As
the doors to sickbay opened and someone stepped into his office Doctor Jascar
looked up more out of habit than from any real interest.
“Captain,
what can I do for you?”
“I
wanted to see how Commander Westmore is doing. I trust he is alright?”
Theron
went back to sorting through his medical supplies while he answered: “Oh yes,
he is. I want to keep him under observation the next 24 hours and afterwards put
him on light duty for a few days, but I don’t expect any complications.”
“Can
I see him?” Tarin was taken a little aback. Turan had told her that - at least
at the moment - Doctor Jascar had some problems relating to other people, but
she hadn’t expected him to turn his back on her in the literal sense. Still,
today she had not come to deal with Doctor Jascar. That would have to wait.
‘But I shouldn’t wait too long,’ the Captain thought.
“Why
not. We moved him to observation-room three this morning.” He glanced over his
shoulder to watch Captain Veal leave, but she stopped in the door and turned
around again.
“And
how are you doing, Doctor?”
A
lapidary “Fine” was his only answer.
Tarin
slowly nodded her head. “That’s good to hear, but should it ever change you
know where to find me.” With that she headed out and left Doctor Jascar
to his own thoughts again.
*
* * * *
As
the door-chime rang Alexander Westmore sat up and leaned against the headboard
of his bed. Even in the light-green robe the nurses had put on him he looked as
gruff as ever. “Enter.”
“Good
morning, Commander.” Tarin almost pulled a chair closer to the bed, but then
decided to settle down near the wall of the room.
“Captain.”
He nodded a quarter of an inch, but didn’t react in any other way.
“How
are you?”
“I
have survived worse.”
While
that wasn’t exactly an answer to her question, Tarin decided to drop the topic.
If Commander Westmore wanted to keep his feelings to himself that was his
business. “I thought I’d just come by and bring you up to speed.”
Westmore
nodded again, but then added: “I have heard most of what has been going on the
last two days, but is there any news of Captain Tarkington?”
The
Captain breathed deeply before she replied. “We picked up his escape pod an
hour after it was all over. Right now he is on his way back to Earth for a full
inquiry into his conduct. His decision not to withdraw when he received that
order cost a lot of people their lives.”
“Do
you know what will become of him?”
She
shook her head. “No idea, but a court-martial is what I would expect.”
“Is
that what I can expect too, being shipped off to Earth for an inquiry?” As so
often before, Commander Westmore’s expression
was as undecipherable as a Vulcan’s.
“No.”
Tarin leaned a little forward in her chair, but the distance between them still
seemed awfully large. On the other hand, her voice did nothing to bridge the gap
as she continued. “I am rather disappointed that a man of your intelligence
would play such petty games as you did. Considering that you obviously misjudged
both Captain Tarkington and myself by a large margin I am surprised you survived
in your line of work as long as you have.”
As
much as it pained him, Alexander Westmore had to agree. “A nice way to
describe the biggest blunder in my life.”
Tarin
folded her hands and rested her arms on her thighs. “I am glad you agree with
me.” She sighed. “While we have trained for very different assignments,
there is one thing we both have in common. As soon as we allow ourselves to
become drawn into the game of politics, we are both out of our league.”
They
set in silence for a moment, before Commander Westmore remarked: “He wasn’t
always like this, you know. Tarkington I mean.” When the Captain didn’t
reply he continued. “He has always been ambitious and maybe a little bit too
aggressive, but…” He didn’t finish his thought.
“I
see,” Tarin gently replied. “I guess the war has changed too many things for
most of us. Nowadays many officers suddenly find themselves doing with only a
single ship the job a dozen starships did before the war. No wonder some of them
think they are the reincarnated James Kirk or Garth of Izar. After all, in many
sectors we are pretty much back to the deployment patterns of the last century.”
She paused for breath before she added: “Let’s just hope Captain Tarkington
will be the exception and not the rule.”
She
unfolded her hands and leaned back into the chair, her hands rested on her knees.
“Which brings us back to you. You broke some rules yourself, both written and
unwritten ones. But…” Commander Westmore’s eyes narrowed at her dramatic
pause. “…I would like to believe that you did it because you thought it in
the best interest of Starfleet. Taking that and your unique skills into
consideration I am still willing to have you on my crew - as I have already told
you - but there is one condition.”
