DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2002 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

The Way By Moonlight

by Djinn

The marine lounge seemed unusually loud as Kerr stepped through the doors. He smiled at the marines that noticed his arrival and moved into the crowd, looking for one person in particular. He found her at the pool table, playing nine-ball with Captain Munro. Kerr hung back, content to just watch her as she tried to fight back from a serious disadvantage.

Seeming to sense his eyes on her, Christine looked up and smiled at him. He raised an eyebrow at the state of the table and she gave him a sheepish grin. Munro sank the nine ball, then asked her something. She nodded, and as he racked the balls for a new game, she walked over to Kerr. "Howdy, Sailor."

"Classy, Chapel. And how many times do I have to tell you I'm a marine not a sailor."

She stepped a little closer. "I keep forgetting that."

"You forget nothing. Just yanking my chain." He wanted to pull her into his arms, but his sense of protocol stopped him. He knew that if he had, her own idea of what was proper on the Carter would have been brought sharply to bear, manifesting probably as an elbow in the ribs. Not that he wasn't used to it. Christine Chapel was a rather active sleeper with some violent tendencies when she dreamed. Four weeks of sharing the same bed had taught him not to try to wake her when she was dreaming, and to duck the occasional stray punch that came his way.

"I like yanking your chain." The words were neutral but something in her voice added an additional meaning to that statement.

"You can make anything sound dirty, you know that?"

She smiled and he found himself grinning back. She was proving to be an even more interesting woman than he had originally suspected when he started to pursue her. Tough, smart, compassionate, beautiful, and very sexy.

"Red alert."

His muscles tightened. "What?"

"Just testing your theory out. Did that sound dirty?"

"You can't just say red alert like that."

"You're right. Bad example. How about this?" She moved a hair closer, dropped her voice to a husky drawl. "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

He swallowed hard.

She laughed. "Uhura would kill me for that. Except that I actually sounded quite a bit like her. She had a great voice."

"Go back to your game, Christine. I need a drink. What's your poison tonight?"

"Trilithian Ale."

"Yum. I'll make it two." He fought his way through the marines to get to the bar. He saw three of his marines sitting off by themselves. They looked glum. He ordered his drinks then wandered over to their seating area, his mind automatically identifying them. "Corporals Callahan and Ryndwyck. Private Lawrence. Everything all right here?"

They started to rise.

"At ease. This is downtime. As in having fun not as in being down. What's the problem here?"

They made a lot of noise about everything being fine. He noticed though that they all had their backs to the viewscreens. Without consciously thinking about it he ran through the personnel data he had committed to memory. All had reported within the last week. "First time in space, eh?"

They all nodded.

He laughed. "I remember those days, the unbelievable excitement of my first assignment. The anticipation of what it would be like, what kind of adventure I was going to be living. I wish someone had told me that my first couple of weeks were going to be pure hell."

Ryndwyck looked up at him, her brown eyes solemn. "Hell?"

"God yes. I was sick every damn day. Those stars going by just really got to me. And I was convinced that the vibrations were going to make me go insane."

"But you're still here?" Lawrence leaned forward in his chair. "So you must have gotten used to it?"

"I did. One day I woke up and I was fine. There's a moment when your body kicks over and becomes acclimated. It's different for everybody."

Callahan pointed to his glass. "And Shirley Temples make it better, right?"

Kerr shook his head. Initiation rites never changed. "I think you'll find that if you lay off the grenadine you'll feel more like your old selves."

Ryndwyck pushed her drink away quickly. "I hate this stuff." She rose. "I'm getting a beer, you all want?"

Two heads nodded. She made her way to the bar, careful to avoid looking anywhere but down.

"That's the spirit. You'll be fine in no time."

Lawrence looked apologetic. "We all requested this assignment, sir. The chance to serve under you, on this ship...it seemed like the chance of a lifetime. But then all we felt was sick."

"It is the chance of a lifetime. And once you get your space legs, you'll be better able to appreciate that." He stood up as Ryndwyck came back with the beers. "Salud. You're marines. Don't forget that."

"Sir, no sir," three voices answered.

"Carry on then." He made his way to the bar and picked up the ales. When he got back to the pool table, Munro was winning again. He put the ales on the tall table behind the playing area and settled into the matching chair to watch the game. It was over quickly.

Munro looked at Christine. "Sir, no offense intended, but you're playing like shit tonight."

