Keylor walked out of the recreation center holding the two works of functional art that Athena and he had created. Athena’s platter/bowl glistened in the hall way light as Keylor walked , oblivious to his surroundings. He pitcher sat on top of the platter/bowl, decorated to match Athena’s work or art. Keylor had no real use for a pitcher, he figured that made to match Athena’s work, it would make an nice decorative addition to her office, or something. As Keylor inspected the glaze on the pitcher, he did not notice the man walking towards him. With a jolt the two collided in a abrupt stop. Keylor’s first instinct was to clutch the platter/bowl tightly, thinking he had a hand on both pieces. But Alas the artificial gravity of the station proved to be too stong of a force for bothe the pitcher, the platter and Keylro as all three headed backwards to the floor. Keylor and the platter managed to survive the encounter with the faceless strange, but the pitcher had decided to take another path and smasher in to many pieces on the floor. Only aware of the man having also fallen to the floor, he muttered quite loudly. “By the prophets!” Keylor remained on the floor as he noticed the other man start to stand up. He looked the man up and down, a Starfleet lieutenant, trying to think of what to say. {He looks familiar. Have I seen him before?} he thought. Keylor placed the platter on the floor. He then rotated his body to his knees and then started picking up the shatterd pieces of baked clay that would have been a pitcher. "I'm sorry, I wasn't particularly paying attention to where I was going." Is all Keylor heard as he thought of an apology to say for having not paid attention to where he was going. The words of the Starfleet officer churned in his head for a second when it finally dawned on Keylor that the man had apologized. {Aparently I was not the only one that was not paying attention} he thought as a smile started to creep on to his face. "No, no, I should have been able to avoid you. I suppose I was ... preoccupied." Keylor let out a sigh, looking at the shards of clay. He firmly gripped the platter and stood up. Now on his feet, he gave the lieutenant a second look. {He really seems familiar. Where have I seen that face before?} he though as the grin slowly faded from his face. "Listen, I can pay for that if you need me to -- or do you work for Sconda? I could talk to him ... tell him it wasn't your fault ..." The strange man said holding out some latnium. Keylor looked at the man, almost ignoring the latinum. With a quick glance at the outstretched hand he shook his head and held up a hand, "That's unnecessary Thanks, though." He said appreciatively. He did appreciate the gesture, even though money could not replace some thing he had toiled over for so long to create. To him nothing that could be bought would match the pleasure he gained from making it. Glancing down at the latinum once again, he realized how close the strips were to Athena’s platter. She had worked so hard at making it, he thought it would be a terrible shame that it too would be broken. Keylor pulled it closer to him and secured his hold on it, as if protecting it from this marauding bull in a china shop. "Really, I'm very sorry -- isn't there something I -- ?" the Lieutenant started to say when Keylor raised a hand again to interrupt him. Keylor merely shook his head no and stepped to one side to let him pass. As the officer walked away slowly, Keylor noticed him look over his shoulder once or twice, as if to offer the latinum again. Each time Keylor met him with a soft, but insistent gaze. As the lieutenant rounded a corner, Keylor could not shake the feeling that the man was different than other people. Not just as an individual, be some thing else, to set him apart from normal people. That feeling and the nagging thought that he looked familiar started to burn in to Keylor’s mind. As Keylor stood there, stupefied by his thoughts, it suddenly occurred to him who that man was. “Foster!?!?!?” he exclaimed in a whisper. His quizzical look then turned to a blank look of confusion. {That did look a lot like the picture in his personnel record. Lets just hope he pays more attention to his duties in operations than he does walking down the hall}. Keylor then jerked suddenly as he remembered where he was headed to before the collision. He juggled the platter and shards of clay in to one hand and looked at his write chrono. “Prophets be praised, they are about to start the first series of maneuvers.” He muttered as if talking to himself. Keylor turned around and headed immediately to the nearest turbo lift. Walking quickly to reach the stations command center, he chuckled slightly at the thought of Fosters medical notes in his service record. {Though I would suspect that I will have to wait till Doctor Summers is though treating him like a lab rat.} he thought as he smiled. ===end log=== Col Bretam Keylor Captain USS Chimera