Alex
Westmore nodded briskly and she continued. ”Next time you think you know
better than me what to do you will let me know, instead of scheming behind my
back.”
“I will. Provided you meet one condition of my own.”
“Oh,
and what would that be?” Tarin sounded a little surprised.
“When
I have something to say I will say it, but then I expect you to take what I say
into serious consideration before you make your decision.”
Tarin’s
surprise was replaced by a smile that spread from her mouth to her eyes.
“Commander, that’s the least I can do for any member of my crew and I
see no reason to make an exception in your case.” She stood and turned to the
door that obediently opened for her. Before she left she turned around again and
looked the man on the bed in the eyes. “One more thing Commander.”
“Welcome
aboard.”
*
* * * *
“Why
don’t you fix us both a drink,” Fleet Admiral Fairchild motioned towards the
sideboard with the bottles and glasses. Like the rest of her office furniture it
was real wood. While Admiral Avanessian had never shared the
Commander-in-Chief’s taste in furniture he agreed with her taste in Aldebaran
whiskey. He added ice and a little water to the glass he handed his colleague,
then sat down in one of the visitor chairs with his own drink.
“So,
what brings me to your office Nora?” Not many people called her by this name,
but Elinor Fairchild didn’t mind. The two had been friends long before they
became admirals.
She
replied with only one word. “Tarkington.”
“Ah
yes.” He took a sip of his drink and waited until the warmth of the alcohol
hit his stomach. “You are afraid this will be turned against us.”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “We can’t get around a court-martial, but if his defense can
prove that he couldn’t have legally transferred command of his fleet to
Captain Veal…”
“Then
he was in command of the fleet the whole time and we can’t hang him for
disobeying a direct order,” Admiral Avanessian finished her thought.
“Don’t worry Nora, I have spoken with some people down at the JAG office and
the consensus seems to be that his interpretation of the regulations was maybe
unorthodox, but still within the letter of the law. I think we can be fairly
certain of the outcome of Tarkington’s court-martial.”
*
* * * *
Catherine
Lee breathed deeply and hit the key next to the door. After only a second she
heard the “Come In” from inside and the door slid into the wall. She exhaled
and took a step into the captain’s quarters.
“Ah,
Counselor, come on in.” Tarin only gave her a cursory glance. “Why don’t
you have seat.” With her left hand she motioned to the sofa, while her right
stayed busy turning something in the pan on the small stove set against the
wall. The smell of fried food drifted to Catherine’s nose and she advanced
just far enough into the room for the doors to close behind her.
“I
had no idea you could cook, Captain,” she remarked, while taking a peek at the
pan and the pot that set next to it on the second burner. She saw what looked
like pasta in the pot and a mix of fish and vegetables in the pan.
“How
could you?” Now the Captain turned her head in her direction and flashed her a
smile. “We have been together on this ship for only a little over two weeks.”
Tarin added a few spices from a small bowl to the mix in the pan and an
unfamiliar smell, faintly reminiscent of marjoram, hit Catherine’s nose before
it was carried away by the life-support system.
“If
you want anything to drink, just help yourself.” The Captain nodded towards
the replicator. She grabbed a fork and sampled her cooking, then added a little
salt. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Catherine
wasn’t thirsty, so she just made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs
in the corner and surveyed the room. What she saw was a large sofa, a coffee
table, two armchairs and a dining table with four chairs around it - the kind of
furniture Starfleet supplied to all starship quarters. At first the small
kitchenette by the door struck her as the only personal touch in the room, but
then she noticed the small details she had missed at first.
Built
into
the wall to the next cabin, near the dining table, was a large shelf that was
almost empty, except for a few padds and some framed photos. Catherine paid
closer attention to the photos; there were two of them. One showed a young,
gawky Tarin Veal in cadet uniform with three other cadets - a serious looking
Trill, a grinning Caitian and a handsome dark-haired guy who could have been a
human.
The
other photo again showed the Captain. On this she looked a few years older in
the blue uniform of a science officer with a young Ben Tucker by her side. He
had his arm around her shoulder and both of them smiled for the camera in front
of a background that could have been any major city on a dozen Federation worlds.
The
next thing Catherine noticed were the potted plants in one corner of the room by
the dining table, near the window. Bamboo. All of the plants looked slightly
different, one mainly yellow with green vertical stripes, the other vice versa,
while the last one had a dark, nearly black, stem.
