Xander was in the city, overlooking the damage. It was odd how he knew things got messed up, but couldn't remember how now. Something to do with the whole Nightmare business. Well no matter, it needed to get straightened up, and see what was possibly salvageable or repairable. Not the best niche around, but a necessary one, and at least it was a good area he was familiar with.

As it was, he got started making his way through some of the rubble to see how to get started.

The city was still a mess, and Rhiow still couldn't move through it very well on only three legs. The burn was getting better but she was determined to keep her weight off it and let it heal on its own. Her skin itched underneath the bandage but she hadn't quite gotten the energy to go over to the medbay and get it changed yet.

Most of her time and energy had been spent in development, seeking the deeper meanings in Haku's name and how to slot them into the spell she was building to cage the corruption within him. Her problem was without knowing the nature of the corruption, she couldn't specify how to contain it. Now, more than ever, she wished that she was the kind of magic-user that could simply gabble a few magic words and have what she wanted to happen come about.

The meeting place she had agreed upon with Sam and Daimon was easy enough to find, and as she limped through its massive doors, she looked up at the ceiling and her ears twitched. There was a trick to looking at ehhif flat-pictures, and as she sat tilting her head to the side and squinting to shift her perspective, she thought she could make out the figures of male ehhif and baby ehhif with wings... the representations of saints and angels - the Powers as some ehhif saw them.

Her tail twitched back and forth as she reached into her claudication and began scooping out the spell in its half-finished form, pawing at it and arranging it on the floor. This would certainly be a three-dimensional construction when she was finished, but the groundwork - the circle of swooping characters - was all she had laid so far.

The Sensoriums open up to an amazing scene. A long hallway, with no seeming end, and large windows depicting billions of floating heads stuck together. Sleeping. The world that telepaths visit and share when they dream.

There's an open doorway, with noise and light coming from it. As one turns the corner, they can see three couches in a semi-circle around a large collection of televisions. Standing in one of the couches, with a bowl of popcorn under one arm and gesticulating wildly with the other, is Apollo. "YES! YES! THAT'S IT! CRAWL! CRAWL TO VICTORY AND BITE HIS KNEES OFF!" The source of his amusement fills several of the gigantic television screens in front of him.

That's right. One of the most powerful people on his planet is cheering to a fight on Jerry Springer. Not just any fight, though. A midget fight.

If there was one way Fletcher could make himself useful while waiting for the Hydroponics area to become accessible, it was by doing some research. He was in one of the science labs, hovering over a microscope and some other equipment, examining something green. If one looked closer, that something would turn out to be a piece of his plantsuit.

If he could find out more about it, that would be a big step for him and Russel, and their botanical research.

Spock, as was his wont, had learned a great deal already about this ship and its technology, though his knowledge was far from complete.

Now, however, it was time for reflection.

( The Sensoriums had become cavernous... )

*S'ti th'laktra = "I grieve with thee", standard Vulcan statement of condolence.