*/Star Trek: Timelines/*

*/The Widening Gyre/*

*/by:/*

*/Stephen Garrett Jr./*




*     Author's Note: *The Romulans as portrayed in this story are based upon the 
works of Diane Duane.



/     "Turning and turning in the widening gyre..." - William Butler Yeats, "The 
Second Coming"/




*/.5LY from Federation-Orion Border/*

*/23 April 2368 Earth Standard Time/*


     The brilliant white color of an Orion starship-grade blaster washed over 
the shields of the /U.S.S. Salamis/, rocking the /Akira/-class cruiser roughly 
as her shields struggled to absorb the shot.  Three Orion raiders, each carrying 
deadly heavy blaster cannons on their bows, swarmed over the Federation strike 
cruiser as /Salamis/' own phasers sliced into the engines of an Orion 
transport.  Inside was the entire reason /Salamis/ had attacked in the first 
place: according to some partial intel, there were an estimated 200 civilians on 
board, mostly kidnapped off the streets of nearby worlds or taken in pirate 
raids, being brought to Orion to be sold into the Orion slave market.  And only 
half a light-year stood between them and enslavement.

     Half a light year and /U.S.S. Salamis/.

     On the bridge of /Salamis/, Captain Adrian Parker was ignoring the klaxons 
of alert status and concentrating on the reports from his bridge crew.  "Orion 1 
is coming across our..."  The ship rocked again as the other two blasted the 
ship simultaneously.  The lieutenant at tactical finished with, "...bow!  Dorsal 
shields down to thirty percent!"

     "Heading zero-two-zero mark zero five two!"  At Parker's order, the 
helmsman turned the /Salamis/ slightly to the right and up at a fifty-two degree 
angle, causing the Orions to miss their next shots.  The phaser arrays on the 
ship's aft arc fired, cutting into the weak shields of the light Orion raiders.

     As /Salamis/ turned again at Parker's order, this time to the left and on a 
down angle, quantum torpedoes raced out of her bow launchers at the raider 
designated Orion 1.  One torpedo missed from the ECM put out by the raider, but 
the other three were right on target.  Two impacted on it's dorsal hull shields 
and wiped them out, damaging enough armor that the third crippled the raider and 
nearly blew it in half.

     The other Orion raiders turned sharply, seperating.  Parker watched his 
screen intently, keeping track of their movements.  "Helm, follow Orion 2!  
Weapons, keep an eye on that transport!  Don't let him get back to warp!"

     A pair of affirmations echoed from the respective bridge officers.  
/Salamis/ turned to the left, following Orion 2, it's forward phaser arrays cut 
through space and into the smaller ship's rear shields.  A burst of fire from 
the cruiser's forward-mounted pulse phaser cannons succeeded in finally ripping 
apart the raider's engine assembly.  The crippled ship continued to drift 
forward, unable to maneuver any longer.

     The final raider came above the /Salamis/ and tore at it's weakened dorsal 
shields.  The shield indicator on Parker's display quickly went from yellow to 
red.  "Helm!  Stop all engines and fire maneuvering thrusters to bring the bow 
up!"  Parker's mind raced as he calculated his bow shield strength against the 
pirate's.  Turning to the Lieutenant at Weapons, he barked, "At my mark, give me 
everything you've got in the forward arc!"

     /Salamis/'s main impulse engines quieted and her maneuvering thrusters 
fired.  The ship turned as quickly as it could, showing her bow to the Orion 
raider as it came in for another pass.  Parker shouted "Fire!" upon the 
completion of the maneuver, and the two ships exchanged vicious attacks.

    While /Salamis/ certainly took a hammering from the pure power of the 
Orion's bow blaster cannon, she had the advantage in her multiple weapons.  The 
forward phasers, arrays and pulse cannons, handily-removed the raider's foreward 
shields so that a pair of quantum torpedoes could tear the ship apart.

     With the starship combat ended, Parker immediately placed the order for 
boarding parties to be sent to the transport.  When he was done, he turned to 
his XO and asked for a damage report.  The Andorian replied quickly by rattling 
off item after item of damage.  Casualties but no fatalities so far, which 
Parker was thankful for.

     His gamble did pay off, however, as nearly twice the number of people that 
intel had estimated were aboard.  With the transport seized, /Salamis/ placed a 
tractor beam on it and took it to warp, moving at a leisurely Warp 5 to the 
nearest Starbase.

 

 

 

*/Starbase 419, Border Sector 4, Federation Space/*

*/10 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

 

 

     Parker was in formal uniform, the familiar black jacket with grey shoulders 
plus black trousers, and standing at his full height of 183 centimeters beside 
his military advocate when the four leading admirals of the sector assembled 
again at their desk.  He showed no immediate emotion in his gray eyes and did a 
rather good job of hiding any fear he might have had.  He looked like the 
consumate military professional, with his black hair well-combed and trim to 
regulation and his hands behind his back.

     In the week after /Salamis/ had intercepted the transport and destroyed her 
escorts, a small political crisis had developed between the Federation and the 
Orions, and the Orions' Romulan backers.  The Orions initially levied charges of 
unprovoked attack and for a short while seemed to be threatening war, with 
Romulan backing, before the images of the freed slaves-to-be were released to 
the public along with their debriefings.  Immediately the momentum shifted; now 
the Orions were scrambling to find the corrupt officials within that were aiding 
the slave trade and the Romulans had backed off.  In the Federation Council 
itself, the peace parties that had been calling for Parker's head were now quiet 
and incapable of speaking, or so it seemed.  He had become a public hero now and 
politicians were apt to be silent when it meant going against popular opinion.

     But that had not prevented an impromptu review board being appointed to 
review the case and find if he had overstepped his bounds.  Parker waited 
silently for the sector CO, Admiral Hansen, to begin speaking.  "Captain Adrian 
Parker, upon review of your actions on the 23rd of April 2368, we have concluded 
that you acted without orders or probable cause in intercepting the transport 
/Meklavr/.  As such, you were technically in violation of interstellar law 
regarding the innocent passage of ships."  Parker did not betray any emotion but 
permitted Hansen to continue.  "However, it is clear to us that while you 
violated the letter of the law, the Orions were violating it's spirit, and in 
your actions you showed admirable traits in a starship captain, namely in your 
swift response to the evidence on hand and in your resolution to action.  Since 
the Orion government has withdrawn it's charges against Starfleet, we will not 
bring this to court-martial."  Hansen folded his hands together.  "However, 
because of the seriousness of the breach with the Orion government and potential 
damage to the interests of the Federation, you are being re-assigned to another 
command outside this sector that Starfleet Operations will arrange immediately.  
That is the extent of our official findings."  Hansen allowed Parker and his 
advocate to exchange a handshake and sighs of relief before continuing.  "Off 
the record," Hansen's grim expression finally softened, "we are also in 
concurrence on one thing; we would have all done the same thing in your place, 
Captain Parker.  You have done a valuable service to Starfleet and the 
Federation, not to mention four hundred and thirty innocent lives that were held 
aboard that slave carrier.  We of this Review Board wish you good luck in your 
next posting.  You are dismissed."

 

 

     Parker was in his quarters on /Salamis/ packing the last of his things when 
the door chime sounded.  He openly declared, "It's open", and his XO, Lieutenant 
Commander Virshk, stepped in.  "Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

     "Sir, on behalf of the crew, I'd like to say we've all been honored to 
serve with you," the Andorian said in a strong baritone.  "We're going to miss 
you, Captain."

     "Goes for me too.  I'd be worried about you, but Captain Shelby is an 
excellent officer and I know she'll do you all good."

     "Of course, Captain."  Virshk offered him a hand.  "Sir, may I?"

     Parker looked back from his bags, showed a small grin on his face, and gave 
Virshk a handshake, the first they'd had since Virshk had been assigned to 
/Salamis/.  "Help Shelby with the greenskins, will you?"

     Virshk laughed, "Of course."

     "Good, because after what we've done here, they're going to be looking to 
even the score.  Wouldn't want them to pull a fast one over you."  Parker went 
back to packing the last few items.

     "Any idea where they're sending you, Sir?"

     "I've been recalled to Earth," Parker replied.  "Captain Sisko's letting me 
hitch a ride on the /Saratoga/.  Once we get there, I'll see where I end up."

     "Mind if I follow you to the airlock, Sir?"

     "Not at all."  Parker secured his bag and lifted it onto his left 
shoulder.  With Virshk by his side Parker walked through the ship's port-side 
corridors to the port airlock, attached as it was to a berth inside Starbase 419.

     The entire command crew was awaiting him there, and Parker would run the 
gauntlet they had created for him, shaking hands and giving pleasant goodbyes to 
the men and women he'd served with for the previous three years.  At the end, 
when he was on the other end of the airlock, he took one last look at them 
before the airlock doors closed and they disappeared.  With that done, Parker 
moved on.

 

 

*U.S.S. Saratoga, /en route to Sector 001, Federation Space/*

*/13 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

*/ /*

*/ /*

     The sound of laughter was coming from within the officer's lounge on the 
top deck of /Saratoga/.  Inside it's occupants were dining on a meal prepared 
mostly by the ship's commanding officer, Captain Benjamin Sisko, who had used 
the last of his personal stores to put together what he insisted to be an 
authentic taste of New Orleans.  Parker had known Sisko in the Academy long 
enough to consider him a classmate and friend even if they had spent the years 
since that time serving seperately.

     The other two present were Sisko's XO; a Native American and Commander 
named Chakotay.  Perhaps more prestigious was another one of his friends; a 
retired diplomat from Trill, Curzon Dax.  The four men were seated at a circular 
table, their meals already finished, drinking glasses of technically-illegal 
Romulan ale that most Starfleet officers gained access to with virtual impunity; 
Romulan ale was "the second law that everyone breaks" according to jokes, with 
tax laws being the first.  After finishing an amusing anecdote about playing 
revenge pranks on a few uppity upperclassmen while in their junior year, the 
conversation changed course for a moment.  "And then there was the time Ben 
here," Parker began, chuckling from memory, "decided to take on this Vulcan.  
Suluk, Siluk, what was it again?"

     "Solok!"  Sisko began snickering.  "You never got the name right!"

     "That's right, Solok!  Well, this Vulcan was being, well, being a normal 
Vulcan, and Ben took offense, and, well, never wrestle with a Vulcan."

     "I'll take that in mind," Chakotay said in amusement.

     "Ben, how long were you in the infirmary again?  A week?"

     "Just four days."  Sisko rubbed the back of his neck, clearly smarting from 
the reminder.  "I still want to wipe the smirk off Solok's face."

     "Well, I almost did take a chair leg to him," confessed Parker.  "But some 
of the others stepped in.  Told me I was too drunk to swing it accurately."

     Another round of laughter echoed in the room.  "Well, now that we're 
finished with remembering what fools we were as cadets," said Sisko with a wide 
grin, "let's talk current events.  Know where they're sending you?"

     "Not at all," Parker answered.  "I suspect they'll stick me on a tender of 
some kind."

     "Depends on which admiral in Operations handles the appointment."  Chakotay 
folded his hands on the table.  "Admiral Paris would give you a rickety old 
/Constellation/ and send you off to the farthest corner of the Quadrant to keep 
you out of the spotlight.  Kirschbaum can be pretty fair, though."

     "I'd bet on Admiral Leyton getting you something.  You remember Leyton, 
right Adrian?"

     "Will Leyton?"  Parker wagged his finger for a moment, as if to show he was 
trying to place something.  "Your old CO on the /Okinawa/, right?  The one who 
convinced you to go for command school?"

     "That's him," Sisko confirmed.  "You were on the /Kursk/ as I recall, under 
Captain Sulu?"

     "Yeah, that was her."  Parker looked over the table at Chakotay and 
Curzon.  "We were in the same task force fighting the Tsen'kethi.  Closest Ben 
and I got to being assigned together after the Academy."  Parker set his glass 
on the table.  "So, Curzon, how did you manage a ride?"

     "Blackmail," the older Trill said.  "I'm blackmailing Benjamin."

     "Actually, if any man at this table can be blackmailed, it'd be you, Old 
Man" Sisko retorted with a chuckle.  "You're the wild one."

     After everyone stopped laughing, Curzon admitted, "Yes, I did have quite a 
time in my youth.  Those days are over with, though.  Well, except for when I go 
to Risa and see Arandis."

     "Somehow I have trouble seeing you keeping up with a Risan."  Parker leaned 
forward in his seat.  "So, seriously, you're going to Earth or something?"

     "Yes, I am."  Curzon nodded.  "Earth's on the way to Trill anyway, and I've 
been exchanging letters with a professor on Earth, Jones, from Cambridge.  He's 
with their history department, and is working on a series of what he calls 
counterfactual historical scenarios and wants my input."

     Chakotay asked, "Counterfactual?"

     "A 'what if', to put it simply," Curzon replied.  "You see, I've been 
around in the Federation diplomatic corps for over seventy years, nearly 
eighty.  Professor Jones is writing a counterfactual scenario based on something 
that happened in the Klingon Empire around 2293, concerning Praxis."

     "Praxis is their homeworld's moon."  Parker seemed to have spoken just to 
hear himself say it.

     "Yes, it is.  Used to be their key energy production facility.  You might 
say they were putting all of their eggs in the same basket.  Praxis had 
everything for them.  Anti-matter generation facilities, dilithium mines and 
refineries, deuterium purification plants.  Contributed about a third of the 
entire Klingon Empire's fuel supply.  Well, it took us a couple years for some 
of our intel people to get wind of what happened, but sometime in 2293 there was 
a near-accident on the moon caused by some bad safety measures.  It was brought 
under control but, well, if it hadn't have..."  Curzon let the sentence trail 
off so he could take a drink of ale.  "It probably would have blown the entire 
moon up."

     The others showed a bit of surprise.  "I can only imagine what that would 
have done to Quo'nos."

     "It would have needed clean-up and some evacuation," Curzon admitted.  
"That's why the Klingons took the hint and moved some of the operations 
elsewhere.  But the real issue is what it would have happened to the Klingon 
economy if they had needed to perform such a large scale clean-up and 
evacuation.  The Klingons were within a year or two of economic collapse twenty 
years ago when they aligned with the Ferengi and became economic dependents.  
Imagine what would have happened if Praxis had exploded."

     "It would have destroyed the entire Klingon Empire," said Chakotay.

     "Well, perhaps."  Curzon took another drink, causing the others to do the 
same, before continuing.  "We discussed it a bit back in the day.  Either the 
Klingons would have had to have gone to war with us while they had the military 
strength to fight, something that would have killed billions but left the 
Klingon Empire destroyed utterly, or..."  Curzon sighed.  "Well, Professor Jones 
is interested in the other route.  The Chancellor at the time, Gorkon, was quite 
liberal for a Klingon leader.  He was eventually assassinated by his own chief 
of staff for his views, but if he had an opening like the destruction of Praxis, 
I believe he might have pursued peace with the Federation.  To cope with the 
disaster the Klingon economy would have to be demilitarized.  Something that 
would require the Federation to demilitarize in turn to remove a threat to the 
Klingons' security.  If that had happened..."

     "...the entire history of the 24th Century would be radically different," 
Sisko finished for him.  "Makes you wonder... where we'd be right now."

     "That it does," Parker agreed.  "But there's no use in putting too much 
thought in what might have been.  Besides, I don't think any of us is sober 
enough to actually think about it too much."

     The others laughed at that.  "Well then..."  Sisko picked up his glass.  "I 
propose a toast, to my good friend Captain Adrian Parker, for his great 
accomplishment this past month in shutting the Orions up and giving them one 
hell of a beating!"  He smiled toward Parker.  "To Captain Parker, one of 
Starfleet's finest."

     Curzon and Chakotay joined the toast, echoing the sentiment "To Captain 
Parker!", causing Parker to blush just a little bit.

 

 

*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

*/17 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

*/ /*

 

     Upon /Saratoga/'s arrival at Utopia Planitia for her scheduled refit, 
Parker was flown by shuttle to McKinley for an appointed meeting with Admiral 
Leyton.  He was escorted by a young enlisted crewman to Leyton's office.  The 
admiral, complete with the now-graying beard Parker had remembered from the last 
time he'd met the man, immediately ordered Parker to be at ease and stood from 
his desk.  "Captain Parker, good to see you."

     "The same to you, Sir."

     "Do you have your things?"

     "I've got them in a storage locker until you give me a new assignment, 
Sir," Parker answered.

     "Ah, well, you'll be seeing that soon enough.  Follow me."

     Leyton led Parker through a side door and into the corridors of the massive 
Starbase.  "How's Ben?"

     "Ben Sisko?  He's doing fine.  He's invited me to come down to New Orleans 
when I get the chance and see his father's bistro.  He spent the entire trip 
from Starbase 419 telling me about how the Siskos are the best cooks in the 
entire city."

     "That's good news.  You know, at first I didn't remember you."

     "Not surprised, Sir," replied Parker.  "I was a third watch command officer 
at the time.  Not very high on the chain."

     "Yes, but then I recalled Captain Sulu insisting you were going to be an 
excellent captain one day.  Looks like she was right."  Leyton led him into a 
turbolift and entered a destination on the control panel.  "I managed to mislead 
the press about your arrival.  I wanted to spare you a media storm."

     "Thank you Sir."

     "After that fight last month, you had half of Starfleet ready to 
court-martial you and the other half wanting to give you a medal."

     "Which half were you?"

     "Which do you think?"  Leyton grinned.  "We've suspected the Orions were 
playing fast and loose with our treaty agreements.  Now you've blown that door 
open.  A lot of people are going to owe their freedom to you, Captain Parker."

     "Just glad I could be of service, Sir."  Parker waited a moment, thinking 
of how to phrase the question, when he asked, "So, Sir, what am I going to get?"

     "Good things come to those who wait, Captain."  The turbolift slowed and 
came to a stop.  The doors opened and, on the other side of what looked like a 
waiting lobby, Parker saw windows out into a berth of the spacedock.  Leyton 
walked up to the window and pointed out just before Parker could walk up close 
enough to look down at what he was indicating.  "So, Captain, what do you think?"

     Parker looked out at what he recognized to be a brand new /Sovereign/-class 
starship.  The /Sovereign/ was a new class, the /U.S.S. Sovereign/ herself only 
commissioned earlier in the year before, equipped with the latest technologies 
Starfleet had to offer.  Perhaps more prestigious than her class, however, was 
the name emblazoned on her upper hull.

     /U.S.S. Enterprise/.  /NCC-1701-D/.

     "She looks good, Sir," Parker responded.

     "Nice to hear you saying that, Captain."  Leyton looked over at him.  
"Because that is your new ship."

     For a moment Parker did not reply, and was not even thinking.  It was a 
stunning thing to hear Leyton speaking those words.  He had, expected, at best, 
one of the /Galaxy/-class Command Cruisers, and really nothing heavier than an 
/Excelsior/ heavy cruiser.  But the /Enterprise/?  "Sir, I didn't..."

     "...didn't expect this?" Leyton finished for him.  "You've become somewhat 
of a public hero, Captain Parker.  The President himself insisted you receive 
this command."

     "I don't know what to say."

     "Well, think on it a bit."  Leyton pointed down one end of the corridor.  
"The airlock's down that way.  Your Executive Officer is already on board the 
ship, waiting to brief you on the details.  Call me later when you're done and 
we'll prepare for the official appointment."

     Leyton turned and walked back to the turbolift, leaving Parker 
dumbfounded.  In Starfleet, to be known as the Captain of the /Enterprise /was 
probably a higher honor than joining the Admiralty.  He would join ranks with 
officers like Chris Pike and Rachel Garrett, not to mention James Kirk himself, 
the epitome of the starship captain.  It was a great responsibility.

     And it was a great opportunity as well.  Parker resolved at that moment he 
was going to make the best of this appointment.  He had to, as he was now thrust 
into the position as the torch-bearer for all of Starfleet.  With his heart 
still thumping from excitement, he walked toward the airlock.

 

 

     /Enterprise/ was a big ship, nearly 800 meters in length, and Parker wasn't 
quite sure where he was supposed to go.  Walking about the ship looking around 
he finally had a young woman from Trill walk up to him, wearing a duty uniform 
with beige color coding, and the gold and black rank pips of a Lieutenant J.G on 
her right collar.  Standing at attention, she asked, "Captain, is there 
something I can do for you?"

     "I'm looking for the ship's Executive Officer, Miss...?"  Parker let the 
sentence drift off to indicate he wanted the woman's name.

     "Right this way, Captain," she replied in a sweet, bubbly voice, obviously 
not getting the hint.  She started leading him down corridors.  "Commander 
Razmara is helping our engineering staff set up the anti-matter pods."

     "And you are?"

     "Lieutenant Jobrie Tevala, Sir," she answered in the same sweet voice.  
"I've been assigned as the weapons officer for second shift."

     Parker nodded and said no more while following the anxious young lady 
through the corridors of /Enterprise/ to the aft section of the ship.

     After a turbolift trip, Jobrie led Parker through the upper engineering 
deck to the main fuel bunker.  It was a sizable room, about the size of a 
shuttle bay, situated two decks away from the ship's dorsal hull in that area.  
The bunkerage was protected structurally by thick armor plate, so as to protect 
it from initial hits and increase the ship's survivability.  Conveyers were 
placed facing the insides of the ship to transport pods to the injection 
chambers that sent the anti-matter into the warp core.  The pods themselves were 
arrayed on trays attached to slings, so they could be tossed out into space 
easily and manually in the event of a possible containment breach.

     A number of officers and enlisted crew were unloading the pods from 
anti-grav transports to trays.  The pods were heavy, about 180 kilograms as 
Parker knew from personal experience, and in most cases each pod required two 
people to lift it.

     That was why Parker was a little surprised to see a single woman, in 
burgundy red duty uniform, carrying a pod all by herself and with only some 
apparent effort.  She had an attractive form, flattered by the form-hugging 
nature of Starfleet uniforms.  Her skin tone was a light bronze, something 
Parker would expect from a Middle Eastern-born human.  Brown eyes looked around 
the tray to make sure the pod was fit securely.  Her black hair was slick and 
short, only long enough to cover a bit of her ears and some of her neck.  Parker 
walked up to her and she turned.  "Commander Razmara?", Parker asked while she 
straighened her back into full attention.  "At ease."

     Razmara relaxed.  "Captain Parker I take it?"

     Parker nodded.  "Captain Adrian Parker."

     "Commander Sophia Razmara," she replied.  She used a forearm to wipe a 
little sweat from her forehead.  "I take it you want the grand tour?"

     "Looking to move in first.  I also wanted to see who else on the command 
staff was available."

     "Well, most are still en route, but there are a couple already here on 
Earth.  They should be up later today."

     Parker nodded.  "Well, that'll do for now."  Seeing Razmara wasn't moving, 
he added, "You're dismissed."  She promptly turned and began walking away to 
resume her work while Parker went to leave.  Before she could reach for another 
pod, Parker immediately turned back to her, having remembered something he 
wanted to ask.  "Say, um, if you don't mind me asking... you're lifting one 
hundred and eighty kilo pods that are probably twice your weight.  How?"

     Without a slight hint of emotion on her face, Razmara brought her right 
hand up and moved back some strands of her black hair to show her right ear.  
Parker received his answer when he saw that the ear didn't end in a blunt shape 
but a sharp point.  "You're a Vulcan?"

     "Half-Vulcan," Razmara replied with some annoyance.  "Anything else Sir?"

     "Oh, nothing."  Parker turned for the last time to leave the fuel bunker.  
"Nothing at all."




     It was later in the day that Parker met Razmara again, on the bridge of the 
/Enterprise/.  He had been looking over the control stations when he heard the 
familiar whooshing sound of the turbolift doors, and turned to see Razmara in 
her full uniform, including the jacket, flanked by two men.  One, a Lieutenant 
Commander with dark brown hair and blue eyes, had a beige uniform top under his 
jacket; the other was a Lieutenant (S.G.) with lighter brown hair and brown eyes 
who wore a light blue one, meaning he was a fighter pilot.  "Commander."  Parker 
nodded at her and the others.  "At ease."

     They relaxed.  "Captain," Razmara began, "this is Commander Adam Dalke, our 
Chief Engineering Officer, and Lieutenant Chris Coleman, the commander of our 
squadron of Wolverine fighters."

     Parker nodded in reply.  "That's all we have for now?"

     "There is also Lieutenant Larrisa, our Sensor Officer," Razmara informed 
him.  "But she is still planetside.  My messages to her that you wished a 
meeting were not answered, so she's not in the apartment Starfleet rented for 
her in San Francisco."

     "Well, then, I suppose we can go track her down, as Admirals Leyton and 
Pressman will be conducting a tour of the ship tomorrow and I want everything 
and everyone ready."  Parker nodded to the others.  "Commander, Lieutenant, an 
honor to meet you.  I'll be seeing you."

     The two men left without saying a word.  Razmara remained behind.  "You 
want me to go with you?  I was raised in San Francisco, I know my way around."

     "That would be wonderful."  Parker settled into his command chair, and 
Razmara sat beside him in her future chair.  "Larrisa doesn't sound like a human 
name.  What race is she?"

     Razmara turned away, seemingly amused.  "You're not going to believe me 
when I tell you."

     "Oh?  What is she?  Cardassian?  Romulan?"

     Razmara shook her head and began to grin.  "Oh, neither.  She's, um.... Edo."

     Parker's expression froze.  His eyes widened a bit from surprise.  "/Edo/?"

     "Yes."

     "As in from the Rubicon system?"

     "Uh huh."

     Parker shook his head.  "Come on."  He stood up.  "I think I know where 
we'll find her."

 

 

     It was about 21:00 local time in San Francisco when Razmara and Parker 
beamed down to track down Larrisa.  Parker had considered just letting it slide, 
but considering what he had discovered about Larrisa he was not willing to give 
her an inch.  He couldn't afford to, not considering the importance of their 
posting.

     The Edo were... unique.  Protected by an unknown entity, or group of 
entities, in orbit over their world, they enjoyed an idyllic existance which 
they devoted to the pursuit of pleasure for themselves and others.  Their 
protectors sustained them where their own meager labor efforts could not match 
their needs, but Edo society had one startling flaw to Parker and many others: 
every crime was capital.  Even for something as meager as stepping over the 
wrong line or breaking an obscure minor law, an Edo was executed with little 
chance for appeal.  The Edo thus lived in a paradox of love and fear for their 
society: they loved their effortless existance and the constant pleasure of 
their lives while they were terrified of their rulers and those who enforced the 
law.

     The Edo had welcomed Federation tourists with open-arms, but always 
insisted on their laws being followed.  Because only a handful of thrill-seekers 
were willing to risk death over a cultural /faux pas/ or obscure law, most 
settled for Risa over Rubicon.  This had changed after the Edo established 
enclaves for Federation tourists to visit and agreed to grant Federation 
citizens extra-territorial rights within said enclaves.  In return, Federation 
citizens could not leave the enclaves without signing a waiver accepting 
responsibility for committing crimes and earning the death penalty.  Though Risa 
was still the preferred vacation spot for most Federation citizens of sufficient 
means, Rubicon was also popular now for the particular ways and means that the 
Edo had created over the years for maximizing pleasure.

     Very few Edo were well-equipped for living off their homeworld.  Most were 
raised from childhood to be dependents of their society.  They were incapable of 
anything more.  But a handful did manage to make ends meet.  Restless souls 
incompatible with the idle bliss of Rubicon and sometimes those who chose living 
a worker's life in the Federation over dying from the syringe of a police 
executioner on Rubicon.  Apparently Larrisa was one of them.  Before coming 
down, Parker had noted that her record was surprisingly good for an Edo in 
Starfleet.  She had good discipline and performance marks and the approval of 
her prior COs.  Of course, it was also marked that in most postings she had been 
seeing shipmates of both genders in a romantic fashion, and Parker wasn't upset 
over that since she had shown discretion in those relationships (to be upset 
would be damned hypocritical since he had been romantic with his own fair number 
of female shipmates).

     Still, she was Edo; in her private time she took to the pursuits expected 
of someone from Rubicon.  Razmara had directed him to a club about ten blocks 
from Larrisa's apartment and had remained tight-lipped about how she knew of 
it.  Parker had known to expect Larrisa's presence simply from it's name; 
"Forbidden Desires".  Sex clubs were common in urban areas across the Federation 
with the exception of orthodox religious colonies.  As far as Parker knew, they 
weren't the type of place Starfleet personnel would openly frequent.  That was 
enough explaination for why the bouncer at the door was so shocked to see two 
Starfleet officers in uniform approach.  Parker told him he was looking for 
Larrisa and described her and he was directed inside with Razmara.

     It was soon obvious that they were very out of place in their uniforms.  
Most of the attendees were in skimpier clothing.  Mini-skirts and bodices or 
halter tops for females and muscle shirts and shorts for the men.  The main room 
was a dance floor and apparently no different from any other non-sex club.  
People of young age, few seeming older than their twenties (for humans), were 
dancing about the floor.  Most were human, but Parker thought he spotted a 
couple of Trill and a Vulcanoid, probably a Rigelian.

     Razmara was blushing as she walked alongside Parker.  "This place hasn't 
changed much in eighteen years."

     "You've been here before."  It was obvious Parker wasn't asking a question.

     "We all have times in our lives we regret," confessed Razmara.  "Of course, 
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the hell out of myself at the time."

     "Of course."  Parker looked away from the central stage, where a handful of 
women were topless and gyrating against poles while being groped by male and 
female partners.  The sooner he got out of here, the better.  He walked up to 
the bartender, a man in his fifties or so who smirked at Parker upon seeing him 
approaching.  "You've got an Edo girl here, name's Larrisa.  Know where she is?"

     The bartender shrugged.  "Sorry, I wouldn't know.  I bet she's Starfleet 
though, seeing you here."

     "Does that matter?"

     "Depends.  These kids...."  The old man pointed out to the partygoers.  
"They're just here to have some fun.  Including anyone here from Starfleet.  
They don't deserve to get into trouble because some Puritan CO decides to take 
offense at their private lives."

     Razmara copied the bartender's smirk perfectly.  "What makes you think we'd 
punish her?"

     "Well, why else would you be here but to check up on her?  I mean, an Edo 
girl, they get pretty wild if you know what I mean."  The barkeep's smirk turned 
into more of a grin.  "An Edo in Starfleet?  Hell, you people would plant a 
camera on her if you thought you'd get away with it.  Don't think I don't know 
that.  I was a Starfleet Marine, served for twenty years.  Actually met Admiral 
Chekov once...."

     "We really don't need to hear stories," Parker cut in.  "Where is Larrisa?"

     "Damned if I know.  That's the funny thing about some of these aliens, they 
look exactly like humans."

     Parker was about to speak when he noticed that Razmara was no longer 
standing beside him.  She had slipped down the bar and was standing beside a 
redhead and talking to her.  Parker walked up to get into the conversation.

     The redhead saw him coming and walked off.  "Hope I didn't scare her off," 
Parker said to Razmara after seeing her annoyed expression.

     "No."  Razmara shook her head.  "She recognized Larrisa.  She's in the back 
with one of the fetish clubs."

     "Oh."  Parker turned back toward the door.  "Well, maybe we should go then."

     "You wanted to track her down."  Razmara crossed her arms.  "We're here and 
you might as well finish the job.  Better for you to know of any problems she 
has now than after we ship out."

     Parker did not reply, conceding the argument.  He followed Razmara to one 
of the hallways leading to the back.  They went through a beaded curtain and 
were in a room with a number of onlookers, in various stages of undress, 
arranged in a semi-circle around a central stage.  There were leather cables 
suspended from the ceiling and tied around the wrists of a young woman, holding 
her light-skinned arms at eighty degree angles over her head.  They could not 
see most of her body because there was a man in front of and behind her.  It was 
quite clear to the two officers just what was going on.  Furthermore, Parker was 
irritated to recognize the woman's face from her record; it was Larrisa.  She 
was groaning loudly and an expression of intense pleasure was on her angelic 
face, both men holding her close to them and obviously enjoying themselves as well.

     A tan-skinned woman in a leather dominatrix lingerie, the kind that 
supported but did not cover the breasts, walked up to them.  "Sorry, no military 
fetishists here.  But if either of...."

     "Disgusting," muttered Razmara before stepping back out through the curtain.

     The dominatrix flashed a grin to Parker, showing sparkling white teeth and 
a couple of vampire teeth prosthetics, undoubtedly for effect.  "So, you two 
aren't here for fun, I see.  But why else would you come back here?"

     With a rather venomous tone, Parker answered, "When Larrisa finishes her 
little performance, tell her Captain Parker expects to see her in his office at 
0600 sharp."

     "Of course."  The woman gave Parker a lookover.  "You know, with a scowl 
and build like that, you could make a good domination model."

     "No thank you."  Parker stomped back out through the curtains, not 
responding to the dominatrix's follow up shout of "Come back if you're ever 
interested!"

     Parker didn't catch up with Razmara until they got past the front door 
again.  As they walked down a flight of stairs to the ground level and a waiting 
military-rented aircar, Razmara shook her head and said, in utter disgust, "How 
the hell did someone like that end up in Starfleet?"

     Parker's answer was short and sweet: "Political correctness."

 

 

*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

*/18 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

 

 

     The office built into the /Enterprise/'s bridge deck was on the 
starboard-bow quarter.  It was of modest size, mostly consisting of a desk, a 
pair of chairs on the other side, and space for the CO to put personal effects.  
Parker chose to place a poster montage of the American nation's first nuclear 
carrier, also named /Enterprise/, on his wall.  Across the bridge deck in the 
conference room was a similar brass model of the carrier and it's earlier cousin 
from World War II, as well as ships named /Enterprise/ from the rest of human 
history up to the /Enterprise/-/C/, an /Ambassador/-class ship (originally built 
as a battleship but now classed as a large cruiser) that had been decommissioned 
in 2362.

     Parker was reviewing a schematic of the /Enterprise/ when the door swished 
open.  Larrisa entered, wearing her uniform jacket over the blue uniform of the 
science-related branches.  Her figure, obscured when he saw her the previous 
night, was a nice one.  She was slim and her uniform did not do much to subdue 
the attractive curves on her posterior and chest.  Her long blond hair was 
well-kept and now pulled up into a ponytail.  Larrisa's blue eyes stared 
forward, not directly making contact with him, and Parker found her stance at 
attention to be flawless.  Certainly not something he would expect from someone 
raised on a planet completely lacking in discipline.  "Lieutenant Larrisa 
reporting as ordered, Sir," she said to him in an emotionless voice, a voice not 
as high as Parker expected.

     He waited a moment.  Parker wanted to see how well she held her stance.  
When five seconds passed and she had not even blinked yet, Parker nodded.  "At 
ease, Lieutenant.  Sit down."  While she sat, Parker wondered just how it was 
possible for an Edo to be /that/ disciplined as their reputation seemed to speak 
against it.  Furthermore it didn't jive with his mental image of her in the club 
tied up and having sex with two men.  That was the action of a wild and 
undisciplined girl seeking pleasure, not of a professional military woman.