Then
her eyes fell on the framed diploma by the door. It wasn’t from the Starfleet
Academy and Catherine couldn’t make out the writing from her position, so she
stood and walked over for a closer look. ‘University of Oreas’ it read.
Oreas, Catherine knew, was one of the largest cities on Alpha Centauri IV and
renowned for its university, the finest institute of higher learning on the
whole planet. Apparently the
captain had earned a degree in subspace theory a few years ago. “I had no idea.”
Catherine wasn’t even aware that she had spoken out loud.
“Oh,
that,” Tarin said while she turned off the heat under the pan and sampled the
pasta. “Its nothing much, really. We ran into a previously unknown subspace
phenomenon and afterwards I had a little time to write a paper on it and submit
it to one of the professors at the university. It’s more a memento of my
science officer days than anything else.”
“Now,
lunch is about ready and if you are hungry there is enough for two. We can
discuss ship’s business later.”
*
* * * *
“Let’s
hope you are right about the Tarkington trial Arkady.” Admiral Fairchild
grimaced. “If not, someone will twist the whole story so much that it will
look like Veal should have never accepted command of the fleet in the first
place. That’s the last thing we want.”
Arkady
Avanessian snorted. “ Someone? Why don’t we start naming names. Collmann.”
He spit out the name in contempt. If Vice-Admiral Collmann had had his way,
Starfleet would have withdrawn from the frontier worlds months ago, to
concentrate all its forces on the defense of the most important member-worlds.
While Walter Collmann had never said so, Admiral Avanessian suspected that he
even had some plans ready that advocated Earth's withdrawal from the Federation
instead of having human officers risk their lives to protect other species’
worlds.
Admiral
Fairchild felt the same contempt for Walter Collmann as her friend, but there
were some things even she as Commander-in-Chief had little say in. Vice-Admiral
Collmann belonged in that category. Since the war his ideas had gained
popularity with many Starfleet Officers, especially the war-weary Captains who
had commanded ships during the Chaos War.
“You
know we can’t do much about him. We will have no choice but to grant him the
promotion to Admiral, now that T’pran is retiring. Collmann is next on the
seniority list and we have no reason to pass him over. At least,” she added
with a calmness she didn’t feel, “no reason that would stand up to public
scrutiny.”
“Ah
yes, politics.” Admiral Avanessian rolled his glass between his hands and
starred down at it. “So, Nora, what will we do with him, once he gets his
promotion? We can’t keep an Admiral as second in command of Third Fleet for
ever, we both know that.”
Elinor
Fairchild hadn’t touched her glass so far, but now she took a small sip. She
had contemplated the question for some time, but she had yet to find an answer
that fully satisfied her. “I am not sure. I was thinking of Starbase
Operations, but he has many friends that will push for a more active post.”
“Starbase
Ops could work, but I am afraid you are right about his connections. I wish I
knew how he does it, but this guy plays the politician’s game better than any
other officer I know.” He thought about their common problem for several
minutes and Admiral Fairchild knew better than to interrupt his thoughts.
Finally an idea struck him.
“Why
don’t we just give him a fleet?”
Admiral
Fairchild’s face twisted as if she had just bitten into a lemon. “That is
still your first drink, is it?”
“No,
I am serious. We could give him the 11th. Khorolev has been out on the frontier
for so long that he certainly deserves a headquarters tour and he would be
perfect as Chief of Starbase Ops. Collmann could replace him.”
Elinor
Fairchild’s grimace slowly turned into a thoughtful smile. “I think you are
really on to something. The 11th is one of our larger fleets, so no one can
complain about Collmann receiving an unimportant job and yet it’s far enough
from both the Cardassian and Romulan borders that he can’t do much damage,
even if he wanted to.”
Admiral
Avanessian returned his colleague’s smile, “And it’s far enough from Earth
for my taste.” He raised his tumbler and they clinked their glasses.
*
* * * *
Tarin
dabbed her lips with a napkin. After comparing the finer points of Chinese and
Centauran cuisine for half an hour it was about time to get down to business,
even if she had tremendously enjoyed the small-talk.
“So
tell me Counselor, how is your work going?”