"No offense taken because you're right. Guess my mind's elsewhere." She handed her cue to a waiting marine and took the chair across from Kerr.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing really. And everything. Nako still isn't back on her feet and Spock has practically forbidden me to see her. We have a new mission tomorrow and no real role for medical in it, so I guess I'm a little restless."

"We can run some emergency drills if you want. Check on your staff's efficiency rating."

She nodded. "I may take you up on that. I doubt we'll have much else to do. This mission will only affect diplomatic."

"More time for us."

She smiled. "You wanna take these back to my cabin?"

"My cabin's closer."

"Yes, but mine has a replicator and I don't know about you but I'm starved."

"I could go for something tasty to eat."

She grinned wickedly.

"See, there you go again," said Kerr.

"What? I didn't say a word." She got up and headed for the door and the turbolift beyond. When he caught up with her she shook her head. "Not everything I say is an opening, you know."

"Uh huh." He waited till the lift doors closed, then pulled her to him, kissing her hard and letting her go just before the doors opened again on deck five. Saldusta stepped in, her hair still wet.

"Swimming?"

"Yes, Commander." The other woman wore the contented expression she only seemed to have when she'd been in the water. She had not even replaced her humidifier torque; it hung on her wrist like an oversized bracelet letting off no little bit of mist. Saldusta saw Christine's eyes go to the instrument and explained, "For a while, after swimming, I don't need it. I like not wearing it. Makes me feel...less different." She rubbed her neck. "Plus it kind of hurts."

Christine stepped in and touched the red skin gently. "It's rubbing. You should stop at sickbay and get some cream for that."

Saldusta shrugged. "I'll go tomorrow. Besides, doesn't pain build character?" Her voice held an edge, a bit of the Saldusta that had first appeared on the Carter peeked out.

"I doubt whoever made it intended it to be that uncomfortable, Lieutenant." Christine's voice was all business as she ignored the woman's regression into bitchiness.

Saldusta nodded. "I doubt that whoever made it ever had to actually wear it, sir."

Christine seemed to consider that. "Bring it down tomorrow and I'll take a look at it. Maybe we can work on making it more comfortable."

"All right." She was saved from further comment by the lift arriving at deck four. Saldusta got out and Christine and Kerr continued to deck two.

"She's warmed up to you. Although warm for her is still a spring thaw for anyone else."

"She's coming along."

"I wouldn't have given her three weeks. What's your secret?"

Christine's expression became hooded as she remembered. "Just lucky, I guess."

He decided not to press it but followed her in to her quarters. "So," he said as he pulled her into his arms and began to nuzzle her neck. "What's for dinner?"

She kissed him then pulled away. "Food, Randall. I'm hungry. If I let you do that, we'll never get to eat. I know you."

"We could do both. Eat and make love."

She laughed. "You are incorrigible."

He spoke to the replicator. "Finger foods. Terran variety. Strawberries included."

"And whipped cream." She grinned at his expression. "What? I like whipped cream."

He chose not to reply, just grabbed the tray and led her into the bedroom.

-------------------------------------

Sovar looked at the chonometer. "Your dinner engagement with Ambassador Nako is in one point two standard hours."

Spock did not look up from his pad. "I am well aware of the time, Mr. Sovar."

The younger vulcan nodded. "Of course, sir." He had worked for the captain's father for too long, he mused. One of Sarek's strengths was his ability to lose himself in the task at hand. If not watched, however, he also tended to miss important meetings. Sovar only had to face the cold wrath of Amanda once to know he never wanted to see it again. The woman could put the matriarch to shame.

He realized that Spock was studying him. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I was in the past."

"And I have a good idea where in the past," Spock surprised him with the light look that was just short of a smile. "My mother did not like my father to be late."

"No, she did not." Sovar handed Spock the second pad. "This information came from the Tourmaxian Council. They wish us to understand their side of the issue."

"And they no doubt consider their side the correct one."

"So it would seem."

Spock compared the two pads. "Up till now, the Pesadii have had no one to tell their side for them." He read for a minute. "The Federation assessment team confirmed that they are a sentient race. The Tourmaxian settlers believe them to be a form of vermin."

"They are telepathic, no spoken language ability at all. It is a common misconception to assume that language is equal to sentience."

"Indeed."

Sovar let him read for a while before saying, "I should think this would be a clear-cut case. The Tourmaxian settled on an occupied world."

Spock shook his head. "Unfortunately, they did not do it knowingly. They claim—and the logs of the Federation relocation teams back them up—that their scans of the planet indicated there was no sentient life."

"But the Pesadii were there."