     But she had been doing that very thing yet had been flawless in her posture 
and stance while at attention; certainly she was professional in her manner.  
Parker drew in a breath and began to speak.  "You were right on time, 
Lieutenant.  I like that."

     "I try to be perfect, Sir."

     "So your record says.  Your COs have all given you top marks.  I can see 
why Operations assigned you here.  But I have some concerns."

     Larrisa's expression was cold.  "This is about last night."

     "Wearing that uniform means accepting a code of behavior, even when you're 
not in it."  Parker frowned at her.  "That was unacceptable."

     "Permission to speak freely?"

     After considering a refusal, Parker nodded at her.  "Granted."

     "To be frank, Sir, what I do in my private time is none of your damned 
business," Larrisa said coldly.  "In fact, I'll point out that nobody knew I was 
even in Starfleet until you showed up.  Had you trusted me, and waited for me to 
report - and I would have seen that message the Commander left - they would have 
thought I was some Edo girl passing through.  So if my actions caused 
Starfleet's reputation to be tarnished, it's only because you gave me away.  And 
I'll point out that you didn't do this to any of the other officers on the 
ship.  You did it to me because I'm from Rubicon and you don't trust me."

     Parker wanted to retort but could not.  She was right.  He had no reason to 
hunt her down personally and had done so because he didn't trust her to be the 
right material for his crew.  "Well spoken, Lieutenant."  Parker folded his 
hands on the table.  "You're correct, it would have been better if I had not 
come.  But I did, and the question is now raised about your personal behavior."

     "My personal behavior on duty is the same as any other officer's, Sir.  
Off-duty and on-ship, it'll be the same as well."  Larrisa was clearly upset as 
she continued.  "Sir, I get to go planetside about twice a year and that's just 
my average in the five years since I graduated from the Academy.  It's been 
fourteen months since I was last planetside, Sir.  All of my off-days since were 
on military starbases and I remained on inactive duty, not full leave.  I did 
this because it was the only way I was going to finish my advanced sensor 
qualifications and get my promotion."  She leaned forward.  "Captain, I've been 
training for two years to get this posting.  I'm not going to do you or the crew 
wrong.  I know what you're thinking.  I'm an Edo.  My discipline will waver as I 
yearn for the pleasures of life, the pleasures I got in ample quantity back on 
Rubicon.  You think I'll be sleeping around, but I won't, Sir."

     "You say that, but according to your record," Parker pointed on his screen, 
"you've had romantic liaisons with other personnel in every posting you've had."

     "Sir, I'm not the only Starfleet officer to see a shipmate while off-duty," 
Larrisa pointed out.  "In three cases, they came on to me first and it was only 
a couple of times.  In another, she was my roommate and we actually had a solid 
relationship going.  In not a single case were any of them working with me 
directly while on-duty."  Larrisa shook her head.  "Sir, what am I supposed to 
do?  How do I convince you to trust me?"

     "Show me that you can resist your impulses.  Why were you at that club last 
night?"

     "Because I hadn't done anything like that in three years," Larrisa 
replied.  "Because it was nearby.  It's not like I went there in my uniform, 
Sir.  I was in civilian clothing and never mentioned my occupation.  I just went 
to wind down."

     "You call depraved sex winding down?"

     "Sir, depraved sex is the kind of weirdness that goes on in the other 
room.  People who submit to being tortured while having sex or other demented 
things.  They only tied me up, and there's nothing that weird about...."  
Larrisa shook her head.  "Sir, this is not going to get us anywhere.  I promise 
you I am not going to do anything to bring you or the crew shame.  I will 
maintain perfect discipline."

     Parker found her expression and her explaination convincing.  But there was 
something else he wanted to know.  "Lieutenant... why are you here?"

     "Because the /Enterprise/ is where careers are made, Sir."

     "No, you misunderstand me."  Parker finished shaking his head.  "Why are 
you here?  In Starfleet?  Why did you leave your idyllic paradise for the 
military life?"

     Larrisa bit on her tongue for a moment.  "Idyllic paradise?  No.  What kind 
of paradise is one where you die for any infraction, no matter how small?"  
Larrisa looked down.  "I lost my father when I was eight.  He and my mother got 
in a fight and he lashed out and slapped her.  She... she didn't even mind, but 
he broke the law.  So I had to watch as they put the syringe in his arm and 
killed him."  Parker, for a moment, thought he saw a tear start to come down the 
young woman's right eye.  "My mother wasn't the same after that.  Oh, there were 
other men to pleasure her, but she loved my father.  She missed him so much that 
every day she cried for him and died a little inside.  So when I was seventeen 
and of age to live on my own, she just walked into a forbidden area one day.  
Instant death, which is what she wanted."  Larrisa's fists clinched.  "Do you 
know how many Edo live to see fifty years of life?  One out of every ten 
thousand.  Over the years, only a small handful can avoid breaking the law.  
It's simply a matter of time before you slip up somewhere.  Almost all Edo die 
from the syringe because of that little fact.  Some do it on purpose, without 
friends or loved ones to give them any reason to live."  Larrisa smirked.  "Our 
elders say that pleasure is a good enough reason to live.  But it isn't.  There 
is more to life than physical pleasure.  Humans taught me that, you know.  It 
was the strangest thing, staying in an enclave and finding humans cherishing the 
simplest pleasures.  Little things that we considered a basic and daily pleasure 
were so sensual and pleasing to humans that it was... vexing.  It took me a 
couple years to realize it, but by the time my mother died I knew the secret of 
Humans."

     "And that is?"

     Larrisa smiled and continued.  "You cherish pleasure so greatly because you 
do not always experience it.  You do not spend your days doing nothing but 
having fun.  You work, you toil, you fight amongst yourselves and others day in 
and day out.  No Edo, growing up, wants to work.  Yet you enjoy pleasures 
greater than we do.  After realizing that, I knew there was more to life.  
Pleasure alone is not a good reason to live.  It is transitory.  If it is 
experienced too often, it's effect is lost.  The extraordinary becomes 
ordinary.  I wanted to experience what you knew.  I wanted to work and toil, to 
suffer pain, so that I could feel the same about pleasure as you did.  And after 
coming to Earth, being schooled, and entering Starfleet Academy, I came to 
understand life like no Edo knows it.  Life was never meant to be a short-term 
thing filled with pleasure and ended by execution.  There are so many worlds to 
find, things to see and do, and you can't do that if you remain an ignorant 
member of idyllic society, spending each day doing simple tasks and enjoying 
routine pleasures.  You have to push yourself beyond what you are at first.  You 
have to improve yourself.  That's why I'm here.  I joined Starfleet to better 
myself, Captain.  I joined Starfleet to make myself a better person, and I'm not 
doing it for my people but for myself.  As far as I'm concerned, the Edo don't 
deserve to better themselves unless they are willing to work for it."

     Parker nodded slowly.  He finally stood.  "Lieutenant Larrisa, go ahead and 
report to Commander Razmara.  Welcome aboard."

     Larrisa's reply was a vigorous nod.  "Thank you, Captain."  She stood 
immediately and went straight out the door.

 

 

     It was exactly 0900 when Admiral Leyton and Admiral Pressman appeared onto 
the bridge from the rear-port turbolift.  Parker and Razmara were waiting, 
flanked on one side by Lieutenants Larrisa and Coleman and on the other by 
Commander Dalke.

     Behind there were five other individuals, four men and three women.  One of 
the women was a redhead with a Marine's olive brown uniform on instead of 
Starfleet standard and with the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel.  The 
second was a human woman, with pale complexion, gray eyes, and short-cut dark 
hair.  The third was another redhead, her long hair rolled up into a bun to be 
kept regulation, with a Slavic facial appearance and blue eyes.  Of the males, 
one was dark-haired, another had red-hued brown hair, the third had an auburn 
shade of hair, and the fourth, the tallest one, having sandy-blond hair; all 
four having their hair cut in similar military style.

     Leyton ordered the assembled to be at ease.  "Captain Parker, I hope your 
new assignment is coming along well?"

     "We'll be ready to head out by the end of next week, Admiral.  I'm only 
waiting for the rest of my crew."

     "You'll have them on time," Leyton promised.  "Well, Captain, I'm sure you 
know Admiral Pressman?"

     "Admiral."  Parker nodded and accepted Pressman's offer of a handshake.  
"I've never met you, but I served under Captain Rosenbaum on the /Persephone/ 
and he spoke highly of you."

     "Good to hear.  Captain, we're here because you're going to be assigned 
directly to my command in Special Operations."

     "Special Operations?"  Parker crossed his arms.  "Sir, is that so wise?  
/Enterprise/ is going to attract a lot of attention wherever she goes."

     "Not all special ops are cloak and dagger, Captain," Pressman reminded 
him.  "And you mistake the name.  While you may be called upon to perform the 
classical definition of special military operations, the Special Ops division of 
Starfleet also handles non-conventional operations like diplomatic escort.  You 
might say you'll be called upon to present the flag wherever we need it.  And 
you won't be doing it alone.  /Enterprise/ will be the central vessel in a 
division of ships.  These are your new peers."  Pressman brought forward the man 
with light-brown hair.  "This is Captain Patrick Phillips, the commander of the 
/Intrepid/."  The two captains exchanged handshakes.  "Captain Mark Berger, 
/U.S.S. Minneapolis/."  Again Parker shook hands.  "Captain Drake Irvine, 
/U.S.S. Hood/."

     "Captain Irvine, it's been a long time."  Parker looked up at the three 
inch-taller Englishman, exchanging handshakes with him.

     "Captain Parker, it is my pleasure."  Drake stepped aside and began to 
shake hands with the others.

     The other officers came by and more handshakes were exchanged.  "Captain 
Marina Lenarova, /U.S.S. Great Lakes/, Commander Christopher O'Farrell, /U.S.S. 
Avenger/, and Commander Misty Greene, /U.S.S. Valiant/."

     When the naval officers were by, it was the Marine's turn.  Parker now got 
a better look at her and noticed her nose ridges and earing; she was a Bajoran.  
He had met a few before.  They were a religious, spiritual people on the other 
end of the quadrant, near the Cardassian border.  The Cardassians had subjugated 
them and occuped Bajor for decades, raping worlds held by the Bajorans for 
resources for their war machine until the Federation expelled them ten years ago 
during the Cardassian War.  Bajor had been integrated into the Federation a year 
later by a plebiscite.  It was contested in some regions of the Bajoran 
Homeworld as a number of religious extremists and xenophobes claimed that the 
Federation had fixed the vote, or that the vote was tainted by the miserable 
state of Bajor at the time.  There was a more dignified independence movement to 
give credibility to that latter claim but most Bajorans were content to remain a 
part of the Federation.

     Pressman's voice broke through Parker's deliberations.  "This is Lieutenant 
Colonel Kira Nerys.  She's going to command the battalion of Marines assigned to 
/Enterprise/ and her companion ships."

     "Colonel," Parker said to her, offering his hand.

     "Captain."  Kira's reply was cold and her idea of a handshake very stiff 
and unfriendly.

     "Captain Parker, we'll have your first deployment orders by the end of next 
week," Leyton promised him.  "In the meantime, why don't you get to know each 
other."

     "Of course.  I'll be seeing you later, Captain."  Leyton walked to the 
turbolift and was followed by Pressman.

 

 

     There were two mess halls on the /Enterprise/.  The primary one was near 
the back of the ship's primary hull about five decks above the navigational 
deflector.  The officer's lounge was closer to the bridge.  The lounge attendant 
was sometimes military and sometimes not.  In this case, he was a civilian, a 
dark-haired man in his early thirties with an accent that sounded Dutch.  He was 
in a long-sleeved jacket and trousers, both the same shade of navy blue, and had 
a disarming smile as he welcomed Parker at the door.  "Captain, a pleasure."

     "Yes, Mister..."

     "Vanbeggine.  My name is Arno Vanbeggine.  Please, sit down."  Arno showed 
them to the table.  "I wasn't expecting you quite so soon."

     "We're just looking for some drinks."  Parker walked over to the table and 
sat down at the head.  His four subordinate officers took seats farther down to 
allow the others to sit.  "So, we're going to be a glorified flag-bearer."

     "Or so it seems."  O'Farrell cracked his knuckles before continuing to 
speak in his Australian accent.  "I wouldn't be surprised if we occasionally get 
some action though.  It's good to know we've got you on our side, Sir."

     "And it's good to know you actually know something about me at all," Parker 
replied with a grin.  The others chuckled a little.  "Seriously, I never 
expected to get something like this."

     "Of course not."  Phillips grinned widely.  "Nobody ever expects it."

     "Maybe they'll let us take a cruise by the Orions t' scare the piss out of 
'em," O'Farrell chuckled.

     "Oh no..."  Parker shook his head, snickering.  "Operations is going to 
keep me well away from the Orions."

     A sly grin crossed Misty's face.  "A pity.  Shooting up Orion raiders 
sounds fun."

     "That it does!"  O'Farrell looked past Berger toward Arno, who was behind 
the counter.  "Say, have any of that good Euro stuff?!"

     Razmara looked across the table at him.  "Drinking on duty, Commander?"

     "Just a bit, not gonna hurt anyone."

     Arno came from around the corner with glasses and a pitcher.  "This is the 
finest beer in the entire quadrant," he declared.  "It's brewed not too far from 
where I grew up in Belgium."

     "Hmm..."

     "I won't be having any," Larrisa said.

     Arno looked over the table and Drake turned him down.  Razmara also turned 
down the offer, followed by Dalke and Marina.  Kira's refusal was obvious from 
her failure to pay attention.  Misty seemed to think of it for a minute before 
accepting some.  The rest gladly accepted glasses with the rich brown liquid.  
"If you need anything, I'll be behind the counter unpacking!"  He turned and 
walked away, giving a second look to Larrisa beforehand.

     Only Larrisa noticed it since everyone else turned their attention back to 
each other.  Misty spoke first, smiling and joking, "So, O'Farrell, how did a 
guy with an Irish name pick up such a sexy Australian accent?"

     "Earned it, sweetheart.  Grew up in Oz.  You?"

     "Me?  I come from the exotic, ice cold tundra of Minnesota."

     O'Farrell nodded.  Berger looked over at Misty and asked, "From the Twin 
Cities?"

     "Around there."

     "I hate to interrupt the chat, but let's get a little business finished 
first."  Parker finished a drink and let it settle for a moment, admiring the 
rich taste, before he swallowed.  "According to the admirals, I'm in charge, but 
I'll come out and admit right now that I've never been a situation that demanded 
direct command of several ships.  I'm going to be relying on all six of you to 
make sure that whatever we're sent to do, we do right."

     "Of course," Phillips agreed.

     The other five commanders nodded in agreement.  Parker took a drink before 
continuing.  "I figure that once we're out, we will meet regularly to discuss 
any particulars of the operations.  I don't know if any of you want to bring 
over all of your command crew, but I was going to recommend we hold large-scale 
meetings of all command staff, so everyone gets a chance to make their voice heard."

     "Not t' bad," O'Farrell agreed.  "But, for Miss Greene and I, that's a bit 
hard t' do.  Our command crew makes up about a quarter of our officer complement."

     "Well, exceptions can be made."  Parker nodded in their direction.  "We'll 
try to get together every couple of weeks or whenever it is deemed necessary.  I 
have a feeling that they're not going to use us as an exclusive diplomatic 
courier service."

     There were nods of agreement all around.  "According to Operations, we'll 
be shipping out at the end of next week," Razmara said.  "A couple of VIPs for 
an initial flight and that's it.  Then Pressman decides where we're needed the 
most."

     "Well, that sounds nice and simple."  Parker went to speak again when he 
heard the door to the lounge swish open.  The others turned to the door and he 
turned back as well.  Someone had walked in wearing a Starfleet uniform, beige 
in color and with the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Commander.  He looked human 
but upon a second glance he seemed too pale to be alive.  His skin had a slight 
gold texture to it.  The precision with which he stood at attention was inhuman 
and there was not a single hint of emotion on his face.  "Commander?"

     "Captain Parker, may I presume?"  The commander's voice was flat-toned and 
constant, not betraying any kind of emotion.

     "Yes?"

     "I am Lieutenant Commander Data.  I have been assigned to the /Enterprise/ 
as your Operations Officer."

     "Data..."  Parker nodded slowly.  "Yes, I've heard of you.  Artificial 
android.  Well, come, take a seat."  He showed Data to the table and offered him 
the empty seat beside Razmara.  "These are..."

     Without hesitation Data rattled off the name, rank, and position of each 
occupant at the table.  Everyone stared at him as he did this while Parker 
watched, not certain on whether he should be amused or irritated.  "Well, 
Commander, it's good to see you're so well-prepared," Parker said, finally 
deciding to remain neutral in tone.  "We were just discussing command issues.  
And since you're here, I might as well assign you to the task of coordinating 
command-level meetings in our division.  Do you see a problem in this, Mister Data?"

     "Not at all, Sir.  It is nominally the place of the ship's operations..."

     "Thank you," Parker quickly replied, cutting off Data before he could 
continue.  "Let's move on to other matters."

     The conversation re-commenced and it quickly became clear that it was 
limited in interest to the five commanding officers plus Colonel Kira.  Dalke 
was the first to field a question to Data.  "So you're Doctor Soong's creation?"

     "I was built by Doctor Soong, yes."

     "That's cool."  Dalke nodded while taking a drink.  "Yeah, I did a couple 
classes in robotics back in the Academy.  Doc Soong's work took up, God, I think 
it was about twenty, twenty-five percent of the course material."

     "Twenty-three point nine four six percent, to be exact."

     Dalke nodded in agreement.  Coleman and Larrisa exchanged annoyed glances.  
Razmara remained intent on the conversation and was a bit startled when Data 
turned to her and asked, "Sir, if I may ask a question?"

     "Shoot."

     "Your record says that you are half-Vulcan, yet you do not have the posture 
or behavior that comes from a Vulcan upbringing.  How is this possible?"

     "Maybe because I /didn't/ /have/ a Vulcan upbringing."

     "Fascinating."  Data continued processing the larger conversation amongst 
Parker and the COs while saying to Razmara, "This is the first time I have 
encountered someone of Vulcan heritage who has not been brought up as one.  
Considering the rank of your father's family, you are a statistical anomaly."

     Razmara's fists clenched.  "A statistical anomaly."  The tone of her voice 
was bitter and immediately drew the attention of the other /Enterprise/ officers.

     Data did not seem to get the hint.  "Yes.  According to my research, all 
human-Vulcan pairings among the Vulcan upper classes have produced children 
raised as Vulcans.  The social conditions that lead to this are complex but..."

     "I don't care about the social conditions."  The tone had grown nastier.

     "Your father Stovuk was the patriarch of a leading Vulcan family.  Their 
estimated material wealth puts them in the top thousand wealthiest families..."

     "Data, I don't care!", Razmara muttered harshly.

     Data blinked.  "Fascinating.  I would not have expected you to have 
absolutely no interest in your place in Vulcan society..."

     "/Shut up!/"

     Razmara's shout drew the attention of everyone in the lounge.  She didn't 
really care.  She was glaring intently at Data.  Her dark eyes and the 
expression on her face was one of anger and even hate.  "Commander Data, you 
/will not/ bring up my father or his family again, /do you understand/?!"

     "Yes Commander."

     "In fact, around me, do not bring up the Vulcans /at all/."  Razmara drew 
in a breath and rubbed at her head.  A small headache began to develop in her 
forehead.  Finally she stood up and went over to the bar, where Arno was still 
unpacking drinks.  She motioned to him and he handed her a glass and took out a 
bottle.

     "Looks like you touched some nerves, eh mate?"  O'Farrell smirked at Data.  
"Gotta be careful, we're not all emotionless like you."

     "Chris!"  Misty glared at him.  "You're being a bit too blunt, don't you 
think?"

     O'Farrell shrugged at that, causing Marina to smirk as well.  "Well, Cap'n, 
what were we talkin' about again?"

     Parker sighed and resumed the conversation.

 

 

     "You must be easier on the android."

     Razmara looked up from a glass of light brown tequila.  Arno was standing 
on the other side, looking over a bottle of green liquid.  "Easy?"

     Arno's head turned.  "Yes.  He does not understand human emotion very well 
and is naturally inquisitive."

     "Well, he can be inquisitive with someone else."

     There was no initial response from Arno.  He nodded slowly for a moment and 
promptly set the bottle on the bar.  "So, Commander, what wound did he open?"  
When Razmara looked at him blankly, Arno added, "He obviously said something 
that brought back unpleasant memories.  What was it?"

     "None of your business."

     "And the scar on your ear?"

     Razmara stared at Arno for a moment and then reached up toward her right 
ear.  There was indeed a scar there, a line of rough and lighter tissue running 
from the front-edge of her ear tip to about a quarter of the way to the back.  
"An accident."

     "It looks like someone tried to cut it off."  Arno picked up the bottle of 
tequila on the bar and poured a little more into Razmara's glass.  "Go ahead, 
take another drink.  Taken in moderation, the alcohol will ease the pain... and 
make it easier for you to speak of what's in your heart."

     Razmara smirked and took a drink.  She set the glass back down, a little 
hard, and her hands clenched into fists.  "What does it matter?"

     "Well..."  Arno put his hands together on the table.  "I'm thinking that a 
little girl who hates herself, or should I say her Vulcan side, might try 
something so naive as to mutilate her ears to look human."  When Razmara didn't 
respond, Arno asked, "What do you have against Vulcans?  Why do you abhor them?"

     "Because they were trying to hurt me and my mother," Razmara hissed.  She 
grabbed the glass and took the last gulp left in it before slamming it back 
down.  "Between what that Vulcan bastard did to my mother and what his bastard 
family did to mine, I think I have a lot of good reason to /hate/ Vulcans.  The 
fact that I can tolerate their presence is a big concession on my part."

     Arno took the glass and went to put it away.  "Well, I can't make you tell 
me the rest.  But if you ever want to...."  He looked back over from his 
receptable for dirty glasses and found that Razmara had already walked out of 
the lounge.  He sighed and went back to work.

 

 

     The officers had adjourned from the lounge and were heading back to their 
various ships.  Arno watched them go while finishing on setting up a shelf with 
non-alcoholic drinks.  He put the last keg in place and turned to find Data 
standing at the bar.  "Mister Data, what can I get for you?"

     "I do not require anything for sustenance."

     Arno nodded in understanding.  "Yes, you are right.  So, it must now be 
asked, why did you come to me?"

     "I am afraid I upset the Commander by mentioning her Vulcan heritage.  I 
did not know she was so upset with her people."

     Arno nodded.  "Did you overhear her speaking with me?"

     "Yes.  I have very effective auditory reception, with an effective..."

     Data stopped talking when Arno raised his hand.  "First things first, 
Commander Data.  That gets annoying."

     The android seemed perplexed.  "What does?"

     "You were about to rattle on with the precise nature of your hearing.  You 
don't have to give a precise answer for every single question you're asked."  
Arno pulled a stool up and sat down on it.  "Sit down, Commander, and let me 
explain a few more things to you."

     Data slid right into a chair on the other side.  Arno leaned over the bar.  
"You have to work on your people skills.  Learn to read the emotions of others."

     "I cannot.  I do not have emotions."

     "Well, we'll work on that.  But the case in point..."  Arno pointed over to 
the table.  "Commander Razmara gave you a number of warnings that you were 
treading in the wrong direction.  And you didn't bother to pick up on those 
warnings.  That is why she's mad at you, Commander.  You kept prattling on, 
digging in, and you hurt her.  You brought back painful memories."

     Data seemed to consider Arno's words for a moment.  "I cannot see any 
problem in what you have said.  I did not understand the Commander's feelings 
when they were quite obvious.  Will you help me learn to read human emotions 
better, Mister Vanbeginne?"

     "Of course.  And..."  Arno clicked his tongue and pointed at Data.  "Call 
me Arno."




     A loud thud echoed in the /Enterprise/ gym and turned a number of heads.  
Standing at a destroyed punching bag, in olive-colored sports bra and shorts, 
Razmara howled angrily and turned, bringing up her foot in a roundhouse kick 
that tossed the ripped-up bag off of it's hook and spilling sand onto the floor.

     "Um, Commander..."  A young dark-skinned human walked up beside her.  "Are 
you okay?"

     "No," Razmara huffed.  "This is a cheap piece of crap."

     "Ma'am, that one was designed for human use.  It wasn't meant for a Vulcan."

     The young man grimaced when Razmara's lips curled into an angry snarl.  
Before she could rant at the enlisted man, Parker walked up behind her.  
"Commander Razmara, let's go this way."

     Razmara bit into her lip.  She let Parker put an arm on her bare shoulder 
and pull her away from the others.  When they were a safe distant out of 
earshot, he turned back to her and crossed his arms.  "What was that about?"

     "Blowing steam, Captain."

     "You looked like you were going to punch that man's head clear off."

     Razmara looked down.  "Yeah, I suppose I did.  But I wouldn't have."

     "You know..."  Parker took a seat on a bench, prompting Razmara to take the 
one beside him.  "I've been looking at your record recently.  Virtually spotless."

     "I already know what the blemish is."

     "Yes.  Your ability to work with Vulcans needs work."  Parker noted with 
amusement Razmara's sudden huff.  "A lot of work."

     "I've worked fine with Vulcans before, Captain."

     "But only when they didn't have anything to do with you.  Every time a 
Vulcan so much as tries to socialize with you, you have a noted tendency to 
cause fights."

     Razmara "harumphed" again.  "The Vulcan idea of socializing is to remind me 
of my blood and try to convince me to live a life of pure logic.  They don't 
take no for an answer and instead press for logical reasons for me to deny being 
half-Vulcan."

     "And do you have any?"

     "What do you think?"  Razmara crossed her arms over her chest.

     "I think you bit Commander Data's head off."

     "That'll teach him to pry."

     "And you made a scene."  Parker sighed and shook his head.  "You know, I 
understand if you have something in your past you'd rather not talk about, but 
it's not going to do you any good to keep it bottled up inside forever."

     "Yes, well, that's my option."  Razmara stood up.  "Anything else you'd 
like to say to me, Sir?"

     "There is."  Parker grinned slyly.  "The next time you feel like hitting 
something that hard, go to a holodeck."

     Razmara matched his grin.  "Of course, Sir."

     Parker stood and watched her walk away for a moment before stepping toward 
the door and heading out into one of the ship's hallways.  He took about five 
steps before his commbadge beeped.  He tapped it.  "Parker here."

     Data answered.  "Captain, a Lieutenant Hamblin has arrived on the bridge 
and wishes to report to you."

     "I'm on my way."  Parker took a turn into a turbolift and rode up to the 
bridge deck.  He stepped out onto the bridge and found Data standing near the 
rear with another, younger man with a tanned complexion.  Parker recognized the 
young man's facial features immediately, even though he'd never met Lieutenant 
Hamblin before.  The name, however, was enough.  "Lieutenant James Hamblin 
Junior?"  He offered his hand to the young man.

     "Reporting for duty, Captain," Hamblin replied with a definitive Londoner 
accent.  "It's an honor to serve on the /Enterprise/."

     "I feel the same way."  Parker allowed himself a grin.  "I served for a 
short time under your father when I was fresh out of the Academy.  You look like 
a chip off the old block."

     "Thank you, Sir."

     "Chief Navigational Officer, I take it?"

     "Yes."

     "Good."  Parker put a hand on Hamblin's shoulder.  "I never got to know 
Captain Hamblin personally, just by reputation.  Going by that alone, well, I'm 
sure you're going to be a fine addition to this crew."

     The young man nodded again.  "Thank you, Sir."

     "Go ahead and get settled into your quarters.  Commander Data?"  Parker 
looked over at the android.  "Please show Lieutenant Hamblin to his room."

     "Yes Captain."

     Data escorted Hamblin off the bridge, leaving Parker alone.  He walked up 
to the command chair and eased himself into it.  The viewscreen was offline and 
most of the stations were disengaged.  Even without the bridge being active, 
Parker felt thrilled just to be sitting in this chair.  The captain's chair of 
the /Enterprise/; the pinnacle of any Starfleet officer's career.  Parker 
imagined the great commanders of prior /Enterprise/s feeling as he did.  Knowing 
the great legacy they were inheriting and feeling that weight on their shoulders.

     Parker stood up again and walked toward the back of the bridge.  Stopping 
beside the tactical station, he looked back over the bridge.  He had entered 
Starfleet because he believed in the Federation and the need to protect it.  He 
had trained as a military officer first and foremost.  Yet there was something 
about the name /Enterprise/ that made it transcend military excellence.  The 
spirit he felt here was probably the same that inspired the motto inscribed on 
the ship's dedication plaque, a long-standing Starfleet tradition: /To boldly go 
where no one has gone before.../

     "Exploring?  In this ship?"  Parker shook his head.  /Enterprise/ was built 
to fight.  His assignment wasn't going to be exploration but defense.  There was 
no use thinking otherwise, and Parker even wondered if he was cut out for 
exploration.  Pushing these thoughts aside, he stepped into the turbolift and 
descended to the next deck, where his quarters were.  It was time to settle in.

 

 

     After working out Razmara was still wound up from Data's unwelcome prying.  
She washed off and returned to her quarters where she replaced her exercise suit 
for a flattering blue dress.  It was transparent from the mid-thigh down and the 
top was cut over her chest, revealing some of her cleavage and leaving her 
shoulders and neck bare.

     From there Razmara left /Enterprise/ and ventured out into McKinley's 
commercial area.  Even though it was a military base civilians still lived on 
station.  Some were family members of personnel assigned to the base and with 
others they worked in the service jobs in the station's restaurants and such.

     Razmara's particular destination was a bar in the "south-western" quadrant 
of the commercial area.  It was modeled after an English pub and had some good, 
non-replicated drinks available.  And Razmara felt like drinking a great deal.  
As for her choice of clothing, she had very little else other than her uniforms 
and Razmara didn't mind the possibility of male company for the duration of the 
evening.  Anything to get her mind off of what Data had stirred up.

     Sitting at the bar, Razmara attracted some immediate attention.  A number 
of the men were eyeing her up from most directions.  She ordered a screwdriver 
and sipped at it when it arrived.  For the moment she was content to let the 
alcohol work it's way into her system and did not return the lustful glances of 
some of the men in the bar.

     Razmara felt a hand touch her left shoulder.  "Whoever you are, you'd 
better remove that before I break it," she muttered with her lips pressed 
against the glass.

     "You haven't changed."

     The smooth male voice made Razmara turn her head in surprise.  A 
brown-haired man sat beside her, showing a wide smile.  "Jack!"  Razmara grinned 
at her old friend Jack Kelvin.  "It's been a while."

     "I'll say."  Jack grinned at her.  "Dressed to kill, Sophia?"

     "Just something nice to wear."  Razmara turned in her seat to better look 
at him.  "You're doing good for yourself outside of Starfleet.  Still in the 
Merchant Marine, right?"

     Jack nodded.  "Good money to be made."  He waited for her to finish taking 
a drink.  "I could use a good First Mate, Sophia.  You'd earn more than what you 
get in Starfleet."

     "I don't think so, Jack."  Razmara grinned widely.  "I'm not going to leave 
Starfleet when I just made XO on the /Enterprise/."

     Jack's eyes widened.  His face expressed surprise.  "Ooh, that's a plum 
position.  Well, congratulations!"  He motioned to the bartender.  "A martini 
for my friend, on me."

     That drew a giggle from Razmara.  "So, is this going to be like the last 
few nights have been?"

     "Maybe."  Jack shrugged.  "Maybe not.  I'd like it if we actually managed 
some consistancy."

     Razmara finished her screwdriver and placed the empty glass on the table.  
The bartender brought her a martini and took Jack's credit chit.  "Consistancy 
hasn't been our thing since the Academy."

     "Never too late to start."  Jack chuckled and then lowered his eyes a 
little.  "Then again, I suppose you don't feel the old clock ticking as fast as 
I do."

     "You're feeling old?"

     "Aren't you?"  Jack looked at her.  After a moment he shook his head and 
sighed.  "What am I saying?  You look and feel as you did when we graduated.  
But I do feel old, Sophia.  I'm already thirty-four."

     "So am I."  Razmara sipped at her martini.  "If you want to do anything, we 
have to do it tonight.  I've got to officially report to the /Enterprise/ in the 
morning."

     "Are you hungry?"

     "Hungry enough to go out."  Razmara grinned at Jack.  "A sudden date sounds 
good to me."

 

 

     Davy Jones' Locker was a popular hangout in McKinley for Starfleet 
personnel.  A three-floored restauraunt and bar owned and operated by a former 
Starfleet officer, the aptly-named David Jones, it had the customary pool 
tables, nightly poker games and gambling, and dart boards, plus a sports bar.  
Over half of the bar's patrons were in uniform and of the rest, almost all were 
personnel out of uniform.

     Misty and O'Farrell were among those in uniform, sitting at a table with 
Phillips and Commander Dalke, each in civilian clothes consisting of collared 
shirts and trousers.  Each had a drink of varying amounts of alcohol and were 
laughing at each other's stories of their past experiences.  As Misty finished 
recounting a humorous moment from her Academy days a redheaded woman walked up 
to the table, wearing the red of command and the rank pips of a Lieutenant 
Commander.  "Janey!"  Misty gestured to her and caused the others to turn to 
face the newcomer.  "Gentlemen, this is my executive officer and helmswoman, 
Commander Jane April."

     A chorus of greetings came from the other three.  "Any relation to Robert 
April?", Phillips asked.

     "Oh, no."  Jane slid into a free seat.  "Commander, just coming to tell you 
that Lieutenant Meyers finished that little fixup you asked him to do."

     "Thank you, Janey.  So, what do you want to drink?"

     "I'm technically on duty, Commander," Jane reminded her.

     O'Farrell laughed aloud.  "Hey, this is the Locker, sweetie.  No ranks here!"

     Jane cracked a smile at O'Farrell.  "Well, thank you for letting me know 
that, but please don't call me sweetie."

     "Whatever you say," came his reply.

     "So, Janey, going to sit with us and have a round?"  Misty lifted her 
glass.  "Might be our last night."

     "I'll think about it, but I promised Lieutenant Meyers I'd..."

     "Fred knows what he's doing.  C'mon, I'll buy for you."

     "Well, in that case..."  Jane turned in her chair toward the bar and 
ordered a Californian wine.  The others whistled.  "What?"  Jane looked at them 
with bewilderment.
     "Wine."  Dalke snickered.  "Rich girl, huh?  Too good for good liquor and 
beer?"

     "My family's middle class, thank you," Jane retorted.  "But I spent some of 
my childhood in Cali and I like this stuff.  It's not that expensive anyway.  
Probably cheaper than a lot of that liquor you like so much."

     The others began laughing.

