The U.S.S. Takeda Shingen

After much protest, and not a few unsavory challenges and accusations exchanged between K'Etra and Diziara, the commander agreed to allow the team one day to investigate Marloth's claims. She left one of her officers with the team to assist them, introducing him as Lieutenant Korloth and suggesting the team start with the official reports.

Even though the claim was Korloth was there to assist them, it soon became clear that his definition of help was rather different than expected by the crew of the Takeda Shingen. When asked to lead the team to the security office, so they could follow Commander K'Etra's recommendations, he remained silent and stared at them impatiently. It didn't take long for Diziara to reach the conclusion that he had no intention of doing much else, and stalked off towards the location she remembered the security office having been, in hopes that it would still be in the same place. Tom was right on her heels, and Svetlana and AJ had to move quick to keep up. Korloth followed behind, slow but near enough that he could easily hear any discussion and keep an eye on the group.

The greeting they received at the security office was marginally better; Korloth at least had the presence of mind to speak up when their requests for the reports in question were challenged. It was clear he was doing the bare minimum needed to help, and when he settled in to talk about his new yan with the security officer, Diziara had a few less than savory words to direct at him. He shot her a look, but otherwise ignored her. Tom guided the team to an unused interrogation room, and the team settled in to look over the reports. The translation program provided made choppy work of the reports, so in the end, Diziara had to summarize each to clarify the weak parts of the translations.

"You can see here," Diziara explained, dropping her PADD in the middle of the table. She leaned over to pull up a section of the report featuring the various witness statements, "as well as here, here and here... the story was for the most part consistent, until you get to the bartender on duty. His initial statements taken on the scene, describe the killer as someone who couldn't possibly match the description of that dipstick in our holding cell." She crossed her arms, standing up straight again. "However, you'll note that in his official statement, he backpedals and tries to claim he just didn't get a good look at the guy and that maybe he identified the wrong person. I recommend talking to him, at least."

"We certainly want to get a look at the crime scene," Tom suggested, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against his hand as his elbow rested on the table.

"Station like this, a bar is going to clean up as soon as possible so they can get back to business," Diziara explained regretfully. "But it can't hurt to try. We might also want to get a second opinion on the autopsy and the stiff." Diziara looked at AJ when she said this.

The group didn't have to go far into the station before they were met by a short Klingon woman, backed by two larger and taller Klingons: one male and the other female. All three were wearing Klingon Defense Force uniforms. The short woman had commander rank insignia on her uniform, the other two, lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Rogers," she addressed him, a fleeting look at Diziara as she approached. "Where is our fugitive?" She stopped in front of him, her officers flanking her to either side.

"A pleasure to finally meet you too, Commander K'Etra," he returned, a heavy dose of sarcasm in his voice. Diziara cleared her throat, stepping forward.

"Check your Texas manners at the door, stud," she shot at him under her breath. "Marloth requested asylum and it has been provisionally granted by Captain Henriksen."

"You are here as our guest and he is our fugitive. I demand you release him now," K'Etra growlled. Diziara grinned, but Tom spoke up before she could retort.

"He requested asylum while within Federation space," Tom explained patiently. "We are under obligation to at least address his concerns before releasing him to your custody. He claims he will not receive fair trial and has given us reason to suspect there may be more to the case than meets the eye. If you'll kindly indulge us, we would like a chance to investigate the matter. If we find no evidence of his claims, Captain Henriksen is prepared to release him to your custody at that time."

"You're in our space, on our invitation. You have no grounds-" K'Etra protested.

"The current peace treaty between The Empire and The Federation says we have plenty of grounds," Diziara interrupted her. The smaller woman closed the space between her and Diziara and looked up with a fierce gaze.

"And who are you?" K'Etra demanded.

"Lieutenant Diziara, of the House of Koraith."

"A small and almost unknown house," she dismissed.

"But you knew it by name," Diziara returned, a smirk playing across her lips. "Besides, those are large words from a Commander stuck on this unimportant, neglected ghe''or."

From: svetuninteligbl
Date: 58169.26
Subject: Junction 403

The next person who thinks they have a better fix for Junction 403 than I do is welcome to debate this issue while tied to a spit over hot coals.