"Yes, in some sort of hibernative state. Their vital signs were far below the capability of the most scanners. The arrival of the settlers—the psychic noise of such a large group—apparently disturbed their slumber. But not before the Tourmaxians had plenty of time to make the planet their home."

Sovar nodded solemnly. "So they woke up and found Tourmax had been overrun."

"Someone has been sleeping in my bed."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"It is an old Earth fairy tale." Spock steepled his fingers. "There is something this report leaves out. Something that the Tourmaxian are not telling us." He scanned the text again. "They refer to them as vermin, even as predators. Yet there is not one documented death of a Tourmaxian by a Pesadii."

"The inverse is not true, however."

"No. The Tourmaxian have been systemically exterminating this species. The Federation team discovered this when they made a follow-up visit to the planet. That's why we're here. To try to find the truth in these stories we are being told. If there is a truth." Spock mused.

"It has been my experience that truth is relative not universal." Sovar raised an eyebrow. "Will the Tourmaxians listen to what we have to say?"

"I'm afraid they have no choice. When they asked for Federation aid they agreed to several conditions. The first was that the planet be uninhabited, or if it was home to other sentient life, that this life agree to having settlers on their world. This condition has clearly been breached. It will be up to us to try to find a solution."

"You have a plan, sir?"

Spock shook his head. "I need to observe them, get them talking to each other. Then, perhaps, I will have a plan."

Sovar only nodded.

Spock got up and walked to the viewscreen. "This is the kind of mission that the Enterprise was often involved in. Captain Kirk was a master at sorting these situations out."

"I am sure you are just as accomplished, Ambassador."

Spock sniffed slightly. "Do not underestimate James T. Kirk, Sovar. He was many things and one of those was a born negotiator."

"It is easy to negotiate with the firepower of a starship at your back."

"Undoubtedly. But he rarely resorted to that." Spock fell silent for a moment.

"Is there anything else, sir?" Sovar waited but there was no response. Spock seemed very far away, as he often did when the conversation turned to his former commander. Sovar did not fully understand the ambassador's reaction. But then Spock was half-human. It explained a great deal, he supposed. "Very well then. Have a pleasant evening, Ambassador."

"Thank you. The same to you, Sovar." Spock finally turned. His voice and expression were controlled in every way. Sovar could almost convince himself he had imagined the lapse.

-----------------------

Troi nodded to Penhallon as the other man sauntered into the transporter room. As usual, Penhallon was just in time; Spock was already giving the ensign on duty his instructions.

"Morning. Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing that you don't always miss."

Penhallon nodded in satisfaction. "You mean the boring parts. Good."

Troi didn't want to ask, but he couldn't help himself. "Who was she this time?"

"Actually it was Ritsuko." He laughed at Troi's expression. "Not like that, Andrew. She's having trouble coming up with a menu for our visitors."

Troi frowned. "Chef's block?"

"Information block. Have you noticed how little data the Tourmaxians really gave us on the Pesadii?"

"Lots of words, though."

"Exactly." Penhallon straightened as the first of their visitors arrived. "It's odd."

"Everything about this one is odd, Stephen."

"You won't get any argument there." Penhallon pointed discreetly at Spock and Sovar. "Not that you'd know it from them. Gotta admire that kind of cool."

Troi grinned then had to wipe that expression off his face as the Tourmaxian delegation appeared on the pad. There were five of them, two females and three males. They were humanoid in appearance, slightly shorter and bulkier than humans. One of the males stepped off the pad. The others followed.

"Ambassador Spock? I'm Cradash Lir, head of the delegation."

"A pleasure to welcome you aboard." Spock nodded graciously. "This is Mr. Sovar. He will show you to your quarters."

"You putting us close to the Pesadii?"

"We have erected privacy screens. And you will not have to share a lift to get to the meeting areas."

Lir nodded. "Fine." He smiled for the first time. "Nice to be on a starship. Never had the chance before."

"Perhaps we can arrange a tour later."

"Thanks, Captain." He turned to Sovar. "Lead on."

"This way please."

Once they were gone Spock turned to the ensign. "Is the Pesadii party ready?"

He nodded.

"Energize." His command was followed by the slight squeal of the transporter. Something materialized. Four somethings.

Troi had to fight not to take a step back. They were ugly. Hideous really. Hairless and nearly shapeless. Their sunken eyes seemed to swallow the light.

"They don't think you're very attractive either." A black-eyed young man who had beamed up with the Pesadii stepped forward.

Spock looked at Troi, an eyebrow just slightly raised.

Troi blushed. He usually did well among telepaths, generally hiding his feelings with more skill. "My apologies to all. An unforgivable breach."