 

 

     Near the table, Berger was standing at the bar with Zaharia Herzela, ranked 
Lieutenant Commander and the recently-assigned Chief Engineering Officer of the 
/Minneapolis/.  A great complication for him since the lovely but shy Zaharia 
had been his lover for twenty years, before either joined Starfleet.  She was a 
short Trill woman, about thirty-nine years old now with long and rich red hair 
that went half-way down her back and bright blue eyes.  The spots along her 
hairline and down onto her shoulders gave her an exotic quality even if she was 
physically just like a human woman.

     Both were holding drinks and had been making small talk for most of the 
evening.  "So, what next for us?"

     "What next?"  Zaharia's eyes sparkled, even if her expression was subdued.  
She tended to be very withdrawn in public.  "I don't understand.  We've carried 
on while posted together before."

     "But this is different.  Now I'm the CO and you're my chief engineer.  It's 
conflict of interest."

     "Don't you trust me to do my job?"

     Were it not for Zaharia's withdrawn nature, the phrase would've been said 
in an stinging, accusing tone.  As it was, Berger knew what she was getting at.  
"Of course.  But if we slip up even once, the others won't trust either of us."

     Zaharia nodded.  She giggled a little and put her arms around his waist.  
"Oh, come on Mark.  You worry too much."

     The two lovers stared into each other's eyes for a moment.  Berger finally 
looked past her and noticed Parker entering the Locker with a younger man 
standing beside him.  He was senior lieutenant with a burgundy red service 
uniform, brown-haired and well-built.  Parker zeroed in on Berger and Zaharia 
and walked up to them.  "Mark, Doctor, this is Lieutenant James O'Keefe, the 
/Enterprise/ comm officer.  He just got off the transport."

     Berger introduced Zaharia to them and Parker moved on to introduce O'Keefe 
to the others.  "Let's go to our room, Mark," Zaharia said.  "There's nothing to 
do here."

     "If you want."  Berger took out his credit chit to pay for their tab.  It 
wasn't surprising to him, as Zaharia's shyness made her wary of being in 
tightly-packed public spaces for too long.  He put his right arm around her 
shoulders, with her left arm on his waist, and the two walked out.

 

 

     As the night wore on, the group of officers from the /Enterprise/ and her 
comrades coalesced until they took over an entire corner of the bar.  Currently 
the entertainment consisted of karaoke night, with a Trill couple up on stage 
singing an old late 20th Century pop tune (and doing so rather badly).  Most of 
those assembled were laughing at the couple, except for Drake.  Parker sipped on 
a glass of tequila.  "Still the Stoic, Drake?"

     "I just don't find anything funny about them, that's all."

     "So, Parker, you've served with Irvine here, huh?"  O'Farrell chucked a 
thumb at the taller man.  "Is he always like that?"

     "Back in the Academy the running joke was that someone in Heaven got their 
wires crossed and so Drake was born a Human and not a Vulcan like intended."  
Parker noticed that slight curve in Drake's face that meant amusement.  "And 
there was a strong belief that there were Vulcans jealous of him.  Though few 
ever had the guts to say those things to the hero of the Academy rugby team."

     If Drake was amused or annoyed, he showed neither emotion.  Marina, 
however, seemed quite amused.  "At first I did not recognize you, Parker," she 
said to him in an accent that hinted her Slavic origins, "but I do remember you 
know.  You were the one who was going to bash a Vulcan in the head with a chair 
leg for picking on your friend."

     "Seemed like a good idea at the time," Parker retorted.

     "Well, if it means anything, I would have given you Last Rites after the 
Vulcans were through with you."  Marina sipped on a small glass of vodka.

     "How reassuring."

     A small round of laughter echoed over the table.  "What was your 
non-command specialty, Lenarova?"

     "Engineering.  I transferred to command after I made full Lieutenant.  And 
your's?"

     "I majored in Tactical and minored in Navigation," replied Parker.  "Unlike 
Drake we don't all have rich and powerful noble parents to get the high-quality 
education for jumping straight into command."

     A smirk crossed Marina's face and a number of the other officers laughed 
once more.  Drake remained quite calm when he replied, "So sorry, chaps, that I 
actually passed at the top of my entry class to make the jump to command training."

     Parker sipped at his tequila again.  "Now there's the Drake I've been 
waiting to see again."

     After finishing her vodka, Marina asked over the others' laughter, "Drake, 
why didn't you ever introduce us in the Academy?"

     "Because, Marina, Adrian and I didn't know each other then."

     "We met on the /Persephone/," Parker added.  "Drake was the operations 
officer at the time to Captain Rosenbaum, and I was a night watch officer."

     "Yes, I always said Adrian was going to be an excellent Captain when he 
grew up."  Again Drake showed that slight curl at the lip that amounted to a 
smile.  "He might look like a refined gentleman now, but when he was young 
Adrian was well-known for being quite the party animal."

     Parker held his glass of tequila up, smirking while shaking his head.  "I 
had my times, I'll confess."

     "And ladies," Drake reminded him.

     "And ladies," Parker agreed.

     Misty leaned forward over the table  "And what were they like?"

     "Soft, kind, and sweet."  Parker took the last gulp from his tequila and 
poured a little more from the bottle he was sharing with Phillips.  "Though 
there was this one woman I remember from a short time I spent on the 
/Agamemnon/.  What was her name... Deanna!  She was half-Human half-Betazoid, a 
shrink."

     Jane blinked from surprise.  "A shrink on a starship?"

     "Yeah, uh, research mission or something like that.  On the state of our 
minds while on duty."  Parker raised his eyebrows for a moment and recalled just 
what kind of state of mind he used to have when around her.  "She didn't make it 
in Starfleet so she went into psychology.  Her mother's this big-wig Betazoid 
royal or noble or whatever.  And Deanna... she was... well-built, if you get 
what I mean."  Parker's gesturing made it clear just how "well-built" she was.

     "And I'm sure you became quite acquainted with that build."  Marina 
smirked.  "Maybe some hands-on experience, yes?"

     Parker nodded and took a sip of tequila.  "Ooh yeah, very well acquainted.  
Of course, the woman was a bit of a, well, let's just say it didn't work out.  I 
heard she went back home to Betazed and is living the high life as noble."

     O'Farrell shook his head in disbelief.  "Yer one chance t' be made, and ya 
blew it!"  He guzzled down the last of his beer and slammed the mug down on the 
table.  "She was a Betazoid noble, mate!  Ya should've gone for that!  
Especially if she had big knockers."

     Marina and Misty managed the achievement of rolling their eyes in perfect 
synch.  Jane snorted at took a sip of wine while Phillips shook his head.  
"Nice, Chris."

     "Seriously, man, you'd be making a helluva lot more than.... woooh!"  
O'Farrell had been trying to balance himself with his chair on only two legs.  
He shifted his weight too far backward and fell over, tumbling out of the chair 
and...  "Fuckin' hell, that hurt my arse!"  He scrambled back up while Jane and 
Drake moved to aid him.

     "On behalf of all Australia, I would like to apologize for Commander 
O'Farrell's conduct," O"Keefe said with mock sincerity.  "This is what happens 
when a man from Oz drinks too much beer and gets pissed."

     "Oh, no apologizes are necessary," Marina assured him.  "He has been very 
entertaining."  And with that note, Marina began to clap her hands.  The others 
soon joined in the mock applause.

     While this occurred, an officer walked up to them, in the uniform of a 
command officer and with the rank insignia of a Commander.  She seemed to be 
around Marina's height, size, and built, in that gray area between "solid" and 
"athletic" that gave the impression of physical fitness without actual muscle 
tone.  Her blonde hair was well-kept and tied into an upward pony-tail on the 
back of her head, keeping the hair from going lower than the nape of her neck.  
Her baby blue-colored eyes were covered by heavy and well-kept eyelashes.  Drake 
looked up at her and immediately stood up to offer her a seat.  "Rosa, why don't 
you sit?"

     "/Non/, that will not be necessary," Rosaline replied in a French accent 
that, while noticable, had lost it's thickness over years of English-use.  "I am 
still on duty."

     "Nobody's on duty in the Locker, Miss...?"

     Rosaline looked over at Phillips.  "/Je m'appelle/ Rosaline d'Orvilliers."

     "Commander d'Orvilliers is my Executive Officer," Drake explained to the 
others.

     Her blue eyes changing focus, Rosaline looked at Marina, who's smile was 
perhaps the warmest yet seen by the others.  "/Bonjour/, Marina."

     Marina slid back in her chair.  "You can have my seat, if you like."

     "I will not be here long."  Rosaline pulled a PADD from behind her back and 
presented it to Drake.  "Captain, Commander Engasser has finished rebuilding the 
port nacelle plasma relay.  Here is his list of parts needed to begin work on 
the sensor grid."

     Drake took the PADD and plastic writer from Rosaline and looked it over.  
He signed his name to the bottom and handed it back to her.  "There you go, 
Commander."

     "/Merci/."  Rosaline nodded to Marina.

     Rosaline nodded once more and walked out.  "A strict professional."  A 
mirthless smile crossed Drake's face.  "My last XO couldn't stand me.  Rosa, 
however, is a perfect fit."

     "I would say, Drake."

     Jane finished a glass of wine and reached to pour the last few ounces out 
of the bottle she'd bought.  Turning to face Marina, she asked, "So, I take it 
you two know each other as well?"

     "Rosa and I served together about fifteen to twenty years ago," came the 
reply, in Marina's characteristic Slavic voice.  "We were junior officers in the 
Engineering department of an explorer ship, the /Stargazer/.  It was not an 
enjoyable posting.  We were in unexplored space out past the Ferengi and 
Thallonian frontiers for three years straight and our captain was a better 
explorer than commanding officer."

     "And he was?"

     "A Frenchman, or so he said.  Jean-Luc Picard.  Of course, Rosa took to 
telling me and as many others as she could that Captain Picard was as French as 
a scone."  Marina put her hands together on the table.  "Picard was not a bad 
man, he was a good philosopher and very intellectual, but he was not a 
/military/ man.  He would try to negotiate too often and a number of my comrades 
paid the price for that.  He eventually was transferred back to Earth as a desk 
admiral in the Exploration Department after he got the /Stargazer/ shot up by 
Ferengi raiders."

     "And Rosa is quite right about him," Drake noted.  "His name is French and 
he comes from a region of France and a French family but Picard is, culturally 
speaking, English.  That entire area of France was depopulated during the Third 
World War and drew English immigrants across the Channel during Reconstruction."

     "Okay, that's enough history for one night."  Misty let out a groan.  "The 
hangover tomorrow's going to be bad enough already."

     Jane looked across the table at her.  "Drink too much, Misty?"

     "Oh yeeeaaah."

     "Well, it /is/ getting late."  Drake steepled his fingers together.  
"Perhaps we should retire for the evening?"

     There were nods of assent and the gathered quickly disbanded back to their 
quarters and ships.

 

 

     Razmara and Jack had finished dinner and Jack insisted on showing her to 
her room on the station.  They entered together, Razmara going first.  "Please 
excuse the mess."  She gestured toward the open containers with personal 
belongings, clothes, and a few other items.  "Tomorrow I'm moving onto the 
/Enterprise/."  She walked over to her living room and tossed her entry card 
onto a nearby table before she sprawled out on the couch.  "Sorry it's not any 
bigger.  The best I could afford on my salary."

     "Oh, big enough."  Jack walked around.  "At least you have two bathrooms 
and some good furnishing."

     "And what did you manage, Mister Merchant Captain?"  A sly grin crossed 
Razmara's face.  "A luxury suite?"

     "Of course not," scoffed Jack.  "It'd be a waste of money for one person.  
I have a suite just like this one about five decks up, in C quadrant."

     "But you could have afforded better?"

     "Of course."  He picked through a box, looking at a framed picture of 
Razmara as an adolescent with mother and grandmother.  "If I'd known you were 
here I would have rented a two-room suite and offered you one of them."

     "Oh.  I get a seperate room."  Razmara grinned widely.  "How thoughtful of 
you.  Here I thought you'd want to keep me in your's."

     "Well, wouldn't want to force the issue."  Jack picked up another picture 
showing a teenage Razmara with a young man.  Her hair was longer in the picture 
and she was in the provocative clothing that one would expect rebellious teenage 
girls to wear.  Razmara saw him looking at it and glared at him.  He noticed it 
and put the picture back.  "How is old Brad?"

     "I wouldn't know.  I haven't seen him since the time my grandfather died."  
Razmara frowned.  "Not that I care.  Last I heard of him, he found a wife who 
was into his demented tastes."

     "Ah."  Jack put the picture down.  "Well, you always did talk about how you 
were different in your youth.  And I was never one to pry."  He walked over to 
her and sat beside her on the couch.  Both could feel an energy begin to build 
in the air between them.  A need for one another, an irresistable attraction.

     When he could no longer resist, Jack pulled closer to Razmara.  A grin 
began to cross his face and that was all she had to see.  Razmara did not 
hesitate to move over toward Jack and press her lips against his.  This was how 
it usually happened.  They would meet somewhere, they would have dinner, go home 
and have sex; when morning came one or the other would be gone.  But the only 
regrets they had about these meetings was that they didn't have more time with 
each other.

     While they kissed Jack reached around Razmara's sides and pulled down the 
zipper that held her dress top on.  The bodice-piece fell away from her and Jack 
discarded it, freeing Razmara's breasts.  Razmara embraced Jack closely and they 
continued to kiss while Jack rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.  She whispered 
"Don't stop" into his ear, prompting Jack to continue undressing her while 
Razmara pulled his shift off.

 

 

     Parker was only half-sober when he stumbled into his quarters on the 
/Enterprise/.  Though most of the crew had not officially moved aboard yet, he 
and a number of the others had decided to save money and sleep in their assigned 
quarters.  Currently his quarters were a mess, as he had spent most of the past 
two days looking over the information on the ship and getting to know it's 
capabilities.  It would have been so much easier for Parker if he had commanded 
the ship on shakedown trials, but those had been performed by the ship's 
original CO, Captain Harburton, who had afterward transferred planetside to be 
with his ailing wife and family.

     First he slipped off his uniform; second Parker slipped on his sleeping 
clothes and made a final check of his things and his schedule for the next day.  
Another staff meeting, the arrival of the /Enterprise/'s Chief Medical Officer, 
and the final checks to ensure the ship had been fully stocked by the 
Quartermaster.  After he finished looking it over, Parker brushed his teeth and 
slid into bed.  He opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of dark 
red Pacifican whiskey; he poured about an ounce into a glass on his nightstand 
and put the bottle back.  Closing his eyes, Parker downed the ounce of liquor 
with a single gulp.  It burned it's way into his stomach while Parker set the 
glass down and rubbed his chest.  With his nightcap finished, Parker slipped 
under the covers and whispered, "Lights off", prompting the computer to turn off 
the lights and plunge his quarters into darkness.  Sleep came soon thereafter.

 

 

*/Open Space, The Triangle Region, Near the Romulan-Federation Frontier/*

*/19 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

 

 

     A trail of leaking gas and debris was spilling from the wounded port side 
of the /U.S.S. Equinox/.  The crippled /Nova/-class explorer ship twisted in 
space away from her attacker, a sleek and deadly Romulan Bird-of-Prey.  Her aft 
phaser array lashed out at the Bird-of-Prey while it turned back toward the 
/Equinox/.

     A flight of quantum torpedoes erupted from the /Equinox/'s bow launcher 
toward a second foe moving in to attack her: a Romulan cruiser-type Warbird.  
The torpedoes battered the cruiser's forward shield and gave her commander pause 
in his maneuvers.  As /Equinox/'s forward phasers cut into those weakened 
shields, the Bird-of-Prey's own torpedo launcher tossed out a plasma torpedo.  
It impacted with the /Equinox/'s port hull and nearly tore the ship in half.

     The explosion caused structural damage within the ship and devastated the 
/Equinox/'s bridge.  Damaged bulkheads fell and electrical fires erupted from 
the sparks of damaged consoles.  Fuses blew in turn and many of the consoles 
shut down around the bridge crew, or more importantly what was left of it.

     Captain Ransom and Lt. Commander Burke, the /Equinox/'s senior officers, 
were both dead; the ranking officer left on the bridge was the ship's tactical 
officer, Lieutenant Commander Sharon Carter.  Carter's red hair, normally 
shoulder-length and maintained in a bun, was disheveled and her face visibly 
coated with sweat.  She slammed down on her controls trying to trigger the 
weapons, but the circuit had been broken.  She cursed profanely at the dead console.

     Nearby was one of the few consoles still working; Sensors.  It was occupied 
by a Trill Lieutenant named Jadzia Farrelis, a dark-haired woman only a few 
years out of the Academy.  As Communications had apparently gone out, the 
computers rerouted the signal to Jadzia's console.  "Commander, they're 
signalling a surrender demand!"

     Carter looked back at the viewscreen and saw the Romulan cruiser looming on 
the screen.  It stabbed at her crippled warship with it's disruptors, as if to 
remind Carter that she was helpless.  She gripped her console and turned to the 
Ensign at Communications.  "Did we get a signal out?"

     The Bolian turned and nodded.  "I think so.  They were jamming us but 
Romulan electronics aren't very sophisticated.  I sent it along some frequencies 
they aren't supposed to be capable of reaching."

     "Then let's hope you're right."  Carter looked back to Jadzia and wiped 
some of the sweat from her forehead, pushing aside strands of hair.  "Go ahead, 
signal our surrender after you set the auto-destruct to blow in five minutes.

     The Trill woman swallowed and gave a stiff nod.  She brought up the 
destruct sequence and the computer requested ID.  Carter gave her's and her 
code; the two Lieutenants who were still alive on the bridge did the same.  The 
computer immediately began the auto-destruct.  With this process started, Jadzia 
signaled a surrender to the Romulans.

     Carter had very little time to consider her actions.  Within ten seconds 
she and the entire bridge crew were snatched away by Romulan transporters.  They 
materialized in a cargo bay.  Shortly other Starfleet personnel did.  Grim-faced 
Romulans holding disruptor rifles stood at close watch while others, holding 
medical kits, stormed in and began finding the critically wounded.  The 
surviving medical crew of the /Nova/ aided them in trying to keep alive as many 
as possible.

     The sequence of events was so fast that Carter could hardly believe this 
was happening.  Now that the adrenaline of battle was starting to wear off, she 
tried to think of the occurrences.  This was in open space, unclaimed by any of 
the major stellar nations; why did the Romulans attack them in such force?  The 
/Equinox/ was primarily an explorer and was only armed enough to resist light 
attack.  But she had been unfortunate, attacked within the gravity well of a gas 
giant they were cataloguing and with a plasma torpedo having knocked out the 
port warp nacelle in the first volley.

     There were many thoughts going through Carter's mind of what might happen.  
The Romulans, thankfully, were not Cardassians and they had a reputation for 
treating their prisoners fairly.  But at the same time there was an ominous 
feeling in the air.  These Romulans had attacked them in neutral space for no 
apparent reason.  Why?  What did they have to gain?

     As she felt the ship tremor, the result of the /Equinox/ destroying 
herself, Carter supposed she would find out soon enough.

 

 

*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

 

 

     "Bridge to Captain Parker."

     Those words, and the loud beep that preceded them, sliced right through 
Parker's comfortable sleep and awoke him.  Grumbling, he reached a hand over and 
slammed it down on the commbadge on his nightstand.  "Yes?", Parker muttered

     Now that he was awake, he could recognize the voice on the other end; it 
was Data.  "Captain, I am detecting unscheduled activity in the medical 
computers.  Someone is altering the software and accompanying network protocols."

     "Well, ask them what they're doing with sickbay's comm network."

     "I cannot, Sir.  The computer activity is currently involved in overwriting 
some of the communication protocols as well."

     "Then send someone else."

     "There is no one else to send, Sir."

     "Fine, fine, I'm on my way."  Still grumbling, Parker slipped out of the 
bed and took about a minute to change into his uniform.  He was still 
half-asleep for most of his walk to the nearby turbolift, which at his order 
took him to the deck near sickbay.  Once there he walked in the port side of 
sickbay to find it was, as expected, mostly empty.  The equipment in the entry 
room was on standby.  However, there was a light coming from the office.  Parker 
walked up to the entryway of the office and saw a man sitting at the desk, 
drinking something that looked like coffee and running his fingers over the desk 
monitor's control panel.  He was in a blue Starfleet uniform and his commbadge 
was the insignia of Starfleet Medical.  Three gold rank pips were set on his 
collar.  "Um, hello?"

     The man looked up and Parker could easily identify his Asian features.  He 
looked to be about 40 with well-combed dark hair and brown eyes.  Height-wise he 
was only about 177 centimeters in height.  "Ah, Captain Parker?  A pleasure."  
He stood and offered a hand.  Parker walked up and accepted it with a 
handshake.  "Doctor Phong Nguyen.  I'm your Chief Medical Officer."

     "Doctor."  Parker nodded respectfully.  "Um, what are you doing here so 
late?  I thought you were arriving in the morning?"

     "The /Eisenhower/ put in early."  Phong sat back down in his chair and 
resumed his work.  "Any reason you're up at this late hour, Captain?"

     "Yes.  I have an annoying android as my Operations Officer.  An annoying 
android who never sleeps."  Parker frowned.  "He woke me up when he detected, 
well, whatever you're doing to the computers."

     "I'm updating and customizing the medical system software," replied Phong.  
He turned the monitor and pointed out where it was confirming the installation 
of new programs.  "The /Enterprise/'s computers are the latest and greatest but 
her software is over ten years old.  This stuff was made earlier this year by 
myself and a few friends in Starfleet Medical.  It'll maximize the use of 
/Enterprise/'s computers rather than letting so much potential go to waste."

     "Oh, uh, good."

     "You don't look so good.  Raktajino?"  Phong lifted the mug toward Parker.

     "Um... no thanks.  I think I'm going to go back to bed."  Parker turned 
back toward the door.  "See you tomorrow, Doctor."

     "Looking forward to it."

     There was another nod and Parker went out the door, rubbing his head and 
repressing the urge to scream at Data.

 

 

*/Unknown Location/*

*/ /*

 

     After a few hours in the holding bay on the Romulan cruiser, Carter was 
seperated from her crew.  Romulan guards quickly shackled her wrists into a 
metallic restraint and guided her to a transporter.  When the transport was 
complete she was taken from the transporter room through a handful of bland and 
unremarkable corridors lined with Romulan markings to a single room.  It was an 
office, or something like it.  There was a man at the desk, seated in the shadow 
of the room.  Carter was brought up to a chair and forced to sit by her guards.  
"My my my, look at what we have here?"  The voice seemed wrong for a Romulan.

     "What is going on here?  Why was my ship attacked?"  Carter's voice 
trembled from an instinctive fear.  Something bad was going to happen.  That 
much she could feel from the air within the room.  An oppressive, crushing air 
that made it hard to breathe, or so it seemed to Carter.

     "Why are you here?  Because we desire information.  Why was your ship 
attacked?  Because we desired to attack it."  The figure in the chair leaned 
forward.  His pale white skin and the scaley flesh marked him a Cardassian.  
Carter froze in place.  "My name is Madred.  I used to be Gul Madred, until the 
Federation was so kind as to demand my arrest for... what was it again?  Crimes 
against sentient life?"  Madred cackled for a moment.  "Yes, that was it.  Well, 
fortunately I had my friends and they arranged for me to leave Cardassia.  Now, 
you are, let me see..."  Madred looked over a data pad.  "Lieutenant Commander 
Sharon Marie Carter.  Tactical Officer on the /U.S.S. Equinox/, soon to be 
re-assigned to the starship /Enterprise/.  Approximately one hundred and 
eighty-one centimeters tall with a mass of about sixty nine kilograms.  Red hair 
and green eyes.  Graduated 644th in a class of twenty-five hundred Starfleet 
cadets in 2355 and with the second-highest score for your specialty in tactical 
operation."  Madred put the padd down.  "We do have a rather expansive library 
of Starfleet personnel records."

     Carter did not reply.  She watched Madred stand up and walk around the 
desk.  For the first time she could see he was still in a Cardassian uniform.  
His movements were slow and deliberate as he walked toward her.  He continued to 
face her with his hands behind his back.  "We have need of information about 
Starfleet's patrol routes through this region of space.  You were your ship's 
Second Officer, so it stands to reason that you know them."

     "I don't."  The words were cold and emotionless and Carter felt like they 
were being spoken by someone else.

     "Well, that poses a problem, doesn't it?"  Madred nodded to the guards who 
had escorted her in.  They came up to either side of Carter and pulled her to 
her feet.  She began to struggle when they raised her arms above her head.  
Above them, suspended was the roof, was a metal frame.  Easily ignoring her 
efforts to pull free, the two Romulans locked her restraints in place and left 
her hanging about an inch off the ground.  Carter winced from the tension 
growing in her arms.  Before it could become painful, a metallic restraint was 
placed beneath her feet and her ankles locked into it.  This did not eliminate 
the tension in her arms but it did reduce it.  Madred removed a blade from his belt.

     Unable to move, Carter was helpless to stop Madred from cutting off her 
uniform.  He reached up and cut across the length of her shoulders and arms, 
causing her uniform jacket to fall free.  Her uniform top came next, and after 
that the bra she wore underneath.  Cuts across her the sides of hips and legs 
removed the bottom pieces of Carter's clothing.  When she was completely naked 
he took a step back, as if to admire his handiwork.  "We'll start again in the 
morning.  Good night."  He walked around her and led the two Romulan guards out 
of the office.  The lights dimmed.

     Now alone, cold, and helpless, Carter began to weep in fear of what he 
would do next.  Her heart quivered from the terror of Madred's reputation as she 
had heard it.  The cold air began to numb her skin while her arms ached from 
being suspended above her head.  It would be quite a long time before Carter 
fell asleep, tears streaming down her face.




*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

 

 

     Parker was awake and fixing a cup of coffee at his desk when his commbadge 
beeped.  He reached over on the table and tapped it.  "Parker here."

     "Captain, Admiral Pressman wishes to speak with you."  It was Data.  
Again.  Parker resisted the urge to scream.

     "Put him on."  Parker looked over at the computer monitor on his desk.  The 
monitor activated and Pressman appeared on it.  "Admiral, what can I do for you 
this morning?"

     "Captain, a situation has materialized.  You and the senior command 
officers of your division are to meet with me at 1400 in McKinley's strategic 
operations center.  As of now I'm ordering all /Enterprise/ personnel to report 
immediately for duty, since you will be departing by tomorrow afternoon."

     Parker blinked.  "Sir, we're not due to leave for another two weeks.  We're 
still understaffed and..."

     "An emergency crew will be provided to you, enough to give you two watches 
and you will be given sufficient stocks for a single combat sortie.  I'm sorry, 
that's the best I can do.  This situation requires immediate attention.  
Pressman out."  The Admiral's image disappeared from the screen.

     Parker sat for a moment and then leisurely sipped at his coffee, not 
bothering to rush.  He had six hours in whch to get the others and meet Pressman 
and he was damned well going to enjoy his coffee.

 

 

     The clock on Razmara's nightstand was flashing 0803 when Razmara opened her 
eyes.  Surprisingly enough Jack was still in bed with her, laying on his back 
with her beside him on her side.  Razmara reached over to him and began to 
playfully twirl her fingers through his thick chest hair.  She leaned over and 
kissed him on the cheek, causing him to turn her way.  For a moment, Razmara 
didn't know how to greet him besides, "Good morning", which she said 
immediately.  After he replied, she just went with the default, "I love you."

     "Yes, I, uh, guessed that considering how loudly you were screaming last 
night," he answered, teasing.

     Razmara suddenly blushed.  "I do not scream."

     "Yes you do."

     "I... I do not!"  Razmara slapped him playfully on the shoulder.  Of 
course, she knew he was right.  She did scream when they made love.  "Oh God, I 
scream?", she asked, pretending to be unaware.

     "Usually 'Oh God!' or 'Yes!'."  Jack seemed to be feigning her voice, 
saying each quote in a loud, shrill tone in a failed attempt to mimic Razmara's 
soprano voice.  Razmara gasped and slapped his shoulder again.  "What?  You asked!"

     "I did."  Smiling, Razmara pressed her lips against his.  They kissed for 
several moments, their arms around each other and their bodies pressed 
together.  When the embrace ended Razmara brought her arms back to the front and 
pushed his back against the bed, rolling on top of him and sitting up in a 
convenient position.  He sat up and they continued to kiss each other.  Razmara 
began kissing him on the neck, pushing him back down so she could work her way 
down his chest, brushing his hair out of the way so her lips could touch bare 
skin and the sensitive flesh of his nipples.

     But before they could begin making love there was a beep from Razmara's 
nightstand.  Angrily she rolled off of Jack and with her left hand pulled open 
the nightstand's upper drawer.  Her right hand reached in and pulled out a 
Starfleet commbadge.  She put pressure on the front and activated it.  "Hello," 
she growled.  Even as she adjusted herself to a more comfortable position on the 
bed, she felt Jack's hands move over her back and butt.  It felt good, but now 
her attention was on the voice that came from the badge's speaker.

     Somewhat unsurprisingly, it was the bringer of Razmara's woe from the 
previous day.  Data's immediate reply was, "Commander, we have new orders from 
Starfleet and are due to leave out tomorrow.  You need to return to the ship to 
begin departure procedures."

     "What?!"

     "I must also inform you have both been called to a meeting with Admiral 
Pressman at 1400, after which we have twenty-four hours to prepare for departure."

     "You have to be kidding."  Razmara felt her breathing pick up pace while 
Jack kissed her on the back.  /That android is so dead/, she thought ruefully.

     "I assure you I am not, Commander.  I can transmit authorization codes if 
you desire."

     "Data, it was a figure of fucking speech!"  Razmara nudged her shoulder 
back, hinting at Jack to stop.  "Listen, I'll be at the meeting.  Is there any 
time the Captain wants me back?"

     "I will ask him."  There was a short pause, after which Parker's voice 
could be heard as replying, "1000".  Data repeated it and drew an exasperated 
sigh from Razmara.  "Will you need assistance moving your things aboard, Commander?"

     "No, Mister Data, I will not.  Razmara out."  Razmara tossed the commbadge 
back into the drawer and, for a moment, remained on her belly.  She muttered, "I 
fucking hate that android."

     "Twice in one conversation," Jack whistled.  Jack put an arm around her and 
prompted her to turn her head his way.  "So, business as usual?"

     "Yes, business as usual."  Razmara felt a tear come down her face.  She had 
been looking forward to actually spending the morning in bed with Jack, but now 
that hope was dashed.  "Duty calls."

     "I see."  Jack's expression showed his own disappointment.  "Can I at least 
make you breakfast and help you pack?"

     Razmara nodded and kissed him on the lips.  "After I get out of the shower, 
yes."

     A fun idea occured to Jack, so he asked, "Can I shower with you?"

     "No, Jack.  It's not big enough and..."  She playfully fingered his chin.  
"We'd be in there for an hour.  So get started on breakfast while I go clean up, 
okay?"  She slid off the bed and walked toward her small bathroom.  Jack watched 
her go, admiring her gorgeous body and feeling very, very depressed.

 

 

     At 0830, as was her custom while in spacedock, Marina strolled onto the 
spartan, utilitarian bridge of the /Great Lakes/.  It didn't have the multiple 
stations or space of the /Enterprise/'s bridge, or even those of the /Hood/ or 
/Minneapolis/.  If anything it resembled the bridge of the old 
/Constitution/-class starship.  The command chair was in a central location in 
what they called the pit.  In front of it was the helm and weapons' console, 
left to right respectively, and ahead of that was, of course, the viewscreen.  
To the chair's right were the panels for the science/sensors station and 
Communications.  To the left was the engineering station and Astrogation.

     Seated in the command chair, Lieutenant Commander Ariel Shaham rose to his 
feet and loudly declared, "Captain on the Bridge!"  The assembled officers stood 
straight up in proper respect.  There was one exception, however, and he was 
only partly-visible, his head and shoulders stuck underneath the weapons 
console's side hatch.  "You'll have to pardon Lieutenant Dunai, Captain," Ariel 
said to her.  "He's working on the weapons console.  Again."

     "Ed, can't you get anything right?" Marina asked in exasperation.  All she 
got in reply was a "hmph" sound from Lt. S.G. Edward Dunai, her Chief Engineer.  
The short man - he was actually about her height at 171 centimeters - was 
cursing at the ship as was his custom.  /Great Lakes/ wasn't new but fortunately 
she wasn't very old either; she'd been in commission for fifteen years as the 
first Type III /New Orleans/-class frigate.  The last of that refurbished line 
had been finished earlier in the decade and the Type Is, past 30 and going on 40 
years old, would now be replaced by the newer /Steamrunner/-class frigates 
coming into commission.  As she was yet so young, Starfleet had been upgrading 
/Great Lakes/ with new technology after every deployment for the last four 
years, starting with Marina's first cruise as /Great Lakes/' CO.  "What is the 
problem anyway?"

     "He's just fixing a few bugs in the console system."  Standing beside the 
console was another officer who had just answered for Dunai.  He towered over 
everyone on the bridge, standing at 190 centimeters; more than towering over 
them he was also much bigger than they were.  Robert "Rob" Dalton was frequently 
compared with a mountain.  In his 40s, perhaps even older than Marina, Dalton 
had gained his officer's commission after meritorious service in combat against 
the Cardassians.  Sometimes crewmembers called him "Chief Rob" because he still 
acted like a non-commissioned officer.

     "A few bugs is a crossed wire here and there, Rob," Dunai's voice called 
out from beneath the console.  His left hand popped out, palm open.  "Hand me 
that wire clamp, please."

     Dalton reached into the tool kit set on the console and handed the clamp to 
Dunai.  "So, what is wrong?"

     "What's wrong?  What's wrong is you keep fucking with the system, that's 
what's wrong.  You may have been a technician on this thing when it was 
commissioned, but some of these systems are new and you don't know a thing about 
how they work.  You just can't put..."

     Marina looked back to Ariel, or "Arik" as she liked to call him 
informally.  He nodded at her.  "Captain Parker signaled earlier.  Admiral 
Pressman's called us to a meeting at 1400 hours."

     "I wonder what he wants."

     Noticing the contempt in Marina's voice, Arik asked, "Anything wrong?"

     "Yes there is, Arik.  What's wrong is that we're being assigned to fake 
escort duty for a glorified flag-bearer.  We should be back out by the Triangle 
chasing down Klingon Birds-of-Prey skipping by the Neutral Zone.  I'd even 
settle for something out by the Cardassians, since the Tsen'kethi and Breen 
sometimes need reminders to play nice."  Marina sat in her chair with an annoyed 
expression on her face.  "They handed a squadron command /and/ command of the 
/Enterprise/ over to a man who's never been on anything larger than a cruiser.  
All because he made the news."

     "You have something against Parker?"

     "No, not against Parker.  He's a good man.  Pressman, on the other hand, is 
a political opportunist."