“I
am pretty busy, but most of my time is spent helping Commander Enikal with
personnel matters. It’s mainly - what did they call it a few centuries ago –
paperwork. All in all it’s not too bad.”
“I
see.” Tarin started to refill their teacups. “Those personnel matters are
what I wanted to talk to you about. We still need a Security Chief.” Lt.
Commander Gevon, their prospective Security Chief, had served on the Tian An
Men and received serious injuries during the battle of Kal-Ap-Ton. Right now
he was in a hospital on Vulcan and no one was sure if he would ever be fit for
active duty again.
“Would
you go over the files of our senior security officers and pick out two or three
of them who would be the best candidates to head our Security department, at
least until we are assigned a replacement for Commander Gevon?”
Catherine
Lee looked a bit unhappy and bought some time by taking a sip of tea.
“Wouldn’t Commander Enikal be better qualified to make such a recommendation?
He has been a security officer himself, so he should be able to find you a
likely candidate much faster than I can.”
“We
will involve him in this matter, but at a later stage.” Tarin reached for her
own cup but held her hand there. “Commander Enikal has told me that you have
done a very good job of handling the personnel matters that have come up during
the last few weeks, so I want to use your talents in this matter as well.”
“And
don’t worry Catherine.” Now she took a sip of tea before she continued. “I
don’t want you to tell me who has the best skills as a security officer. I
want you to tell me who – in your opinion – would be best qualified to head
a department. That shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”
A
smile played around Counselor Lee’s lips. The Captain was right. What she had
asked of her was certainly within Catherine’s field of expertise. “Yes
Captain. I’ll get to work right away.”
“Ohhh,
not so fast,” Tarin stopped her, as the Counselor was about to stand up.
“First of all you will help me clean up this mess.” She pointed at the used
dishes and both women laughed.
*
* * * *
“So,
what did the Captain want of you?” Rishana asked as she picked up a spoon and
started on her ice-cream.
Lieutenant
O’Shea took a sip of coffee and collected her thoughts before she replied:
“She wants me to look through our database and condense all the data we have
on Klingons into a sort of ‘Klingon 101 primer’ for her.”
“I
had no idea you knew enough about Klingons to do that.” The Betazoid helmsman
looked curious. “You must be some sort of expert.”
“I
am not, at least not really. I took a single course in Klingon culture at the
Academy, which,” she spread her arms in a helpless, resignated gesture,
“seems to make me the local expert.”
“Which,
you are saying, you are not?” Lieutenant Hagen inquired. While she could feel
her friend’s obvious discomfort, she wasn’t concerned. Moira O’Shea, like
herself, had a tendency to be sometimes overly dramatic, almost theatrical, in
the way she expressed herself.
“No,
I am telling you, I am not.” Moira paused, then added: “Okay, maybe I am,
but just a little.”
Now
Rishana was genuinely amused and she chuckled. “You can’t be just a little
bit of an expert. Either you are or you are not.”
Lieutenant
O’Shea took another sip of coffee. “Well, I did a lot of research on
Klingon culture, but only because it was the latest fad while I was at the
Academy. You know, students speaking Klingon among themselves, running all
available Klingon holodeck programs and all that. That doesn’t make me an
expert, does it?” she asked, obviously looking for an excuse to get out of her
predicament.
“Ah yes, I remember. What did they call it… the Klingon semester,” Lieutenant Hagen replied. “And don’t look at me like this. I spent half that year at the Saturn flight range, so it all happened while I was away from Earth.” She pointed her spoon at her colleague. “I am sure you will do just fine. Knowing the Captain, I’d say she doesn’t expect any miracles from you.”
“I
know,” Moira sighed. “I just hope she will get a reply to all the calls she
sent out to the real experts.”
Rishana
took another bite of her ice-cream and led it melt
on her tongue before she replied. “Don’t count on it. You know how many
subspace relays we have lost in this sector. I’d be really surprised if she
gets a call through to whoever she tries to contact.”
“On
the other hand,” she added, “we have four more days before we meet the
Klingons, so we may get lucky.”
*
* * * *
Ben
and Tarin found a secluded table in the corner of Ten Forward and settled down.
Noticing Moira and Rishana, Ben winked at them
before turning to the waiter to order his dinner. “So,” he asked Tarin,
“how was your day?”