"They forgive you." The man gestured at the Pesadii standing closest to him. "My name is unimportant. I am the vessel through which you can communicate. I speak so that you can hear the thoughts of Grmm and his people."

Spock looked directly at Grmm when he answered. "Understood. Welcome aboard. You will find the schedule for our discussions in your quarters."

The man must have translated because Grmm lumbered forward and bowed slightly.

"He says he is glad to have the chance to speak for his people."

Spock looked at Troi. "You will show them to their quarters, Commander?"

Troi nodded. "This way please." He turned to Grmm, again fighting the urge to recoil. Even though his own psi levels were documented in the low to non-existent range, he sent a mental apology to both the Pesadii and to their translator. *I am most sorry. I will improve.*

He thought he sensed amusement, then he heard the translator's voice ring in his mind. *You are forgiven. Intent is considered along with action.*

"We have had some trouble determining what sort of nourishment you require," he said to Grmm.

"We require nothing, thank you. Our bodies are self-sustaining."

"Is yours?" Troi asked the translator.

"No. I require food." The man studied Troi. "Perhaps you can show me what is available?"

"You have a replicator in your room. I'll show you how to work it." Troi led them onto the lift and up to deck two. The area looked completely isolated. He knew that several crewmen had been up earlier, sealing off each VIP area so that it was self-contained. The senior officer's quarters sat between the two billets. Hidden entrances allowed emergency access for the Carter crew, but the visitors were effectively sealed off from each other's living areas. Sensors and monitors made sure that they stayed that way. Any attempt by either delegation to sabotage the other would be immediately recorded and stopped.

Troi stopped at the main door. "This is your room," he said to Grmm.

The Pesadii pushed past him. The others followed him in. The translator turned and gave Troi an amused look. "They stay together. It is their way. It is not my way. Please wait for me?"

"Of course."

The door shut and Troi waited, trying to fix the image of the Pesadii in his mind, trying to desensitize himself to it. His earlier breach was unforgivable. And not like him.

The door opened and the translator emerged. "Don't beat yourself up over it. They're just glad you didn't shoot them."

Troi smiled.

"I'm Gallen Rixx."

"Pleasure." Troi led the man down the hall and opened another door for him. "You're from Betazed?"

Rixx nodded as he walked into the room. "Have you ever been there?"

"Keep meaning to. I hear it's beautiful."

"I think it's the most beautiful place in the galaxy."

"But here you are."

"Someone needs to speak for those who can't. Besides, I'm running away from duty at home. I'll go back eventually and face up to my responsibilities, but until then, I'll do this." Rixx walked over to the replicator. "Ginger beer, Betazed origin." At Troi's look he laughed. "Oh, I know how to work them. I've been on more ships than you can imagine. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." He sipped the beer. "I like to talk. Try to do it whenever I get the chance."

"What's it like to be a telepath?"

Rixx shrugged. "What's it like to not be one?" He grinned. "It's what I know. I can't imagine what it would be like to go through life without knowing what people were thinking. There must be a million missteps. Not that knowing thoughts necessarily prevents that. People often think one thing and do something quite different."

"I imagine that's true." Troi sat down at the table. "We're having trouble getting much data on the Pesadii. The Tourmaxians weren't what you'd call generous. What can you tell me?"

Rixx frowned. "I'm not at liberty to discuss things I've learned from my special relationship with Grrm and the others."

"I'm just asking what they're like. I'm not going to pry into their state secrets."

"I'm afraid I'll have to let you experience them naturally. I can only give you my impression as a telepath, and that paradigm has no meaning for you." He looked genuinely sorry.

"Of course. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's your job to ask though, isn't it, Commander?"

Troi nodded.

"Just as it's my job to protect my client's secrets."

Troi grinned. "So they do have secrets?"

Rixx would not rise to the bait. "Everyone has secrets."

"That is a fact." Troi rose. "I'll let you settle in. If you want to talk more, feel free to comm me."

"Duties permitting, Commander, I just may do that."

--------------------------------------------------

It was nearly time for shift change when Spock returned from welcoming the delegations. He gestured for Christine to join him in his ready room. She rose quickly, saying, "Lieutenant Kimble, you have the conn," as she walked up to his office.

Once the doors had closed, she asked, "Everybody settled in?"

"So it would seem." He sat down at his desk.

She took her normal chair. "You don't seem very happy about that."

"Happy is an emotion."

She grinned. "And we both know you don't have those."