     Their attention quickly diverted to the rising voices of Dalton and Dunai.  
"Listen, you little brat, I was crawling around Jeffries tubes while you were 
screwing around at a playground."

     "Who's the engineer here, Dalton?  Huh?  Who's the /fucking/ engineer?!  
God dammit, just because you played with systems back then doesn't mean you know 
a thing about how these new ones are supposed to work today."  Dunai swore as he 
apparently hit something and hurt himself.  "I told you to stop making these 
modifications, you big oaf.... wait a minute, is this a doughnut?!"

     "Huh?"

     "It's a half-eaten chocolate-coated doughnut that looks like it's been here 
for months!  Hell, there are even a few sprinkles left on it."

     There was a short blush on Dalton's face which he quickly brought under 
control.  "Give it to me, I'll throw it away," Dalton said to him.

     "Or eat it," retorted Dunai.  His hand popped out again with a stale 
chocolate donut, a few red and blue sprinkles left on it.  "Take it and then go 
away and let me finish, /please/."

     Dalton grunted and picked up the thing.  "I always wondered where I set 
this thing down," he mused while walking to the bridge trash receptacle.

     "So, 1400 hours."  Arik nodded to Marina.  "I'll make sure I'm there."

 

 

     It was past 1100 when Razmara and Parker finished going over preliminary 
departure protocols.  The dockhands were now busy moving torpedoes and other 
stores onto the /Enterprise/ and the other ships of her group for their 
"emergency" sortie.  Parker was busy getting the other commanders together 
leaving Razmara to unpack.

     She did not feel in the mood to do much unpacking, though, so Razmara 
instead toured the ship.  She went by the gym to see if anyone was inside.  That 
was where she found Larrisa in a karate gi.  She wasn't actually kicking or 
punching at anything, but rather engaging in what looked like /t'ai chi/, or 
something similar.  Razmara crossed her arms while walking up to her.  "Lieutenant?"

     Larrisa did not reply at first.  She finished a movement of her arms before 
clasping them together, slowly, and bowing to nothing.  She turned to face 
Razmara.  "Yes, Commander?"

     "What is that?  /T'ai chi/?"

     Larrisa shook her head.  "It is /ihl'Rael/.  Somewhat like /t'ai chi/ but 
it was developed by the Rigelians.  It teaches physical and mental discipline, 
patience, that kind of thing."

     "Where did you learn it from?"

     "I had a Rigelian classmate in the Academy.  She taught it to me."  Larrisa 
was sweating but did nothing to wipe the moisture from her forehead.  "It is 
very demanding."

     "You look like you're doing it well."

     To Razmara's surprise, Larrisa laughed harshly.  "No, I do not.  I am 
terrible at /ihl'Rael/.  I would be laughed out of any Rigelian military school, 
or so Espera told me."

     "Espera being your roommate?"

     "That and more."  Larrisa grinned sheepishly.  "She was from one of the 
communal agrarian clans.  Like me, it was her first time off her homeworld, so 
we bonded very closely."

     "Ah."  Razmara nodded, not seeking to probe deeper.  "So, if you do it 
badly, why do it at all?"

     "Because it helps my discipline."  Larrisa finally deigned to pick up a 
towel.  "It gives me an outlet for my /lu'vreyko./"

     "/Lu/... what?"

     Larrisa sat down on a nearby bench, prompting Razmara to do the same.  She 
seemed to be struggling with something.  "It's very hard to translate the term 
from Edo into English.  The closest I can come is Great Heart-Fire and that 
doesn't really do it justice.  It's a term that my people use for expressing the 
urge to be pleasured."

     "So doing this is an outlet for your..."

     "Oh, not in that way."  Larrisa scratched at an ear.  "Other races do tend 
to mistranslate /lu'vreyko/ as meaning the Edo sex drive, but it's not that.  It 
represents an energy within us that must be expended.  According to our 
mythology, or religion if you will, the Edo were once like the other races of 
the galaxy.  We were violent, brutal, and unkind to one another.  This is 
because we did not expend our energy in kind purposes and so we lived lawless 
lives.  Then the Gods came and brought us law, or so the teaching goes.  And 
that is when the Edo became the people they are today.  The Gods showed us how 
to expend our energies with pleasure so that we no longer needed to harm one 
another.  And they made our laws punishable by death so that they would be 
followed without question.  The first Conclave enforced these laws.  Those who 
broke them were either killed immediately or banished, since in those days we 
did not inhabit the entirety of our homeworld."  Larrisa shrugged.  "And that's 
how we got to the condition we're in today."

     Razmara slowly nodded.  "So your people became hedonists because they were 
violent psychopaths?"

     "Maybe."  Larrisa grinned and shook her head.  "The truth is... I don't 
believe in the Gods anymore.  I know they're just powerful beings and not 
actually divine.  This may all be myth, who knows, we might be a transplanted 
colony of humans with a few alterations on the inside to make us different."  
The two women laughed for a moment.  "Since coming to Earth, and coming to 
Starfleet, I've turned my back on all of that.  But even with that done, I still 
feel this restless energy build up within me.  So I took up /ihl'Rael/ as a way 
to give outlet to it.  You may not believe me, Commander, but I put my career 
above everything else, including my own pleasure."

     "On the contrary, Lieutenant, I do believe you."  Razmara swallowed.  It 
was hard to say that the Edo were any different, as she had just spent the night 
letting out some of her own pent-up needs.  "Tell me one more thing.  What was 
up the other night?"

     "As I told Captain Parker, I was indulging."  Larrisa looked down.  "I 
really don't..."

     "I know it's not directly our business, but Larrisa, I want to know 
something."  Razmara drew in a breath.  "Did you enjoy being tied up and helpless?"

     Larrisa's expression became bewildered.  "Well, um, not at all."

     "Then why did you do agree to it?"

     "To be frank, it was the only way to get pleasured as greatly as I wanted 
to," replied Larrisa.  "And I only consented to being tied up when they promised 
that they would go no further."

     "So it didn't improve your, um, experiences by being helpless?"

     "Of course not.  Why do you ask?"

     "Well, it's just that I wanted to be sure."  Razmara scratched the back of 
her neck.  "I knew a few people when I was younger, they were into the bondage 
scene.  They loved being tied up for sex.  Some even took pleasure in being 
stretched or hurt.  Each of them had mental, um, problems I suppose.  They 
weren't necessarily crazy, but they had severe trauma and they were in many 
cases without a bit of self-esteem.  Not a good thing for a Starfleet officer.  
I wanted to make sure you weren't suffering from that."

     Larrisa nodded and agreed, "Of course not."  She looked down at a watch on 
her wrist.  "Commander, I'm sorry to go, but I have to wash up and meet Doctor 
Nguyen in sickbay.  Another physical or something like that."

     Razmara stood up and nodded.  "Yes, well, I have to be going too."  She 
walked toward the door while Larrisa picked up her towels and such.  Before she 
got through the door, she turned back.  "I look forward to speaking with you 
again, Lieutenant."

     "Of course, Commander."  Larrisa nodded and watched Razmara walk out.

 

 

     Parker and Razmara walked side by side down the corridors of the 
/Akira/-class /Minneapolis/.  The other commanders had been easily alerted to 
Pressman's call for a meeting at 1400, but Captain Berger had not answered his 
personal comm.  The duo had walked over to the /Minneapolis/ and boarded her.  
In front of them was Commander Sebastian Breit, a stocky German who acted as the 
ship's executive officer, who was leading them to Holodeck 3.  The holodecks 
were now the preferred means of recreation on most ships in the Federation.  
Using transporter and replicator technology tied into sophisticated computers, 
they were capable of creating realistic, life-like illusions made of light and 
tractor beams.

     The Holodeck was closed when the trio arrived at it.  Breit gave the 
command code to open the door.  They stepped through the door and into some kind 
of jungle-like underbrush.  When they came out of it, they found an interesting 
sight; a pair of men and a woman in light armor brandishing swords and 
surrounded by hulking humanoid creatures with dark green skin, each armed with 
crossbows and swords.  Parker looked closely at one of the men, in a helmet, and 
recognized Berger.

     Nearby was a fire and a large granite slate.  A red-headed woman soon 
recognizable as Zaharia was chained to it by her wrists and ankles, the chains 
holding her arms over her head.  She was also clad in primitive-looking clothes, 
or really undergarments in this case, as she was wearing two things; a single 
strap of cloth warapped around her torso that crossed over her chest to cover 
and support her breasts and a loin-cloth that left her hips bare and only 
covered more private areas with strips of white cloth that descended half-way 
between her knees and ankles.  One could easily make out the lines of spots on 
her body, from her ankles to her forehead.  Parker said nothing while Razmara 
managed a "What the hell?".

     Two of the strange creatures hissed and charged at Parker and Razmara.  
Parker side-stepped his foe and grabbed him from behind after he over-lunged, 
tossing the holo-creature to the ground.  Breit come up beside it and pressed 
his foot down on it's throat, choking it.  Razmara made a similar maneuver, just 
that she chose to grab the creature's right arm.  She twisted it out of 
alignment, breaking the creature's bone and causing it to drop it's weapon.  She 
used the other arm to punch the creature and knock it away.  Razmara scooped up 
the rapier and looked at Parker, who did the same with his own defeated 
opponent's weapon.  "I can't believe we're doing this."

     Parker nodded.  "Berger, we've got to talk!"

     "Captain, end the program!", Breit shouted.

     Berger turned toward Zaharia.  "Zaharia, use that Holy Light spell!"

     "But it's a Level 9 spell, I'm not going to waste it when you're going to win!"

     "Zaharia, if you don't I'm going to have to end the program and then we'll 
have to go through that whole module all over again!"

     Fuming, Zaharia sighed and began chanting something unrecognizable.  Parker 
and Razmara stared as a bright light appeared over her form and suddenly swept 
across the area in a wave of energy.  Each of their foes screeched and 
disintegrated.  Berger and his companion ran up and cut her free while the 
interlopers looked at each other quizzically.  When the last chain link fell 
away, the slate began glowing red, and fiery letters appeared: "Module 
Completed."  The computer voice asked, "Do you wish to count experience points 
and treasure rewards now?"

     Berger shook his head.  "No.  End program."

     With that, the exotic setting disappeared and was replaced by a pattern of 
yellow lines over black.  "Just what was this all about?"

     Chuckling at Razmara's question, Berger replied, "It's a fantasy 
role-playing game.  Good fun, and..."  He patted his stomach.  "Keeps this nice 
and flat."

     "A role-playing game?"

     "Yes.  Oh, let me introduce Lieutenant Commander Katherine Hall, my Ops 
Officer, and Lieutenant Martin Hall, the ship's weapons officer."

     The other male, dark-haired, stepped up and shook Parker's hand, followed 
by the fully-clad woman, who was about half a foot shorter than Martin with 
shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair.  Martin was thinner than Berger, 
possessing a wiry frame, while Katherine or "Kathy" for short looked a bit more 
filled out.  "Pleased to meet you, Captain Parker."  The voice was definitely 
that of an Englishman, but Parker thought he detected a bit of Virginia to it.

     "Yes, pleased to meet you," Kathy added.  Her own voice was distinctly 
North American and with a fuller hint of Virginia.

     "So, what are you four doing in that get up?"  For the first time Parker 
could get a good luck at his peer's costume.  It was a chain-mail shirt over a 
leather jacket, with what looked like cow-hide trousers.  Lieutenant Hall was 
shirtless, though he wore metallic shoulder guards and had a large plate that 
covered the upper half of his torso.  Commander Hall, however, was clad in a 
one-piece blue garment under her light metal breastplate.  Her arms were fully 
covered save for her hands.  There was a band on her head that held her hair in 
place and, for some reason Parker was not sure of, a harp strapped onto her 
back.  Their weapons suddenly disappeared with the rest of the program; 
Berger's, oddly enough, was still there.

     "I'm a fighter-class character," Berger replied, as if he expected Parker 
to know what he was talking about.  "Generall all-around good combatant.  
Martin's a fighter too, but he carries heavier weapons and stuff because he 
focused more of his stats on strength and all that.  Well, in the game mechanics 
at least."

     Parker, for his part, did not show the annoyance he felt.  He didn't 
begrudge Berger and the others their hobby, but it seemed rather... 
overbearing.  "Ah.  And the sword?"

     "That's real."  Berger patted it's hilt and put the other hand on his 
waist-held scabbard.  "I'm a bit of a sword collector."

     "And what about you?"  Razmara looked at Zaharia as she walked up to Berger 
and crossed her arms irritably.  "What are you?  The team's sex toy?"

     Zaharia flashed an angry glare at Razmara.  "Very funny.  Actually, my real 
costume is a lot more modest than this."  She pointed to a pile of folded 
clothing in the corner.  "Just that as a part of the plot, I was captured by the 
Orcs to be given as a virgin sacrifice to their dark gods.  And when you 
sacrifice a virgin you strip her down nearly naked because, well, the game was 
designed by horny geeks so what can I say?"

     "Ah.  So if the game designers are geeks, what are you?", asked Razmara.

     "Duh.  I'm a geek too!"  Zaharia giggled.  "I've been gaming since my 
parents first moved to Earth when I was 10."

     Berger slipped a hand over Zaharia's waist.  "Yeah.  I first met Zaharia in 
a gaming session when we were teenagers.  Love at first sight."

     "Yeah, uh huh."  Razmara rolled her eyes.  "Virgin sacrifices."

     "Well, the monsters didn't know I'm not really a virgin."  Zaharia's eyes 
twinkled mischievously.  "In real life and in game.  Y'see, during an earlier 
game I took...."

     Parker immediately cut her off.  "That's really not necessary.  Captain, 
Pressman wants to see us today at 1400 on the Starbase.  Given that it's 1220 
right now..."

     "An hour to wash up and get into uniform.  Perfect."  Berger kissed Zaharia 
on the cheek.  "Go ahead and compile our stat boosts with Martin, Kathy, 
Zaharia.  I'll see you later."

     Zaharia nodded and Berger walked out with Parker and Razmara.  Breit 
followed them all, taking one last longing look at Zaharia before moving on.

 

 

*/Unknown Location/*

*/ /*

 

     When Carter awoke she found herself unshackled and seated in a chair, 
wearing a simple cloth robe of brown color.  It was a Romulan garment, shaped 
like a vest with a dress button attached so that it bared Carter's well-toned 
arms and some of her shoulder and neck area.  The dress left her legs below the 
midway-point of the thighs visible.

     She was facing the desk.  Carter looked closely and noticed Madred eating 
what looked like meat and a vegetable side.  He finished chewing and looked up.  
"Oh, good morning."  He pushed the plate aside.  "Well, young lady, are you 
ready to answer some questions now?"

     Carter nearly replied and bit her tongue.  She recalled the survival course 
from the Academy concerning capture and regretted having spoken to him the 
previous night.  "Carter, Sharon Marie.  Lieutenant Commander.  Serial Number 
499230199 slash B9."

     "Oh, how dreadful.  You seem to think you're a prisoner of war."  Madred 
shook his head.  "Sorry, Commander Carter, but as there is no state of war 
between the Romulan Empire and the Federation you are not subject to the 
protections of the Solaran Conventions.  Now, please state the established 
patrol routes of all Starfleet vessels in the Triangle region."

     "Carter, Sharon Marie.  Lieutenant Commander.  Serial Number 499230199 
slash B9."

     There was a sigh from Madred, like he was disappointed.  "Very well, I was 
hoping to avoid this difficulty."  He brought out a control device.  "We took 
the liberty of implanting a device in you last night.  Marvelous little piece of 
technology.  The Romulans I work for are so determined to avoid being detected 
that they designed a pain-giving implant composed entirely of materials found 
naturally in the bodies of most sentient species.  With one press of a button, 
it actually dissolves itself and mingles into the body, undetectable.  As if it 
were never there."

     Carter drew in a breath when his finger pressed down on the button.  The 
sensation was sudden and shocking.  It was as if every nerve in her body was on 
fire.  Carter screamed and began to twitch, her body's natural reflexes trying 
in vain to end the pain as if movement could do so.  After about five seconds 
Madred lifted his finger from the button and the pain subsided.  Carter gasped 
for air and slumped over in the chair.  He observed her for about twenty seconds 
before again saying, "Please state the established patrol routes of all 
Starfleet vessels in the Triangle region."

     After drawing in another breath, Carter's reply was also the same as 
before:      "Carter, Sharon Marie.  Lieutenant Commander.  Serial Number 
499230199 slash B9."

     Madred's finger again pressed on the control.  Carter's agonized scream 
echoed in the room as she writhed about in the chair.  "I see this is going to 
take us some time."  Madred counted to fifteen and let go of the button.  While 
Carter recovered he wistfully said, "You might as well tell me now.  The longer 
we go, the more pain for you."

     Carter resisted the urge to curse at Madred.  That wasn't supposed to be 
done.  Anything other than the customary answer would be seen as sign of 
weakness.  She repeated her name, rank, and serial number.

     Suffice to say, her answer was unsatisfactory.

 

 

*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

*/ /*

*/ /*

     The strategic operations center on McKinley was a massive chamber, large 
enough to actually contain a /Defiant/-class starship.  At least four admirals 
of varying rank were present on a number of the levels, responsible for 
coordinating deployment orders to the starships and Marine divisions in the 
field.  Multi-leveled, the center was filled with operators going over data 
culled from standard patrol scans and intelligence operatives to formulate a 
constant picture of the currently known activities of every star-faring power in 
the Alpha and known Beta Quadrants, which was presented on the massive main screen.

     Pressman was on the upper level in a conference room when the assembled 
officers arrived.  Parker had not yet met the XOs of the /Avenger/ and the 
/Intrepid/, and was introduced to them upon arrival; Lt. Commander Natasha Yar 
and Commander Diane Howard.  The former was a Caucasian woman with short-cut 
blonde hair and brown eyes and the latter a dark-haired Englishwoman; both 
looked remarkably fit and were about the same height, build, and complexion.  
With them was the Wing Command Officer of the /Intrepid/, Commander Garrett 
Petersen, a stocky New Yorker with well-combed brown hair.

     Some initial introductions took place.  Pressman waited politely for them 
to finish before calling the attention of the dozen assembled officers to the 
table.  He sat at the head of the table while the COs took the right side and 
the XOs the left.  Kira sat with the COs, beside O'Farrell, while Petersen took 
a seat by Tasha.  "Ladies and gentlemen, a situation has developed in the 
Triangle," he began, referring to the region of space bordered by the 
Federation, Klingons, and Romulans and neutralized by the same; in it's central 
sector was the notoriously-failed "Planet of Galactic Peace" called Nimbus III.  
He hit a button and a holographic starmap appeared above the table; the Triangle 
was represented by violet and the Federation, Klingons, and Romulans by blue, 
red, and green respectively.  The lights in the room dimmed appropriately 
causing the light from the holograph to fill the room, casting white dots and 
the conflicting colors on everyone.  Pressman touched another button and 
highlighted a sector of the Triangle, nearly equi-distant from the Romulan and 
Federation frontiers.  A star lit up.  "About ten hours ago, our border stations 
received a distress signal from the starship /Equinox/, on a standard patrol of 
the Triangle.  According to the signal she dispatched, /Equinox/ was under 
attack from Romulan warships, including at least one Warbird of cruiser-class."  
Pressman put his hands together and let the officers present digest the news.  
"The Romulan Ambassador has so far denied his government's involvement and 
insists it is the work of pirates.  We believe, however, that /Equinox/ was 
attacked because she had the potential to have spotted covert, and illegal, 
Romulan activites in the Triangle."

     "What kind of activities, Admiral?"

     "I'm not at liberty to say.  Either way, your mission will be to track 
/Equinox/'s course and find her and any surviving crew.  If at all possible, 
find out what the Romulans are up to."

     "Why us?"  Phillips now spoke up.  "There have to be ships closer."

     "There are, but most are older vessels and have been out on patrol for 
months.  Your crews are fresh and your ships are at one hundred percent.  
Besides, if it is the Romulans, they'll be keeping a close eye on our local 
ships.  They'll see us coming.  They won't see us coming if it's you."  Pressman 
put his hands together on the table.  "And on top of all that, the /Enterprise/ 
was built for just this sort of thing.  Nothing shows our resolve, or our anger, 
more than the /Enterprise/ barreling in at red alert."

     "Where do we start?"

     "System R4392," came the reply, and Pressman's finger pointed to the lit-up 
star.  "That's where we pinpointed the /Equinox/'s last transmission.  You'll 
enter the Triangle by way of Radcliffe's Nebula."  Another indicator lit up.  
"It'll mask your approach until you clear the nebula."  Pressman hit a button 
and the holographic projector turned off.  "The dockmasters will ensure your 
ships have more than enough provisions for this mission by this time tomorrow.  
All appropriate intelligence will be made available to you.  You depart tomorrow 
at 1600.  That is all."

     The assembled command officers filtered out, with the exception of Parker.  
He watched as Pressman finished restoring the lights.  "Sir, my chief weapons 
officer still hasn't arrived yet."

     "There's a good reason for that, Captain."  Pressman turned back.  
"Commander Carter was on the /Equinox/."

     Parker took the news well.  He nodded stiffly.  "I see, Sir.  I'll find 
someone suitable to man weapons then."  He turned away from Pressman and walked 
to do the door.

     "Captain, I hear you served with Commander Carter at one time?"

     Parker turned back to face Pressman.  "Yes, Captain.  About eight years 
ago, when I was executive officer on the /Yamato/.  She was the second watch's 
weapons officer."

     "How well do you know her?"

     "Enough to know she's one tough lady."

     Pressman nodded stiffly.  "I hope you're right, Captain.  Odds are, she'll 
be needing that toughness when the Romulans get started on her."

     Parker stopped and made a complete term.  "Sir, if I may note something... 
I've read Terise LoBrutto's essays on the Rihannsu.  They don't seem like the 
kind of people to torture prisoners for fun."

     His remark was met by a scoff.  "Terise LoBrutto," Pressman began, "was 
compromised by her work, Captain.  She's not an objective viewpoint on the 
/Romulans/."  The emphasis on "Romulans" seemed unnecessary to Parker, or 
perhaps as a retort for his use of their true name.  "If she's right, why would 
they attack a science ship in open and neutral space?"

     Though he wanted to, Parker couldn't immediately answer.  "That's what I'm 
going to find out, Sir."

     "Just be careful, Captain.  We wouldn't want to lose the /Enterprise/ to 
the green-blooded bastards."

     Parker didn't reply to Pressman this time.  He simply walked out.

 

 

*/Unknown Location/*

 

 

     Carter writhed about the metal floor of Madred's office, her throat raw and 
her breathing strained.  A constant expression of pain contorted her 
otherwise-lovely face.  When the pain stopped again she looked up and saw Madred 
standing up for his desk.  "You're a very stubborn young woman, Commander Carter."

     "Carter, Sharon Ma.... aaaaah!"  Carter's reply was cut off by Madred, 
who's finger again pressed the evil button within his hand.  She slumped onto 
the floor, her hair and robes a disheveled mess.

     "You know, back on Cardassia we tended to shift between brutality and 
subtlety.  This was just the warm-up.  Then would come the rapings and the 
beatings, and if that failed, the drugs were our last resort; they were very 
expensive you know."  Madred shook his head, as if dissatisfied.  "Unfortunately 
my Rihannsu sponsers do not take kindly to the thought of such brutality.  They 
desire to, what is the human expression again?  'Have their cake and eat it 
to'?  Yes, that is it.  Anyway....."  Madred stood up and began walking around 
the desk.  "The Rihannsu, sorry, Romulans... they believe very strongly in their 
own senses of honor.  According to their codes, in fact, the attack on your ship 
was improper, but they are willing to make some small sacrifices to make 
Rihannsu society more controllable and better able to respond uniformly to 
threats.  But even their desire to emulate the Central Command on Cardassia 
cannot overcome their peculiar perceptions on their own honor.  And because of 
that, they really don't like torturing war prisoners, particularly with the 
brutal methods I would apply.  Why, I couldn't find a single Rihannsu male in 
this entire facility willing to rape you.  So bothersome."  Madred walked up to 
her and looked down at her.  "Not that I have any personal hatred for you, 
Commander Carter.  In fact, I do admire you.  Many of those I have interrogated 
broke within the first hour, some even before I began.  Eight hours, however, 
that is a worthy achievement!  Such loyalty, it's no wonder Starfleet defeated 
us."  Madred pocketed the pain control.  "I think that when you finally break, 
I'll even raise a toast with you in honor of your patriotism to the 
Federation."  He noticed the primal, angry glare in Carter's green eyes when she 
rolled over onto her back.  "And you will break.  The great truth about sentient 
beings, Commander Carter, is that they all have limits.  Some are set higher 
than others, but they are there, and I have made a career in breaking them.  Oh, 
I have seen the dedicated last through all of the physical techniques, but even 
they cannot resist an attack upon the mind."  Madred pressed his right index 
finger against his forehead.  "You would be sparing yourself a lot of pain if 
you answered me now."

     Carter continued to suck in breath, staring at the ceiling while Madred 
walked back to his desk.  He slid into the seat.  "Oh, Commander, please look my 
way."  She did not obey at first but finally rolled onto her side, looking at 
him across a distance of about fifteen feet.  He hit a switch on his desk and 
three bright lights appeared behind him.  "This question will be simple.  How 
many lights do you see?"

     With eight hours of intense torture having long blurred her thoughts, 
Carter habitually answered, "Three".  She immediately regretted it and wished 
she could take it back.  This was a trick; an attempt to slip something through 
the defensive barrier of non-responsiveness.  And she had just handed it to him.

     His hand went into his pocket and a moment later Carter felt the pain roll 
through her once more.  "There are four lights."

     "Carter!", she shouted.  "Sharon!  Marie!  Lieutenant... aaaaugggk!"  The 
pain intensified as Madred manipulated the power setting.  She stopped breathing 
as the pain overwhelmed her, reducing her movements to tremoring in a fetal 
position on the cold floor.

     "How many lights are there?"

     The pain subsided enough for Carter to speak.  She only managed the first 
syllabyle of her name before Madred turned up the power once more.  The fire in 
her body was such that Carter for a moment ceased to exist, replaced only by a 
shrieking animal trapped within Hell; she had no memory or identity and knew 
only pain.

     When Madred lowered the intensity of the implant to again talk to her, 
Carter's renewed ability to move allowed her to begin doing the only thing that 
went through her mind; she began slamming her head on the floor.  The ache in 
her forehead that should have been felt was easily masked by the pain still 
coursing through her and did not dissuade Carter in the slightest.  Why she 
began to do this she would never understand; perhaps it was out of desperation 
to stop the agony or perhaps Carter was genuinely trying to kill herself.  
Either way, she continued to scream and slam her head on the floor over and over.

     Suddenly she was grabbed by the guards and pulled to her feet.  The pain 
subsided and Carter, without her body's pain reflexes to push her muscles, went 
limp from fatigue.  She could not resist the two Romulans yanking off her robe 
and putting the restraints back on, and within the minute she was again hanging 
naked from the ceiling.  Madred crossed his arms.  "You've now lost the 
privilege of being free to move," he remarked.  "Now, shall we resume?"  He 
watched the guards walk back to the door, noticing some of the displeasure on 
their features; they did not like what they were seeing and Madred suspected 
they were beginning to have sympathy for Carter.  They would have to be 
replaced.  He picked up the control and asked, "How many lights are behind me?"

     Carter was answering with her name when the pain returned.




*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

*/ /*

*/ /*

     A sense of urgency pervaded the /Enterprise/ as the crew frantically 
prepared for their sortie.  Stores were moved into place and damage control 
equipment checked and re-checked under Commander Dalke's watchful eye; a similar 
eye was cast by Doctor Nguyen on the medical staff as they prepared sickbay for 
combat.

     On the bridge, Parker watched various engineers check every system and 
power supply.  The rest of the crew were getting used to their stations.  Aside 
from Dalke and Nguyen, Commander Razmara was the only senior officer not present.

     "Sir, all weapons diagnostics complete," Lieutenant Jobrie replied from 
tactical.  The high-voiced Trill's sweet voice didn't strike Parker was a good 
voice for a weapons' officer, and his memory recalled the deeper, stronger voice 
of Carter.  Parker hoped she wasn't being harmed and his stomach twisted at the 
thought that Pressman might be right.  LoBrutto had been highly-immersed into 
Romulan society in her time and since her return to the Federation a number of 
people had accused her of treasonous pro-Romulan sentiments.  LoBrutto's works 
were nevertheless widely-read in the Federation, especially among diplomats and 
travelers who needed to know the particulars of Romulan society.  Or Rihannsu.  
Parker found that he usually called them Rihannsu as LoBrutto had.  He supposed 
it was his own personal act of respect to them.  They certainly seemed a more 
honorable people than the treacherous Ferengi, brutal Cardassians, or sinister 
Klingons.  "No problems," Parker heard Jobrie finish, snapping him back into 
attention.

     "Thank you, Lieutenant," Parker said, looking at his personal data display 
on the right.  The ship's schematics were shown, and the light for weapon 
systems flashed green.  There were more systems to check, and some would take 
much longer.  But they would all be done in time.

     The turbolift doors opened and Razmara stepped onto the bridge.  "Captain, 
the dockmaster says we'll be ready to depart by 0900 tomorrow."

     Parker accepted a PADD offered by Razmara and read the data on it.  "Only 
one hundred and fifty photon torpedoes?"

     "And sixty quantum torpedoes.  I asked for more quantums but apparently 
they're a bit short in the fleet locker.  Still waiting for another delivery 
from Operations."

     "Sixty is only about ten spreads," Parker said with a furrowed brow.  "I 
was hoping for more."

     "Well..."  Razmara grinned at him and took her seat.  "Give me the night.  
Captain O'Grady on the /Majestic/ was an Academy friend of mine.  And he's got a 
full stock of quantums.  I'll see if he's willing to trade, since he's bound for 
the Thallonian frontier anyway."

     "Oh?  What would he trade?"

     Though Razmara's answer would have been the perfectly reasonable "Our 
photon torpedoes" she decided to be a little mischievous and the resulting grin 
was the widest Parker had yet seen on his new XO.  "That's my little secret."

     Parker smiled in amusement.  "Of course.  Well, go do what you have to do."

     "Yes, Captain."  Razmara stood up and walked off the bridge once more.

     When the turbolift doors swished close, Data turned in his Operations chair 
and asked, "Sir, what do you think the Commander is doing?"

     "She was toying with us, Data."  Parker laid his head on his hand, his 
index finger and middle finger pushing at his temple.  "She's going to swap 
torpedoes with Captain O'Grady.  The rest was just an act."

     "An act?"  Data's brow furrowed, showing human-like creases on his outer 
"skin".  "Why should she be acting?"

     "It's a tease, Sir," Hamblin replied for Parker, looking over from the 
helm.  "She's joking around with us."

     "In what way?"

     "She's pretending she's going to seduce him, Data," Parker sighed in 
exasperation.

     "Seduce?  As in you say she is faking an intent to pursue sexual relat..."

     Before Data could finish, Parker rolled his eyes and muttered, "Data, shut up."

     As usual, Data obeyed.

 

 

     Razmara was on her way to the ship's aft decks on a turbolift when it 
stopped suddenly.  The doors opened and Razmara watched Misty step in.  When the 
door closed and the turbolift ceased moving, Razmara asked, "Commander Greene?  
What can I do for you?"

     "Help me find my XO.  She came here to use your holodeck."  Misty crossed 
her arms.  "I don't understand why she couldn't use one of the holodeck services 
on McKinley.  She insisted it was a matter of privacy and that the public 
holodecks wouldn't do."

     "Ah."  Razmara tapped her commbadge.  "Razmara to Bridge."

     After a moment, Data replied.  "Bridge."

     "Mister Data, which holodecks are currently operational?"

     "Holodecks 3 and 5, Commander."

     "And who is logged for use?"

     "Holodeck 5 is being used by Lieutenant SG Horthy from Engineering.  He is 
running an active diagnostic.  Holodeck 3 is... curious.  The entry code is a 
general Starfleet one and not assigned to any member of the /Enterprise/.  I 
shall check..."

     "That won't be necessary, Commander.  Thank you, Razmara out."  She turned 
to Misty.  "Deck 12, Quadrant C.  Right, right, left, two doors down."

     "Thanks."

     The turbolift stopped on Deck 20 and Razmara stepped out  When the doors 
swished close, Misty ordered the lift to Deck 12 Quadrant C.  It took about a 
minute for the lift to reach it's destination.  "Right, right, left, two doors," 
she whispered, repeating it over and over again as she followed the directions 
exactly.  At the appropriate door she found the active holodeck and asked for 
entry.  The computer required her to give her code and Misty did, upon which it 
complied.

     The holodeck was running a customized program.  It was a Japanese garden, 
filled with cherry blossom trees and other Oriental plants.  Misty stepped out 
from the holodeck arch and onto a path of broken, irregular stones.  It led to a 
central courtyard with a traditional Japanese structure on the opposite end, and 
trees surrounding the circle.  Jane was seated in the middle in a white silken 
/kimono/ with cherry blossom designs intricately sown onto the back, which is 
what Misty was facing.  She was sitting cross-legged and in a meditative state, 
hands on her knees, with a single katana in her lap.  Misty could only make out 
the jeweled scabbard's tip and handle, as it was laid across her crossed legs.  
Rubies were set into the hilt and pommel.

     Before Misty could speak, Jane jumped with surprising quickness.  She was 
on her feet in moments, her katana drawn and readied.  The computer 
spontaneously created straw dummies around her.  Jane whirled about as is she 
were a ballerina, but it was not a dance but rather movement in time with the 
swinging of her sword.  The blade sliced through each target with such fine 
precision that Misty couldn't see the breaks until the dummies fell apart one by 
one.  Without a trace of sweat on her forehead, Jane sheathed the katana and 
seemed to finally notice Misty for the first time.  "Hello Commander."

     Before Misty could reply, the holodeck computer spoke in a male Japanese 
voice to Jane.  Jane's reply was also in Japanese and the holodeck turned off.  
"Nice program.  So this is what you do whenever you go on leave."

     "Yes."  Jane wrapped the scabbard around her waist.  >From the front one 
could see the rest of her /kimono/'s design and the plain white silk of her 
matching ankle length /hakama/.  "I like to keep in shape."

     "Y'know, Janey, you don't look that athletic, but that was pretty 
impressive."    

     "Thank you, Misty.  I know how hard you work out to keep your figure."  A 
smile crossed Jane's face.  "But the key to what I just did isn't the strength 
of my muscles but rather in how quickly I can move them.  It's not a matter of 
power or stamina but movement."

     "Yeah, ninjitsu or something like that, really cool Janey."

