discovered it worked quite effectively on him as well, discovering that he was, in fact, an artificial life form.

Meanwhile, Calvin Skepti had quickly found himself suffering further complications from the electrical damage done to his cybernetic arm. As he attempted to make his way back to his quarters, he passed out in the corridor and lapsed into a coma. A crewman passing by found him and called sickbay, which in turn dispatched a medical team to bring the fallen boardwalk manager in. After a careful examination, Doctor Jayngo realized that the Marquis-created cybernetic arm had fed back into the man's nervous system. Much to his regret, the doctor did not have the ability to deal with the situation and requested Skepti be dispatched to the nearest starbase for advanced medical treatment.

As Biff examined the deactivated O'Sanna, he was able to recognize the workings of a replica positronic brain, based on the designs of the late Lt. Commander Data. While the work was obviously a poor imitation of Dr. Soong's work, it was no less disturbing. As such, he likewise recommended that the android be sent off-ship for further study.

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