Stardate: 90428-1735
Scene: Deck 15 - Club 101

McLeary, Selak and the Commander sat at the table.  Ruane was still
muttering about the little practical joke played on him by Selak.

Mick leaned over to Selak and whispered, "What the hell are you doing?
I didnt think Vulcans played practical jokes."

"Not all Vulcans are alike." He responded.

Just then Alyza came over and sat down.  After the usual hellos She
and Selak began to discuss Vulcan science or something deep and
hidden.  McLeary turned away and began looking around.  He felt some
discomfort with this group still.  He had only been here a short while
and had not become acquainted with many aboard DS101.  He also got
involved with this computer core project and had little time to
socialize.

"Your father is Harrison McLeary isnt he?" Ruane startled Mick out of
his daydream.

"Ah, why yes sir."  Mick responded quietly.

"I heard a lot about his exploits as Chief Engineer and XO on the
AGAMEMNON.  He was in that Borg thing in 69 wasnt he?"

"Yes sir, he was there.  He had been transferred over from the
ENTERPRISE  two years earlier."  Mick responded wondering what the
Commander was trying to do.

"He is an instructor at the Academy now, isnt he?"

"Yes sir."

"I graduated in 82 but he wasnt there yet.  Would have enjoyed his
thoughts on the new engines we are running today.  He was one hell of
an engineer.  Him and Jordy La Forge.  All cut from the Scott school
of engineering.  I noticed your middle name is Scott.  Anything to
that, Mick"  Ruane was very loose.

"Why, yes sir.  Dad named me after Montgomery Scott.  He actually met
him at an engineering symposium in 85.  I believe it was his last
public appearance since his miraculous return from the Dyson Sphere in
69."  Mick was becoming more at ease.  He was in his element -
History.

"You know your history, son." The commander showed his surprise at
McLearys knowledge of History.

"Well sir, when you are a five generation Starfleet officer you need
to know your history.  My family grew up with the Federation.  Some
have even died for it." Mick said soberly.

"Yes, your brother."  Ruane also sobered his speech.  "Well you have
done well and are a credit to your fine family.  I understand that you
have another brother in Starfleet.  Where is he stationed?"

"He is still on the USS CHRISTOPHER PIKE, has been assigned to it
since late in 98.  I havent heard from him in months.  Dad says the
PIKE is on a deep space security mission.  Its good Carlton never
married.  11 years on one ship is a long haul, even for a McLeary."
Mick picked up his spirits.  He felt part of a team here and looked
forward to any missions that  might come down the line.

Ruane turned to Alyza and Selak and began conversing with them.

Mick just sat back and took it all in.


Submitted:
Chuck Stotz
Ensign Michael McLeary

**SD: 90429**
**Scene: Club 101**

Since Roberts had joined the group, Selak had noticed that his fellow
officers, with the possible exception of Alyza, were intent on getting 
drunk. Selak hoped she did not judge him to harshly for his earlier
outburst. He was beginning to feel that he was not fitting in,
especially has he had no intention of joining his crew mates in 
allowing himself to lose control through alcohol. He had allowed his
emotions to surface to much since his arrival, maybe it was the stress
of a new post and a new home. 
He started to do a couple of breathing exercises and after a few 
minuets, started to feel a lot calmer. He looked around and saw the
face of a Vulcan he recognised sat at the bar, but the name, or the 
place he had seen him before, escaped him. 

"Captain, who is that sat over there by the bar?" Asked Selak.

Ruane turned round, but the Vulcan had gone.

"Seeing things now Selak?" He said.

Selak looked around but could see no trace of him. He thought of 
going over to ask the waiter but decided it was not that important.
It would come to him in time.

(NRPG I will write more on this character in a future post, but just
ignore him for now. I just wanted to establish he was aboard the 
station.)

"So Selak, what was it like serving on a Klingon vessel?" Asked 
Ruane.
 
"It was not a warship, but a privately owned Bird of Prey. Is was 
shall we say, Interesting." He answered.

"Yes but what was it really like?" Continued McLeary.

"The best description I can think of is, It's like living your life at 
twice the normal speed. You have to be prepared to act or fight at a
moments notice, even with other members of the crew.
Captains do not usually promote officers to their posts, you have to
win the right to be there and you have to constantly be prepared to
defend it. If you are not prepared to do that, then you have no place 
on a Klingon vessel. Being Vulcan made me the target for every 
new crew member who came aboard. They thought I would be the
easiest of the crew to defeat in combat.

"Only a fool would judge someone's ability to fight based on their 
physical appearance." Commented Alyza.