Tom and Diziara approached the docking port at 22:59. Svetlana and AJ were already waiting, and Tom nodded politely to both as he moved up to the docking port controls. Diziara quietly followed

"I've heard good things about you, Crewman. Looking forward to working with you," he directed over his shoulder at AJ as he opened the airlock. He started forward, but only made it halfway through the port before he noticed that Diziara was standing dumb in the middle of the walkway so that AJ and Svetlana could not easily move past her. "Somethin' wrong, darlin'?" he asked, gently guiding her by the shoulder to the side. "Go on ahead, we'll be right there," he said to AJ and Svetlana.

"I know this station," Diziara explained to Tom, glancing at the airlock. "Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the port the Barracuda was docked at the last time..." She trailed off, and Tom frowned.

"If you're not up for this, I'll swallow my pride, and wrangle Houghton instead," he offered. Diziara fiercely shook her head, then swallowed hard.

"No, I'll be... fine. I just might be a little off, that's all." She tried to smile at him, and he shook his head.

"You sure? I understand if yo-" Tom returned.

"I'm FINE," she snapped, and brushed past him to stalk onto the station.

Diziara picked up a blue medium sized pyramid, and peered at it intently. "So, we're doing what with this, exactly?" She tilted her head to the left and looked at Svetlana. She rolled the piece between her fingers.

"Move where you want, but remember the rules." Svetlana smiled.

"You know me and rules," Diziara shook her head, looking at the board for a long moment. She finally set the piece down, leaving her finger on it a long moment as she looked at Svetlana to see if her friend betrayed any thoughts about her move.

"This is easy variation. When I am playing with my friends from home each piece has a meaning. We use them to leave messages." Svetlana studied the board, "You just said 'I penguin your shuttle.' but you are learning."

"Hey, penguin is a hard maneuver to pull in a shuttle. Don't knock it," Diziara grinned as she took her hand off the piece.

Svetlana immediately picked up a red piece and placed it between three blue ones, then laid each of them on their sides pointing away from the red piece. "Also you need to remember to relax. Is not about winning or losing, especially when I am winning."

"Especially when you're winning," Diziara repeated with an amused snort. She stacked a small orange piece on top of a green one. "Your modifications to my quarters certainly perplexed Spiegel."

Svetlana shrugged, "They probably shouldn't, he is clever enough. I suppose Starfleet doesn't teach the suspicion you would need in the real world." Svetlana replaced the three blue pieces with purple ones.

"Oh no, he gets why you did them... he's just unsure how they're so effective." Diziara tilted her head sideways again. "And he's rather annoyed that I won't let him inspect them."

"If he likes I can do them to his quarters, but he has to ask me nicely."

"This is Spiegel we're talking about. Nicely is offering booze along with his heavy dose of sarcasm."

"Still, he should be coming to me, not to you. I might be teaching him a few things."

"I think he's afraid. He surrounds himself with strong women, but he doesn't know what to do with them." Diziara moved her hand over the board as she considered the array in front of her. "I have no idea what I'm doing here."

Svetlana leaned back in her chair, "I'll give you the same advice I'd give him. Make it up as you go along. It's what I do."

"Oooo, so we're playing Calvin ball. Gotcha'." Diziara grinned, and knocked over her tower of the orange and green pieces, laying them on their sides pointed towards Svetlana's purple ones.

"I suppose we are at that." Svetlana placed a clear piece on top of each red one, "Everyone plays by their own sets of rules. The winner is determined by who surrenders their own rules and plays by another's. In Icehouse, and in life."

"There is something to be said for subverting someone else's rules though." Diziara smirked, switching the clear pieces Svetlana just placed with yellow ones.

Svetlana smiled, "it's all about when you admit defeat." She placed a black cap on a piece in the center of the board.

"If I admitted defeat, I wouldn't be in the fleet anymore." Diziara picked up the black piece, then the piece it was on top of, a white one. After tucking the black on inside the white one, she set the two down where they had been previously.

Svetlana looked out the window for awhile, "There are versions that have strict rules. There are also versions with no rules at all. They all have their purposes." She looked back at the game board, "Sometimes you get a mess, and sometimes you get something pretty." The game pieces were a lopsided swirl, an abstract nebula. "You still want to play?"

