==Captains quarters, USS Chimera== The room shimmered in to view as Keylor was beamed in to his quarters. The place was in shambled, items strewn everywhere, but in whole the room was in tact. As the tingle of the transporter wore off, he stood motionless, surveying the damage. Though he had not been on the chimera when it had passed through the temporal anomaly, he knew they had a roug time of it and did not expect anything less than a mess. Once gaining his bearings he slowly started to search for the items he came for. First, and foremost was a jacket or tunic he could wear to cover the gaping hole in his current apparel. Though he was not shy to show some of his back, he figured that it was only proper for a captain of a ship to appear in a bit better attire. All of the drawers had fallen out of the dresser and now, along with their contents, lay in a heap on the floor. As he slowly bent over, to sift through the mangled mess he noticed a sticky substance near the bottom of the pile. Digging a bit further he was able to see a deep red color and the unmistakable smell of spring wine. "Damn" he cursed in bajoran as he knew the fate of his prized alcoholic beverage. Sifting through the pile a little more he found a starfleet issue tee shirt that had not been spoiled by the wine and pulled it form the mess. Placing the shirt on the near by tumbled bed he straightened up and stated to peel his ripped tunic off. Though the doctor, and Ra'nar had inspected the wound and detached the dried, blood soaked fabric from his skin, the shirt still resisted, now stiff form the congealed substance. With some effort, and plenty of discomfort, he tugged at the tunic until it slipped over and off of his head. Tossing the tunic aside, he grabbed the tee-shirt and pulled it on. He half reveled in the delight of the touch of fabric now covering the still sore but repaired wound to his shoulder. He tucked the shirt in to his dirty and stained trousers and continued his search. His next destination was his closet. He hoped that the oozing spring wind had not soaked some of his most treasured valuables. Fearing the worse he opened the still sealed closet door in anticipation of finding a horrendous mess. As he slowly opened the door, fearful of an avalanche, he quickly became pleasantly surprised at the condition of the internal contents. Though nothing remained on the hangers or hooks, he could see everything in a pile in the center of the small compartment. On the top was a starfleet issue, marine green jacket. Seeing that it was not spoiled, he picked it up and threw it on his back. Next in the pile was his dress uniform. He pulled it up, still on the hanger and inspected it. Though the main part of the jacket was relatively clean, he noticed the distinct red stain of wine on the cuffs. Not bothering to look at the trousers, the tossed it over his shoulder to the pile on the floor and continued his recovery. After digging through several articles of clothing he finally reached his target, two satchels and a box of somewhat demolished box of wine. Not hopeful of the prospects of finding a bottle in tact, he turned his attention to the satchels. The first one he pulledup was his latest acquisition. It was among the things his late sister had left for him. Opening it up he looked at the items that had led him to Bertold Owens the man he had killed shortly before the mission. Little did he know that would be followed by more death. Trying not to linger over the dirty deed he had done, he made sure his hand crafted knife, the knife that he killed Bertold with and was there and closed the flap and slung the satchel over a shoulder and moved to the next. Pulling up the second satchel he quickly fumbled with it and opened it up. Inside were several forms of identification, each with different names and genders, none with a picture. They were his fathers dying gift, black market id's, and the last remnants to a black enterprise his father had been involved in. He still was not sure why he held on to them, sentimental he figured, but then again there was the one time they became useful. There was Cammie Owens, a scared, on-the-run Bajoran he met back on SB 742. She was looking to start a new life, away form her father. Ironically, her father was the man he had killed, Bertold. He wondered what ever happened to Cammie and weather now she would be able to return to her real life. Jingling the satchel and listening to the latinum that was in side he quickly counted the number of slips. Satisfied that the count was accurate, he closed the flap and slung the satchel over the reverse shoulder. As he started to close the door he happened to glance down and look at the box. Like a child at Christmas he smiled and re-opened the door. There before him in the center of the box, were two bottles of spring wine, completely in tact. Reaching in he gently pulled the bottles out. Turning around he found a some what clear spot on the dresser and set the bottled sown. Reaching over to on satchel, he opened it up and quickly placed a bottle in it. He then turned his attention to the second bottle. Reaching out he caressed the bottle with his bandaged hand and gently pulled at the lid that secured the liquid in its prison. Upon opening the bottle he promptly guzzled down a large mouthful of the spring wine. Wiping his mouth with the sleve of his jacket nhe smiled na dlooked at the amphora of necter. "All things the same. There is noting like a good bottle of vintage wine." He said to him self as he reveled a the first thing to hit his stomach sinc leaving the chimera. As he stood there, the chimera started to creek and moan at the stress she was enduring form the tow to the planet. Thinking it was best he get moving and head back to the Gott, he resealed the bottle and quickly tucked it in the other satchel. Now clothed, with his personal prized possessions around his waist and some wine in his belly, he turned to the door of his quarters. "One thing left to do." He said as he walked over to the door and pry them open. After a minute of struggle, he slipped through the barley open doors and headed to the bridge. ===end log=== Bgen Bretam Keylor USS Chimera