"So far so good," Kimberly Cloke said with a sigh as she returned from the makeshift podium. She had just finished opening the ceremonies for Deep Space Thirteen's welcoming celebration. As Commander Giovanni began speaking to the crew, Kim quietly turned to Khylah Dannon and said, "any sign of those Nausicaans?"

"No," Dannon shook her head, adding, "I can't figure out why they're coming now. The Dom-Jot tournament isn't until next week!" Kim shrugged defeatedly, "Nausicaans... who knows with them."

"Kim!" someone came over quickly, bending low to keep from distracting the audience, "We need you in the ballroom!" "Anders?" Kim whispered, turning around in her seat to address the athletic director, "What's going on?"

"Just come with me," he gave her an optimistic grin, "it's not so bad really..."

Discreetly, the crewmaster left her chair and hurried out with Anders. They jogged into the ballroom and stopped short. Kim could not even speak, she just stared in horror at the scene before her. Something had caught on fire. A section of decorative curtains hung in tattered, blackened rags and sooty streaks swept up the wall and across a quarter of the ceiling. Off to one side someone was moaning.

Anders explained, "We were setting up a row of candles when the curtains caught fire-"

The moaning grew louder and they both turned to see Vester Olsen doubled over in a nearby chair. "We could've caused a rupture in the entire framework..." he groaned, glancing up at them with a sickly expression.

Kim shook her head in dumbfounded amazement. They had maybe ten minutes to clean up this mess. The very last thing they needed was a nervous breakdown from the resident architect.

"Why didn't the alarm sound?" she asked, wasting no more time as she went to help Anders pull down the crumbling curtains.

"I shut it off," he flashed her a mischievous grin.

"How?" Kimberly crammed yards and yards of clothe into the disposal unit.

"I still know a few security codes," he retrieved a utility ladder and climbed up to begin working on the wall.

Kim cringed slightly. That's right, she told herself, Anders used to be an officer until I came along....

"Vester!" Anders called cheerfully, "Hurry to the replicator and get me about seventeen more yards of that orange stuff!"

Vester got to his feet, looking decidedly ill. "Okay..."

"It's peach taffeta," Kim instructed, "and hurry."

"I kicked the ventilation up to maximum," Anders reached for the equipment Kim offered, "and figured since Vester and I were the only ones here, no one else needed to know about it." He adjusted a few dials and said, "But I couldn't match the paint to cover the mess... what shade is it?"

"Marbled cason orange," she remembered the color they had chosen a week earlier, "how are we going to patch this up in time? Giovanni's speech isn't all that long!"

"Here," Vester arrived with the cloth, doing his best to contribute, "I'm going to get rid of the other candles."

"Capitol idea Vester," Kim glanced around the huge ballroom, "let's lock the doors until we're finished. No one else needs to know what we're doing."

"Um...." Vester squinted up at the wall where Anders was painting, "isn't that a different color?"

"Damn!" Anders leaned forward, studying the two distinctly different hues, "I think you're right."

Kim sat down on the floor, letting the peach taffeta pile around here. How was she going to explain?

* * * * * Three massive, heinous, ill-tempered (are there any other kind) Nausicaans walked, no stormed into Jerry's tiny bar, Spaceport One. The bar was the first one anyone reached coming from the main entrance docking port on DS 13. Jer thought the location was ideal for this very reason. He had paid dearly for this small (the bar held only 15 tables) space. Most visitors to DS13 would stop in here first for a drink and then move on. He thought this location was a prime one. Now he was having his doubts.

"Nausicaans," he whispered to his server, Lise.

"So?" she replied. "We serve everybody, don't we?" she said innocently, not having been around any Nausicaans in her 21 years.

"Obviously you've never dealt with Nausicaans before have you?"

"Well...no. But how bad can they be? I've served Klingons before and they're not so bad," she replied, nodding in the direction of the lone female Klingon who sat in the far corner nursing a drink.

"Ah, the ignorance of youth. Just wait, you'll see." Lise gave him a snort and proceeded to fill her order.

There were about 25 customers in the bar when the Nausicaans entered--almost half left quickly afterwards. Those remaining were either local customers and friends of Jerry's or too drunk to care about Nausicaans or anything else.