"Are you asking because you're trying to trick me into letting you win, or because you're tired of the game?" A smirk and a wink accompanied Diziara's question. Her combadge chirped at her.

"Rogers to Diziara."

"In the middle of girlie bonding time, stud, what can I do for you?"

"Are you up for a field trip, darlin'? I could use someone fluent in Klingon."

"Klingon, huh? Stace is fluent."

"You know I don't like that man."

"I thought you'd gotten over that."

"I'd also like someone who can hold a weapon."

"Mmm, well, if you drag me along... you should take V too. She's handy."

"She's also sick of being on the ship." Svetlana muttered and started packing up the game.

"V?" There was a pause as Tom seemed to consider this. "That's your Russian friend, Churni-churna... er, Swet-" As Diziara started to giggle at him, he stopped attempting to say Svetlana's name. "She's got engineering and intel background, right?"

"Also cooking!" Svetlana piped up, "And she is tired of fixing junction 403 every time someone thinks they know better."

There was a full minute of silence, with Diziara grinning and biting her lip. Finally Tom coughed. "I didn't realize she was listening in," he muttered, and Diziara laughed.

"He's probably a bright tomato red right now," Diziara assured Svetlana.

"I reckon that even if I weren't inclined to bring her, I'd have to owe her the spot on the team to make amends for the dung heap I made of her name a moment ago."

Svetlana grinned like a predator.

"When're we heading out?"

"We're about an hour out from the station, yet. Unless you ladies would like to take a gander at our guest of honor, I don't need you for another forty-five. He's sitting in a holding cell at the moment, insists he's innocent and wants asylum. The captain's indulging him for the moment, but she sounds skeptical."

"Innocent of what? Some details would be helpful." Svetlana stood up.

"Murder."

"Mmm, I think we'll be meeting you at the holding cell shortly," Diziara responded as she stood also. "See you shortly." She closed the channel and looked at Svetlana.

“Should be more interesting than fixing Junction 403." Svetlana snapped her fingers to wake up Toolbot and led the way to the door.

"Oh, no doubt about that. So, do you think we should see how long it takes Tom to figure out how to spit out Svetlana Chernyshevski, or should we save him the trouble and tell him to call you V?" Diziara grinned, her eyes flitting to Toolbot for a moment before she followed Svetlana out the door.

"I am always a fan of letting people find their own way."

Diziara grinned wide.

Svetlana and Diziara reached the security office after a short walk, and Tom met them outside the room with the holding cells. There was still the remnants of the blush that Diziara had guessed (correctly) had afflicted him earlier, and it flared up again as he made eye contact with Svetlana. He didn't say anything, and instead elected to jump into explaining what was going on.

"We received an emergency call from a station just across the border in Klingon space, requesting we collect a fugitive wanted for murder, who had stolen their only shuttle craft on their station. When confronted, Marloth insists that he's innocent. He requested asylum, claiming that he would not get a fair trial. We're currently in route to the station, but have not informed Commander K'Etra of Marloth's request."

"Who is he supposed to have murdered?"

"A human by the name of Marcus Rivera. Marloth insists that he was framed, though he isn't sure who did it, but he does admit that Marcus was also vying for the affections of a woman named Rosalie, with whom Marloth works."

"Why doesn't he think he will get a fair trial?"

"He's in Klingon space, how the hell would he get a fair trial?" Diziara rolled her eyes at the question. "Sounds like he's working for some civilian company, if he's got a human for a coworker. If you're not an honorable warrior, a lot of times you're a second class citizen."

"Half-human," Tom corrected. "Rosalie's mother is Klingon."

"Even worse," Diziara insisted with a snort.

"I suppose that makes sense. Why does he think he is being framed for it?"

"I haven't had near enough time to talk to him. Most of this information I got from sitting in when he was talking to the Captain."

"Let's have a go at him then."

Tom took a step towards the door in, close enough to trigger it, then stood aside with a small nod. "After you," he insisted. Diziara shook her head slowly, but walked in. Svetlana followed, Toolbot scrambling after her.

Tom started to follow Svetlana at first, then suddenly looked down to notice Toolbot just before his boot landed on top of it. After an awkward half-hop to avoid stepping on it, he followed slowly behind, his eyebrow raised as he watched it carefully.