Selak nodded in agreement. "I think that is the first lesson most
young Klingons learn."

"Well do you intend to fight your way though the ranks here?"
Said Ruane.

"I do not think that would be an appropriate way for a Starfleet
Officer to get promoted." Said Selak, missing the joke. 

The atmosphere was beginning to become more friendly and while
nobody was drunk yet, Selak noticed that everyone was beginning
to get more relaxed in each others company. maybe this party was
not such a bad idea after all. Although he still had no intention of 
getting drunk himself.
 

Respectfully submitted
Shaun
Ensign Selak FCO/CNO
DS 101

Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end 
-- Commander Spock.

-- 
Shaun Darlington
shaun@burn-naze.demon.co.uk

**SD: 90429.1657**
**Scene: Club 101**

>Ruane turned to Alyza and Selak and began conversing with them.
>
>Mick just sat back and took it all in.

  "Alyza, about your proposals for recreational facilities; I think we
can go ahead with them.  Roberts initial proposals included two
Holodecks on the second floor of this club itself; I think that can be a
major part of them.  Plus half of deck 15 is still empty space and
additional storage; I believe that could be used for the gym and
arboritum."  Graeme said, smiling.  He knew that strictly this was
business, but he didn't really know what else to talk to his executive
officer and science officer about.  He had never really been able to
socialise with his crew too well, dispite his desire to be more than
just a commanding officer to them.  One of the common myths was that a
commanding officer should isolate themselves from socialising with the
crew; Ruane had never believed this - he knew a unit worked better if
everybody knew the strengths and weaknesses of one another - even those
of the commanding officer.  Alyza responded,



  Alyza finished, Roberts turned to Ruane, having indulged quite deeply
in his rather colourful drink.

  "Graeme, it will be six months before any of this actually comes on
line; meanwhile the station's crew and visitors get little in the way of
recreation and relaxation."  Roberts said, Graeme saw his point without
further words from the new Lieutenant.

  "I know John, it's something that works against us; not least because
of the reduction in crew moral; as I'm sure a counsellor would inform us
if we had one.  The best we can hope for is that the visiting ships, the
CURIE and HECTOR, allow us to use their facilities; and maybe passing
traders; although that would take some negotiation."

  "Perhaps talking to the Vurtedion might help, as a peaceful race I
suspect they may just have the odd 'hot spot' for entertainment."  John
smiled.

  "Perhaps.  Anyway John, we're slowly slipping into a briefing, and
they should be kept until we're on duty.  I hear you're looking after a
Cardassian child, J'nete.  How'd that come about, and more to the point;
how are you coping with a teenage girl?"  Graeme smiled.



Submitted by Phil Long
Capt.Graeme Philip Ruane
Commanding Officer
Deep Space 101, Amgine Sector
Antelope Squadron, Cocoon Fleet

        -Cheers, Pinky.


Stardate: 90430.1445
Scene: DS101 Docking bay 
Time: day after senior staff "shenanigans" at Club 101


"Shuttle TAKAEGEO to DS101 flight control.  Requesting permission to
land."

"TAKAEGEO, permission granted.  Shuttle bay two is available. Flight
plan being sent now.  Oh, by the way, welcome to DS101."  

Lt.(jg) Zachary M. Hogan looked out the forward window at his first
glimpse of what was to become his new home.  The station was definitely
not like any Starfleet station he had ever encountered.  The ungainly
symmetry gave the appearance that someone had taken a rough cylinder and
thrown some sort of appendages onto it.  

Zack began recalling the organic nature of the docking pylons from the
data Admiral Difalco had passed along to him.  He understand the
usefulness of a station where the docking apparatus could mold itself to
fit any incoming vessel.  He wondered how or if the crew on the station
were able to control such a process.  

The shuttle pilot banked the shuttle to port as he prepared to manuever
the shuttle in for a landing.  The trip from OMEGA had been rather
uneventful.  Zack occupied the time reading up on his new assignment and
thinking about how Rissa was faring before the OMEGA's security personnel.  

He still knew so little about her and why she had been stowing away on the
REGULATOR.  All he knew was that something about her past frightened her,
and that was enough for him.

Still in a few weeks, she hopefully would be able to join him on his new
assignment.  Perhaps then, he could find out more about the things that
haunted her present from her past.

A reassuring thud announced that docking had been completed.  Grabbing his
duffel bag, Zack made his way through the docking bay doors and took his
first steps onto the station of which he was now the security chief.  

Noting the figure waiting patiently outside the inner door he performed
the age old rite that had become common to nearly all known forms of
military service.