As if in a pack, the Nausicaans loudly made their way to the bar, laughing and snorting. The leader named Proj'tr slammed his fist down hard on the bar causing the many bottles on the back wall to vibrate. "Barkeep!, he bellowed, "Nausicaan Blood Ale! We are thirsty after long voyage!"

Having never before heard of Nausicaan Blood Ale, Jerry knew he was in trouble as Nausicaans hated not getting their own way. "I'm sorry," he began in as strong a voice as his slight frame permitted, " but we have no Nausicaan Blood Ale. Perhaps you would care for another kind of ale? Klingon? Terran? Andorian?" he asked hopefully, all the time seeing the destruction of his tiny bar in his mind's eye.

Jerry didn't know this, but the Nausicaan knew when he ordered the Ale that the barkeep wouldn't have any--simply because it didn't exist. This was one of their many ways of starting a fight.

The Nausicaans had arrived on Deep Space 13 one week before their scheduled tournament of Dom Jot--of all things! They liked their sports tame and made up for the lack of physical involvement by fighting before and after each tournament. Not knowing this, Jerry tried his best to placate these huge Nausicaans.

"No! I demand Nausicaan Blood Ale immediately! You don't want serve Nausicaans, human?" he snarled, leaning over the bar uncomfortably close to Jer's head.

"No! No! Really, I have no such Ale. I have no prejudice against Nausicaans!" Jerry could see his life beginning to pass before his eyes.

Of course this didn't make any difference to Proj'tr as he grabbed Jerry by his shirt front and hefted him up and over the bar plunking him down in the middle of him and his two friends.

All sound in the bar suddenly ceased as everyone held their breaths to see what would happen next--although most already knew the answer and were simply deciding if they could afford to be in on the fight which they knew would shortly break out.

"Hey! You can't do that to my friend!" said Jim, an old and unwise friend of Jerry's--it didn't help matters that he had been drinking for the past several hours. It also didn't help matters that he punctuated this remark by poking the Nausicaan in the chest with his finger.

Throwing his head back, Proj'tr let out a thundering and menacing laugh. "And I suppose you, Human, will do something about it?!"

"Yeah, you big, ugly, foul creature!" he screamed, alcohol strengthening his insults.

"You die now Huuuman!" thundered the Nausicaan swiftly picking Jim up throwing him onto Jerry and knocking both to the ground. At this time, all hell broke loose!

Another Terran jumped on the back of Proj'tr punching him in the head with his fist.

Proj'tr quickly backed into the bar breaking the Terran's grip--and almost his back! "That will teach you puny human!" he yelled.

A second Nausicaan grabbed two humans, butting their heads together.

They quickly crumpled to the ground with a thud.

Laughing, the Nausicaan quickly found another human, one who had a bottle in each hand.

The human took a swing at the Nausicaan, missed, then swung the other bottle catching the Nausicaan on the side of the head, staggering him, just a little.

With a head butt the human succeeded in knocking the huge Nausicaan off his feet, punching him in the face.

After he fell, two other humans came running over to help finish the job by kicking and punching the still fighting Nausicaan, knowing if he ever got up, he would kill them all!

* * * * * Kim, Anders, and Vester finished with the ballroom in the nick of time. They unlocked the ballroom just as the first wave of people came. Giovanni took Kim aside, "I must compliment you on the decorating," she said, "your department has done a first rate job."

"Thank you," Kim hoped desperately to get away before anyone noticed the new paint job.

Lalonde came over and asked, "Why is the ventilation running so high in here?"

"Uh... oh..." Kim fumbled, "turn that down a bit, would you... we uh..."

"Lt. Cloke!" Doctor Kempton interrupted, "Splendid arrangement! I was wondering though, what happened to the Bajoran ceremonial candles?"

Several feet away, Kim noticed Vester Olsen running for the door, looking as though he were about to throw up.

Before anything else was said, Giovanni's comm badge chirped.

"Giovanni here."

"Commander, we've got a minor security problem. A disruption in one of the bars. A security team is on the way, but I thought you might want to handle it, there's Nausicaans involved."

"I'll take care of it!" Kim volunteered, turning towards the door.

Giovanni hesitated only a second, "Very well," she nodded, "keep me informed."