In the only active holding cell was a Klingon. About average height for a Klingon male, his build was unusually slight for his race. He sat quietly on the bench in the cell. Two guards stood to either side, and when they saw Tom enter, they stood at attention.

Diziara strode right up to the holding cell and looked in at Marloth. Noticing that people had come in, he looked up. His eyes went to Diziara and he stared at her for a long moment.

"You are Kaith's sister?" he asked her in Klingon. She tilted her head to the side as she considered him.

"You know my brother?" she returned, likewise in Klingon.

"I will not talk to this treacherous petaQ," Marloth directed at Tom, speaking in English this time.

Svetlana raised an eyebrow at Tom, "Making friends then?"

"Don't ask me," Diziara muttered, her gaze staying on Marloth. Tom stepped forward with a frown.

"What's the problem with Diz?" Tom asked, stopping next to her. Marloth's gaze moved between Tom and Diziara a couple times before his focus landed on Tom. "Traitor is not a word I'd associate with her."

"Of course not, she was on your side of the war."

Diziara growled, and her fists clenched. "Kaith and I have come to terms over that," she snapped, and Marloth laughed.

"He probably only did so to keep your mother happy."

Svetlana looked at Tom and shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly. "Mothers like their children to get along." Svetlana said, "You have a choice, talk to her, or talk to your friends back at the station."

Marloth looked past Tom and Diziara to Svetlana, his eyes darting downwards to the Toolbot at her heels before his eyes traveled back up to hers. "They won't talk. They all hate me."

"I'm sure for other reasons than your winning personality. Or your ability to make friends wherever you go." She crossed her arms, "Talk, I like a good story."

"Didn't she used to have a heavy accent?" Tom asked Diziara quietly, provoking a smirk out of the red-head.

"If I had a good story, do you think I'd be sitting here?" Marloth demanded, standing up. He strode forward towards the force field, a harsh look directed at Diziara for a moment before moving his gaze back to Svetlana again. "I have a bit of a record, though I've not actually done anything wrong. Rosie keeps falling back in with the wrong crowd, any more convictions and she'll likely lose her job, so I've taken the fall for her more than a few times."

"What kind of wrong crowd?"

"Marcus, for example. The two of them grew up together, he lead her into the petty theft, the lies, the property damage. When she took this job, she was trying to move away from all that, then he followed her out here and got himself an on again, off again, job with the station bar."

"This Marcus is the one you're supposed to have killed?'

"If I'd killed him, they wouldn't have found a body, let alone had witnesses," Marloth growled.

"Statements like that won't help your case any," Diziara insisted with a snort. His eyes darted back to her.

"Says the dishonorable bitch who tried to kill her brother!"

"Who specifically left him alive when I could have killed him," she snarled back, stepping closer to the forcefield.

"Children." Svetlana said in a stern voice. "So if you didn't kill him who did?"

"I don't know," he admitted, then growled at Diziara before he made himself take a step back.

"So why would anyone want to frame you for killing him?"

"Sounds like a lot of people don't like him," Diziara observed. "I don't know why though." Tom laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Diz," Tom said to her quietly, and she looked at him. "Perhaps you should stop stirring the shit?"

"Well without knowing more there's not much we can do." Svetlana looked the Klingon up and down, "Unless you have some evidence to help your case that you're just holding back because of your personal feelings for my friend here."

Marloth considered for a moment, sitting down on the bench in the cell again.

"There's something not right going on with the company Rosie and I work for. I caught the Boss collaborating with some Ferengi, but when I tried to tell someone about it, the Ferengi were found floating dead in space. That was a couple months back now."

"Do you think he has something to do with it?"

"I don't know. I've noticed when people make the boss angry, they tend to have more run ins with the orions in this sector."

"Orions?" Tom's eyebrow rose this, and Diziara tensed up.

"You could say we're a juicy target, all the high value cargo in our holds. But it seems like after someone pisses off the boss, their runs usually get hit more. Rosie says I'm being paranoid, but I've been running the numbers. That's what lead me to the Ferengi to start with."

"So maybe the boss is behind it?"

Marloth considered this for a long moment, then his eyes lit up. "Maybe."

"Do you have any of those number with you?"