She
had just finished telling him about her visit with Commander Westmore when
dinner was served. While they ate she continued to talk about her lunch with the
Counselor, how she had visited the science department to get acquainted with
some of the officers who had come aboard on Vulcan, and the rest of her day. All
in all, Tarin had spent less than two hours on the bridge or in her ready room.
“Next
time you decide not to be on the bridge for a whole day let me know in advance,”
Ben remarked.
“Why?”
“It’s
a surprise, but you will like it.” Ben grinned. “Trust me.”
She
leaned back into her chair and reached for her coffee. “I don’t suppose I
have any choice but to trust you, do I?” She tried to sound resignated, but
the amused twitching of her lips spoiled the effort.
Ben
was still grinning. “No Captain, you don’t. But you surprised me yourself
today,” he added.
“Oh,
I did? How so?” Now Tarin sounded really curious.
“I
had expected you would just spend the day in your ready room going over reports
on Klingon culture and military operations and not chatting with half the crew.”
Tarin
looked out the window at the rainbow colored stars of warp flight. “I still
have a few days to do that and getting to know the crew better seems at least as
important to me.” She turned back to her fiancé. “In the days and months to
come I will have to rely on this crew a lot and the sooner I start building some
trust the better. I can’t do that by just sitting in my office and reading
reports.”
She
finished her coffee and set the cup down before going on. “That aside, I’d
like to find some kind of routine for my own duties and activities, but I have
to gauge how much work I can put on other people’s shoulders to achieve it.”
Reaching
this decision hadn’t been easy for her. Since she had switched from science to
command she had always involved herself in the minutiae of starship management.
As XO of the Galahad it had been her job and as CO of Eclipse it
hadn’t been a problem. With a crew of only 80 it had been both easy and, as
she had felt, necessary to do many things herself other starship captains would
have delegated to their staff, but the Valkyrie was just too large to go
on like that.
“Yes,
having some sort of routine would be nice, especially to better coordinate
off-duty activities.” Ben winked and Tarin softly laughed in reply.
*
* * * *
“I
am sorry I can’t offer you a more comprehensive insight into Klingon mentality
in such a short time, but as I told you they are a more complex species than
most people give them credit for,” Jean-Luc Picard replied from the monitor.
“Having
the chance to talk to you about your missions, instead of just reading your
logs, has already given me a lot of insights. I am glad I could get hold of you
before we rendezvous with the Negh’Var.”
“Have
you tried to contact Commander Worf?” Picard inquired. “He could tell you
more about Klingon culture then anyone in Starfleet.”
Tarin
took a deep breath. “I have tried, but nobody knows where he is. He boarded a
transport headed for the Nyberrite Alliance shortly before the war, but after
that Starfleet has lost track of him.”
“Well,
in case you do manage to get hold of him, would you be kind enough to convey my
regards?”
“Certainly,
Sir.”
Captain
Picard raised a hand and gave her a warm smile. “Please, no need to call me
‘Sir’. We are both starship captains and as such should deal on an equal
footing.”
“I
find that difficult, Captain,” Tarin hesitantly replied. “You and the crew
of the Enterprise have done so much for Starfleet and the Federation that
you are already becoming a legend in your own lifetime.”
“I
sincerely hope not, Captain Veal.” Picard was still smiling as he went on.
“Besides, what most people talk about on Earth these days isn’t the Enterprise,
but your defense of the Vulcanis system. In fact, I would like to ask you some
questions of my own about it.”
Tarin
was taken aback. She hadn't realized that the Valkyrie’s actions had
made such an impression in such a short time. To have someone like Captain
Picard pay an interest in her…
“No,
I don’t mind… Captain.”
*
* * * *
“Hi
honey, I'm home!” Ben exclaimed with a lopsided smile.
Tarin
looked up from the padd she had been studying and shook her head. “Will you
ever grow up, you big oaf?”
Ben
leaned down to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “No.” He made a big
show of looking thoughtful, furrowing his brows. “No, I don’t think so, not
as long as you like me this way.”
He
flopped down on the sofa next to her. Ben knew that Tarin wouldn’t be too
happy about him interrupting her studies. Even if she had talked about settling
into some sort of daily routine he knew that she would need his help to achieve
this goal. Now that Tarin had started to research Klingon culture and customs he
had a feeling she was already starting to work too hard again.