     "Um..."  Jane giggled for a moment.  "It's not ninjitsu, Misty.  Most of 
the real Japanese arts died out with original Japanese culture in the 21st 
Century.  I'm a student of Modern /Kendo/."  And from there Jane launched into a 
quick explaination, something she had memorized long ago."  Unlike Old /Kendo/ 
it's barely as old as the Federation.  It was created in the mid-22nd Century by 
Ikemoto Matano, who traveled to see other races and combined surviving knowledge 
of /Kendo/ with Andorian /Hosh'kuskr/ and Old Vulcan /il'Saeul/ to make Modern 
/Kendo/.  There are several schools of /Kendo/, each originating from a 
different master that has come about over the years."

     "Yeah, uh, okay."

     A slight grin formed on Jane's face.  "I just blew you away, didn't I?"

     "Yeah, 'cause, like, you've never been a talkative one before."  Misty 
crossed her arms.  "So, going to get to work on the final departure protocols?"

     "Lieutenant Tuvok has everything he needs."

     "Tuvie told me..."

     "/Tuvok/ told you an 'exaggeration'," Jane bent and moved the index and 
middle fingers on her hands to signify quotation marks, "so you'd leave him 
alone and stop calling him that ridiculous nickname."

     "Hmph."

     They stepped out of the holodeck and into the /Enterprise/ hall.  "I'll go 
change and return to the /Valiant/ immediately," Jane promised.  "See you there?"

     "Uh, yeah, see you there."  Misty watched Jane walk off and decided to do a 
little touring of the /Enterprise/.  A part of her wondered if she'd ever get a 
chance to command a behemoth like a /Sovereign/.  Then the next part wondered if 
she'd /want/ to.  With that thought in mind, Misty continued on.

 

 

     Razmara was returning from one of the cargo bays when she ran into Data on 
his way to the airlock.  Since it seemed so uncharacteristic for the android to 
be off the bridge, Razmara asked, "Mister Data, what's going on?"

     "Captain Parker ordered me to meet a couple of guests at the airlock," came 
the calm reply.  "We were due to give a tour to two VIPs and Admiral Pressman 
does not want us alerting the press to any change in schedule."

     The reply that followed was pure sarcasm.  "Oh boy, VIPs, I wonder who..."  
Razmara rolled her eyes and followed Data to the airlock.  When the came around 
the corner to face the two attendees, Razmara felt her jaw drop.

     The two men standing at the airlock entry were living legends of Starfleet 
and intricately linked to the name /Enterprise/.  Of the two, Ambassador Spock 
looked more robust and healthy.  Doctor, and Admiral, Leonard McCoy looked very 
much like the 140 plus years he had lived.  The two men were not speaking when 
Razmara and Data approached.  "Ambassador, Admiral..."  Razmara felt her voice 
trailing off.  "I wasn't expecting..."

     "Commander Sophia Razmara."  Spock pronounced her full name with some 
emphasis on the rank.  "It is good to see you have reached your potential."

     Razmara felt a great deal of humility swell within her when she answered, 
"Thank you, Ambassador, for your praise, and for what you did for me and my 
mother all of those years ago."

     "Your thanks are unnecessary, Commander, I did what I believed was proper."

     "But not logical?"  McCoy looked to his old comrade with some surprise.

     "And logical, but it was a logic not seen by most Vulcans."  Spock turned 
his attention to Data.  "Mister Data, I presume?"

     "Yes, Ambassador."

     "Doctor Soong was an acquaintance.  I know he would be happy to see that 
you have made a life for yourself."

     By this time, McCoy had walked up beside Razmara.  It took him a few 
moments to notice the points on her ears, hidden as they were by her hair.  
"You're a Vulcan?"

     "Half-Vulcan, actually," Razmara replied with some degree of disgust in her 
voice.

     "And emotional too."  McCoy smiled thinly.  "I like you already."

     At that Razmara had to grin.  "I'm honored to hear it Sir.  But I don't see 
how I was acting that emotional."

     "Trust me, young lady, when you've been around Vulcans as long as I have, 
you'll see."

     Spock cleared his throat.  "I believe that Commander Razmara and Mister 
Data have other duties they will have to attend to, Doctor.  We should make our 
tour brief."  McCoy looked back to Razmara and rolled his eyes, drawing a grin 
from her.

     As they walked on, Spock stayed behind long enough to let Razmara catch up 
to him.  They let McCoy and Data go ahead a little before they resumed walking.  
"I have followed your career with some satisfaction," Spock admitted to Razmara.

     "Any particular reason why?"

     "I believe that you serve as a crucial lesson to Vulcan."  Spock did not 
react to the smirk that momentarily crossed Razmara's face.  "When the Vulcan 
people supported the family of Stovuk against your mother's family, they made an 
error based on a false assumption on the nature of logic.  They believed that 
unless you received the training of a Vulcan our people's otherwise-unbridled 
passions would make you brutal and a threat to society.  Yet you have restrained 
your emotional impulses just like any human would and have risen in rank to one 
of the most prestigious positions in Starfleet.  I hope that this will persuade 
the people of Vulcan that their way is not always the right one."

     "You'll understand if I don't care very much for Vulcans, Sir, no offense 
intended toward you."

     "None taken."  Spock's inhuman calm reminded Razmara of just what had been 
at stake in her mother's fight.  She might have ended up just as emotionless as 
Spock had her father's family taken her away.  "I understand that your family 
has much reason to be upset with Vulcans.  Between Stovuk's rape of your mother 
and..."

     "How can you say it so cooly?"

     Razmara's question made Spock stop for a moment.  He considered her 
momentarily and replied, "You believe I am being disrespectful."  It wasn't a 
question.

     "With all due respect, Ambassador, that... that /man/" - how odd a way to 
refer to one's father! - "raped my mother so brutally that she gets scared 
whenever a man so much as touches her on the shoulder.  She spent a lifetime 
alone because she couldn't even stand the thought of sex.  Stovuk broke both of 
her arms, Sir, he broke her pelvis and... and her spine!  /He nearly killed 
her!/  She spent months in the hospital just having her body repaired!  And you 
stand there and you remark on it like it's some statistic!  I...."  Razmara felt 
tears flow down her face while she realized just how she sounded.  "Oh God, I'm 
sorry."

     To her surprise, there was a strange softness to Spock's reply.  "Do not be 
sorry.  In fact, allow me to say that I envy you.  I was never allowed the 
luxury of a choice in how I was raised.  And while I could once feel emotion if 
I desired it enough, I have become so accustomed to control that now I cannot."

     "I try not to be angry," Razmara confessed.  "But it seems like every 
Vulcan I meet has this chip on his or her shoulder.  Like I'm some freak of nature."

     "For all of our teachings on diversity in the universe, Vulcans are a 
people unaccustomed to change and difference.  You are, to them, an abberation.  
I do not say that as an insult but as an expression.  You are a woman of noble 
Vulcan blood who is not Vulcan in spirit."  Spock continued to walk so as to 
catch up to Data and McCoy, prompting Razmara to do the same.  "The concept, to 
a Vulcan, is disturbing.  Even frightening."

     "So I'm some kind of boogie-woman?"  An amused-yet-bitter smile curled on 
Razmara's face.  "Used to scare little Vulcan children, I suppose."

     "Not in that fashion, but yes, you do cause fear among Vulcans, because you 
have broken their preconceptions.  Indeed, that is why I and my father have 
taken pride in your achievements.  By proving yourself you work to undo the 
misconceptions that cause Vulcans to reject you.  Perhaps in time it will lead 
to even greater understanding between Vulcans and Humans."

     "Your father supports me too?"  Razmara expressed surprise.  "I thought he 
was one of the most powerful Vulcans alive?"

     "He is.  But Sarek is unique.  Though he is too devoted to control to show 
it openly, he has a deep appreciation for Humans.  We do not agree on all things 
but we did agree together to support your mother thirty years ago.  As we agree 
now that your career is of paramount importance to the future of relations 
between Humans and Vulcans."

     Razmara let it sink in for a moment.  "I never knew."

     "It is not something to be discussed openly."  Spock turned the corridor 
before Razmara and found McCoy and Data on the far end.  "Let us catch up to the 
good Doctor and Commander Data.  Time grows short."

 

 

     "And located behind this door is the upper level for the navigational..."

     "Was the man who built you, this 'Doctor Soong', a Vulcan?"

     McCoy's question caused Data to stop.  "No Sir.  My creator, Doctor Noonian 
Soong, is a human."

     "Ah."  McCoy "hmphed" and began walking along.  "Because I'll be damned if 
you don't sound like one."  The older man looked around at the corridors of the 
/Enterprise/ and a well of emotion sprung up within him as he sifted through 
memories of long ago.  /One hundred years...  I'll be damned if I know where the 
time goes!/  It seemed like a great time passed before McCoy managed to speak 
again to the golden-skinned android who - to put it frankly - reminded him too 
much of Spock.  "Well, she's a new ship," McCoy began to say, "but she's got the 
right name.  Now you remember that, Mister Data."

     "I will, Sir."

     McCoy nodded with approval.  "You treat her like a lady, and no matter what 
happens... she'll always bring you home."

 

 

     The airlock doors closed behind Spock and McCoy.  They had toured most of 
the ship - including the bridge, where Captain Parker gave them a warm welcome - 
while noting quietly the frenzied preparations for departure.  They had not been 
told /Enterprise/ was to leave but it was not a very hard thing to guess when 
one considered how fast the crews had been moving.

     Entering a small lounge overlooking /Enterprise/'s berth, Spock and McCoy 
stopped for the moment and looked out the window at the majestic ship.  Neither 
spoke for a short time before, finally, McCoy said, "How do you think they'll do?"

     "I suspect, Doctor, that they can do no worse than we did."

     McCoy found himself grinning at that.  "They're supposed to be this brave 
new generation, but they didn't seem so different to me."

     "Indeed."

     "Though, I suppose, it's meant to be that way."  McCoy looked out the 
window and considered the name emblazoned on the mighty ship's starboard hull.  
The letters /U.S.S. Enterprise/ made McCoy feel... proud.  The legacy this 
ship's crew was carrying started with him, and Jim, and Spock, and Chekov and 
Sulu and all the others.  "I wonder what Jim would say if he were here?"

     "I believe he would remind us that our time has passed, though the 
admission would be a great burden to him as well."  Spock considered his next 
words carefully.  "And he would also ask us to trust those who have followed."

     "Yeah, I think so too."  McCoy began walking away.  "I could use a good 
drink right about now.  Coming, Spock?"

     There was a moment when Spock considered refusing his old comrade.  But he 
remembered that now McCoy was the only comrade he had left.  "I will be along 
shortly."

     McCoy snorted, perhaps with amusement, and walked on.  Spock turned back to 
the /Enterprise/ for a moment and could not help but consider his own... 
feelings toward the ship.  The /Enterprise/... the very name made him recall all 
of the old times, and for a moment Spock wondered if it had truly been that long 
since he and the others had completed their own voyages aboard that other 
/Starship Enterprise/.

     Though none of this new /Enterprise/'s crew was present to see him, Spock 
raised his right hand in the Vulcan salute and greeting.  "Live long and 
prosper," he said softly.  With that last act done, he turned to follow McCoy.

 

 

     Growing tired, Misty was returning from the office of the dockmaster for 
/Valiant/'s berth.  She came around a corner at the /Valiant/'s berth to enter 
the waiting room for the airlock and she saw Jane standing at the airlock, 
wearing her silken /kimono/ and /hakama/.  She was speaking with two Japanese 
men dressed in plain-clothes.  Misty was just close enough to make out the 
sounds of Japanese in the conversation and choose to stay across the room.

     Upon closer inspection, it was clear the two men were related.  One was 
older, in his sixties or even seventies.  The other looked the same age as Misty 
and Jane.  Both had brown eyes and similar Oriental-features, nothing really 
unique to Misty, while the younger man's hair was pitch black in direct contrast 
to the elder's gray.  From a distance Misty observed Jane stepping up to the 
younger man and embracing him.  She said something to him and their lips locked 
together into a kiss, after which the younger man put an arm on Jane's waist and 
the three walked away from the airlock.  Misty finally let her curiosity get the 
better of her and walked after Jane.  "Hey, Janey!"

     Jane turned, as did her companions.  As Misty got closer she noticed a 
strange glint in Jane's eyes, something she'd never seen in two years of knowing 
her  It went well with the wide smile on her face.  "Hello Commander."

     "I, uh...."

     "Sakata/-san/, Takuro, this is my superior, Commander Misty Greene."  Jane 
looked to Misty.  "This is my adopted father and /sensei/, Sakata Noburo, and 
his son Takuro, who is... a great deal more to me."  Jane and Takuro exchanged 
looks that told Misty just what they were to each other.

     "Mister Noburo..."

     Amused grins came over the faces of the two Japanese men, matching Jane's 
own.  "Sorry, Misty, I sometimes slip and think in Japanese while speaking in 
English.  Sakata is the family name.  It comes first in Japanese."

     "Oh."  Misty blushed a little, noticing Jane was doing the same.  "Well, 
uh, the dockmaster says we'll be ready to go on time.  Tuvie's volunteered to 
make sure everything's in order in the morning."

     "I know, Commander."

     Feeling very awkward, Misty nodded and said, "Well, uh, I guess I'll leave 
you to see your old boss... or teacher, or whatever."  She stepped back and 
began walking into the airlock.

     "She seems to be a very interesting woman," Takuro said to Jane in 
English.  He pulled Jane closer.  "It's good to see you are in good hands."

     Jane, for her part, was doing everything possible to constrain her joy at 
being with Takuro again.  It had been nearly twenty-six months since she had 
last seen him.  "I will tell the Commander that she has your vote of confidence, 
/koibito/."

     "I shall see you in the morning, Takuro," Sakata said to his son.  "This 
evening is for you and Jane."  The elder man walked off, leaving Takuro to 
follow Jane to her on-station quarters.

 

 

     It was nearly 0230 when Parker finally walked into his quarters, tired from 
a day of rapid acclimation to the new ship.  The coffee he had sipped down at 
midnight was wearing off and he was ready for sleep, at least for the six hours 
allowed him.  Data, needing no sleep, had volunteered to continue overseeing the 
stocking of the ship's stores and promised to not wake him up until 0900.  
Parker was certain he'd be up before then, of course.

     After indulging in his nightcap and slipping into bed, Parker closed his 
eyes and his mind wandered.  He found himself thinking of Sharon Carter.  He 
hadn't known her very well, as she had been one of dozens of officers serving 
under his command at the time, but he did recall her quite vividly.  She was a 
firebrand and a very good officer.  He didn't want anything to happen to her.

     It was with this in mind that Parker slipped away into sleep.

 

 

*/Unknown Location/*

*/ /*

*/ /*

     There was to be no rest for Carter.  Even after he tired of watching her 
twitch in her restraints Madred made sure to leave the implant on when he left.  
At a low level, it caused a constant fire to burn within Carter's body, keeping 
her awake.  The pain was enough that she felt like screaming at times, but for 
now all she could do was cry.  It was something terrible to be here alone - 
naked and chained - and humiliated by a horrible man.

     Carter's eyes closed as she tried to restrain her weeping.  If Madred saw 
this he would only push her harder in an attempt to break her.  Carter was 
determined not to let him torture her into submission but neither did she want 
to endure more pain.  She had never given much thought to the idea of being 
captured by an enemy and tortured and now Carter regretted that oversight.  She 
might have been better prepared.

     Suddenly the pain in her body subsided.  Carter felt a warm hand touch her 
on the cheek.  She was facing a Romulan man about her age or a little younger in 
appearance.  He looked like any other Vulcanoid Carter had seen.  He spoke to 
her in the Romulan language.  Carter couldn't understand what he was saying 
until he raised a cup of water to her lips.  Carter tilted her head back and he 
allowed the cup to follow.  Cool and fresh water served to quench her thirst and 
wet her throat, made raw from Madred's torture.  Even though she drank the water 
greedily some managed to trickle out from the sides of her mouth, making two 
lines of cool water that ran down her face and neck.  The wet drops mingled with 
her sweat and created an uncomfortable sensation on her bare skin, which was 
already chilled from the temperature of the room.  It even tickled a bit as the 
two drops curved along the outsides of her breasts and ran down her sides and 
hips to her legs.  The Romulan pulled the cup away and regarded her for a 
moment.  Carter wished she knew their language, but she did bring herself to 
gasp, "Thank you."

     The Romulan nodded and turned to walk away.  He moved out of Carter's sight 
for just a moment when she heard the sinister whine of a Cardassian phaser.  The 
Romulan cried out and fell backward, dead, a blackened hole on his chest.  
Carter's breathing intensified as she heard Madred's footsteps on the metal 
floor draw closer.  "I suppose I could have stopped him before he gave you that 
water," Madred said.  "But I think it does not matter either way.  His death, 
after all, was your fault.  Had you given me what I wanted earlier..."

     Carter's eyes closed and her heart picked up pace.  Perhaps it was in 
anticipation of renewed torture, or perhaps something more.  She knew what it 
was soon enough: rage.  She hated Madred more than anything right now.  
"Bastard," she rasped while he bent over and took from the dead Romulan the 
controls for her implant.

     "Oh, these troublesome Rihannsu."  Madred slipped back into his seat.  
"They're not going to be too happy I killed him, but I suppose I can lie simply 
enough.  I'll just tell them I caught him trying to free you."

     Carter was still reacting to what had just happened.  "He was only showing 
mercy," she said hoarsely.

     "Of course.  And by letting him do so before killing him, I have made you 
lower your guard."  Madred raised the control.  "You Humans are too sympathetic 
for your own good.  You've become so upset about his death that it's jeopardized 
your control."  He triggered the lights behind him.  "How many lights?"

     "You /son of a bitch!/"  Carter's scream went from anger to agony when 
Madred pressed the button on the control.  She screeched like a wounded animal 
and pulled helplessly against her restraints.  Her body twitched and her 
reflexes demanded she move.  When she could not, it made her body ache even 
worse, as if the energy it was trying to allocate for movement suddenly had no 
outlet.  Except, of course, in her remaining ability to scream.  Which Carter 
did, quite loudly, as it was the only physical way she could react to the pain.  
"Cart...Carter!  Sharon!  Maaaaar...aaahhh!"  Carter finished a scream before 
she finished, "Marie!  Lieutenant!  Commander!"

     "How many lights are there, Commander?"  Madred turned up the power.

     The burning in Carter's nerves was horrifying.  She began crying while 
screaming, trying to find some way to give outlet to the waves of pain crashing 
within her.  "/Carter!/," she screamed once more.  "/Sharon!  Marie/!"  Each 
word, each syllable, came between pained howls.  "/Lieu...Ten...Ant!"  /She 
couldn't get to work on Commander because, quite mercifully, Carter passed out 
from all of the pain.

     It wasn't much of a passing out, however, as Madred soon awoke her.  Other 
Romulans were carrying her dead benefactor's body out and one was handing Madred 
a hypospray.  "Well, it's been a full day.  Sweet dreams, Commander."  He 
pressed the hypospray against her neck and Carter felt the gush of air that 
meant that whatever drug the spray was loaded with had been injected into her 
bloodstream.  "It's a fun little drug.  Sleep deprivation can be a terrible 
thing."  Madred began to walk away.  "But the drug also blocks sensory input.  
Sensory deprivation /and/ sleep deprivation, combined, can be more powerful than 
the most painful interrogation methods."  Carter was already feeling her sight 
fade when she faintly heard the door swish close.

     Soon she was blind.  Carter could hear nothing at all, could smell nothing, 
could /feel/ nothing.  She couldn't even feel the sweat that she knew covered 
her body.  She screamed but did not hear it.

     And then she screamed again.  And again.  And yet each time, she would hear 
nothing.

 

 

*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

*/20 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

 

 

     Waking up early in her spartan quarters on /Valiant/ (and only Commanding 
Officers and Executive Officers received individual quartering at that), Misty 
Greene replicated a cup of rich, strong, and utterly tasteless black coffee.  
While the coffee circulated through her brain and woke her up, she began to look 
over various data reports on her ship's readiness.  Ten minutes after this 
began, her display suddenly added a window display to inform her that McKinley's 
Comm system had a call incoming, from the /U.S.S. Pericles/ out on patrol on the 
Klingon border.  Smiling at the name of the caller, Misty touched a button and 
accepted the call.  "Jakey!"

     Commander Jake Herscher was about 3 centimeters taller than Misty, with 
rich blond hair and an athletic and lanky body.  He had been her "boytoy" since 
High School and was now serving as Executive Officer on the starship 
/Pericles/.  His blue eyes were sweet and endeared him to Misty's heart.  
Looking at him, Misty realized how much she missed him, and for a few moments 
she allowed herself a small grin because of the various thoughts seeing him 
provoked, including those concerning what she wanted to do with him that were 
intimate, carnal, and sometimes even depraved.  "So, how is it out there?  Any 
Klingon trouble?"

     "Nothing in months," Jake answered her.  "I heard you're heading out again 
on that little rustbucket.  Still not looking for a /real/ starship Misty?"

     "This little rustbucket can kick your starship's pansy ass," retorted Misty 
with a silly grin.  "Oh Jakey, when will you be back anyway?"

     "Not for another two months, baby."

     "But I /miss you/," she whined, only half-jokingly.  She did, after all, 
miss her precious boytoy.

     "And I miss you."  Jake sighed.  "And I'm reminded of that all the time.  
Really, every day I'm out here, staring at these stars and wondering when those 
smelly barbarians are going to come charging across the Zone again to pick a 
fight.  I'd really like to be staring at you."

     A smirk crossed Misty's face.  "With or without clothes?"  They both 
giggled at that.  Seeing Jake brought out the inner child within Misty and made 
her even more immature than usual, such was the strange form of love they had 
together.  Jake also happened to be talented in certain ways, meaning their 
nights together were usually very fun, very passionate, and very pleasurable.

     "Both."

     After more laughter, they spoke for the next ten minutes on varying 
personal issues and planning for their next night together.

     When they exchanged goodbyes, Misty started changing into her uniform.  
They would be leaving within two hours and she had to be ready.

 

 

     Phillips was returning to /Intrepid/ from the rental office for the 
station's storage lockers when he found an expected but now feared sight.  His 
family was standing at the airlock to the /Intrepid/.  His eyes first went to 
Zandra, his wife, a woman with a light and slightly-tanned complexion, lovely 
brown eyes, and a gorgeous body that he literally worshipped at times.  Standing 
beside her on the right, at one hundred and sixty-seven centimeters compared to 
her one hundred and seventy, was Patrick Junior, his eldest child at eleven 
Terran years and his only son.  Patrick Jr. had his mother's eyes and face but 
his father's hair, nose, and build.  And, like most kids would, he wanted to 
follow his father's career and become a Starfleet fighter pilot.  Phillips had 
even been compelled to buy him a model kit of his old SF-30 /Valkyrie/ fighter 
for Christmas.  Standing by her left was eight year old Jessica, who more 
closely resembled her mother save for having her father's blue eyes; Phillips 
was almost dreading her growing up because he was certain she would also inherit 
her mother's body and attract a horde of would-be suitors.  And in Zandra's arm 
was Willow, only 14 months old, with her mother's eyes.

     "Zandra, sweetie..."  Phillips walked up to them, seeing the disappointed 
and angry glare in his wife's eyes.

     "You told me you'd be available all week, Pat."  Zandra looked up at him.  
"What's this I hear about your ship leaving today?"

     "Baby, something came up."  Phillips put a hand on her cheek.  "We're being 
sent on a mission, I can't say what."

     "You promised me."  Zandra's eyes began to tear up.  She had been building 
up to this for hours.  "You promised me we could spend the week together with 
the kids."

     "I know I did."

     "Then why?  Can't they find someone else?"  Even with the bitterness in her 
voice Phillips knew that she knew the truth.  "Pat, our flight back home leaves 
next Monday.  Please don't tell me..."

     "Honey, we'll be back home before then, I'm sure of it."  Phillips kissed 
her on the lips gently while suppressing the desire to make it more passionate; 
this wasn't the place.  "I'm so sorry..."

     "Patrick..."  Zandra was still tearing up.  "When are you going to get a 
planet-bound post?  Weren't you promised the post on Pacifica?"

     "They're still deciding on whether to form the command or to leave the 
squadrons seperate.  Until they do..."  Phillips shrugged.  "I know we've had 
our hearts set on me getting something planet-side, but I haven't yet.  And I've 
got to make sure that whatever it is, I'll make enough to take care of you and 
the kids."

     Suddenly Patrick Junior spoke up.  "Besides, Mom, Dad's a Starfleet 
officer.  This is his duty!  He's got to do it.  Right, Dad?"

     Zandra looked over at her son with a combination of amusement and 
bewilderment.  "But I want Daddy home!" Jessica whined in disagreement.

     "Oh, sweetie, I'll be home one day."  Phillips hunched down and gave his 
daughter a hug.  He turned to his son, standing up to his full height, and set 
his hand on Patrick Junior's shoulder.  "Son, you're right, but that doesn't 
mean it's easy.  I want to be home with you four very much.  And I'm going to 
one day, no matter what it takes."

     There was a nod from Zandra.  "I know."

     Patrick reached over and rubbed his finger on his baby daughter's chin.  
Willow did not respond since she was sound asleep.  "She's growing up so fast."

     "You've said that about all of the children, Pat," Zandra pointed out.  
"So, when are you going to get back from this emergency mission?"

     "By Saturday, maybe even earlier.  I can't tell you anything more, hon."  
Phillips bowed his head.  "I didn't want this to happen, I..."

     He found the index finger of Zandra's free right hand on his lips.  "I 
know, Pat," she said to him.  "Well, the kids and I will be waiting for you."

     "Of course you will."  He kissed her on the cheek.

     "Oh, Dad, before you go, can I ask you something?"

     Phillips turned back to his son.  "What is it?"

     "I, uh, my school has a course I can take next year.  JROTC preparation, 
they call it.  Should I enter it?"

     "Well..."  Phillips scratched at the nape of his neck.  "It'll get you 
ready for JROTC in High School, and if you complete that you'll get a commission 
sooner if you join Starfleet, but it can be rough on you.  Think you're ready 
for military-style discipline, Patrick?"

     "Yeah!"

     Somehow, Phillips doubted it.  But he couldn't exactly say no to his son, 
knowing how badly Patrick Junior wanted to fly.  "Well, you have my support.  If 
your mother allows, go ahead."  He noticed the bemused glance from Zandra as she 
feigned annoyance.  /Yes, honey, I'm foisting the decision on you, even though I 
know you'd rather keep Patrick out of Starfleet if you can.  But I know you'll 
do what's best for him/.  Halting his thoughts for the moment, Phillips checked 
his watch.  "Well, Commander Howard is expecting me and we pull out in two 
hours.  I'll see you when I get back."  He gave his wife a last kiss and hugged 
his kids before stepping into the airlock.  Zandra called out to him to be safe, 
and he replied with a nod and a thumb's up gesture, which Patrick Junior 
enthusiastically copied.  He continued on into the bowels of /Intrepid/, still 
smarting over that pained look he'd seen in Zandra's eyes.  One of these days he 
/was/ going to go planet-side, even if it meant retirement.  That much he 
resolved to do now as he had in the past.

     There was only the question of making it happen.

 

 

     The bridge of /Avenger/ was bustling with activity when O'Farrell arrived, 
having secured some of his belongings in his quarters before entering the 
bridge.  He could see Tasha seated at the helm, running final launch checks.  To 
his right, at weapons, was the big and burly Serbian farmboy Lt. J.G. Branislav 
Kojic, a native of the Belgrade region.  He was only 25, having just won his 
first promotion as an officer.  Brown hair and baby-blue eyes were his 
distinguishing features, as well as an excellent muscle tone that made him quite 
handsome to the ladies, or so O'Farrell had heard.  At Operations, on 
O'Farrell's left, was Lt. S.G. Phil Leeson.  An Australian like O'Farrell, 
Leeson was lanky and thin, though a little athletic in muscle tone, and 
possessed sandy-blond hair and brown eyes.  Deep in the bowels of the ship was 
the ruddy-faced Irishman, Chief Engineer Lt. S.G. Miles O'Brien, who was 
actually the eldest member of the /Avenger/'s senior crew; he had been an 
enlisted man with a technician specialty up until the Cardassian War, when he 
won a brevet commission that Starfleet permanently granted at the end of the 
conflict on the advice of the war hero Capt. Ben Maxwell.  O'Farrell liked and 
admired the man, even if he couldn't stand O'Brien's tastes in alcohol.

     "Final checks cleared, Commander."  Tasha looked over her shoulder.  "We're 
ready to depart."

     "We'll let /Enterprise/ get all the attention."  O'Farrell eased into his 
seat.  "Do your thing, everyone."

     /Avenger/'s atmosphere was informal enough that everyone went along with 
it.  After the airlock was cleared the ship slowly eased out of it's berth, came 
about, and headed for an exit.  Spacedock control vectored them in so that they 
could use the Gamma entryway after an arriving /New Orleans/-class ship, the 
/Demosthenes/, came through.  Once outside, Tasha pulled /Avenger/ up into 
formation with the other ships from the squadron that were waiting; /Hood/, 
/Minneapolis/, and /Valiant/.  A few moments later /Great Lakes/ came out Alpha 
Entryway.  /Intrepid/ was clearing her moorings and would join them soon enough.

     Now all that was left was /Enterprise/.

 

 

     Everything was now ready.  The /Enterprise/ crew was at three-quarters her 
intended complement and a little heavier on enlistees than Parker would have 
liked, but they would be enough.  The ship's torpedo magazines were fully 
stocked with over two hundred quantum torpedoes and about fifty of the older 
photon torpedoes.  Every section of the ship had been checked, double-checked, 
and triple-checked for problems; they were good to go.

     Despite the best efforts of Pressman to keep everything hushed up, news on 
a Starbase traveled fast, and large crowds of onlookers were present at 
/Enterprise/'s berth, awaiting her departure.  From the bridge of the 
/Enterprise/ Parker watched them over an external video line via the display 
screen to his right.  All of his officers were taking their places and checking 
their appropriate systems.  They each affirmed readiness up to Data, who 
reported, "All systems are at one hundred percent, Captain.  We are ready to 
depart."

     "Clear all moorings.  Mister O'Keefe, contact Spacedock control."

     "Clearing all moorings."  Data flipped several buttons on his station and 
the umbilicals that provided life support and power from the station to the 
/Enterprise /were blown away by non-violent explosions of air.

     O'Keefe came next.  "Spacedock Control is on, Sir."

     "Spacedock Control, this is /Enterprise/," said Parker with much subdued 
excitement.  "We are requesting permission to depart."

     A female voice replied, "/Enterprise/, this is Spacedock Control.  You are 
clear for Entryway Beta.  We will open doors in ten seconds."

     "Mister Hamblin, maneuver us into position please."

     Hamblin's hands moved over the maneuvering portion of his control panel.  
The ship's thrusters fired and pushed her into position facing the spacedock's 
entry doors.  At the ten second mark, they slid open.  The trails of running 
lights below /Enterprise/, on the spacedock "floor', seemed to beckon them to 
open space.  "Doors opening, /Enterprise/.  Good luck and Godspeed."

     "Mister Hamblin, one quarter impulse power."

     "Sir, might I remind..."  The younger man seemed to think better of the 
complaint he was about to register while Parker shared an amused look with 
Razmara.  "One quarter impulse, Sir."

     /Enterprise/'s main engines fired and she swiftly exited the starbase.  
Waiting for her outside were the other ships, arranged in an arrowhead formation 
with /Avenger/ and /Valiant/ on the flanks and /Intrepid/ and /Hood/ on the 
insides.  The lead position had been left to /Enterprise/.  "Ease us into 
formation, Mister Hamblin."

     With uncanny accuracy, Hamblin brought the /Enterprise/ into position at 
the head of the arrow.  "Set course for Radcliffe's Nebula at warp factor 9, 
Mister Hamblin."

     "Aye Sir."

     "Mister O'Keefe, be kind enough to relay Mister Hamblin's course data to 
the other ships."

     "Aye Sir!"

     When both were done and made verbal confirmation, Parker exchanged an 
anxious glance with Razmara.  "Well, let's get this show on the road," he 
muttered under his breath.  Aloud, with none of his concerns allowed to weaken 
the strength of his order, Parker stated, "Bring us to warp, Mister Hamblin."

     With a few deft strokes of his controls, Hamblin did just that, and 
/Enterprise/ and her companions made the jump to warp.




     /Captain's Log 20 May 2368 17:23 GST: Attached to the log is all current 
data and status on the running of the /Enterprise.  /To sum it up, we are on 
course for Radcliffe's Nebula at Warp 9.29 something something something (only 
Data would really care).  I wanted 9.3 but Captain Lenarova on the /Great Lakes/ 
assured me that her ship could not maintain that speed for the duration and that 
her chief engineer would personally flay me if I blew up his precious engines.  
So I compromised on a few decimal points./

/     The rest of this log is supposed to be me prattling on about the mission, 
what I expect to see, and any other details.  Well, I don't have the patience 
for that right now./

/     Well, I will say this.  The whole thing stinks and there are far too many 
unanswered questions.  Why would the Rihannsu - sorry, Romulans - attack a 
Federation starship operating legitimately in the Triangle?  Why would they even 
plant a spy post there?  They have their own problems with the Klingons, 
Tholians, and Ferengi, they don't need the Federation adding to it./

/     I'll say it again.  This whole thing stinks./

 

     Parker handed the log recorder back to the enlisted yeoman who was 
responsible for it, a pretty young Petty Officer named Rachel Galvarez.  The 
tan-skinned mestizo woman smiled at him, nodded, and walked away with it.  
Feeling restless, Parker stood up and walked up behind Hamblin, who was busy 
monitoring the ship's heading and speed.  "ETA, Mister Hamblin?"

     "Ten hours, fifteen minutes, Sir."

     "I mean to System R4392, Lieutenant."

     "Sir, we can't determine that until we gauge the nebula's current condition."

     Parker shook his head.  "Give me a ballpark, Lieutenant."

     Suddenly Data asked, "Captain, why are you asking Lieutenant Hamblin for a 
ballpark?"

     "Figure of speech, Data," came the irritated reply.  "I'm asking for a guess."

     "Ah."  Data nodded and went back to minding his console.

     "Well, Sir, anywhere from fourteen to thirty hours."  Hamblin touched a few 
buttons to adjust the /Enterprise/'s course after a gravitational field from a 
nearby star pulled a little too strongly.  "If the nebula's quiet and you want 
to zip through, we can get by quick, but if we have to slow down..."

     Parker nodded.  He looked back to Larrisa, who was minding her sensor 
station.  "Lieutenant, if the Romulans do have some kind of spy post scanning 
Federation space, couldn't we detect it through it's scanning waves?"

     "I'm not sure."  Larrisa shook her head.  "Uh, according to the knowledge 
of Romulan sensor capability that we do have, it'd have to be active so we 
/would/ detect it, but if they've got anything better we don't know about..."

     Razmara shifted in her chair.  "What's on your mind, Captain?"