"A virus wiped out the computer on the Barracuda last week, and I can't find the backup. I thought I gave it to Rosie for safe keeping."

"Barracuda?" Diziara asked quietly. Marloth looked at her.

"My ship." He explained, oddly confused by her tone.

"There's a fist sized dent, in the cockpit, starboard side wall...?" She added, and Marloth nodded slowly.

Svetlana looked at Diziara, "Something we should know?"

"That was my ship," she said. "That fucking hunk of bolts, where the port aft thruster was always a half a percent lower powered that all the rest... No matter what Travis did-" She stopped suddenly.

"Back to you." Svetlana glared at the Klingon, "What were you hauling?"

"We haul a lot of stuff, I think we had wobbly headed Kahless dolls that time..." Marloth made a face. "The most hideous things I have ever seen. Rosie stole one and left it in our bunk." He frowned.

"Our bunk" Svetlana raised an eyebrow, "Were you involved?"

"There's only one bunk in the ship," Diziara explained even as Marloth answered, "She's my girlfriend."

"Do you think she might be in danger?"

"Why would she be in danger?" Marloth asked, confusion clear on his face.

"She's involved with you, she was supposed to have the backup, she has a criminal history." Svetlana ticked them off on her fingers, "She might know something, she might be involved." Svetlana examined her fingers and then made a fist, "We'd like to know what we're getting into here."

"Clearly he doesn't understand what he's drug himself into," Diziara observed.

"We can take her into protective custody when we reach the station, if she wants it," Tom pointed out.

"The Orion Syndicate doesn't get involved with Khaless bobble heads. Unless you can think of anything else that we might be able to use to help you then you should probably try to record as much as you can remember."

"Orion Syndicate?" Marloth's eyes went wide. "Why do you even think it's them?"

She shrugged, "Always prepare for the worst. You're the one who mentioned Orions. If you'd mentioned the Gamma Quadrant I'd be worried about shapeshifters. I think we're done here until we can get access to some evidence."

"Get him a PADD, and see that he records everything he can think of," Tom directed one of the officers standing guard.

"If we're going on a Klingon station, I should probably arm myself," Diziara murmured to herself as she turned towards the door. Tom snorted.

"Darlin', I know what sort of inventory you keep on yourself when you're just on standard duty," he pointed out, following her.

Setlana went with them, "Zere is alvays being room for surprises." She drawled, staring Tom in the eye.

Tom raised an eyebrow, looking at Svetlana carefully. Diziara giggled.

"See? Handy."

The bridge was quiet, and the light crew for the graveyard shift mostly kept their attention on their consoles; they were running diagnostics where they could, and otherwise occupying themselves with things such as solitaire, sudoku and writing letters home. Tom Rogers sat in the command chair, keeping an eye on the tactical systems from the display in the arm of the chair.

“Sir? We have an incoming hail on a Klingon emergency frequency,” Ensign Maloc spoke up from Operations.

“On screen,” he directed. The petite form of a Klingon woman in a Klingon Defense Force uniform appeared on the main view screen. “This is Lieutenant Tom Rogers of the Federation Starship USS Takeda Shingen, how can we be of assistance?”

“Commander K'Etra, of the House of Kortha,” she returned Tom's introduction. “We just had a fugitive run with our only shuttlecraft assigned to the station. He is wanted for murder and the nearest Klingon ship will likely lose him before they could respond. He is headed into Federation space.”

Tom was quiet a long moment, then looked over his shoulder at Ensign Maloc. “Any sign of the shuttle on our sensors?”

”Yes sir, they just adjusted their trajectory to attempt to skirt us, and they're currently just beyond tractor beam range,” Maloc returned. Tom bit his lip with a frown.

”Now I reckon that it would be no trouble at all for us to collect your fugative,” Tom allowed. “However, I also reckon this question of jurisdiction might figure in as a problem. If he rabbits back into Klingon space-”

”The Empire and the Federation are allies, are they not?” She grinned wide at him, and Tom sighed. “I am authorized to clear you for pursuit, on our terms. Bring him back alive, and the shuttle in running condition, and there will be no problems.” She seemed to consider a long moment before the word 'please' escaped her lips to punctuate her statement. Tom raised his eyebrow, for it was in English, and though her accent was think, it was clear what the word was.