His expression lightened somewhat. "You know me too well."

"So how can I help?"

"I'm not sure you can." His look of gratitude for her asking took any sting out of the answer.

"I imagine that Nako would be helpful in a situation like this..."

He sighed very softly. "You are not going to leave this alone are you?"

"I'm really not, Spock. Anyone else on this ship would be subject to medical, why isn't she?"

"I saw her last night for dinner. She is not in danger. She is going through something that she prefers to endure privately."

"I understand that. I do. And I don't care. I'm the CMO here. And she has been out for too long for me to accept that excuse any longer. I'm going to go see her. I'd prefer to do it with your blessing. But I'll do it without."

Spock stared at her. She stared right back. Finally he looked away. "You are at times a...pain, I think is the right word?"

She got up. "It is."

As she headed toward the door she heard him say. "You are also a fine first officer, Christine."

She laughed. "I just ask myself what you would have done."

"This is not what I would have done."

"No, knowing you, you'd go see her, then tell the Captain."

"At times it is better to ask forgiveness than permission." He almost smiled. "But not on this ship, of course."

"Of course not." She left him to his work and took the lift to deck two. She rang the chime for Nako's quarters and waited. She rang it again. "Computer, notify Ambassador Nako that I will override her privacy lock in thirty seconds."

The door opened a moment later. "You would try the patience of a saint, child," Nako said as she motioned Christine inside.

"You're not a saint, and I'm not a child, Nako." Christine watched as the older woman sat down heavily on a chair. "You're not well."

"I am not ill, if that is what you mean. My people are not the same as yours, Commander. We go through periods of strength and then those of weakness. Fortunately the times that we are not strong do not last long. And I am old and have weathered many of them. I know what to expect, and what I need to do to get through this."

"In other words, I should butt out. When was the last time you slept?"

"We don't sleep during this time."

"And that doesn't concern you?"

"Why should it?"

"No sleep, no dreams. No dreams, no REM. Humans can go insane without the outlet of a good dream every now and then."

"I am not human."

"So your people don't dream?"

"I did not say that, Commander."

"Sure you did. Just not directly."

"We dream. We dream worlds." Nako seemed very far away for a moment, then she gave a small snort of laughter. "See how fanciful you make me. We dream. But not at this time."

Christine walked over to the table where a large loom had been set up. A vivid red and orange fabric was coming together. It looked as perfectly fluid as the other clothing Nako wore. "Is this what you do then? Weave?"

"Do you like it?"

She fingered the fabric. It felt like silk. "I do."

"Perhaps I can make something for you? Something that the Colonel would like?"

Christine knew she was blushing. "You disapprove of him?"

Nako smiled. "On the contrary. He is of strong character and a good man."

"Yes. But we're not here to discuss him, Nako. I want to talk about you."

Nako pulled the loom toward her. Her hands worked the loom, slowly at first, then increasingly faster. The red and orange came together, seemed to fuse with a new, third thread that Christine was sure she hadn't seen in the mix. She leaned in to check.

"I make it."

"What?"

"The yellow. That's what you're looking for, isn't it? I make it, I make them all."

Christine realized that there was no visible source of all the yarn. "You make it how?"

Nako shrugged. "Ask the spider how she makes her web." She didn't look up from her loom. Her shoulders hunched as she threw the shuttle back and forth. As Christine watched her, Nako's image seemed to shimmer slightly.

She remembered Nako's comment to Redmoon when they had first met. "You called him grandson." Christine took a step back and suddenly felt dizzy. An old legend came to mind. "Ts'its'tsi'nako," she said, stumbling over Nako's cumbersome full name. "I thought it was alien."

"It is, my dear. What else would it be?" Nako looked up from the loom, her face was serene. "I will be fine in a few days. Will you let me be until then?"

"Alone in here? Spinning?"

Nako smiled. "Weaving, child. Weaving." She got up slowly and faced Christine. "Don't be afraid of me, Commander. I am nothing frightening. I'm just not quite what you thought."

"After the magic you worked on the high priest on Canara Seltax, I wasn't sure what you were anyway."

Nako reached out and touched her arm. The touch was warm and comforting, same as it ever was. "I am who I am." She squeezed Christine's arm, then turned back to her loom. "Now let me be."

I don't understand this, Christine thought as she walked out of Nako's room. And I may never understand this, she realized. She could still feel Nako's touch on her arm. She felt protected, as she always did when she talked to the woman. Maybe understanding wasn't necessary. Maybe only faith was.