"Lt.(jg) Zachary M. Hogan reporting for duty."


Respectfully submitted,
Kevin Thigpen
Lt.(jg) Zachary (Zack) M. Hogan

[NRPG: Well all, I'm here.  What next? Also, I don't know who was going to
meet Zack, so I sort of left it open as to who was doing the welcome to
DS101 thing.]

Stardate: 90430-2030
Scene: Computer Core
ds101@protv.ro

McLearys head felt like it would explode.  Yesterday had been fun but
the price being paid today was a real bitch.  He came out of the
turbolift on deck 8 and walked over the large cat walk to the original
small cubical that he and Barak were working on before.  Barak, as
expected, was already there and working in the room.

"Good morning Ensign" Barak said in the usual monotone. "Alyza
mentioned that the crew was having quite a time at the club.  Are you
feeling ok?"

Mick noted a slight bit of smugness but that couldnt be.  "No, but
that wont stop me.  Find anything interesting?"

"Well, yes." He walked over to the wall directly left of the console
and pointed out the figures that covered it. "As noted there are 16
buttons on this wall and each has raised hieroglyphics beneath them.
Look at the first." He lifted his long finger up to the left. 

Mick noted that below the button was the symbol  ~/~ followed by J|\/.

Barak continued. "Now look at the second one."

Mick saw ~/~ 0|]\/.  "I see that the first markings are the same as
over the door outside.  In fact all the buttons have that first
marking." He looked over to the right wall and found that each button
had the same first three characters followed by various lettering.
"What do you make of it Barak?"

"You are right.  This identifies this room and I believe that each of
these 32 buttons are really storage chips for information on different
subjects connected with the topic of this particular room."  Barak
returned to the console. "Now look at the console."

Mick took two steps and stood directly behind one of the four seats
facing the console.  It was approximately six meters long and 1/2
meter wide.  It was attached on the right and left by columns from
floor to ceiling.  The console panel was divide in half and each side
was a duplicate of the other.  Two seats were placed evenly between
each side of the panels.  Each side had a divided octagon pad,
something like a pie cut in 8 pieces and each piece was numbered with
one (^|) at the top and the other seven moving counter clockwise.
Below the octagon was a keyboard with thirty markings.  (NRPG: Please
dont ask me to show you the letters at this time.  I will work on
this alphabet later.)  The second half of the right side of the panel
had a large square.  At the top was a rectangle that looked like a
small computer screen.  Below it was 32 small buttons.

"I have only been able to open the doors on two other small cubicles
but the layout is exactly the same.  Only the markings are different."
Barak noticed McLeary was in deep thought. "Something bothering you
Ensign?"

"Well, kind of.  Look at this layout.  Two duplicated halves on the
panel and two chairs directly in front of each side.  One chair is in
front of the octagon pad and the other in front of the square." Mick
was beginning to get excited.

"Yes, I see that but do not see the significance."  Barak commented.

"I was think back in history. You know that one of my hobbies is the
study of history.  The main reason is that my family goes back 5
generations in starfleet." Mick noticed that Barak was becoming board
and somewhat perturbed.

"Yes Ensign, I know that but what is the point?"

"I will have to check out my facts but I seem to remember a race of
humanoids called the Bynars who had a society that required two of
their species to be linked electronically enabling them to
communicate.  They were extremely advanced in computer technology.
Now what if our aliens had a similar society requirement but in this
case they needed four to operate each station?"  Mick stopped.  He
wondered if Barak would agree with his synopsis.

"Very interesting Mr. McLeary.  A logical hypothesis. We will need to
see if other alien work stations throughout DS101 have similar set
ups.  I know that we tore out a lot when we took over so it might be
hard to find other alien work stations outside of the computer core.
But this might prove very helpful."  With that he turned back to the
wall while Mick, somewhat proud of his deductive reasoning, began
studying the console.

Submitted:
Chuck Stotz
Ensign Michael McLeary

NRPG:  I thought that I would get back to work.  Since I will be gone
this weekend I wont be able to post until Monday or Tuesday.  I hope
I am not getting too far afield with these aliens.  Advise if
necessary.

Chuck

SCENE:	Ip'sc's Quarters
SD:	90501.1400

	"Come on, Ip.  You've been cooped up far too long.  Club 101 is 
just what you need to cheer you up," beamed Lynn Shimura.

	"I'm just as happy to eat my strained apples, strained asparagus 
and strained zucchinis here in my quarters," answered Ip'sc Carbo, to his 
uninvited visitor.  "Alone," he added, bitterly.