Ben
got his shoes off and pushed about ten padds aside, so he could rest his legs on
the coffee table next to Tarin’s. He had always admired her tenacity, but now
that they finally served on the same ship he was determined to make sure she got
enough rest and relaxation to keep up her strength.
He
gently took the padd she was still holding and pried it from her fingers.
“Ben!” Tarin protested.
“Don’t
‘Ben’ me like this.” He laid the padd on the sofa to his right, out of
Tarin’s reach. “I don’t have to ask you how your day was to know that you
are already driving yourself too hard – again.”
“No,
I am not,” she protested. “I am just doing some basic research. There’s
nothing wrong with that.”
“Oh
yes, there is.” Ben laid a hand on the padds on the table. “This isn’t
basic research, it’s an in-depth study, that’s what it is. You better not
try telling me otherwise, ‘cause I know you Tarin Veal. No use kidding me.”
“Or
yourself,” he added softly.
*
* * * *
When
Ben had fallen asleep Tarin still lay awake, her thoughts wandering and restless.
She folded her hands behind her head and starred at the ceiling. For a few hours
Ben had made her forget that she was the Captain of one of Starfleet’s largest
ships, but soon enough it would be the next day, the next task, the next alien
culture they encountered. How would she deal with it then?
Tarin’s
thoughts turned to the captains she had served with... Fannon, Tamok, McSorley,
how would they have dealt with a situation like this?
She
quickly disregarded Captain Tamok. She was no Vulcan and she would never be able
to see things with his detached, logical mind, but Fannon and McSorley…
No.
While both men had certainly influenced the way she handled herself as a
commanding officer she would have to find her own style. Maybe the size of the
ship and her crew wasn’t so important after all. Maybe she could just go on
doing her job as she had done it the last few years.
Tarin
turned her head and looked at the sleeping man by her side, the man she loved.
Serving on the same ship with Ben was the best thing that could have happened to
her and yet it made her life more complicated. He had never made any demands on
her to spend more time together, but Tarin knew that was what he wished for –
and it was her own wish too.
She
reached out to him and gently ran her fingers over his hair, careful not to wake
him. Having a long-distance relationship for years had never been easy, but at
least it had given her enough time to do her job in the manner she needed to.
Would it be possible to do the same, now that they lived door-to-door?
*
* * * *
“Here
we have gagh, bregit lung, heart of targ, rokeg blood pie and of course lots of
bloodwine to wash it all down.”
Commander
Enikal looked skeptical. “Are you sure this is edible?”
Ben
Tucker sounded even more doubtful as he watched the gagh worms. At least they
were only replicated and therefore not alive and moving. “Are you sure this is
necessary?”
“Oh
yes, I think it is both necessary and edible,” Tarin replied, “at least in
the short run. So you all just find a chair and get started.”
As the others set down she added: “Believe me, I am not enjoying this any more then you do, but I want you prepared in case the Klingons extend us a dinner invitation.”
She
grabbed a bottle of bloodwine and took a swig from it before handing it over to
Commander Westmore. “Just pass it along.” When she had shook her head to
clear her vision she noticed that the Commander was about to just hand the
bottle to Dar Enikal. “After having a drink yourself I meant.”
Alex
Westmore took a sip and passed the bottle to Commander Enikal. “Not as bad as
I expected.”
Dar
held the bottle and looked back and forth between it and the bowl of gagh for a
moment. He took a gulp from the bottle and shuddered as the alcohol burned down
his throat. Coughing he handed the metal flask to Commander Tucker.
“Am
I the only one who is afraid we may be repeating history here?” he asked after
he had found his voice again.
“What
do you mean?” It was Ben who asked.
“Remember
your history lessons. Starfleet escorting the Klingon chancellor aboard his
flagship to a peace conference?”
Commander
Westmore added: “A peace conference prompted by the explosion of a moon.”
“Oh,
I get it.” Ben took a swig of bloodwine. Now he felt like he needed a drink.
“Kirk and the Khitomer conference.”
“We
will find out soon enough how this will all turn out,” Tarin remarked. “In
the meantime, have some blood pie.” She started handing out the vile looking
dish.
“You
know,” Commander Enikal offered, “this mission is starting to involve a
little too much blood for my taste.”
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7