-----------------------------

Penhallon was studying one of the pictures on the wall of the conference room when Troi arrived. Troi put his pads down then joined him. "Thinking of stealing it for your quarters?"

"God no!" Penhallon moved to the next painting. "I'm trying to figure out just what makes these paintings so universally bland and inoffensive without being boring."

"Seriously?"

"I had to do something while I was waiting. It's a rare day that I report in earlier than you."

Troi rubbed his eyes. "I didn't sleep well last night."

Penhallon stretched slowly. "That is why I recommend not sleeping alone, if you can help it. It's good for what ails you."

"I'll take that under consideration. Does it help with dreams though? Because I think I was having a nightmare." Troi frowned as he remembered snippets of the dream. He had been running then he was cornered by monsters that looked like the Pesadii. Only once they had cornered him they began to ask him questions, just as his thesis board had done. Only he was so busy staring at them in horror that he couldn't answer. He shuddered slightly. "I dreamed about the Pesadii. I felt like a teenager again yesterday, Stephen. Reacting to their looks the way I did."

Penhallon shrugged. "They are powerful ugly."

"You didn't react visibly."

"My friend, when you make it your practice to experience as much of the galaxy as I have, you get to see some pretty scary things."

"You mean the females."

"Female is not a universally defined term. I've seen some bizarre things in my time once the clothing comes off. Taught myself not to react to it, just to go ahead and see what happens."

"And it all worked out in the end because of your ability not to judge?"

"Well, mostly. One time I nearly lost a vital part of my anatomy. If you ever see teeth, Andrew, run like hell."

Troi laughed. "I'll remember that."

The door opened and Troi steeled himself not to react but it was only Kerr with the security detachment.

"Now there is a man who isn't getting much sleep," Penhallon said sotto voce. "I wonder what she's like?"

"I'm not going to speculate."

"You're a prude, Andrew. You know that?"

"I just think some things should be left alone."

Penhallon smiled smugly. "What you need is to settle down and start a family. You're long past your wild days. Hell, do you even remember your wild days?"

"At least I didn't take this assignment as a way to meet women."

"Neither did I." Penhallon laughed. "The women just keep showing up."

Troi tried not to smile, but as usual, found it impossible to stay mad at his friend. Any further conversation along this vein was halted by the appearance of Spock and Sovar.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Spock said graciously. "Our visitors will be here shortly." He looked mildly in Troi's direction. "We are all prepared for this?"

Troi smiled sheepishly.

Seemingly satisfied, Spock looked over at Kerr, waiting for him to finish briefing the three marine security guards before asking him, "I take it there were no incidents last night?"

"Nobody even left their quarters, sir." Kerr approached the table and handed Spock a pad. "This is the observation vid. No activity."

"Not even to the observation lounge?" Troi asked. "They didn't want to look at their planet from above?"

"Guess their viewscreens were good enough last night. But if they don't want out after this meeting, I for one will want to know why." It was clear how Kerr felt about long meetings.

Spock nodded. "As will I. Thank you, Colonel."

"Sir." Kerr left.

Troi found himself envying the man's confidence. He thought about Stephen's comment regarding Kerr and Chapel and also found himself envying the man's domestic arrangements. Maybe his friend was right. Maybe it was time to settle down.

The conference room door opened again and Cradash Lir led his delegation in. Sovar stood and indicated the chairs on his side of the table. Lir sat down and Troi noticed a small, almost anticipatory, smile as Lir watched the Pesadii came in. Rixx led them to the remaining chairs. Grrm sat down tentatively, then seemed to relax as the chair adjusted to his body contours. A small sigh escaped him then he looked at Spock.

"Most kind to make special arrangements for us," Rixx translated. "We appreciate it."

Spock nodded. "It is the least that we can do to facilitate this meeting."

"Whose side are you on, Captain?" Lir's deep voice boomed in the full room. "Looks like you've already made your decision regarding our case!"

"We merely wish for all to be comfortable in what will be undoubtedly long discussions. There have been no decisions made, I assure you." Spock faced down Lir, the smallest amount of censure showing on his face.

Lir stood up and slammed his hands on the table. The marine guard behind him looked ready to spring. "I think you have. And I think that this meeting isn't going to start today. We'll come back when we think we're getting a fair hearing and not before." Lir nodded to his team. "Come on."

One of the guards followed them out. In a few minutes she was back and said, "They went to Mr. Lir's quarters and engaged the privacy lock. They didn't say anything on the way up."

Spock looked at Grrm. "I cannot continue without them, it would not be fitting. We will have to adjourn until they are ready to return to the table."