	"Dr. Roberts and Dr. Ling said you need to exercise.  Walking over 
to the club to eat your meals will be good for you."

	"I've been going to physical therapy three times a day.  I'm 
getting enough exercise."

	"Therapy is _not_ the same as exercise.  Come on."  Shimura moved 
to the head of Ip'sc's bed and pulled him up by the shoulders.  Ip'sc 
grimaced, as he was still a little tender from his treatment by the Dergrad 
rebels.  "I'm sorry, Ip.  I didn't mean to hurt you."

	"It's okay," choked Ip'sc, sinking back into his bed.  The pain 
quickly dissipated.

	"See, if you had gotten up when I first got here, that wouldn't 
have happened," scolded Shimura.

	"You're not leaving until I get up, are you?"

	"Nope," grinned Shimura.

	"I should phaser stun you, then I could get some peace and quite 
around here," threatened Ip'sc.

	"Can't," triumphed Shimura.  "I took away your phaser."

	The next instant, a phaser appeared in Ip'sc's hand.  "Not this 
one," he grinned.  "You, of all people, should know that I always have a 
phaser handy."

	Shimura stood there defiantly, hands on her hips.  "Well you better 
shoot, then, because if I'm conscious, I'm getting you to Club 101 even if 
I have to drag you there myself."

	Ip'sc sighed and put his phaser away.  "Yes, ma'am."	


Scene:	Club 101

	Heads turned as Ip'sc entered the club.  He was being supported on 
one side by Shimura, and on the other side by a cane.  A few people offered 
to relieve Shimura of her burden, but she thanked them and she and Ip'sc 
continued on.  When they reached a table, interest in the two dissipated, 
and the crowds returned to their previous conversations.

	One occupant of Club 101 did not dismiss the sight so easily.  
After Ip'sc and Shimura had found a place to sit, Capt. Ruane excused 
himself from his table and made his way to Ip'sc's table.  "May I join 
you," asked Ruane.

	Ip'sc smiled, and motioned to an empty chair.  "Please do, 
Captain."

	Ruane took the chair and sat.  "Roberts tells me that you're making 
excellent progress, Mr. Ip'sc.  I'm glad to see you out and about."  He 
noticed that Shimura flashed Ip'sc a quick smile and nod.  "How are you 
feeling?"

	"Not too bad, I'm happy to say."  Ip'sc directed his eyes towards 
Shimura.  "I'd feel much better resting in my quarters, though."

	"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."  Ruane started to get up.  
Ip'sc stopped him with a wave of his hands.

	"No, please stay, Captain.  I'm just giving my 'conscience' here a 
hard time.  Actually, Lynn has been a wonder.  Without her help and 
support, I wouldn't have made nearly as much progress as I have."

	Ruane gladly retook his seat and the waiter arrived with Shimura's 
salad and Ip'sc's special diet plate.  "Can I get you anything, Captain," 
asked Ip'sc, his eyes lighting up with a sly glint.  "Strained fruit, 
strained vegetables, boiled water?"

	Ruane smiled in return.  "Synthale, please," he asked the waiter.  
To Ip'sc, "I'm off duty now.  Please call me Graeme.  May I call you 
Carbo?"

	A hint of a frown passed Ip'sc's face, and Ruane saw Shimura gasp 
out of the corner of his eye.  He noticed Ip'sc take a breath before 
replying.  "Graeme, those who call me that are either dead, hospitalized, 
or incurably rude and stupid.  As I'm in no condition to kill or maim, and 
I don't think you fall into the latter category, please don't."  Ip'sc 
paused for effect.  "My friends and dinner guests call me 'Ip.'"

	Ruane was not quite sure how to take that answer.  It almost 
sounded like a joke, but Ip'sc's and Shimura's reactions told him there was 
something deadly serious in the explanation.  Yet the frown had long 
vanished from Ip'sc's face, and he had used Ruane's given name.  It was 
just the civilian's way of letting Ruane know he _really_ did not like 
being called by his given name.  "'Ip' it is, then."

	The waiter returned with Ruane's synthale, setting the mug down in 
front of the captain.  "Cheers."

	"So, Graeme, what's on your mind?  You didn't leave your staff 
behind just because you prefer my company."

	"No, I did not.  I wanted to inform you that Starfleet and the 
Federation Council will be issuing official apologies for your treatment 
and appropriate compensation.  We deeply regret the suffering you endured 
because of Starfleet and the Federation's policies.

	"I also wanted to apologize personally."

	"You," asked Ip'sc, confused.

	"DS101 is my command.  I'm responsible for everything that happens 
here, especially the safety of our civilian population."