”Only because you asked so nicely, lil' lady,” Tom finally agreed. “Please provide us with the registry number and the last known course, so that we may confirm that we are pursuing the correct vessel.”

”Of course, sending the information now.” She closed the channel as Ensign Maloc confirmed to Tom he had received the information.

”Open hailing frequency to the ship,” Tom directed. When Maloc nodded, Tom cleared his throat, standing up. “Klingon shuttlecraft qIj lIy, stand down and prepare to be brought into our shuttle bay. We act under the authorization of Commander K'Etra of the Klingon De-”

”I know who she is,” came the growled response as a Klingon man appeared on the view screen. “I didn't do it, and they won't give me a fair trial. I will surrender to you under the condition your ship will grant me asylum and see to my fair trial.”

”Done,” Tom agreed.

”Sir, can we-” Ensign Maloc started to protest, and Tom turned to him, drawing his fingers across his neck. The ensign closed his mouth, and muted the comchannel.

”If we can't do it, we will find someone who can. For now, he is willing to surrender himself. We do not want to pass up this opportunity, looking up the regs for it.”

”Yes sir.”

”Unmute the channel, please,” Tom directed. Ensign Maloc quickly complied and Tom turned back to the view screen with a wide grin.

”If you would kindly cut your engines, we'll pull you right into the shuttle bay for safe keeping. I'll have a couple of security officers meet you down there, just as a precaution mind you. Then we can get you settled somewhere safe and cozy, set up a meeting with the Captain, and go from there.”

Diziara entered Henriksen's ready room at the appointed time, and provided the captain with a proper salute. Henriksen raised her eyebrow at this, already being well aware of Diziara's reputation, but Diziara gave no reaction to this small facial tick. The two women regarded each other in silence a moment, and a small smile flashed across Henriksen's lips as she returned Diziara's salute.

"At ease, Lieutenant," she said as her hand fell. Diziara quickly fell to a parade rest. "As you know, Lieutenant Kvorash is leaving us, family business at home before being assigned to the Tethys upon its launch..."

"Yes ma'am," Diziara said simply. Between the formal response, and the fact that she was choosing to follow proper protocol, she seemed to leave Henriksen a little ill at ease. She was careful to try not to show it, only shifting slightly in her seat.

"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" Henriksen finally asked. Diziara tilted her head to the side at this question.

"Not that I am aware of, ma'am," Diziara told her. "You're the one who requested this meeting." Henriksen frowned slightly.

"As I was saying," she continued, and cleared her throat. "Kvorash is leaving and we'll need a new department head for flight control." This statement seemed to confuse Diziara, as her head tilted to the side again.

"The ship rumor mill seems to think Decker's the strong choice," Diziara stated.

"You do not seem the sort to listen to the gossips."

"I listen, but don't make decisions based upon their information alone. They didn't seem likely to be off in this case, even with Johnson's personal interest in me." Diziara relaxed as she said this and Henriksen's mouth quirked a little to hint at a smile.

"The Admiral actually did pull for you quite a bit, and initially I had been strongly considering Decker," Henriksen explained as she gestured towards the chair across the desk from her. "Your record, at the security level I can view it, glosses over your previous experience in this area, but Johnson made me aware of it."

"Delta Force was a bit of a unique assignment," Diziara allowed, and took the offered seat.

"Rumors about Khazara alone are impressive enough, let alone the Delta Force mission. When I hear things, it makes me wish I had the security clearance to read some of the reports."

"Part of the reason I listen to rumors, but pay them little mind without outside information, is that they're usually pretty entertaining, but fact is often times quite different than rumor, be it more mundane or more strange," Diziara explained with a grin.

"Well, the one rumor that has served you well is that Admiral Khazara is a good judge of character," Henriksen explained, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. "However, without my being able to directly judge your service experience, I will have to have you take some training from someone who does have experience I have clearance to observe... Kvorash is leaving too soon to do it himself."

"Wouldn't Terra Nova's records provide some indication of my experience?" Diziara seemed confused and mildly annoyed at this point.

"Between the connection with Delta Force, something involving temporal investigations, then the ship's untimely demise, after you were transferred off..." Henriksen seemed to consider what she wanted to say as Diziara's frown deepened with each thing Henriksen listed off. "We can just say I am not left with much I can read."