     "This entire situation.  The nebula's a dangerous place to pass through, 
and if I were a commander anticipating Federation forces moving in from other 
sectors to find /Equinox/, I'd immediately suspect that nebula."  Parker rubbed 
his hands together.  "Mister Hamblin, if we changed course to pass the nebula, 
when would we arrive at R4392?"

     Hamblin ran the calculations.  "Eleven hours, forty minutes, Captain."

     "Sir, you're not going to..."

     "Not yet," Parker said, cutting off Razmara.  "Not until I think it over 
more."  He turned toward the turbolift.  "Either way, I'm going to catch a 
little shuteye.  You have the Bridge, Commander.  Call me in seven hours."

     "Yes, Captain."  Razmara nodded and moved over into the command seat while 
Parker entered the turbolift.

 

*/ /*

*/Unknown Location/*

 

 

     /Nothingness./

     Carter wasn't sure how much time had passed in the oblivion of sensory 
deprivation.  She had never been so alone in her life.  Unfeeling, incapable of 
comprehending her environment, she was lost in the darkness.

     It was when it faded that Carter, for a few moments, thought she heard 
blood-curdling screams.  It was not until she was fully aware again, though, 
that she realized what was going on.  She was still in Madred's office, it 
seemed, though now she was laying on the floor in the robes they had taken from 
her earlier.  Her eyes fluttered open, the bright lights hurting them and 
forcing Carter to squint.  Slowly her eyes adjusted to the light.

     "Commander Carter, you're finally awake.  It's been quite a while."

     Madred's voice prompted her to turn toward it's origin.  Madred was in his 
chair, and in front of his desk was another figure hanging naked in metallic 
restraints.  Carter crawled up to it and her heart seized up with horror at 
seeing the spots of a Trill woman.  Jadzia was Madred's new victim and he had 
tortured her to the point of passing out.  Her head was slumped down, her eyes 
shut closed, and her usually perfect raven hair was disheveled.  Some of it 
flowed over her shoulders and chest, obscuring Jadzia's naked breasts and the 
spots that run from her shoulders down to her belly and the rest of her body.  
Carter looked back at Madred, who seemed to be quite startled at seeing her.  
"What are you doing with her?!", Carter demanded, too mentally disturbed to 
bother with the denial strategy any longer.

     "Well, you were out for so long that my sponsers became impatient.  It 
seems the drugs need work for dealing with humans."  Madred took a drink from a 
glass on the table.  "So they asked me to interrogate the next bridge officer on 
the list, Lieutenant Farrelis here."  He looked over at her, seeing Carter 
looking at the ground and trying to get her bearings.  "You've been out for 
nearly a week.  In fact, I should tell you that the Federation's investigation 
into your disappearance has concluded that your ship was destroyed in a tragic 
accident resulting from some technical problem I'm not sure of.  You have no 
hope of rescue now, Commander Carter, so you should really cooperate before any 
more of your crew suffers."

     Carter croaked, "More?"  Her throat was parched and dry which only worsened 
the strain of her vocal cards.

     "The Rihannsu decided to test the proper dosage of that drug.  I'm afraid 
one of your crewmembers, a Section Chief Donald MacIntosh, suffered irrepairable 
brain damage and is now dead.  Then there was an Ensign in your engineering 
department, Rosa Masters, who is currently comatose from the drug."

     "Oh my God...."  Carter's horror increased.  MacIntosh was a friend and 
mentor to the entire crew.  Rose Masters was going to shore-duty because she was 
in her second trimester of pregnancy.  "Rose's baby!"

     "The doctors are not very familiar with human anatomy, but they believe the 
baby is already dead or has certainly suffered crippling damage."  Madred seemed 
forlorn and depressed.  "I really didn't like hearing that."

     "What do you care?" rasped Carter.  "You don't give a damn about suffering."

     "Actually, I prefer it when my subjects break early.  I take no particular 
joy in my line of work.  It's a specialty, that's all.  I really do feel sorry 
for Ensign Masters."  Madred shook his head.  "If only you had given me what I 
wanted, Commander.  Then this entire episode could have been avoided.  
Lieutenant Farrelis would not have suffered these past few days.  Chief 
MacIntosh and Ensign Masters' baby would still be alive."

     If Carter had the energy she would have wept.  But there was a voice within 
her wondering if she could trust this evil man.  Madred was an interrogator; his 
purpose was to extract information from her.  He considered her for another 
moment before pulling his controller out.  "Well, Commander, let's try again."  
He turned the lights on and again there were three.  "How many lights do you see?"

     What was she to do?  Carter's mind raced as she considered the options.  
Giving into Madred would spare Jadzia and the others and it was her duty to look 
after her ship's crew, yet they all had their higher duty to Starfleet and the 
Federation.  They couldn't just give Romulan renegades such information.

     It was with great hesitation that Carter made her decision.

     "Carter, Sharon Marie.  Lieutenant Commander."  She didn't get a chance to 
list her serial number.  Madred's thumb pressed down on the control and Carter's 
world dissolved into pain.

 

 

*/Federation Space/*

 

 

     With the ships scheduled to arrive in the morning at the nebula, Marina had 
ordered the night watch, midnight to 0600, to come in two hours earlier so that 
she and the command crew could rest up for the next day, which would likely 
involve combat.  She retired to her cabin where she showered and changed into a 
blue nightgown made of satin.  After some consideration of what to have to drink 
before retiring for the night, Marina chose a tea of middling strength to 
indulge in a philosophical mood.  She walked up to her bookshelf and pulled out 
a copy of one of Hegel's works, preferring to have a solid book in her hands 
instead of reading from her desk monitor.  She slipped into the chair at her 
desk and set the tea down after taking a sip.  Doing so caused her to look at a 
picture over twenty-five years old; her, aged 19, on a yacht in the Black Sea 
with a girl of her age, Valentyna Lahenza.  In those more libertine years of her 
life, when Marina was enjoying liberation from the stifling protocols of the 
independent theocratic Orthodox colony of Novya Sankt-Peterburg, she had been 
more open and, like Valentyna in the picture, was dressed in a revealing 
two-piece bathing suit.  Seeing the picture made Marina blush slightly.  In 
those days she had been quite stunning to look at, with that flat belly and 
those nice curves, while today Marina sometimes felt like she had lost the 
attractiveness and fitness of her youth no matter her personal efforts at 
physical exercise and activity.

     Marina drew in a breath.  Sweet Valentyna!  O how Marina missed that lovely 
smile and the rose-colored lips that formed them.  Valentyna had been her first 
lover and to this day there had been none whom Marina pined for more than 
Valentyna, who she saw far too infrequently.  Her history with Valentyna was 
deeply-rooted in Marina's coming of age and entry into Starfleet.  The Lahenzas 
had been far more understanding people than the Lenarovas that had raised her 
and she owed them greatly.  Marina was living with them at that age to get her 
education in her family's native Ukraine (or somewhat-native Ukraine, Marina was 
somewhat of a Slavic mutt with many different national heritages, even including 
a little Cossack) and the Lahenzas had not objected to her intimacy with 
Valentyna.  Marina considered those years of her life to be her true "growing 
up" period, when she found personal knowledge and a love of philosophy and 
history in Sergei Lahenza's study, the practical knowledge of the engineering 
trade from Svitlana Lahenza's books and office, and perhaps most importantly, 
love and the intimate pleasures of life in the company of her beloved 
Valentyna.  Seeing that beautiful girl's face again, her graceful and slim 
figure and long blonde hair, made Marina's heart flutter.  Valentyna had even 
aged gracefully, looking little different from the beautiful teenage girl in the 
picture.  Like Marina she had entered Starfleet as an engineer, but unlike 
Marina she did not bother with attempting to go into command and had retired 
about eight years ago, joining an aerospace engineering firm based in Kiev and 
living in her parents' Black Sea dacha.

     Even though she had other friends, Marina never spoke of Valentyna with the 
others.  She valued her privacy above all else; her feelings toward Valentyna, 
her memories, were for her alone.  That didn't stop her from talking with others 
about the issues of sex, though; she would joke with them in that usual vulgar 
manner that navy people had.  On top of that, she had been recently found a 
sense of maternal pleasure in helping a junior officer working the comms on Beta 
Shift, Allen Jones, eliminate a sense of self-loathing over being a homosexual.  
Marina, and Allen it seemed, have never asked to be this way; it was simply 
there, and in Marina's case, it was the one thing that made it impossible for 
her to stay on Novya Sankt-Peterburg, where being homosexual would likely have 
earned her a painful end or an unhappy marriage by the force of her father.

     After looking at the picture for a long moment, Marina sighed and opened 
her book up to read.  She managed three pages before there was a beep from her 
communicator.  "Bridge to Captain Lenarova," she heard Jones say.  Marina 
pressed a button on her desk and replied.  "Captain, we're being signaled from 
/Enterprise/.  Captain Parker wishes to speak with you."

     "Put him through to here."  For a moment Marina considered asking for a few 
minutes to change, not entirely comfortable with being in a nightgown and 
speaking on a visual line.  But the impulses toward conservatism that created 
that discomfort had served her purposes anyway, as her nightgown was a very 
conservative and unrevealing garment - it was cut just below her neck and 
shoulders with thick straps running over the shoulders - and there really wasn't 
much to her arms, shoulders, and neck being visible.  She was surprised, 
however, to see her screen partition into six parts.  Parker was in uniform and 
apparently in his own cabin; Berger was in a muscle shirt and again in his 
cabin.  O'Farrell, Phillips, and Drake were in their offices, or what passed for 
a captain's office (or ready room) on /Avenger/.  Nobody spoke until the sixth 
screen came active.  Misty was sitting in her own cramped cabin on the 
/Valiant/, wearing a red sports bra that bared her midriff and showed abs that 
Marina would probably kill to have once again.  The look in her eyes said she 
had been asleep when the call came and Misty, not as conservative as Marina or 
perhaps too tired to consider it, hadn't bothered to put on her uniform.

     With everyone present, Parker spoke.  "I've spent the last few hours 
mulling over this situation.  And right now I'm not too thrilled with the angle 
of attack Pressman assigned us."

     Phillips beat Berger to the punch.  "You mean going through that nasty nebula?"

     "It can be a precarious route," said Drake in the stoic English reserve 
that Marina rather admired.  "But it would aid us in remaining undetected."

     "The motives Pressman claimed are rather silly anyway."  Misty put a hand 
into her dark hair, which was disheveled from where she had been sleeping.  "I 
mean, I thought we told the Romulans about our patrol routes anyway?  Why would 
they plant some kind of super-duper array into the Triangle to spy on us?"

     There was a shrug from Berger.  "Well, if they are Romulan renegades, maybe 
they don't have the clearance to know about it?  Or if it's the Romulans 
themselves, maybe the array that the /Equinox/ found was directed toward the 
Klingons?"

     "Then why is it in the corner of the Triangle between us and the Romulans?" 
Parker asked.  "This entire thing doesn't make a bit of sense.  Pressman's just 
using this as an opportunity to posture with Command."

     A wry grin appeared on Marina's face.  /He's a smart one/, she mused.  She 
had spent most of the day and the one previous pondering most of these things.  
Speaking aloud, Marina inquired, "So, Captain, what would you suggest?"

     "Well, if any of you think the nebula route is best, we'll go that way."  
Parker's expression was grim.  "But I don't think we'll find the Romulans behind 
this.  It'll be someone else.  And God knows what they'll do to the crew of the 
/Equinox/.  So I would prefer not bothering with the nebula and just heading on 
into the Triangle."

     "And what about Pressman?"  Now O'Farrell was speaking up.  "He's not gonna 
be happy."

     "We'll take a course that takes us on an approach route to the nebula and 
then bank off.  I can have Larrisa 'arrange' to detect something in the nebula 
that we can reasonably expect to be potential contacts.  So we decided to go 
around.  At that point, well, Captain Lenarova, if I might inquire into the 
nature of your engines?"  Marina could see Parker put his hands together on his 
desk.  "To make this look good, we'll need to make a spurt of speed into the 
Triangle.  Think your Chief Engineer would mind a sprint of Warp 9.5?"

     /You're a sly man, Parker, and this is the kind of stunt I'd pull off in 
your place.  It's no wonder I like you./  "Ed would be pissed off the entire 
time," Marina replied frankly, with a hint of a chuckle in there.  She did 
derive amusement from her engineer's tantrums.  "But we've pushed 9.6 a couple 
of times, 9.5 for a few hours shouldn't be bad.  I'm in favor of your plan, 
Captain."

     "/Hood/ is not exactly young either," Drake reminded them.  "Lieutenant 
Commander Engasser will probably give me hell for this as well.  But I'll agree 
to your plan."

     Everyone chuckled.  Each commander knew full well just how cranky engineers 
could be when one tried to do things to their precious ships.  One by one each 
affirmed their assent to his plan.  "Excellent.  We'll arrange to slow down for 
simulated nebula entry and give ourselves enough time for a few scans before we 
adjust course and begin our sprint.  Once we go into the Triangle I recommend we 
raise our alert status to Yellow."  There were nods of assent.  Parker looked to 
something on his side.  According to my navigation officer we'll reach the 
slowdown point for the nebula in about five hours.  I'll have him signal me at 
that time for the official course change.  I'll leave the rest of you to 
whatever you were doing, as it seems we caught a number of people in bed."

     Now that made Marina chuckle, especially considering Misty's disheveled 
appearance and Berger's rather informal attire.  Indeed, Misty's was the first 
signal to cut off, followed by Berger's and Parker's.  Marina waited until only 
Drake remained.  The monitor immediately enlarged his image to full.  She took a 
sip and asked him, "What did you think of that?"

     "Parker plays a dangerous game."  The widest smile possible for Drake 
formed on his face.  "And you look like you're enjoying it.  In fact, you have 
that dangerous glint in your eyes again, Marina."

     "You say that all the time," she retorted.  "I think he has a good point."

     "As do I, or I would not have agreed.  Well, you look like you were 
retiring for the evening.  Go get some rest."

     "I will.  The same goes for you, of course."

     "Of course."  Drake nodded.  "Good night."  He touched something off-screen 
and disappeared.  For a moment the Federation logo appeared on Marina's monitor 
before it reverted to the usual LCARS login screen.  She turned the monitor off 
and brought up her book.  Another half-hour of reading would come; afterward 
with her tea finished Marina slipped into her bed and fell asleep swiftly.

 

 

*/Unknown Location/*

 

 

     In enormous pain, Carter was laying on the floor.  She had been pumped up 
with sleep-deprivation meds and tortured for hours.  Jadzia had awoken some time 
into that and Madred had begun torturing them together, never allowing them to 
speak to one another.  Finally, perhaps in a moment of wry torturer's humor, he 
injected Jadzia with a different drug to put her to sleep, leaving Carter alone 
and slowly starting to lose her mind.  Everything seemed to blur together into 
one long marathon of pain and terror.  Tears rolled down her eyes as Carter 
wondered how long she could hold out, or if she should even bother.  If the 
Federation thought they were dead, there would be no rescue, no hope at all.  
They were stuck here.  What good would holding out do?

     In the Academy, they had all been taught that torture would break them over 
time.  No matter how much willpower one had, or religious conviction, they would 
eventually fall to the whims and tricks of a clever and trained torturer.  
Madred certainly fit that bill.  Though never a religious woman, Carter began to 
pray to whatever was out there that she might be spared more suffering.

     Carter rolled out of her fetal position and stared up at the ceiling.  
Jadzia was still shackled to the ceiling and unclothed.  Her head was slumped 
over with her hair mostly over her shoulders and back, making her nakedness more 
apparent than when Carter had come out of sensor deprivation.  Carter sucked in 
a breath, feeling a cramp in her diaphragm, and let out a long moan.  She wanted 
to sleep so much but the drugs circulating in her body would not permit it.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.  Suddenly she began to weep.  "I'm so sorry...."

     Carter wasn't sure how long she'd been weeping when she heard a weak but 
familiar voice call out to her.  She looked up with reddened, bloodshot eyes at 
Jadzia, who had awoken.  Apparently Madred's drug didn't effect Trill as well as 
intended.  "Lieutenant?"

     "Commander, Sir, I'm not sure I'm going to make it," Jadzia confessed, 
breaking out into tears.  "It just hurts so much..."

     "I know.  How many days has he been torturing you?"

     "He just started today, Sir."

     Now Carter felt something was strange.  Madred had made it seem like Jadzia 
had been with him for a lot longer.  "I heard what happened to Chief MacIntosh 
and Rose."

     Jadzia's pained expression showed confusion.  "What do you mean by that?  
Last I knew, nothing's been done to them."

     "You mean.... Madred lied to me."  The revelation made Carter angry.  "How 
long have we been prisoners?"

     "This is the second day, Commander."

     Carter nodded.  "Listen, Lieutenant, pretend to be asleep when he comes 
back.  He's been trying to trick me."

     The door suddenly swished open and Madred entered, flanked by guards.  
"Why, of course I have, my dear Commander Carter."  He seemed to enjoy the pale 
look on Carter's face while he walked up.  "But upon thinking about it, such a 
facade seemed such a waste.  And Lieutenant Farrelis, why keep your face away?"

     "I've seen enough of your's already," the Trill woman hissed.

     "I suppose you have.  Well, since drugging you hasn't worked, perhaps you 
should both have the night to think about your situations and consider giving in 
to the inevitable."  Madred pulled out his control.  "Good evening, I'll see you 
in the morning."

     First he turned on Carter's implant and pain began to echo in her body, a 
low level pain that enabled her to breathe easy but still ate away at her 
strength.  Jadzia's came on next, a pained expression crossing that 
usually-pleasant face.  With this done Madred turned right around and walked out 
of the door with his guards.  The two women begin to groan loudly, sometimes 
screaming or crying out when the pain became too much for the moment.  And they 
would spend the rest of the night in this condition.

 

 

*/Neutral Space, The Triangle/*

*/21 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

 

*/ /*

     At precisely 0631, the /Enterprise/ decelerated to Warp 6 to prepare an 
entry into Radcliffe's Nebula.  Twenty seconds later, Lieutenant Larrisa began a 
sensor scan of the nearest environs.  She reported to Razmara that there were 
unidentifiable power spikes in the region not conforming with the established 
maps of the region.  It could be from starships waiting in an ambush of some 
kind.  Razmara ordered further scans and called Parker to the bridge.

     Two more scans recognized the spikes as well.  By this time Parker had 
arrived and he did the only thing that could be expected from the situation.  
After signaling the other ships with new course figures, the /Enterprise/ pulled 
“down” and to the left, adjusting her course to bypass the Nebula and head 
straight into the Triangle.  The ships each hit Warp 9.5 at once, causing much 
indignation with the seven chief engineers in the squadron, whom each promised 
brutal retaliation against their respective COs if their precious engines blew up.

     As the hours ticked away, Parker went to his “ready room” on the Bridge’s 
port-bow side.  It was nearly unfurnished with only a desk and office chair.  He 
sat in the chair and stared at the ceiling in an attempt to clear the anxiety 
from his head.  After a short - or perhaps long - period of time passed, he 
heard the room’s chime sound.  When it sounded a second time he sat back up and 
faced the door.  “Come in.”

     The door slid open.  Razmara entered and stood at attention.  “Captain?”

     “What is it, Commander?”

     “Sir, at our increased speed we’ll be in system R4392 in three hours.  
Would you like me to go to Yellow Alert?”

     “Red Alert, Commander.  Have Colonel Kira prep her Marines, just in case we 
need them.”

     Razmara nodded in reply.  But she did not move.  Parker considered the icy 
calm in her face and stature.  Not the emotionless of the Vulcans he had known 
but rather that of a trained, seasoned military professional.  It was a little 
odd for Parker - to notice such a difference considering the points on Razmara’s 
ears, the one outward sign of her Vulcan blood.  “Of course, Sir.”

     “Anything else, Commander?”

     Razmara thought for a moment.  “Sir, you seem to be rather nervous.”

     “Why shouldn’t I be?  We are barreling into Neutral space to look for a 
lost ship on a mission that could very well spark a war with the Rihannsu.”

     “Rihannsu.”  Razmara finally seemed to let that calm slip as an indicator 
she was now speaking informally.  “You don’t agree with Pressman, I know.  But 
can you be so sure the Romulans aren’t as bad as he claims?  We all know about 
the experiments on Vulcan abductees a hundred years ago, about the scheming and 
plotting for war, and this was when they were a third-rate military power behind 
the Federation and Klingon Empire.  They could be much worse now.”

     “I don’t deny, Commander, that the Rihannsu are prone to the same vices as 
we are.  But this entire thing doesn’t seem right.  Even if we assume they did 
it, then why?  They know our patrol routes in the Triangle.  If they wanted to 
build an illegal facility they would do it outside of those patrol routes."

     "Well, Sir, people don't always act as you think they would.  And I would 
point out that the time you spend thinking about what might be the truth is time 
you won't spend preparing to deal with it."

     A smirk curled up on Parker's face.  Razmara could be blunt when she wanted 
to.  "Is that a curt reminder of my duties, Commander?"

     "Of course not, Sir.  Just friendly advice."

     For a moment Parker considered telling her how much she looked like a 
Vulcan while saying that but he thought better of it.  "Very well, Commander.  
Let's go."  He got out of his chair and followed her out.

     Once out onto the bridge, Parker barked "Red Alert!" and went toward the 
command chair.  Red light flooded the bridge and a series of five alert klaxons 
sounded with a shrill "wiiiiir" sound.  Across the ship the crew was rushing 
into battle stations.  Lt. Jobrie's fingers moved over a couple sections of her 
console, raising the shields and powering the weapons.  Parker and Razmara took 
their seats almost simultaneously.  Razmara immediately said, "Readiness report."

     One by one, each station reported in, starting with Hamblin.  "Helm 
responding, sir.  All engine systems are functioning properly."

     "Bringing tactical sensors online, Captain," reported Larrisa.  Parker 
privately noted his satisfaction with her attentiveness, so much unlike the 
stereotype of the Edo, while Larrisa's slender fingers moved over a section of 
her board.  He nodded to Razmara, who pressed a number of keys on her console 
and brought up the holographic three-dimensional tactical display that rested on 
a pedastal-shaped emitter between their chairs.  The /Enterprise/ was 
represented by a Starfleet arrowhead in the center; their six companions were 
blue marks.  The display was zoomed in to a two hundred kilometer range, 
encompassing the formation and little else.  The graphical representation of 
warp space, that of streaks of color, appeared around the ships.  "Long range 
sensors are at peak capability; magnetic, heat, light, mass, radio, and subspace 
scanners are all functioning properly."

     Jobrie came next.  "Primary phaser arrays and pulse phaser cannons are 
functioning properly, Captain.  Shields at full strength.  Torpedo launchers are 
functioning and loading of first spreads is almost complete.  Defensive phaser 
banks charged and targeting network online."

     "Comm arrays are online, Captain."  O'Keefe turned his chair forward.  
"Tactical uplinks with the rest of the squadron are complete."

     Data's fingers raced over his own panel besides Hamblin's.  "All ship 
sections report readiness, Captain.  Engineering reports that the warp core and 
fusion cores are functioning properly; main and auxiliary batteries online and 
charging.  Sickbay is preparing to receive battle casualties.  Lieutenant 
Coleman is beginning a pre-launch briefing with his pilots and the fighter 
launch deck is arming all craft."

     There was an approving nod from Razmara.  "Captain, the /Enterprise/ is ready."

     "Maintain course and speed, Mister Hamblin.  Lieutenant," Parker turned to 
Larrisa's wall station to his left, behind and to the left of Data, "begin 
sensor scans of the area.  Look for any traces of the /Equinox/."

     "Aye, Captain."

     O'Keefe turned again.  "Sir, the other ships are reporting in.  All 
readiness checks complete and satisfactory.  We're ready for combat, Sir."

     "Very good, Mister O'Keefe."  Parker looked at Razmara.  "All that's left 
is to find out what's happened."

     "Somehow, Sir, I think that will be the hard part," came her reply.

 

 

     The bridge of the /Intrepid/ was dim and covered in red light.  Since the 
/Intrepid/ was an /Independence/-class starship and thus derived from the failed 
/Galaxy/-class, it had the established format of a /Galaxy/-class ship's bridge 
with an added station on the Captain's left for the Wing Command Officer.  It 
was there that the stocky one hundred seventy-seven centimeter Commander 
Petersen was normally seated; the proud Long Island native was now in the main 
briefing chamber giving a rundown for the four hundred pilots and weapons/sensor 
officers on the varying fighter craft /Intrepid/ carried.

     Seated in the command chair, Phillips thoughtfully considered the 
situation.  They had been cruising for the last hundred and fifty minutes toward 
the /Equinox/'s last position.  The passive sensors were now starting to pick up 
the signs of a battle; telltale remains of torpedo trails mostly.  The 
brown-haired Vulcan male at the ops station, Lt. Commander Sevak, was busy at 
his station trying to finetune the /Intrepid/'s sensor equipment to get a 
clearer picture; as remote help he had the ship's Chief Engineer, Lt. Cmdr. 
Geordi La Forge, at work in the ship's engineering section playing with the 
ship's power systems.

     Phillips looked to his right and Commander Diane Howard.  Born of English 
aristocracy, Diane had rich black hair tied up into a pony tail that when loose 
flowed to her upper back.  Her ice-blue eyes were as stern and demanding as 
Phillips had ever seen; a perfect match to her unofficial title of "the 
Duchess".  Now thirty-nine years old, going on fourty, Diane was still as 
beautiful and fit as the day she entered the Academy.  There was a wedding ring 
on her right hand's ring finger to speak for her lost husband, Edward, a 
Starfleet Marine killed by Cardassians ten years ago in such a brutal way that 
his widow's severe hatred of Cardassia rivaled most Bajorans.  They had a son, 
Eddie, who as Phillips recalled was about to end his second year at Starfleet 
Academy (she had lost an entire year at the Academy to bring Eddie into the 
world and fulfill maternal obligations in his infancy).  Diane's eyes met 
Phillips and their extreme boredom showed.  It was an anxious kind of boredom, a 
knowledge that something was about to happen but they couldn't see it coming; 
not until someone got a clear sensor picture of System R4392.  "Lieutenant 
Larsen," Diane spoke out in an aristocratic-sounding "ordering" voice, 
"double-check all weapons systems."

     Similarly bored at the time was the sandy-haired woman seated behind 
Phillips, the ship's tactical officer and native of the Lunar Goddard Colony; 
Lieutenant (SG) Saffi Larsen.  Saffi's aquamarine eyes looked over the tactical 
console under Diane's watchful gaze.  "Phaser arrays charged and ready.  Primary 
torpedo launchers loaded with quantum torpedoes as the Captain ordered.  
Secondary torpedo launchers on the primary saucer hull loaded with photon 
torpedoes and ready.  Defensive phaser banks charged and ready; defensive 
targeting computers are operating properly and all known Romulan projectile 
weapons and light craft have been fed into the system."

     "Thirty minutes until we enter System R4392, Captain," reported the ship's 
nav officer, a Bajoran; Ro Laren.

     "I just wish we could bloody well hurry this up," muttered Diane.  "I'm 
getting tired of waiting."

     "So am I, but orders are orders."  Phillips rested his head against a 
hand.  "Commander Sevak, anything more on sensors?"

     The stoic Vulcan's reply was customary.  "Nothing of note, Captain."

     There was an agitated nod from Phillips.  He put his hand on his command 
chair's comm system and punched the link to Main Engineering.  "Bridge to 
Engineering.  How is the core holding up?"

     La Forge's reply was punctual.  "We're starting to see some wear and tear 
in the reaction containment fields, Captain.  But we'll make it with plenty of 
time to spare.  Just don't push her much harder."

     "I'll relay that to Captain Parker."  Phillips severed that link as well 
and sighed.  Right now he didn't want to be racing through subspace but back on 
Earth, sitting on some quiet tropical beach beside Zandra while his kids played 
in the surf.  Or at least a holodeck representation.  The Starbase would have 
sufficed.  Well, not for the other things he'd want to do with Zandra on a nice, 
secluded, and intensely romantic beach.  But that was what bedrooms were for.

     For a short while nothing was said.  Suddenly Diane asked, "How is Patrick 
Junior?"

     "He's doing fine."

     "And the girls?"

     "Growing up faster than I care to see."  Phillips saw where the 
conversation was going.  "How is Eddie?"

     "He's ranked in the upper third of his class right now."  Maternal pride 
briefly showed through the professional cold of Diane's manner.  "If he gets at 
least a B on his term finals in Tactical Operation he'll be allowed into the 
command line a year before he expected to."

     "Good to hear."

     "Captain, I am receiving a communication from the /Enterprise/."  Sevak did 
not turn his head and seemed intent on his board.  "Their Navigation Officer is 
transmitting new course data to us.  I am relaying it to Lieutenant Ro now."

     Sevak nodded at Ro who looked over her console.  "Sir, the course would 
take us to a system about twenty light years away from the /Equinox/'s last 
known point," Ro said.  "System designation R4425."

     "/Enterprise/ is altering her course, sir."

     "I am altering course to maintain formation.  ETA to R4425: forty-four 
minutes."

     Phillips looked on with some interest; he hadn't even been given a chance 
to render a decision in the matter, speaking for his bridge crew's ability to 
act without superior officers' input.  "Mister Sevak, any idea why /Enterprise/ 
changed course?"

     "None, Sir."  Sevak was examining his sensor screen on the left partition 
of his console.  "My readings have not changed.  But /Enterprise/ does carry 
sensor equipment years ahead of our own."

     "Then they've found something.  Finally we're getting to the bottom of 
this."  Phillips and Diane exchanged looks.  "Bridge to Fighter Command; Mister 
Petersen, you'd better hurry it up down there."

 

 

     It had been a few minutes before Sevak's report to Phillips that Larrisa 
was staring intently at her sensor screen.  At warp, only subspace scanners 
functioned with any kind of accuracy; they could, however, act as a medium for 
the other sensor equipment.  She was currently reading the decaying warp trails 
of at least two ships, preserved by the particular "ecology" of local subspace, 
streaking away from the /Equinox/'s last position.  Most Starfleet ships would 
have been incapable of detecting the minute traces.  /Enterprise/, fortunately, 
was not like most ships.

     "Sir, I've got a decaying warp trail in-system," she reported to Parker, 
turning in her chair.  "Very near /Equinox/'s last position."

     Razmara beat Parker to the next question.  "Picking up /Equinox/ at all, 
Lieutenant?"

     "No, Sir.  I'm not picking up a single warp signature.  And I'm not close 
enough for mass sensors."

     "Thank you, Lieutenant.  Transfer the course heading to the conn."  Parker 
stood up and walked to the helm.  "Mister Hamblin, tell us where it leads."

     "Running the trail through now, Sir."  Hamblin's fingers touched a number 
of keys, adjusting the the information on his panel's main screen to show the 
path of the trails Larrisa had detected.  "Nearest system is R4425, Captain.  
Twenty light years from /Equinox/'s last position."

     "Lay in a new course and bring us onto it.  Mister O'Keefe, transmit new 
heading to the squadron."

     Two affirmations echoed on the bridge.  Slowly the /Enterprise/ changed 
direction, moving about a tenth of a degree to the left and bringing the bow up 
by about a quarter of a degree.  The maneuver was so slight that the naked eye 
would barely notice it.  Sophisticated computers controlled the proper attitude 
changes for the ship to meet it's new course, since the distances of 
interstellar travel meant that even the slightest course change would lead to a 
new direction that could become quite far from the original.  Indeed most of 
interstellar navigation consisted of general course headings to get near a 
system and then a series of course corrections to enter the destination system, 
where ships generally dropped to sublight and maneuvered their way back in at 
impulse.

     Parker nodded with satisfaction and went back to his seat.  He looked over 
at Razmara and met her glance.  "Looks like we're going to find out the truth 
soon enough.  Let's go through one more systems check."

 

 

*/Unknown Location/*

 

 

     There was a constant thought in Carter's mind as the hours pressed in what 
seemed an eternity of pain: /I'm not going to make it/.  She was laying on the 
floor between Madred's desk and Jadzia, unconscious once more from the pain that 
wracked them.  Carter could still feel it cycling through her, gnawing at her on 
the inside.  She was weeping from it because she could no longer cry, but even 
her tears were no longer flowing.  How many days had passed?  Was it morning 
yet?  Was it late night?  Or had Madred left them to suffer alone and it was 
really the afternoon?

     Turning onto her belly, Carter rested her elbows on the floor while trying 
to subdue the sickness within her from the constant pain.  She reached up and 
grabbed the desk with her left hand.  Then her right hand gripped it's edge and 
she pulled herself up toward the metal slab.  On top was the control mechanism 
for their pain implants.  For a moment Carter just stared at it, gritting her 
teeth and trying to focus on the object.  It seemed so small and simple, not at 
all the kind of thing that could cause her and Jadzia such hideous torment.

     Then Carter simply snapped.  An animalistic shriek came from her lungs and 
she reached forward, gripping the device.  The pain dissolved away into rage as 
she began to slam the device down on the desk over and over again, screaming 
hatred at it over and over again.  After so many hours of pain and suffering it 
seemed a suitable release to punish this inanimate object.  But in Carter's mind 
it was Madred she was assaulting.  That sinister face, those cruel eyes.... she 
was slamming them into the desk over and over again.

     Weakened by this act of retribution-by-proxy, Carter collapsed to her knees 
and dropped the controller.  Her body simply quit on her, without energy to do 
more than sit there and weep from pain.  It took her a short while to realize 
the pain was no more.  She had broken the device with her assault.  A weak smile 
crossed her face as she felt a euphoria at her "victory".  No matter how petty 
it seemed she had struck back at Madred.

     Carter remained in her pose for a while.  Her breathing was quiet and 
strained.  Carter's entire body seemed stretched and worn, every muscle worn out 
and unwilling to move without painful protest.  Her neck protested with such 
pain when she raised her head to see Jadzia wake up.  The device had turned off 
her implant too.  Jadzia's eyes looked back at Carter's, full of pain and 
misery.  "What happened?"

     "I destroyed it."

     There was a simple nod.  Then Jadzia sighed and closed her eyes again.  She 
suffered from the same stiffness as Carter's, amplified because unlike Carter 
she had been restrained for the previous day.  "What are we going to do?"

     "Resist."

     "Why?"

     "Because it's our duty."  But Carter now wondered if it was even possible 
to resist.  She felt so weak and empty.  Even though the direct pain was gone 
now, she knew it wouldn't last.  Madred would get a new device and his 
punishment would be horrible.

     But how horrible?  It occurred to Carter that there was nothing worse he 
could do.  What could Madred do that was more painful than the tortures he had 
already inflicted upon them?

     There were tears on Jadzia's face when she whimpered, "I'm not going to 
make it.  I just want him to stop.  I just don't know how to make him."

     Carter tried to get back on her feet to face her shipmate directly.  She 
stumbled onto one foot, using the desk to pull herself up.  "Don't speak like 
that.  That's what he wants you to think."