"We understand. We will wait." And the Pesadii delegation rose and left the room, followed by the guard.

Troi looked at Spock. "Sir, if I may, that seemed scripted. Lir appeared to be waiting for an opportunity to blow."

Sovar raised an eyebrow. "How do you conclude that?"

Spock answered for him. "The look on this face. I saw it too, Commander."

Troi nodded. "But why? What does stalling get them?"

Penhallon frowned. "Unless they're planning something on the surface?"

Sovar looked concerned. "A massacre?"

"Possibly."

Spock hit the comm button. "Spock to Kerr."

"Kerr here, sir."

"The Tourmaxians have left the table. We believe they are stalling. We are unsure why but anticipate that it might be to allow something else to occur."

Kerr was right with him. "Something on the surface?"

"Precisely."

"I'm on it, sir."

"Excellent. Spock out." He looked at his staff. "Gentlemen, until they come back to the table we are back to business as usual. I'll let you know when that changes. Dismissed."

Troi followed the rest of the delegation out. He noticed Spock slowing down to talk to him. "Sir?"

"Did you have any luck getting to know the translator?"

Troi looked at him in surprise. "Excuse me, sir?"

"I did not send you with the Pesadii to punish you for your slight break in protocol, Commander. I sent you because I thought you would be able to forge common ground with the Betazoid. I have noticed your ease in making friends on this ship. I had hoped that this skill would work with him too."

Troi smiled. "It might have."

"I'm sure he is getting tired of those quarters, Commander. Betazoids are known for being extroverts. A tour of the ship perhaps?"

Troi nodded. "I'll ask him, sir, after my shift. I imagine he will be quite ready to get out by then."

---------------------

Kerr commed Major Collins as soon as he was out of the conference room.

"Sir?"

"We're going planetside. Get up a discreet detachment--recon at this point but ready for more--and meet me in the transporter room."

"Yes, sir."

Collins and a group of marines were waiting for him when he arrived, discreetly loaded for bear. Collins handed him his jacket, also loaded up with his gear, and a phaser. They stepped on the pad and beamed down to the outskirts of Tourmax's only city. It was filled with people.

"There's a Starfleet assessment team down here. We'll start with them." Kerr walked off in the direction his pad said the team's headquarters lay. As they passed the settlers, he studied their faces. Everyone looked sluggish, exhausted even. Like they hadn't slept in days. And Spock was right. It did look like something was up down here.

Collins asked quietly, "Where are the Pesadii, sir?"

Hiding? he wondered. "I don't know, Collins."

They reached the Starfleet offices and found only the team lead there. "Dr. Mobley? I'm Lieutenant Colonel Kerr. From the Carter."

"What's the problem, Colonel?"

"Have you noticed anything unusual? Any sign that the Tourmaxians might be planning a more permanent and speedier solution to their problem with the Pesadii?"

Mobley laughed. "More permanent? You mean genocide? I hardly think they'd dare do that when we're all here watching them. Although, I might not put it past them if they thought they could make it look like an accident."

"Are this many people usually on the streets?"

"It's a busy city. But something does seem off. That's where the rest of my team is. I sent them out to investigate as soon as I noticed."

"I think we'll do a little investigating too."

"Be my guest, Colonel. The more eyes the better. Now if you'll excuse me, I owe Starfleet an expense report." He rolled his eyes at the bureaucratic requirements of his job and Kerr smiled in sympathy.

Once back outside, Kerr and his team stood to the side of the building and watched the people. Some of them were nearly stumbling.

Collins leaned in. "Are they drunk, sir?"

Kerr shook his head. "No. Not drunk." He pulled out his communicator. "Kerr to Chapel."

Her answer was immediate. "Chapel here. How's it going down there?"

He wasn't surprised that she knew where he was and what he was doing. Not much got by her when she was in charge. "We're ok. But I need a medical opinion. Care to come down here and give us a hand?" He saw Collins fight a smile and glared at him.

"Love to. But we just started a diagnostic up here. Hold on."

He heard her page sickbay.

"Carpenter here, Commander."

"Colonel Kerr has a medical puzzle down on Tourmax. Care to give him a hand?"

"Delighted. I'll be right down."

"I'm transferring his coordinates to the transporter room, Chapel out."

He heard her talking to the transporter room then she came back on his line. "Colonel, Doctor Carpenter's on her way."

"Appreciate it, sir."

"Good luck. Chapel out."

A few moments later, Carpenter materialized in front of them. "Heard you needed a sawbones."