"So you've selected me for a position based upon Johnson's recommendation, and the rumored reputation of an Admiral I served under?" Diziara tried to keep her voice level and professional, but a hint of amusement slipped through anyways.

"Johnson has been so kind as to recommend who can provide your training to just reassure me that my gut is not serving me wrong here," Henriksen said, her gaze piercing after Diziara's last comment. "The Admiral says you two should work well together, that you and Lieutenant Figgins know each other already."

"He feels that Jack is the right person to train me on a job I already know how to do?" Diziara's eyes went wide, and she looked as if she was going to say something else, but bit her lip.

"Is there going to be a problem?" The Captain leaned forward to regard Diziara. Diziara shook her head.

"Remind me, next time I see the Admiral, he and I still need some more common ground to discuss combat over," Diziara stated, and a touch of a growl came through her statement. Henriksen laughed and Diziara looked at her surprised.

"He told me about your time together on the sparring ground on Andor," she explained. "Didn't he have to borrow a knife from you for that?"

"Yes."

"I suspect he'll go through the whole ordeal again, if you said he should."

"He's not quite right in the head, is he?"

"He has figured out how to work with what the fleet has to offer. You might want to take notes."

"I don't intend for my career to go that far, didn't exactly intend for a career, truth be told," Diziara shrugged as she said this.

"You most certainly have a career now. I would recommend either taking it seriously, or stepping aside to let someone else move forward in your place." The Captain's tone was a little impatient as she said this, and Diziara grinned.

"Lead, follow or get the hell out of the way. Yes, ma'am," Diziara grinned as she said this, and Henriksen furrowed her brow as she considered it. "May I ask who is going to be responsible for the fighter squadron, once this department transfer goes through?"

"I haven't had time to make that decision yet. For now, Castillo appears to be capable enough that he can manage in the interim, based upon what Sevel has reported to me." When Diziara snorted at this, Henriksen raised her eyebrow at her.

"If it were my decision, I would name Castillo my successor," Diziara explained, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. "Being the cynic I am, I didn't expect I would get to play with the fighter squadron for that long, so I have been training him already. He's more than ready for the job, and he's already got a bond with the squadron."

"I will keep that in mind," Henriksen said, picking up a PADD from her desk. "There are some details I still need to work out, but we'll talk further before the final transfer takes place. I'll come to a decision regarding Castillo by that time. Dismissed."

 The flight took about five hours. 

No sooner than the airlock opened, a med team filed onto the ship with a stretcher, pushing people out of the way when necessary.

Everyone lined up immaculately and efficiently - standing at perfect attention - everyone, that is, except for Diziara. 

Therav walked back and forth slowly and methodically, looking over each individual, and finally he again reached the front of the line. 

"Diziara. Report," he said, his antennae twitching. 

"We are being recalled to Deep Space 17. Per Starfleet Command."

"What the flying targ-fucking hell is going on here?" Diziara demanded, throwing her EV suit's helmet aside and catching the Vulcan by the collar of his shirt. Tom moved in behind her, as if to pull her back, only to remember he had Noelle in his arms. Stace hung back near the open door.

"Whoa there, darlin'," Tom said, trying to sooth Diziara. Stace moved forward.

"'Ere, le' me ge' 'er. S'e an' Ah need 'o ge' 'o sickbay. You 'andle Diz," Stace insisted. Tom handed Noelle over, and Stace took most of her weight on his good arm. He headed down the corridor with her, and Tom laid a hand on Diziara's shoulder. She bared her teeth, and tightened her grip on the Vulcan's shirt.

 With looks and nods all around, the group (now consisting of Diz, Tom and Stace) followed Beck out the door and to his vehicle. 

The ride took about half an hour - for some it would be way too short (Stace seemed to be enjoying himself, and Dizi was having the time of her life) and for others, way too long. Beck held onto the "oh shit handle" above him with a firm grip and a few times, looked to be turning green. 

After hovering around for what seemed twenty minutes, checking every nook and cranny, Beck said, "Ah, there it is... just inside the rim of that crater. He must be distracted. He has his spies on me as well and if he'd known I were anywhere around, he'd be on the other side of the moon already."