     "Commander.... it hurts too much."

     "Jadzia...."  Carter looked into Jadzia's eyes as firmly as she could 
manage.  "You're not going to submit."

     "It's too much, Commander!  I can't resist it anymore!  I just want the 
pain to go away!  I...."

     "Lieutenant, you are a Starfleet offiicer!" Carter snapped (as much as she 
could snap in her weakened condition).  "I order you to stand firm.  It is your 
duty and it is mine!"

     "He's going to break us anyway." Jadzia protested.

     "The longer we hold out, the better chance for rescue," Carter said, hoping 
there /was/ a rescue coming.

     "Commander..."

     "I gave you an order, Lieutenant.  I expect you to carry it out."  In 
Jadzia's blue eyes, which usually shined with the intelligence the young woman 
usually possessed, Carter could see only misery and despair.  Jadzia wanted so 
desperately to be safe, to be spared, and was near the breaking point.  In her 
heart Carter regretted having to be so rough on Jadzia.  But it was necessary to 
bolster her flagging will.  Jadzia was younger and since she hadn't gone through 
command school had no resistance training, only the basics taught to cadets.  
Carter had taken the Advanced Survival and Resistance course a few years before 
to make senior security officer (and eventual command officer) grade.  If not 
she probably wouldn't have lasted very long either.

     It looked like Jadzia was going to reply for a few moments.  No reply 
actually materialized.  Instead she began to weep bitterly.  Carter steadied 
herself against the desk to try and think of something else to say.

     The doors swished open and Madred walked in.  He looked at them and seemed 
a bit surprised.  "You look rather well."  His eyes spied out the broken control 
mechanism.  "I see you broke your controller.  No matter; I have another in the 
desk."  He walked toward them in a matter that seemed rushed to Carter.  There 
was something amiss, she felt; Madred's pace was off and his expression was a 
little paler than usual.  "This has been an interesting few days, Commander 
Carter.  You've quite strong-willed.  Your young friend, however."  Madred moved 
beside Jadzia and looked over her body.  A hand came up and gripped Jadzia's 
chin.  Madred turned her head to look at her.  "Lieutenant Farrelis seems ready 
to accept the inevitable, don't you think?  How much longer will she last?  
Well, Lieutenant?  How much more can you take?"  Madred walked around the desk 
and leaned over at it's right side.  He pulled out another control mechanism and 
changed a setting on it.  His fingers wrapped around the dial and twisted it.  
Jadzia stiffened up and her upper teeth bit into her lower lip.  "Is the pain 
becoming too much, Lieutenant?"  Madred flipped a switch on the underside of his 
desk and activated the three lights.  "I'll tell you what.  You tell me how many 
lights there are.  If you answer as I want to hear, I'll let you go.  What do 
you think?"

     There was no response from Jadzia.

     "How many lights are there?"

     For a few moments there was no response.  "Three lights," Jadzia finally 
answered, despite the expression on Carter's face.

     "Wrong."  Madred turned the dial, causing Jadzia to howl.  Her twitching 
increased in intensity, as she was unable to move from the shackles holding her 
to the ceiling, and the pained expression on her face grew stronger.  "There are 
four lights.  How many lights are there?"

     "Three lights."

     The dial was turned again and Carter watched helplessly as another howl 
came from Jadzia.  "How many lights?", Madred asked again.

     This time there was a pause.  >From appearances Jadzia was in too much pain 
to think clearly.  "Three lights," she finally managed to say.

     Again the dial turned.  Carter closed her eyes, unable to look at the 
pretty young Trill while she suffered so horribly yet again.  She could hear 
Madred repeat "There are four lights" and again make that damned inquiry.  
Jadzia's answer was weak and half-hearted; "Three."

     This time the scream that came from Jadzia was so horrible that Carter 
forced her eyes to open.  With the restraints holding her in place there was 
little that Jadzia could do save screaming, and she did that quite loudly.  
Tears began to form on her eyes from the intensity of pain shooting through her, 
her nerves catching fire.  Madred made his inquiry once more.  Jadzia's eyes 
were closed, so Carter could not read the emotions that might be there.  A 
thought crossed her mind: would it be so bad to answer for Jadzia?  She, Sharon 
Carter, was the one that Madred wanted.  Jadzia was just a pawn.  A playtoy for 
Madred.

     "/There are four lights!/"

     Jadzia's agonized cry echoed in the room and in Carter's heart.  She looked 
to Madred with hate burning in her pale green eyes at his smug and satisfied 
grin.  He twisted the dial once more, in the opposite direction.  If her wrists 
were not locked into the metal block connected to the ceiling, Jadzia would have 
crumbled onto the floor.  Her weight shifted forward and her head fell 
completely downward, causing her disheveled hair to fall over and partially 
obscure her chest, which was heaving from the effort of breathing.  Her body 
glistened from sweat produced during the intense pain.  Her eyes finally opened 
and Carter looked into those blue eyes and saw a new emotion to go with misery 
and despair: sorrow.  Jadzia's will was broken.

     Before Carter could speak to her in any way, Madred walked around the desk 
again and came up to her.  "Well, Lieutenant, you finally accept the 
inevitable."  He put a hand on her chin and lifted her head up.  "It took you 
long enough.  But before I let you go, I really would like to know more of what 
you know.  About your ship's course in the Triangle... about the courses of 
other Federation ships.  You were /Equinox/'s sensor officer, were you not?"

     "I was the science officer.  I never kept track of those things."

     "That answer is not satisfactory."  Madred turned the dial back on all the 
way.  Jadzia screamed.  "Don't try to hold out on me, Lieutenant.  I've already 
broken you.  You belong to me now."

     "I don't know!"  The dial turned up more.  Jadzia's wailing echoed in 
Carter's heart and made it feel sick.  "/I don't know!/" Jadzia shouted before 
resuming her screaming.

     Madred looked to Carter.  "She doesn't know, does she?  Go on, you can answer."

     "Go to Hell."

     "If she doesn't know, Commander, I have no more reason to torture her, do I?"

     Carter bit into her lip.  "It doesn't matter.  You'll continue to torture 
her anyway."

     "Oh, very bright."  A smile curled on Madred's lips.  "I've observed you 
two since I put you together.  It fits your file, Commander Carter.  Your 
loyalty to your subordinates and shipmates; that is your singular fault.  If I 
continue to torture you, your resistance will continue.  But your shipmates?  
You'll break for their sakes.  After all, even the implants can kill, and 
Lieutenant Farrelis has only minutes to live.  But she won't be the last.  One 
by one I'll parade them in here.  They will be there, suffering, degraded, 
pleading for mercy.  Pleading to you to help them escape the pain.  And you 
will, Commander Carter, because I will make you watch."  Madred turned the dial 
and Jadzia's screams stopped; the pain was so intense that she could barely 
breathe.  "How many lights are there, Commander?"

     "Three."

     "Are you going to let Lieutenant Farrelis die over the lights?  Would you?  
I /will/ kill her, Commander."  Madred's expression was cold and sinister.  
"Your lives are nothing to me.  You're just tools.  Pawns.  I do with you as I 
please.  So, your pride... are Lieutenant Farrelis's life?  Those are your only 
options."

     That was it.  Madred watched the conflict in Carter's face as Jadzia slowly 
suffocated.  His ultimatum would work; she would break for him rather than let 
her crew be tortured and killed in turn.  Madred had set this up completely by 
the book.  It always worked, no matter which race his subjects were from.  
Carter could not let her subordinates suffer because of her own precious honor; 
she would give him what he wanted to spare Jadzia.

     Which is why it was to Madred's complete surprise when Carter chose a third 
option and lunged at him like a wounded and enraged animal; an appropriate 
comparison to Carter at that moment.

     Carter's body was weak from two days of intense torture and lack of food 
and adequate water.  But what little strength she had left was now augmented by 
her hatred for Madred.  Transformed to rage, it was a spring of strength that 
now drove Carter to her frenzied attack.  Though Madred outmassed her handily 
Carter's attack caught him by surprise.  He tripped backward onto his desk and 
dropped the control, which Carter grabbed.  She twisted the dial clockwise until 
she felt a click.  Jadzia began breathing hard and again slumped over.  Carter 
saw Madred reach for the control and threw it against the opposite wall, where 
it clanged against the metallic wall and hit the ground.  Madred angrily slapped 
Carter in the side of the mouth, knocking her down and drawing blood, before 
going for the control mechanism.  Carter recovered in time to jump onto his 
back, shrieking like a crazed animal, and put her arms around his armored 
throat.  If he were human the chokehold might have worked but Madred's 
Cardassian flesh was scaled and tougher than human flesh, so she could not 
restrict his airflow as easily.  He turned and began to slam her against the 
wall, pounding again and again.  Carter screamed as she tried to hold on against 
the pain of being crushed between the wall and Madred's mass.

     As Madred pulled away from the wall after the fourth slam, the entire 
station seemed to shake and he fell downward, sending both sprawling onto the 
floor.  Carter scrambled to her feet in a half-daze, wondering why it seemed 
that the station shook.  As she went after Madred, another rumble tossed both 
off their feet.  Klaxons sounded in the room, echoing over and over again, and a 
voice began barking orders in the Romulan language.

     The station was under attack.




     The /Enterprise/ and her squadron dropped out of warp about a light second 
away from the Romulan station that had just appeared on their sensors.  Parker 
was swift to begin issuing orders.  "Launch all bombers.  Target the station 
with a spread of quantum torpedoes and try to hit their comm array, I don't want 
them calling for help."

     Data turned in his chair.  "Sir, wouldn't it be best to hail them first?"

     Before Parker could respond, Larrisa shouted, "I've got contacts decloaking 
around the station!  Reading ten Warbirds, including three /D'Deridex/-class 
capital ships!"

     "Larrisa, run life scans if you can, I want to see if you can find 
non-Romulan lifeforms."  Parker considered the tactical display for a moment.  
"Lieutenant Jobrie, target Capitals 1 and 2.  Leave Capital 3 for /Intrepid/ and 
her bombers.  Our bombers will focus on that station, I want to knock her 
shields down so we can seize her."

     Affirmations sounded on the bridge.  "Quantum torpedoes locked on the 
station, Captain!"

     "Sir, the lead Romulan is firing!"  The ship rocked slightly from the 
impact of a heavy disruptor on the bow shields.

     Parker wasted no time shouting, "Fire!"

     A spread of four quantum torpedoes erupted from the /Enterprise/'s forward 
launcher.  They raced through space at a high fraction of light speed, bypassing 
the Warbirds before they could react and slamming into the station's shields.  
On his own accord, Berger had /Minneapolis/ send another spread of quantums 
against the station before turning his ship to engage the lead cruiser-grade 
Warbird.  The lead four Warbirds fired their plasma torpedoes in concert against 
the /Enterprise/ and /Intrepid/.  As they drew closer the small phaser banks on 
/Enterprise/'s forward hull stabbed out.  When they struck torpedoes the 
detonations created greenish-orange flowers of color in space.  The remaining 
torpedoes struck the /Enterprise/, causing the bridge to shudder from the strain 
on the shields.  "Forward shields holding at eighty percent," Data reported.

     In retaliation for the one torpedo that managed to hit her, /Intrepid/'s 
own torpedo launchers fired in anger and her two main phaser arrays fired.  One 
of the phasers barely missed; the other drained the bow shield on Capital 2.  
The torpedoes slammed into it's bow shields while /Enterprise/'s phasers lashed 
out.  A spread of photon torpedoes from /Hood/ lashed out in term; the 
/Excelsior/'s phasers indicated her target was the second cruiser grade Warbird, 
which responded with plasma torpedoes and disruptors.  /Avenger/ and /Valiant/ 
raced away from /Intrepid/ toward the four Romulan destroyers closing on the 
squadron.

 

 

     On the bridge of /Great Lakes/, the crew was deathly quiet and not quite 
sober; they had spent the last hour indulging in a half-pint each of vodka.  
Marina had found that such a quantity was usually enough to steel her crew's 
nerves for combat without inebriating them, though naturally Starfleet would not 
approve.  Dalton reported quickly on the targets of the other ships.  Marina did 
not wait for Parker to assign her ship a target; she thought about the targets 
before her and chose one of the Romulan destroyers.  In a loud voice she barked 
firing and maneuvering orders to Dalton and Lt. (J.G.) Frank Hipper.

     In reply /Great Lakes/' forward phaser banks and arrays fired.  Four beams 
converged on the destroyer, three making contact with the bow and ventral 
shields.  Quantum torpedoes raced out of the rapid-fire launcher pod fixed to 
the frigate's drive hull and each exploded either against the destroyer's 
shields are in proximity to them.  This alone might not have killed the 
destroyer, but the follow-up fire from the /Valiant/'s forward phaser cannons 
did the job effectively.  The destroyer's shields crumbled and her prow was 
blown half-off; a phaser blast from one of /Great Lakes/' arrays finished her in 
that area.

     The ship immediately shook from the attack of another destroyer coming to 
aid her slain sister; a spread of two plasma torpedoes detonated against the 
/Lakes'/ shield.  Phaser and disruptor fire passed by each other and the two 
ships exchanged fire quickly.  "Shields holding at sixty percent," Dalton's 
gruff voice reported.

     Another maneuver order led to the /Great Lakes/ rolling to present her 
ventral side to the oncoming destroyer, which was racing past.  The ventral 
phaser banks fired and strained the destroyer's shields.

     The ship rocked hard and the reason why became apparent.  With /Hood/ and 
/Minneapolis/ engaged with the other cruisers, the third had moved on to strike 
at /Great Lakes/; probably she intended to get on /Enterprise/'s back while 
Parker was mixing it up with the /D'Deridex/ Warbirds.  The cruiser's plasma 
torpedoes had already battered the smaller /New Orleans/-class frigate's shields 
and now her forward disruptor cannons were draining them.  "Forward shields 
below fifty percent!" shouted Dalton while he returned fire.  The /Great Lakes/ 
retorted with her own phasers and a spread of photon torpedoes from her drive 
hull's bow tubes.  The Romulan swatted two of the three torpedoes away with 
smaller disruptors and the last only managed to further degrade shields not 
badly-hurt from the /Lakes/' comparitively weak phasers.

     Another burst of disruptor fire struck /Great Lakes/.  Hipper maneuvered 
the ship to the right to present her stronger port shields.  Marina permitted 
this but ordered Hipper to keep the /Lakes/ between the cruiser and the 
/Enterprise/.  While the /Lakes/ exchanged fire with the cruiser the other 
destroyer came back around to hit her from behind.  Dalton caught the ship's 
approach and fired the /Lakes/' rear phasers and torpedo tubes.  The streaks of 
phaser energy crackled against the shields of the destroyer and a pair of 
torpedoes, their propulsion fields creating red sparkles, impacted against the 
same shields.  A followup blast from a lighter phaser array cut into the 
Warbird's primary hull on the right side.

     It's return fire hit the /Great Lakes/ at an inopportune time; the cruiser 
was pouring it's firepower into the rear portions of the port shields.  The fire 
from their disruptors and the destroyer's plasma torpedoes overloaded the shield 
generator responsible for the quadrant.  The shields on the port side fell, 
exposing the /Lakes/' hull to fire.  A disruptor beam from the cruiser 
immediately fired and sliced up the /Lakes/' port drive hull, damaging the armor 
and causing a couple of hull breaches.

     Before it could resume it's attack, /Intrepid/ raced in at three-quarters 
impulse.  On her bridge, Saffi Larsen's aim was straight and true; all of 
/Intrepid/'s bow and starboard phasers cut into the larger of the two Warbirds 
and dropped her shields.  Quantum torpedoes erupted from the main launchers and 
impacted with the cruiser's hull, causing eruptions that shattered the 
metallic-green hull plates that protected her insides.  The cruiser immediately 
turned to engage /Intrepid/ while /Lakes/ retaliated with her own weapons, 
maneuvering to present better shields to her and the destroyer Warbird.

 

 

     Seated in the pilot's seat of his Wolverine heavy fighter-bomber, Chris 
Coleman noticed the beating that the frigate /Great Lakes/ was taking, and the 
threat to /Enterprise/'s rear presented by her foes, and swung his craft away 
from a planned attack run on one of the capital Warbirds to aid the frigate.  
"Vertigo 1 to Vertigo 2, 5, 6, 9, 10, 11, and 12, come into formation with me.  
Vertigo 3, take the rest of the squadron and deal with those big birds."

     The eight Wolverines arranged in an X formation as they closed on the 
cruiser Warbird, which was thrusting away from the massive /Intrepid/ while 
/Great Lakes/ scoured her ventral shields.  At range Coleman shouted on the 
squadron comm "Fox 1!" and fired one of his quantum torpedoes.  The other 
fighters did so as well and they broke away.

     The torpedoes raced through space and impacted against the cruiser's port 
and bow shields.  The last torpedo penetrated the Warbird's depleted port shield 
and slammed into one of her engine nacelles.  A spectacular explosion tore the 
nacelle off and left the Warbird trailing atmosphere and debris from her wounds 
while her crew endeavored to establish emergency forcefields.

     Coleman saw the wounds on the cruiser but ignored them.  /Intrepid/ was 
there and could handle it, proven since he saw her phasers continuing to flay 
the wounded cruiser while he came about.  "Stay in formation, folks, let's go 
for that station."  Coleman flipped his comm unit over to the frequency with 
/Enterprise/.  "Vertigo 1 to /Enterprise/, I'm going to make an attack run on 
the station so we can send the Colonel and her Marines over."

     "Good luck, Vertigo 1", he heard O'Keefe reply.

     The Wolverines accelerated to full impulse quickly and soared by the 
Warbirds tangling with /Minneapolis/ and /Hood/.  A destroyer broke off from a 
run against the /Enterprise/ and fired a few disruptor beams at them, all 
missing, before it was hit by a burst of fire from the /Valiant/ and forced to 
turn away to avoid destruction.  Within range of the station the Wolverines 
fired once more.  Their forward-mounted ulse phasers stabbed at the shields of 
the space station.  As he banked away Coleman switched to the forward-mounted 
particle cannons on the fighter and fired; white bursts of energy punched 
through the weakened shields and scoured some of the station's hull.  His 
wingmate and the other fighters with him did the same before coming around with 
him for another attack run.

 

 

     /Enterprise/'s weapons were firing in anger for the first time; for the 
Romulans, it was a particularly nasty fury.  The /Sovereign/-class ship raced 
straight for the capital Warbirds, absorbing their initial shots easily.  Phaser 
fire struck out again and again, as quickly as Jobrie could manage, draining the 
shields of her targets.  Another spread of quantum torpedoes erupted from the 
launcher and impacted on the shields of one of the /D'Deridex/ Warbirds.  An 
immediate burst of fire from /Enterprise/'s bow-mounted pulse phaser cannons 
finished off the weakened shields and tore into the prow of the Romulan ship.

     The second /D'Deridex/ fired her wing-mounted disruptor cannons at 
/Enterprise/, impacting on her shields with a splatter of green-on-blue energy.  
Plasma torpedoes erupted from her command prow's launcher and were immediately 
met by the /Enterprise/'s defensive phasers; two out of five made impact on the 
shield.  The third /D'Deridex/ moved into range while the /Enterprise/ 
maneuvered to starboard, presenting her ventral shields while the ventral 
phasers drained away the first Warbird's shields further.  A pair of photon 
torpedoes came out of her aft launcher and impacted with the Romulan cruiser 
tangling with the /Minneapolis/, hitting her in her weakened starboard shields 
to bring them to near-collapse.  Berger returned the favor by bringing his 
forward torpedo launcher to bear on the /Enterprise/'s main target and hitting 
her with a spread of quantums.  The phaser arrays on the /Enterprise/'s belly, 
under her navigational deflector, struck out right after the quantums exploded.  
Twin beams of ruby energy lanced behind the Warbird's command prow and struck 
her port nacelle.  It seemed to shatter for a moment before the plasma in the 
nacelle exploded, sending shards of nacelle fragments into nearby targets.

     The wounded Warbird reacted by striking /Enterprise/'s belly shields with 
her disruptors.  She pulled upward to followed /Enterprise/ on her aft; an 
unfortunate move as it brought her into the sights of two squadrons of bombers 
from /Intrepid/.  The Wolverines fired a barrage of quantum torpedoes that 
battered the Warbird's weakened shields.  Explosions began to flower on her hull 
as the second squadron poured on phaser fire.  /Avenger/ turned from a crippled 
destroyer Warbird and lashed out at the big but wounded /D'Deridex/.  Her 
quantum torpedoes found their mark in the Warbird's lower hull, which seemed to 
shatter before the /D'Deridex/ finally came apart and was silent.

     The last two capital Warbirds combined their fire on /Enterprise/'s bow 
shields.  A pair of plasma torpedoes from the third broke through the 
/Enterprise/'s shields and detonated against her main hull.  On the bridge, 
sparks showered over the bridge from feedback through the shield systems and 
violent rocking strained the bridge crew against their seat harnesses.  Parker's 
voice was loud and firm as he demanded a damage report.  "There are two hull 
breaches on Deck 12," Data reported.  "Emergency forcefields are in place and 
damage control teams are moving to patch the damage."

     "Lieutenant Jobrie, target Capital 3!  Mister O'Keefe, tell /Intrepid/'s 
bombers to focus their firepower on her."

     Two affirmations were quickly given.  Hamblin rolled the /Enterprise/ to 
present her port to Capital 2, making her seem "upside down" compared to some of 
the other ships.  Her starboard phasers lashed out at Capital 3 while the 
targeted /D'Deridex/ fired her plasma torpedoes into /Enterprise/'s strong 
starboard shields.  /Enterprise/ turned toward Capital 3.  Jobrie was starting 
to sweat while she waited for the bow torpedo launchers to lock onto Capital 3.  
She stroked the keys to fire bow phasers at Capital 3 while the /Enterprise/'s 
aft phaser array struck at Capital 2.  Capital 2, not to be outdone, poured 
disruptor cannon fire at the /Enterprise/ and began battering her aft shields.

     The moment she acquired a lock, Jobrie fired all of the bow torpedo 
launchers.  Two spreads of quantum torpedoes, four from the primary launcher and 
two from the primary hull's secondary launcher, struck out at the Warbird.  They 
found the shields easilly pierced with the aid of the /Enterprise/'s phasers and 
smashed against the Warbird's massive prow.  Explosions flowered over it's hull 
repeatedly; one of the torpedoes had impacted with the Warbird's torpedo 
magazines.  It made the combined particle cannon fire of the bombers rather 
unnecessary.  The lights on the massive Warbird blinked out bit by bit as it's 
power grid was devastated by internal explosions.  The bombers' attack run 
finished off what was left.

     /Enterprise/ shuddered again from the plasma torpedoes and disruptor fire 
that battered her aft shields.  "Aft shields at thirty percent!" shouted Data.  
"The generator moorings are buckling!"

     "Bring us about, Mister Hamblin!"

 

 

     /Enterprise/ turned to the last /D'Deridex/, which was firing another 
spread of plasma torpedoes.  Before the torpedoes could impact on /Enterprise/'s 
failing aft shields, /Minneapolis/ moved between the two ships and took the hits 
to her stronger dorsal shields.  The cruiser she had been dueling came after her 
and took a spread of quantum torpedoes from /Minneapolis/'s aft launcher for her 
trouble; her command prow nearly suffered a similar fate to the second 
/D'Deridex/ but her shields held and allowed her crew to fire another burst of 
disruptor fire into /Minneapolis/'s failing aft shields.  The shields flickered 
out of existance in time for another green lance to rake along the rear of her 
primary hull.  The last /D'Deridex/ fired a full volley into /Minneapolis/'s 
dorsal arc and the ship's shields collapsed from damage to her generator.  In 
the few moments it took Zaharia to bring the secondary shield generator online, 
a disruptor beam from the /D'Deridex/ cut into the housing for one of 
/Minneapolis/'s nacelles.

     On the /Minneapolis/'s bridge, the crew was thrown against their seat 
harnesses by the impacts.  The shaking grew worse when the cruiser behind them 
put a disruptor beam into the back of her torpedo pod just before the auxiliary 
shields engaged.  Later it would be determined that a mere ten centimeters of 
armor had held to protect the torpedo magazine in the pod.  For the moment, 
Berger bellowed out a demand for a damage report.  "They've knocked out our warp 
drive, Sir!" Katherine Hall replied from her station.  "Hull breaches in the 
launcher pod and Decks 3, 4, 6, 7, and 9!"

     "Sickbay is sending medical teams to the breached areas, Captain," Breit 
quickly added.  "Doctor Sokol estimates at least two dozen casualties!"

     "Mister Kiefvor/,/ get us out of the way!"

     The sandy-haired Trill male at the conn bellowed an affirmative and 
maneuvered the wounded /Minneapolis/ away.  Martin took his chance to fire all 
of /Minneapolis/'s available phasers toward both of her foes.  The cruiser 
behind her followed while the /D'Deridex/, her crew probably cursing her missed 
opportunity against /Enterprise/, resumed her fight with the Federation 
flagship.  "He's good, Captain!  He's staying on our rear!"

     "Cut starboard impulse engines and boost power to port!  Bring us about 
hard to starboard!  Mister Hall, all weapons on my mark!"

     /Minneapolis/'s port impulse drive cut out and the ship began to whip 
around at a rate that strained the weakened inertial dampners to the point that 
the crew felt intense G forces from the sudden turn.  The Romulan cruiser's 
captain saw the maneuver and wisely tried to maneuver away.

     As he did, /Enterprise/ lended a hand with a spread of photon torpedoes 
from her secondary launcher.  The red sparkles detonated against the cruiser's 
aft shields.  Alone they did no damage but it did provide strain to the overall 
shield grid of the cruiser, weakening her for Berger's intended attack.  As his 
ship's bow pointed toward her foe, a single shout of "Fire!" echoed in 
/Minneapolis/'s bridge.  The /Minneapolis/'s forward phasers and torpedoes fired 
in concert.  The phasers were the first to make impact and drain the enemy 
cruiser's failing shields.  This left the pulse phaser cannons to completely 
remove them.  The final bursts from the cannons tore up the cruiser's prow so 
that the spread of quantum torpedoes could finish the vessel off, beheading it.

     "Bridge to Engineering; give me a time estimate to restore warp drive."

     Berger's message was answered about five seconds later by Zaharia.  Any of 
the usual shyness and reserve in her soprano voice was missing at this point.  
"I've got two teams working on restoring plasma flow to the nacelle, Captain, 
but I can't complete repairs without sending a team EVA to examine and patch 
over the external sections.  An estimate is going to have to wait until we're 
clear from combat."

     "Do what you can.  Berger out."  Berger took a moment to look over the 
battle on his own small tactical display.  /Enterprise/ was duking it out with 
the last of the /D'Deridex/ Warbirds.  Three of the four destroyers were either 
destroyed or crippled; the third actually blinked out from a quantum torpedo 
fired by /Valiant/ while Berger was looking.  This left the other two cruisers.  
One was hobbled and dueling it out with /Intrepid/ and /Great Lakes/ and the 
other was fighting with /Hood/ while fending off a squadron of Wolverines from 
/Intrepid/.  Berger thought for a moment before looking back up.  "Mister 
Kiefvor, three quarters impulse, bring us by Cruiser 3.  Let's give our English 
friend a hand."

 

 

     The second-to-last Romulan destroyer erupted into flame on the viewscreen 
of the /Valiant/.  Misty took a brief moment to admire their handiwork while 
Jane's fingers flew over her console, bringing the ship about and changing it's 
attitude so they could target the fourth and final destroyer, which was 
exchanging shots with /Avenger/.  A plasma torpedo exploded on /Avenger/'s 
weakening shields.  Her dorsal phaser bank retaliated and stabbed the 
destroyer's bow shield with a ray of red energy.  "Tuvok, give him something 
else to worry about," she ordered, not bothering with her informal and highly 
irritating nickname for the Vulcan.

     Tuvok's aim was quite good; a burst of fire from /Valiant/'s forward banks 
tore through the destroyer's shields.  The bow torpedo launchers were reloaded 
too late to fire at the destroyer as /Valiant/ moved past so Jane maneuvered the 
/Valiant/ so that Tuvok could lock on with the aft launcher.  A single quantum 
torpedo came out the rear and struck the destroyer's dorsal hull and it's 
cloaking emitters.  The cloaking device was killed by the shot.  The destroyer 
vented atmosphere and debris for a few moments before her forcefields kicked in.

     Before the destroyer could manuever to pursue either foe, /Great Lakes/ put 
a spread of quantum torpedoes into her aft section.  Hipper maneuvered the 
frigate so that Dalton's bow phasers could each find their target.  Four beams 
converged on the sleek green craft and cut through her aft quarter.  Hipper 
pulled the bow up and the lower torpedo tubes spat photon torpedoes at the 
damaged destroyer.  Two red sparkles raced through space and slammed into the 
destroyer's rear.  The resulting explosion birthed more destruction; white and 
red plumes erupted through the destroyer's sleek green hull.  The destroyer came 
apart, the shattered remains of her aft section seperated from her dead command 
prow.

     This left two targets.  Misty turned her chair to face the young Ensign at 
Operations, a New Zealander native named Christine Bennington.  Christine had an 
exotic appearance thanks to her auburn-toned red hair and the tanned bronze skin 
complexion from Maori and Caucasian parents; she was Misty's favorite workout 
partner and the only female on the ship to match her in athletic build, having 
been a key player on the Starfleet Academy football - soccer to North Americans 
- team.  "Christy, information on targets?"

     "They're down to two, Commander," Christine answered.  She checked her 
systems.  "The last /D'Deridex/ is getting pounded by the /Enterprise/, 
/Intrepid/, and /Avenger/ plus /Intrepid/'s fighters, and /Great Lakes/ is 
turning to help /Hood /and /Minneapolis/ deal with the cruiser Warbird."

     "Well, let's start dealing with the station then.  Tuvok, target the 
station.  Let's try to get rid of her shields."

 

 

     The remaining Romulan /D'Deridex/ filled /Enterprise/'s bridge screen.  
Parker had already noted with satisfaction the progress of the battle while 
barking firing orders to Jobrie.  The ship rocked again from the /D'Deridex/ 
doing it's best to kill the /Enterprise/ and his display showed his ship's 
overall shield strength reduced to fifty percent even before Data said a thing 
about it.  That might seem bad but considering the competition...

     The /D'Deridex/ was trying to keep up with Hamblin's excellent maneuvering 
of the colossal /Enterprise/.  She wasn't alone as /Intrepid/ was maneuvering 
closer to use her own extensive combat load to strike the Romulan capital ship.  
/Avenger/ was running interference as well, darting in and out to put quantum 
torpedoes and bursts of phaser fire into the Warbird's dorsal and ventral 
shields so her shield generators would become overtaxed.

     Hamblin seemed to read Parker's mind, because just as Parker prepared to 
order a hard turn to port, Hamblin cut the port impulse engine, fired the 
retro-thrusters on that side, and re-routed power to the starboard engine.  
/Enterprise/ performed a tight turn and presented her port arc to the Warbird.  
Jobrie swiftly lashed out with her phasers, each array fully recharged now.  
Stream after stream of ruby fury stabbed the Warbird's failing green shields.  
The timing was well-played as /Avenger /had come about.  O'Farrell's weapons 
officer poured the small ship's phaser and torpedo fire into the Warbird's 
command prow.  Adding to the strain was a sudden assault on the Warbird's aft by 
/Intrepid/, with her forward weapons.  The Warbird's crew responded by twisting 
away.  They actually managed to evade /Intrepid/'s torpedoes and a couple of 
phaser shots, but it was too late to avoid hull damage.  As she began to break 
away, /Avenger/ fired a quantum torpedo that got through her shields and 
detonated on the upper bridge linking the command prow to the upper hull.  The 
detonated blew the bridge in half.  As /Avenger/ moved away the disruptor 
mounted on the upper hull fired several times.  Half of the shots connected; the 
last broke through the shields and hit her rear-dorsal hull, tearing some off 
and destroying the emitters on her cloaking device.

     While the wounded /Avenger/ moved away /Enterprise/ finished coming about 
and the angle was sufficient for Jobrie to get a torpedo lock.  A quartet of 
quantum torpedoes spat out of the forward launcher, followed by two photons out 
of the secondary launcher.  Again her phasers flashed ruby over the faltering 
green field protecting the Romulan command prow.  It fizzled out first, allowing 
a brief lance of red to spear the Warbird's hull and create a well of red 
flame.  The torpedoes did the most damage however; only one missed directly, a 
photon torpedo that veered to the right and up and hit the upper hull, blowing 
through it.  The rest created massive explosions along the Romulan's hull.  A 
torpedo from /Avenger/'s rear launcher connected with the top of the bow and 
it's explosion was close enough to take out the top-mounted disruptor.

     She still had her forward-mounted torpedo launcher, which she used to lash 
out against /Enterprise/.  Another flight of plasma torpedoes smashed into 
/Enterprise/'s bow shields.  But it was not enough to bring them down.  Another 
phaser shot from Jobrie silenced the Romulan torpedo launcher for good and left 
the ship un-defended; her disruptor cannons had already lost power from so much 
damage to the ship's internal power grid.  The captain of the Romulan ship did 
what was probably the last thing she could do; her engines fired to the point of 
near-overload as she began to race toward /Enterprise/ in an attempt to ram.  
Unfortunately it was clumsy and desperate; Hamblin easily rolled the ship to 
port and Jobrie fired the ventral phasers while the Warbid flew past.  The 
Warbird's shields were gone and she had no protection from the attack.  Ruby 
spears pierced the Warbird's starboard nacelle and parts of it's outer hull 
area.  Her impulse drives went down now.  /Intrepid/'s phasers shot one more 
time at the crippled Warbird before her captain did the last thing available to 
her.  Explosions began to flower across the Warbird's hull.  After about five 
seconds, she was a collection of drifting metal fragments.

     This left the Romulan cruiser to deal with besides the station itself; that 
was now starting to suffer the ill effects of Coleman's determined bombing runs 
plus /Valiant/'s own strafing.  Already /Great Lakes/ was beginning to ignore 
the remaining cruiser to direct long-range phaser fire against the station.  
Parker looked to Data and ordered, "Mister Data, put the Romulan station on 
screen."  The station blipped into appearance.  It was a cylindrical station 
which seemed little more than a gray tube with pins sticking out.  This was from 
a distance, of course; the pins were actually large docking bays and the tube 
was about a kilometer long and three hundred and ninety meters in diameter.  Not 
an overly impressive facility, easily dwarfed by a Starbase, but still quite 
large for the Triangle.  Her defenses were sufficient too as she was stabbing 
away at Coleman's fighters and the /Valiant/ with disruptors.  Plasma torpedoes 
struck out at times.  One went past the immediate attackers and slammed into the 
bow shields of the /Great Lakes/, causing them to flicker.  "Mister Hamblin, 
bring us in toward that station."