	"Ah," responded Ip'sc, comprehending fully.  It had been a while 
since he had been in a position with Ruane's responsibility, so he had 
failed to consider that Ruane would take his abduction as a personal 
failure.  "Apology accepted; think nothing of it."  Before Ruane could 
explain further, Ip'sc stopped him.  "Graeme, I know how you feel and I 
know what you're thinking.  There was nothing you could have done.  I'm 
okay with it, and you should be too."

	Ruane considered the civilian's words, and accepted them with a 
nod.  "If there's anything I can do, just ask.  If you need special medical 
equipment, I'll have it shipped here."

	Ip'sc laughed.  "Despite our earlier confrontations, and his 
macabre sense of humor, Roberts has patched me together quite well.  As you 
probably know, my medical condition is normally quite fragile anyway, which 
makes Roberts' efforts even more laudable.  The Cardies would not approve."

	"'Cardies?'  Cardassians?"

	"The Cardassians.  The Dergrad didn't do anything to me that the 
Cardassians didn't do to me during the occupation.  The problem is, they 
compressed everything into one week.  If the Cardassians saw how easily 
Roberts patched me up, their necks would be rolling."

	"The occupation?  Are you referring to the Cardassian occupation of 
Bajor?  That was 40 years ago."

	Ip'sc's eyes lost focus, and a distant look passed over his face.  
"But at times it still seems like only yesterday."

	"I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

	"No apologies, Graeme.  We won, after all.  But enough reminiscing.  
Why did you really come over here, Captain?"

	Ruane noticed the subtle change in Ip'sc's tone.  The memories 
were, no doubt, painful, and Ip'sc knew there was more on Ruane's mind than 
idle conversation.  "Partially to see how you were, and to find out what 
your plans are.  I was wondering if you planned to remain aboard the 
station.  I would not blame you if you put as much distance between 
yourself and us as you could."

	"That might have been an option, if I didn't have five more 
subspace relays to deploy.  I have a job to do, and I intend to complete 
it."

	Ruane smiled.  "I'm glad to hear that, Ip, because I have a 
proposal for you."

	"Go on."

	"I'm working on putting together a survey mission.  Our maps of 
Dergrad and Vertedion space are lacking.  This latest episode has only 
demonstrated our need for more information about the adjoining sectors.  
You're an experienced pilot, and one of the few people who've been through 
those target and adjacent sectors.

	"Would you be willing to accompany a mission, to provide backup and 
input as needed?  In return, the mission will take you to coordinates three 
and four, where you can deploy those relays."

	"Me?  A civilian on a Starfleet mission," asked Ip'sc.

	"It's not unprecedented, and it makes sense.  As you probably know, 
my staff is still painfully short, so I don't have many people to spare.  I 
was sincere about your experience out there.  And frankly, with the way the 
Dergrad are behaving right now, I'd feel a lot better if you were aboard 
one of our ships when setting up the relays.  I see it as a win-win 
situation."

	"So do I.  Count me in."  The two men shook hands, sealing the 
deal.

	Ruane finished the synthale, and rose.  "Well, it's been a 
pleasure.  Thank you for the drink, Ip.  I'll leave you and Lynn to..."

	"That's _Miss Shimura_ to you," interjected Shimura.

	Ruane was taken aback.  "Of course, my apologies, Miss Shimura."

	Ip'sc chuckled.  "Don't mind her, Graeme.  She's still torqued 
about not being able to see M'Beya.  I've tried... YOW!"

	The yelp was in response to Shimura's finger poking Ip'sc in the 
ribs.  "I'm fully capable of speaking for myself, thank you," she scolded.  
And to Ruane, she continued, "And no matter how you, Ip, Starfleet and the 
Federation try to justify it, what you're doing is wrong!"

	"I'm sorry you feel that way, Miss Shimura.  What we're doing 
is..."

	"No, no," interrupted Shimura, shaking her finger at Ruane.  
"You've already explained it all.  Just go away now, before I really get 
upset."

	Ruane took the proffered opportunity to slip away.  It had been 
over a week since M'Beya was taken into custody.  Most people cooled off in 
that period of time.  Shimura, however, seemed just as upset now as she did 
when she first discovered M'Beya's incarceration.  Strange.

	He returned to the table where his crew had taken a huge lead over 
him in their journey towards intoxication.  Hailing a waiter, Ruane ordered 
the real stuff, hoping to "catch up" with his comrades.

Respectfully Submitted,
Ip'sc Carbo
Civilian
DS101
hiha@tfs.com

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