Kim ran from the festivities, grateful to have escaped. Nausicaans couldn't be too bad, could they?

* * * * * The third Nausicaan decided to take on the female Klingon who was still sitting peacefully in the corner with her drink, silently enjoying the brawl.

"Klingon! You afraid fight Nausicaan?!"

Shav'el slowly looked up at the enormous Nausicaan. Speaking calmly and carefully she answered, "This is not my fight Nausicaan. Take it somewhere else."

Not willing to let an opportunity go by for a fight with a Klingon, the Nausicaan, pushed the table up and over, spilling Shav'el's drink, then stood there bellowing.

"Klingon's have no courage to fight Nausicaan!"

Shav'el shook her head, from side to side in resignation. "Now it IS my fight," she said as she quickly landed a foot to the burly Nausicaan's mid section, bending him over.

Quickly she jumped to her feet, doubling her fists together and slamming them onto the back of the Nausicaan's neck.

Shav'el thought this would knock him off his feet, but underestimated his strength as he came up, catching her around the throat and slamming her up against the wall--her feet hanging three centimeters off the ground.

"Is that best you can do, Klingon?" he taunted.

Feeling that anything goes in a fight, Shav'el poked her fingers in his eyes, while trying to ease his grip on her throat.

The Nausicaan yelled, released his grip on Shav'el and dropped her to the floor.

She slammed him back with a knee to his stomach.

A palm to his chin sent him falling backwards. Seeing he was off balance, Shav'el kicked him to the face with her substantial boot.

This sent him crashing into one of the few remaining tables which quickly disintegrated under his weight and went smashing to the floor.

Another Nausicaan began to make his way towards her and Shav'el poised to do battle with yet another one of the hideous beings.

"Stop! Everyone hold it where you are!" said a Starfleet Security Lieutenant, rushing in with phaser drawn.

Observing the now devastated bar--tables smashed to bits, bottles broken all over the floor, glasses scattered everywhere with Terrans and Nausicaans on the floor--he shouted, "Okay, who started this?! As if I didn't know."

One of the other Starfleet Officers was helping Jerry onto his feet.

"The Nausicaans came in here looking for trouble. It was their fault. Everything was peaceful around here until they walked in," Jerry said, holding his throbbing head.

"Just as I thought," said the Starfleet Lieutenant. "Round up the Nausicaans and take them down to a cell--separate cells for each one", he ordered.

"Humans discriminate against Nausicaans!" shouted one of them. "Why you not take humans too?!"

"Because both you and I know that you three came in here looking for a fight. We were warned by the officials on Tholos II. It appears you pulled the same stunt there before your tournament."

"You knew?" shouted Jerry. Why didn't you arrest them when they first arrived?! Look what they've done to my bar! It'll take hours to clean up this mess! There's no telling how many credits I'll lose because of them!"

"We'll make sure they pay before they leave this facility," replied the Starfleet Lieutenant. Just send the bill to the Crewmaster. And don't inflate it this time!" he warned.

"I never..." began Jerry, "all right. But I expect my credits soon!"

"Let's go," said an officer as she shuffled the three Nausicaans out the door.

"I hate Nausicaans," mumbled Jerry, looking around wondering where to begin cleaning.

As the others slowly began picking themselves up off the floor, Shav'el ambled back to her corner, uprighted the overturned table and ordered another drink.

"I hate Nausicaans," she muttered. "But they do provide a good fight," she grinned.

Kimberly arrived then, pausing in the doorway, speechless for the second time that day. At last she managed, "What happened here?"

Jerry looked up, "Crewmaster Cloke! Look at what the Nausicaans have done to my establishment!"

"Yes," she nodded, incredulous at the damage.

"Did you know that Starfleet security knew they were coming and could have intercepted them before this was done?"

"I had no idea," Kim answered, speaking as if in a daze. What a mess! And she had thought the ballroom looked bad....

"Well?" he stood facing her.

Kim sighed, "The station will reimburse you for damages - IF what you say is true. I'll have to speak with security first."

She left Jerry muttering angrily and headed to the security department. She might not make it back to the celebration because it could take half the day to sort all this nonsense out. Kim smiled, hoping to herself that it indeed would take that long. She considered thanking the Nausicaans... but thought better of it. No need to encourage them.