He grinned. "You heard right. What do you think of them?" He pointed with his chin toward the Tourmaxian that were passing them.

She watched them for a moment. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were on something."

"But you know better? How?"

"They sure don't seem to be deriving any pleasure from the experience. Look at their faces."

The Tourmaxians did look grimly determined. To do what, Kerr wasn't sure. But she was right. This was no simple high.

She scanned the crowd with her tricorder. "Compared to the norms in the database for Tourmaxians, these people's hormone and neurotransmitter levels are all off."

"Off how?"

"Elevated. If I had to guess, I'd say they hadn't slept in days." Her eyes met his. "That's the best I can do from here. Let me beam back up and see what some additional analysis gets us."

"Of course. Thanks."

Carpenter nodded and called for a beam up. Once she was gone, Kerr led his team back down the street. "Let's look for any obvious gatherings. We still don't know what they're planning, if anything."

----------------------------------------------

Christine watched the results of the diagnostic come in and tried not to feel envious of Carpenter. She'd get Kerr all to herself this evening.

"Sir, communications diagnostic is finished. All systems performing at 98% or better efficiency."

The rest checked in with similar results.

"Looks like we might be here for a while with nothing but time on our hands. Let's try to get that rating to 100% or better."

"Yes, sir," they all responded and turned to their tasks.

She got up and walked around the bridge, watching them as they worked. She noticed Saldusta adjusting her torque and walked over. "Is that still bothering you?"

"It's fine, sir." But she didn't stop pulling at the instrument.

"Lieutenant Kavall, you have the conn. Lieutenant Saldusta, you're with me."

"Sir, I'm fine."

"Now, Lieutenant." She gestured for Saldusta to precede her to the lift. The woman did but her expression left no question as to her mood. As soon as the turbolift's doors closed, she turned on Christine. "You have no right. This is a personal issue that I can take care of myself."

"And if you had taken care of it yourself, I wouldn't be doing this."

"I will take care of it."

"When?"

Saldusta crossed her arms. "When I'm ready. I don't see you forcing the others down to sickbay for their own good."

"Well, you don't see everything that goes on in this ship. I have a right as CMO to make sure that everyone is functioning at peak medical condition. And since you are not, I'm taking action. Whether you know about the instances or not, Saldusta, I have exercised this right with other crewmember before."

"I don't need a mother."

Actually, thought Christine, that's exactly what you do need. But we both know that's not going to happen. "And I don't want to be your mother, Lieutenant." She turned away and faced the doors.

"I--"

"This discussion is over, Lieutenant." Christine did not turn to look at her although she could practically feel Saldusta's anger. The lift doors opened and she walked quickly to sickbay. She could hear Saldusta's boots hitting the floor behind her. "Take a seat," she directed the other woman.

Saldusta sat down and silently glared at Christine. Carpenter stepped out of her office in sickbay and asked, "I thought you were on the bridge?" Saldusta's angry stare didn't waver off of Christine's face. Christine turned to the other doctor and smiled. "Just going to fix her torque and then we'll be back up there."

"Fine." She watched as Christine checked several drawers. "The microtools that would work best for that are in the top right cabinet."

"Thanks," Christine said as Carpenter walked back into her office. She hadn't had much call to familiarize herself with sickbay. Especially not since Carpenter had rearranged it to her liking. She held her hand out to Saldusta, who reluctantly removed the humidifier. Her skin on her neck looked raw, rubbed in some places so much that it had blistered. Shaking her head in dismay, Christine grabbed a dermal regenerator from the counter and started to work on the wounded skin.

"There's no reason to walk around with something like this." The skin slowly healed under the light from the regenerator. She dug around in one of the drawers until she found the cream she wanted. "That tissue is still tender, even if it looks fine now. Put this on twice a day for the next few days."

"Fine." She held out her hand for the torque. "Can I go now?"

"No. I'm going to see if I can't fix this." She ran her finger around the torque, feeling for any rough spots. She kept her tone neutral as she asked, "What's eating you, Saldusta? You haven't been this rude since you reported."

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Christine located the sizing apparatus and used one of the small tools to extend the telescoping ring a few inches. She tried it around Saldusta's neck and saw that it was hitting too low on her neck. She made it a bit smaller and tried it again. Perfect. As she finished locking the setting into place she looked over at Saldusta. The woman's eyes were drooping. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Saldusta's eyes popped open. "Fine."

Christine pretended to make another adjustment to the torque as she surreptitiously studied Saldusta. The woman's normally vibrant scales seemed grayish. "Your c