     Parker immediately looked over his shoulder to Tactical.  "Lieutenant, lock 
on quantum torpedoes and weapons.  Prepare to fire.  Mister O'Keefe, put me on 
all frequencies and hail that station."

     Jobrie gave a swift affirmation.  O'Keefe took a moment at his station 
before turning.  "You're on, Sir."

     "This is Captain Adrian Parker of the /Starship Enterprise/.  You fought 
well but your defenses are hopelessly outmatched now.  I ask you to stand down 
and aid us in our investigation.  As you are probably aware of, the Federation 
ship /Equinox/ disappeared in this area and we are searching for her and her 
crew.  Aid us in this investigation and we may allow this violation of the 
Imperium's treaty with the Federation and Klingon Empire to go unpunished.  I 
will give you two minutes to stand down before opening fire on your station, so 
long as you and your cruiser hold your fire during the time period."  Parker 
nodded to O'Keefe.  "Signal the other ships and fighters.  Back off of the 
station.  If the cruiser and station stop firing, hold fire.  And have Colonel 
Kira ready her Marines for a boarding action."  He turned to Larrisa now.  
"Lieutenant, did you scan that station for non-Romulans yet?"

     "I've been trying since we came within range, but the fleet was putting up 
too much ECM.  Now that they're gone, if you move within twenty thousand 
kilometers I can punch through the station's shields to give it a life form scan."

     "Do so.  Mister Hamblin, bring us within two hundred klicks."

     After twenty-seven seconds of moving toward the station, Larrisa turned 
from her station.  "I'm cutting through the interference, Sir, and there are 
definitely non-Romulan life forms on the station.  All seem to be in one of the 
lower decks, probably a containment area, but there are three in an upper deck."

     "Can you lock on for transport?"

     "I'll relay the coordinates to Mister Data's board."

     Data watched the information come over his screen.  "Relaying information 
to transporter controls now."  He turned in his chair.  "Sir, we will have to 
wait until they lower shields before we can begin beaming people off."

     Razmara looked up from her damage report screens.  "I thought there were 
ways to get around shields?"

     "For a single transport, it is plausible to attempt to match the reverse 
frequency wavelength of the shields to send a transport beam through, but it 
will take at least six transport operations to get every form we are detecting.  
By the time the second is away I am certain the Romulans would create magnetic 
fields to block our transporters.  Given the Romulan penchant for honor, the 
attempt would ruin the Captain's attempts at diplomacy."

     Parker slipped into his seat to wait.  There was half a minute remaining 
before his deadline.  "Mister Data, if you get any sense that they're initiating 
a self-destruct sequence, begin the beaming process."  That order covered the 
last eventuality.

     With ten seconds left to go, Larrisa turned in her chair again.  "Sir, I'm 
reading multiple internal explosions in the last Warbird!  She's breaking up!"

     "Mister Data, stand by...."

     "Sir, the station is lowering it's shields."

     "I'm getting a text message, running it through translators.... they're 
surrendering, Captain."

     There were sighs of relief across the bridge.  Parker hadn't expected a 
full surrender, just an agreement to help him.  "Okay, Mister Data, alert 
Security to be ready for any surprises and begin beaming over the non-Romulans.  
Is Colonel Kira ready yet?"

     "She will be shortly."

     "Beam her teams straight over to take control of all key facilities on the 
station and begin copying their computer data."  Parker turned his attention to 
Razmara.  "Damage report for all ships?"

     "/Hood/'s shields are below fifty percent and she has a single hull breach 
on her primary deck, nothing major.  /Avenger/'s cloaking device has been 
disabled and her aft shields are not yet restored.  /Great Lakes/ reports five 
hull breaches and shields below twenty-five percent.  /Minneapolis/'s warp drive 
is offline from damage to their port nacelle; they are dispatching damage 
control teams into EVA conditions to do what patch work they can.  /Valiant/ has 
no hull breaches and her shields are holding at fourty-one percent.  /Intrepid/ 
reports no major damage."

     "Ask Captain Berger if his ship needs any assistance in getting his drive 
back online, I don't want to stay here longer than is necessary."

     Razmara nodded and typed in the message, which was transferred via the 
direct combat link in the squadron.  A few moments later she answered, "They're 
doing all that can be done, according to Captain Berger.  Our assistance won't 
be necessary."

     "Send the data down to Commander Dalke anyway, see if he knows any way to 
get that nacelle fixed and fast."

     Parker barely had time to sit down before Phong's voice echoed on the 
bridge.  "Sickbay to Bridge.  Captain, we've got the crew.  Or at least what's 
left of them."

     "Who's the highest ranking officer?"

     "I've talked to a couple of crew, apparently Captain Ransom and Commander 
Burke were killed, so that leaves Commander Carter.  In fact, they just beamed 
her in..... Sir, you'd better get down here."

     Parker exchanged worried glances with Razmara before standing up from his 
chair and going toward the lift.  "Commander Razmara, you have the bridge.  Call 
me if anything happens."

     "Aye Sir."

     The turbolift doors closed and Parker immediately barked for Deck 9.

 

 

     The station had ceased rocking long enough that both Carter and Madred 
recovered and dove for the implant control.  Carter had been further away but 
Madred was larger and slower; they managed to arrive at precisely the same time, 
clawing at it and wrestling with one another.  Carter used her free hand to claw 
at Madred's face and eyes and his hand was, at the time, with the other one 
reaching for the control.  Madred brought it back and gripped Carter's left 
wrist while her fingers pushed into his eyes, both growling at one another.  He 
applied pressure, causing Carter to shriek from the pain in her wrist, and 
slowly forced the hand off.  His grip actually broke Carter's wrist at this 
point and the shriek in her throat became a full scream.

     Both of their free hands touched the control at the same time.  They did as 
much as they could in their positions to wrestle for it.  Madred was the first 
to try and break the deadlock in another fashion.  He used his fingers to push 
the remote a little further away and then brought his other hand back into the 
fight.  He slapped Carter across the face hard, drawing blood from her nose and 
lips.  Then he punched her, hitting her in the right temple and eye.  Her eye 
shut closed from the pain shooting through it, leaving Carter half-blind as she 
tried in vain to bring the other hand back to oppose Madred.  The next punch 
landed in her gut, causing Carter to curl up into a fetal position while she 
screamed.  It was in this moment that the spring of energy created by her rage 
subsided.  Carter stopped resisting while Madred punched her a few more times, 
one pair of punches cracking two of her left ribs and the other rupturing her 
stomach on the inside.  Content that Carter had lost her fighting will, Madred 
crawled away from her and scrambled to his feet.  He scooped up the control 
triumphantly before standing up completely.  For a moment he looked over Carter, 
broken and bleeding as she was, before setting the control to her implant and 
turning it on.  What little energy she had left was expended in screams.  She 
writhed about on the floor and was once again completely at his mercy.  "Well, 
that took the fight out of you, didn't it?  I must admit I never expected you to 
do that.  I've never had a prisoner attack me successfully before.  I suppose I 
should have kept those Rihannsu guards after all."

     "/BASTARD!!!/"

     "Screaming epitaphs at me isn't going to get you anything, Commander.  In 
fact, I don't think there's anything I want from you anymore.  Since you're such 
a rabid animal, I'm going to treat you like one and put you down."  He turned 
the machine up to maximum.  Carter tried to do something, but even the screaming 
no longer worked.  The pain built up within her until she thought her body would 
explode.  She couldn't even scream now.  She began to suffocate.

     The machine turned down and Carter could once again scream.  "But how about 
I allow you a sporting chance.  How many lights are there, Commander?"

     "Three!" Carter screamed.

     "Only two more chances, Commander, and then I put you down.  How many 
lights are there?"

     It took Carter a short time to stop screaming long enough to answer 
"Three!" again.  Then it was back to the wailing.

     "One more chance."  Madred knelt beside her, grabbing a handful of her red 
hair and pointing her to the lights at his desk.  "Do you know what I'll do 
after you die, Commander Carter?  I will have my fun with Jadzia.  And then when 
she has mercifully expired, I'll take the rest of your crew.  How about Ensign 
Masters?  I can only imagine what the implant will do to her unborn child."

     "You evil bastard," muttered Carter.

     "How many lights are there, Commander?"

     Through the pain, Carter could barely thing.  She didn't care about death 
anymore.

     But her crew!  They didn't deserve to suffer because of what she did!  She 
attacked Madred; she had to take responsibility for it!

     But she couldn't give in to this man.  They were all Starfleet; it was 
their duty to suffer for the Federation if it came to that.

     But Rose Masters was having a baby!  It didn't ask for this, it never 
joined Starfleet!

     "How many lights are there, Commander?!"

     Carter was about to speak when someone else made the decision for her.

     The door swished open and Madred turned to face four grim-faced Romulans.  
Two were men and two were women from what Carter could tell; all seemed quite 
young, which meant they could be anywhere from their thirties to their 
nineties.  They spoke to Madred in their native language, which Carter could not 
understand without a universal translator programmed in Rihannsu.  Madred seemed 
like somone had kicked him.  His words she could understand.  "The Federation?  
Here?  But you said they'd never find us!"

     Carter's heart nearly leaped out of her chest.  Rescue!  She had never 
dared hope of rescue.

     The Romulans spoke again, prompting a frantic reply from Madred.  "No, you 
can't surrender.  I can't return to Cardassia, do you know what they'll...."

     And then realization dawned upon him in the moment it took one of the 
Romulans to lift her disruptor pistol.  Madred didn't have a chance to say 
anything before the weapon fired and he disappeared in a cloud of green vapor.

     The control mechanism had been in his hand.  The disruptor energy had not 
vaporized it completely, but it had destroyed the internals of the control.  The 
implant inside Carter turned off, without a signal to tell it what to do, and it 
began to dissolve.  She moaned loudly and curled into a fetal position on the 
ground.  Her body refused to move.  The pain in her body from where Madred had 
struck her still existed, and was worse now without the implant to reduce it to 
background noise in her overtaxed nervous system.  One of the Romulans, a woman, 
walked up to her and looked down at her.  There was some measure of pity in that 
stern expression that Carter could see.  The woman muttered a phrase in her home 
language at Carter and then looked to her compatriots.  Each pulled out a small 
flash of reddish liquid and took a swig.  Carter watched through a haze of pain 
as they convulsed and dropped to the floor, dead.

     For several seconds more, Carter remained on the floor.  Then a familiar 
tingle filled her, and for the first time in days Carter felt peace as the 
transporter on the /Enterprise/ whisked her away from Hell itself.

 

 

     Parker entered Sickbay's starboard door to find the medical personnel 
milling about, tending to the wounded of /Equinox/'s crew.  He waded through the 
assorted "blueshirts" toward Dr. Nguyen's office.  On the other side he found a 
secluded medical bay where Phong was busy examining a young Trill woman seated 
on the bed.  She had a blanket draped around her and as Parker walked up beside 
them he saw that she was in pretty bad shape.  Phong was checking her over with 
a scanner and gently told her to lie down.  While she did, he took out a 
hypospray and pressed it against her neck in the middle of her spotline.  She 
closed her eyes and seemed to settle into sleep.  "Doctor?"

     "Her name is Jadzia Farrelis.  She was science officer on the /Equinox/."  
Phong tapped the side of his neck.  "She's got something around here.  It's 
starting to disintegrate so I'm going to have to remove it quickly, but the 
damage to her nervous system indicates neuro-torture."  Though he seemed 
unflappable, there was an edge to Phong's voice, the kind of anger at 
deliberately-applied pain that only a doctor could possess.  "Commander Carter 
is in the other room.  She's got it even worse.  We found traces of drugs in her 
system; the names I'm not going to bother pronouncing.  They inhibit nerve 
signals, creating a sense of sensory deprivation.  They also inhibit the 
chemicals that induce sleep."

     "More torture?"

     "Yes."  Phong let him to the door, where Carter was seated on a bed having 
a swollen eye checked over by a dark-skinned human nurse.  "She's your's for the 
next ten or so minutes, then I have to take her into surgery to repair her 
stomach lining.  She got one hell of a beating."

     "I won't be too long."  Parker walked into the room and waited patiently 
while the nurse finished patching Carter's broken nose and her swollen eye.  
Even with the dermal regenerators at work, Carter still had a nasty splotch of 
dark blue around her right eye and temple and a similar bruised area around her 
nose.  The nurse stepped away and left the room, causing Carter to look toward 
the door and see Parker standing nearby.  "Hello, Commander Carter."

     "Captain Parker now, I see."  Carter managed a weak grin.  "You look like 
you're doing good for yourself.  Command of the /Enterprise/?"

     "They dropped it in my lap after that business with the Orions."  Parker 
walked over to a chair and brought it up to the bed, sitting in it.  "So what 
happened?"

     "They had a Cardassian with them.  /The/ Cardassian, you might say.  Gul 
Madred."

     Parker could only nod.  Madred was notorious in the Alpha Quadrant for 
being one of Cardassia's most proficient "interrogators"; he was wanted for war 
crimes against Bajoran and Federation prisoners-of-war and had escaped Cardassia 
when the Central Command made peace with the Federation.  "And what happened to 
him?"

     "Some Romulans vaporized him just before they killed themselves, and then 
you beamed us over."  Carter looked down at the floor.  "It's starting to become 
some bad dream.  I mean, it's all a blur."

     "Well...."  Parker wanted to say something more but couldn't.  "I'm sorry 
we couldn't get here sooner."

     "Yeah.  So am I."  Carter's voice was cold and emotionless.  Her eyes 
seemed dazed and confused.  "It's just...  I felt all of that pain and I...."  
She looked to Parker.  "Sir, how's Jadz, er, Lieutenant Farrelis?"

     "She'll survive.  You certainly took the worst of what he dished out."

     "Yeah...."  Carter stared at the ceiling now.  She thought very briefly 
about whether she should tell Parker about Jadzia, but thought better of it.  It 
wasn't her place.  "She wasn't trained for it, Captain.  She... she wasn't 
ready.  I knew what he was going to do the moment I saw him, but she... poor 
Jadzia."

     "You'll both get a debriefing and I'll pull every string I've got to get 
you the best therapy."  Parker looked away from her.  "The posting on the 
/Enterprise/ will still be here when you're ready."

     "Thank you."  Carter stopped speaking for a long moment.  "I didn't think 
I'd make it, to be honest.  There were times I just thought of giving up.  
Especially when Madred starting using Jadzia against me.  I looked at her and 
saw just how badly she was doing..."

     "It's all in the past now."  Parker stood up in front of her.  "Doctor 
Nguyen is going to take you into surgery.  I'll let you go."

     Parker stood up to walk away.  As he reached the door Carter looked over at 
him and spoke out.  "They weren't all bad, Captain.  Madred murdered one of my 
guards for giving me a drink."

     Parker stopped and turned back half-way.  "I'm not surprised.  The Rihan... 
the Romulans can be brutal when provoked, but when they see no reason for it 
most would be like a Human or any other race in watching atrocity."

     "When they killed Madred, one of the Romulans said something to me."  
Carter thought back for a moment and made a sufficient, if not perfect, 
approximation of the term.  "I wonder what it means."

     Parker drew in a sigh.  He did not speak fluent Rihannsu but it was a term 
he'd recognized from LoBrutto's glossary of Rihannsu phrases.  "It was an 
apology, Commander.  A particular one meant to express regret for dishonor.  The 
Romulan who said it to you probably harbored private regrets for aiding Madred 
and turning you over to him.  He, or she, was driven by /mnhei'sahe/ to 
apologize to you."

     "/Mnhei'sahe/?"

     "The Romulan concept of...."

     A beep sounded in the air.  "Bridge to Captain Parker," said a female voice 
that Parker immediately recognized as Razmara's.  He tapped his commbadge and 
Razmara wasted no time in continuing.  "Please return to the Bridge 
/immediately/.  There are more Romulans inbound."

     Carter nodded at him, mostly to appease any guilt he might feel at leaving 
her in mid-sentence.  Parker nodded back and went through the door.  "Commander, 
I'm on my way!"




     Parker didn't even need to demand a report when he stepped on the bridge.  
Razmara was waiting.  "Twenty contacts, including four /D'Deridex/ Warbirds and 
a /Kerchan/.  They are at full combat alert and will be in firing range in 
around five minutes."

     "How is /Minneapolis/' repairs coming?"

     "Still half an hour from restored warp, Sir."

     Parker slipped into his chair.  "Signal /Valiant/.  Order her to cloak and 
retreat to Federation space for help.  I want the entire force ready to run the 
instant /Minneapolis/ brings her warp back online."

     Razmara waited for O'Keefe to finish transmitting orders before asking, 
"We're not going to fight them, are we?"

     "Not if I can help it."  Parker waited for a moment and then stood again.  
"Mister O'Keefe, open hailing frequencies."

     "Yes Captain."

     Ten tense seconds passed before O'Keefe turned once more.  "That /Kerchan/ 
is responding, Captain.  She identifies herself as the /Battlequeen/.  Shall I 
put them on the screen?"

     "Go ahead, Mister."  Parker waited for the screen to shift.  What appeared 
was a Romulan officer, proudly wearing the scarlet red tunic and black robe of 
his fleet.  He seemed older, about a hundred and fifty or so years of age for 
his race.  "I am Commander-General tr'Malak, Imperial Warbird /Battlequeen/."

     "Captain Parker, Federation Starship /Enterprise/."

     "Well, Captain, I have a very interesting sight on my sensors.  Perhaps you 
would care to explain why your ships are lingering about the remains of several 
Romulan ships?"

     "We have good reason to believe that these ships attacked the /Starship 
Equinox/ as she was passing through this region, Commander-General."

     "And that good reason would be?"

     "We found her surviving crew in the holding bays of the station that should 
be appearing on your sensor screens now."  Parker maintained a stiff posture, 
trying to read the Romulan as he continued to speak.  "Considering that by 
treaty the Romulan government, like our's, is forbidden from having such 
facilities in the Triangle, we assumed that they were pirates."

     "I do not know what the treaty says about stations in the Triangle, 
Captain, but I do know what I see; the remains of ten Romulan ships and a 
Romulan facility seized by a Federation task force which itself is violating our 
treaty."  Tr'Malak's expression was dangerously cold.  "This does not bode well 
at all for you, Captain Parker."

     "If it's not a pirate base, Commander-General, would it not make it a base 
operated by the Romulan government in violation of treaty?  A treaty signed 
between Earth and ch'Rihan in good faith."

     "Perhaps they are pirates, Captain.  If so, that is why they should be left 
for us to punish, instead of the Federation taking it upon itself to act."

     "We had missing people, Commander-General.  Would you abandon your's to 
pirates?"

     Parker watched tr'Malak consider the point for a few moments.  "No, we 
would not."

     "Indeed, would you not agree that we had an obligation to our comrades to 
recover them?  Our's was an honorable purpose.  /Mnhei'sahe/."  Parker noticed a 
very intrigued expression appear on tr'Malak's face.  "Surely you are here to 
investigate the pirates on your own, to protect the honor of the Empire?"

     "Perhaps so."

     "Then let us help you fulfill /mnhei'sahe/ on your end.  We have taken 
prisoners from the station and prevented the pirates from wiping their computer 
cores.  We will turn everything over to you, Commander-General, if you allow us 
to finish our repairs and return to Federation space with /Equinox/'s crew."  
Parker stepped closer to the screen.  "That way you will have the chance to 
punish those who have brought dishonor to the Empire and we will have recovered 
our people.  Then we can say that we both fulfilled our obligations to the honor 
of both the Federation /and/ the Empire."

     There was a short pause.  During that pause, tr'Malak's task force came out 
of warp within firing range of the /Enterprise/ and her ships.  The pause became 
tense as the entire bridge crew on /Enterprise/ seemed to anticipate a battle.

     So it was with great relief to the rest when tr'Malak looked offscreen and 
barked orders that led Larrisa to calmly report, "The Romulan ships are powering 
down their weapons."  She could barely believe the coolness in her voice, 
considering the sweat that was gathering on her.

     "Thank you, Commander-General.  I'll have my Marines pull off the station 
at once, and we will begin transmitting all data we have gathered."

     There was a brisk nod from tr'Malak.  "I will take over from here.  We 
thank you and the Federation for your cooperation in these matters, and 
naturally we will help protect your squadron while you regain warp capability."  
An amused grin crossed tr'Malak's face.  "I never imagined I would see the day 
when a Terran invoked /mnhei'sahe/ and actually understood what it means.  I'll 
make sure to remember you, Captain Parker of the /Enterprise/.  You are a very 
dangerous man.  Honorable, but dangerous."

     "Thank you for the compliment, Commander-General.  /Enterprise/ out."  
Parker turned and nodded to O'Keefe.  "Signal the other ships to stand down from 
Red Alert and power down all weapons."

     Razmara didn't seem pleased at first.  "Sir, are you sure we can trust them?"

     "Implicitly.  Tr'Malak is not going to open fire on us now, not when he's 
getting what he wants.  Besides, it would be dishonorable to attack us now, and 
tr'Malak is old school Rihannsu."  Parker walked up to his seat and looked back 
to Data.  "Mister Data, begin transferring all of the data we've gleaned from 
the station's computers and recover the Marines we've sent to the station so 
far.  As soon as the Romulans secure the space station, beam whatever prisoners 
we took back over.  Mister O'Keefe, signal /Valiant/ and tell her to hold 
position until we get there."  Parker turned his chair to Larrisa.  "Lieutenant, 
scan the debris from the destroyed ships.  If you detect Romulan life signs 
anywhere, relay the information to /Battlequeen/."

     "Aye Captain."

     Razmara shook her head while Parker settled into his chair.  "Admiral 
Pressman's not going to like you handing over all of that intel to the Romulans."

     "My mission here was to recover the surviving crew of the /Equinox/, and I 
did that."  Parker crossed his arms and considered the look on Pressman's face.  
"Oh, he'll be mad about not getting it, but we accomplished the mission and 
avoided a war with the Romulans.  Tr'Malak's going to go home and tell everyone 
about how courteous and understanding the Federation was here and it's going to 
help matters more than hinder them."

     "Avoiding a war with the Romulans might not have been very high on 
Pressman's list of priorities," Razmara remarked.  "Sometimes I'd wager that the 
exact opposite is rather high instead."

     "Well, there will be no war here, and that's what I'm going to drink to 
tonight."

 

 

     System R4425 was a cluttered system of a dozen planets, all uninhabitable, 
and the last eight all being gas giants.  It was why the rogue Romulans had 
chosen the system in the first place; all of the gas giants, plus the star 
itself, would hide their station from long range scanners thanks to the gravity 
wells they projected.

     But what the Romulans could use to hide could be used by others.

     It orbited R4425 VIII; a small ship, black as death, hidden in the stars.  
The Romulans and Federation could not detect her, for the eighth planet was a 
particularly large and dense gas giant with a very effective gravity well.  
 >From afar it watched, having observed the battle and now the tell-tale signals 
as the Federation ships spoke with the Romulan ones.  Minutes passed and there 
were signs of heavy transporter activity and data transfer.  After about half an 
hour, the Federation ships warped out in unison, leaving the Romulans alone.

     The purpose of the ship's presence was finished.  It turned away silently.  
A shimmer appeared around it and it swiftly faded away into nothingness, as if 
it had not even been there.

 

 

/     Captain's Log 21 May 2368 13:06 GST: We have completed functionary repairs 
to /Minneapolis/' warp drive and are underway to return to Earth; given our 
engineers' concerns about straining our drives, we are cruising at Warp 8.5 and 
our ETA to Earth is the morning of the 23rd.  /Minneapolis/ will not be with us; 
she is going to stop over at Starbase 11 for repairs so that she can manage 
something faster than Warp 4.  We offered to follow her in but Captain Berger 
insisted we head straight home and that his ship could care for herself.  He can 
be a very stubborn man./

/     The /Equinox /crew is mostly in fine shape.  At least eighty out of a 
hundred and thirty survived the attack and wounds brought about by it.  On the 
request of their medical officers I have entered into my logs, for transmission 
back to /Battlequeen/, note that the Romulan medical staff saved several lives 
that would have otherwise been lost./

/     I am more concerned with what occurred to Commander Carter and Lieutenant 
Farrelis.  Their preliminary debriefing with Commander Razmara and Commander 
Data was emotional to say the least.  They can rest easier knowing Madred is 
dead, I suppose, but I know I would have loved to throw the man out of an 
airlock myself./

     /On a final note; my crew came through the fire unscathed, and I'm thankful 
for that.  Given time, I think the /Enterprise/ will live up to her name.  I'll 
see to that myself./

 

 

     Parker was seated in the ship's lounge reading over the ship's after-action 
report on a remote-linked PADD.  Before him was a simple dinner, or rather what 
was left; a few leftover French fries and a barely a crumb of the quarter pound 
cheeseburger that Arno had replicated for him.  It hadn't been very good, edible 
but without substantial flavor.  Though replicator food was the staple of the 
Starfleet diet, there were times Parker couldn't wait to get planetbound to have 
a nice, juicy burger straight off the grill of some small North American diner.

     Parker looked up from the report to order another soda from Arno and saw 
Carter and Jadzia seated at the bar speaking with him.  He served them up drinks 
and they began to talk to one another.  Not being one to listen in, Parker 
turned his attention back to the PADD.

     A short time later he heard a voice right beside him.  "Captain, may I?"  
Data put a hand on the table seat opposite of Parker's.  He nodded and set the 
PADD down while Data slid into the seat.  "I have finished compiling the 
operations segment of the after-action report, Sir."

     "Very good, Commander," Parker replied dryly.  "Did you send it to 
Commander Razmara?"

     "She is going over it now."

     Parker nodded and picked up one of his last fries.  It tasted cold and 
mushy so he quickly swallowed it.  "You've done well so far, Mister Data."

     "Thank you, Sir."

     "Need anything to eat or drink?"

     "I do not require sustenance, Sir.  My internal power supply operates..."  
Data stopped when Parker raised his hand.  After a moment he stated, "No thank 
you, Sir."

     "Very good, Mister Data.  But, I think the others will feel a little better 
if you at least pretend to go along with it, hmm?"

     "In what way, sir?"

     Parker rubbed his temples to dull the headache forming there.  "Pretend to 
eat or drink with the rest of us.  At staff meetings and such."

     "Well, I was built with systems to ingest and process material.  I suppose 
I can, if you desire it, Captain."

     "I do desire it."

     Data nodded to indicate compliance in the future.  He looked to the bar 
where Carter was now apparently comforting Jadzia, with a hand on her shoulder 
and their faces close to one another.  "Commander Razmara seemed disturbed when 
we were conducting the preliminary debriefing with Commander Carter and 
Lieutenant Farrelis, Captain."

     "I'm not surprised.  Something very disturbing and sick happened to them."

     "Yes.  Most records of the career of Gul Madred state him as being very 
uncaring for the suffering of other beings."  Data looked out the window at the 
streaks of light racing by the ship.  "Given that I cannot feel physical pain 
and have no emotion, I am unable to sympathize with them despite my attempts to 
do so.  Is that wrong of me, Sir?"

     Parker sighed and shook his head.  "At least you put forward the effort, 
Data, and you have a good excuse.  That's more than we can say of Gul Madred."

     The android nodded in acceptance of Parker's point.  "Sir, have you read 
the debriefing report yet?"

     "Not while eating."  Parker pointed to his plate.  "I was going to do it 
tonight, and only after finishing that bottle of Pacifican whiskey I have in my 
nightstand."

     "Ah."

     "Was there anything you wished to discuss about the debriefing, Mister Data?"

     There was no immediate response from Data.  He looked once more to the bar, 
where Arno had walked up once more to talk with Carter and Jadzia.  "Lieutenant 
Farrelis reported that when Madred came in this morning, before we arrived, he 
resumed torturing her for the purpose of confirming the number of lights he had 
turned on.  When she spoke the proper number, three, he would turn up the 
implant's power level and demand that she answer untruthfully with 'four'.  
Finally, when the pain became too great, she replied as he desired.  I do not 
understand the significance.  It is irrelevant to any useful intelligence that 
the Lieutenant could have provided to Madred."

     And now Parker wished he had that whiskey in his hand.  He motioned to a 
crewman working with Arno and asked for a bottle of sweetened vodka from New 
Russia.  While the enlisted man went to fetch the bottle and a glass, Parker 
looked back to Data.  "Well, I'm no expert, Commander, but the answer is pretty 
obvious.  Men like Madred do not just extract information with pain.  They break 
down the will of their victims so that their victims are submissive to them.  
That was what the entire issue of the lights was about.  It was a method of 
breaking the will."

     "Curious."  Data blinked.  "I will have to note that point for further 
study.  Captain, what will become of Lieutenant Farrelis?  If her will was 
broken, would that not hinder her abilities to function as a Starfleet officer?"

     "Well, Commander, we have to remember that she was not a Command level 
officer and did not receive Advanced Survival training, so she didn't know how 
to properly resist torture.  Still, she's never going to see a line command.  
She'll likely spend the rest of her career as a science officer, probably on 
stations, planetside posts, or perhaps explorer and science ships.  Because her 
will /has/ been broken and that never goes away."  Parker clenched his fist and 
slammed it on the table.  "Damned bastard destroyed that girl's life.  If he 
weren't dead I'd want to toss him out the airlock myself."

     The crewman returned with a small glass and a bottle of clear vodka.  
Parker screwed off the top and poured a little bit into his glass before putting 
the top back on.  Data was closely observing the activities at the bar while 
Parker drank his first gulp.  There was a sweet tint to the vodka, a diluted 
honey-like taste, when he swallowed it; afterward was the usual burning 
sensation of alcohol going into the stomach.  When he finished swallowing, 
Parker asked, "So, Mister Data, what are you thinking about right now?"

     "I am observing Commander Carter and Lieutenant Farrelis, analyzing the 
collected works of Hegel and Marx to establish philosophical similarity and 
comparing their predictions to historical fact, calculating the course changes 
the ship is currently making, and...."  Data stopped when Parker let out an 
amused whistle.  "Sir?"

     "Mister Data, do you always multitask like that?"

     "I do, Sir."

     "Well, keep at it then."  Parker took another drink.  "Wouldn't want you to 
stop on my account."

     "Very well, Sir.  Would you like me to give you a report on my findings?"

     "Oh, it won't be necessary."  Parker took the last sip of his drink and 
poured a little more.  And just a little more; already Parker felt the familiar 
slowing of thought that alcohol caused him.  "That's not my particular field."

     "Oh."  Data watched Parker pick up his PADD again.  "Sir, is there anything 
else you require?"

     "Not at all, Mister Data.  Go back to your business."

     "Yes, Sir."  Data walked away briskly with the unnaturally-straight posture 
that Parker had taken to noticing.

     Parker turned back to the PADD and continued reading.  He managed about two 
paragraphs before his commbadge chirped.  "Bridge to Captain Parker."  He tapped 
it and sighed before replying to O'Keefe with, "Parker here."

     "Sir, I've got Admiral Pressman on subspace for you."

     /I knew this was going to happen before the day was out/.  "Okay.  Patch 
him into my quarters, I'll be right there."

 

 

     Parker was very gratified that he had diluted his nerves with vodka when 
the screen at his desk slid up and Pressman's face appeared.  "Captain Parker, I 
hear you've recovered the /Equinox/ crew.  Good job."

     "Thank you sir."  Well, that was it; the initial show of gratitude for the 
accomplished mission.  Now came the chewing out part.  "Anything else?"

     "Yes, Captain."  Pressman's expression soured.  "Why in the Hell did you 
hand over to the Romulans what was certainly crucial intelligence data?!"

     Parker drew in a breath before replying.  "Well, Sir, we couldn't just 
escape.  /Minneapolis/'s warp drive was disabled and at the time she was half an 
hour from warp capability.  Towing her at escape warp speeds would have been 
impossible.  And the Romulans outnumbered us almost three to one while we 
already had battle damage from the first fight.  The odds were against us so I 
had to take that approach.  And as you can see, it worked, and I'm certain that 
it'll improve our relations with the Romulans in the long run."

     For a few minutes, Pressman seemed to digest Parker's defense carefully.  
"The records, as they appear, do bear you out, Captain.  And you did recover 
/Equinox/'s crew.  But I promise you, Parker, that the next time you do 
something like this without an Admiral's consent, I /will/ drag you into a 
court-martial!  Do you understand me?"

     Parker's jaw was firm when he replied, "Crystal clear, Sir."

     "Good.  Pressman out."

     And that was that.  Pressman's image was replaced by the symbol of 
Starfleet Intelligence; the usual arrowhead with an eight-pointed red star 
centered in the middle.  Parker waited until the image disappeared and his 
monitor defaulted to his login screen.  He brought out the keyboard on his desk 
and typed in his ID and password to unlock his command files.  As he expected, 
Razmara had sent the rest of the after-action report for his approval and 
signature.  He began to read it over despite the headache forming in his forehead.

 

 

     Pressman watched Parker disappear from his screen.  His leaned back in his 
chair and took in a breath.  Now he began to wonder if Parker was such a good 
choice for the /Enterprise/'s chair; he was a little too independent-minded.

     Then again, that's why he was such a good starship captain.

     "Looks like we lost our chance," he murmured.

     The figure standing in the corner of his room turned around from examining 
Pressman's scale models of his prior commands.  The rather darkly-dressed man 
gave off an air of mystique and shadow; he clearly did not like being in the 
open.  "Others will present themselves, Admiral.  At least this way the Romulans 
will not be on to our plans.  Parker has done a good job of continuating their 
perception that the Federation will avoid war."

     "Your ship did pretty good to go undetected," Pressman said to the man.  
"It got the entire battle?"

     "Yes.  It's very good data on Romulan tactics and weapons.  Your analysts 
will be receiving their copies shortly."

     "Good news, then."  Pressman stood up and walked over to his coffee-maker.  
There was a replicator nearby but he found the "real thing" preferable.  "Might 
I offer you something?"

     "Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine."  The man walked up to the side of 
Pressman's desk while he poured some of the coffee into a cup.  "Admiral, what 
will you do next?"

     "Nothing for the moment.  The diplomats will sort out any leftover 
quibbles.  Knowing the Administration's touchyness about conflict, they'll lie 
and say it was pirates, and that it was a joint effort between Starfleet and the 
Romulans to drive them out.  The idealists will proclaim it a victory for 
galactic brotherhood."  The tone to Pressman's voice was full of scorn and 
disgust.  "Those of us who know better will go back to preparing for the future."

     "Indeed."

     "You know as well as I do that this was just the beginning.  They tried 
this a hundred years ago too.  It's apparently the same faction, or at least 
their relatives.  Tr'Illialhlae, t'Kiell, t'Anierh, tr'Annhwi, the names read 
right out of the reports from the Second Romulan War.  They're coming into power 
again in the Praetorate and the Senate."  Pressman thumped a fist on his desk.  
"This time, I will make sure the Federation is far better prepared than it was a 
hundred years ago."

     "A patriotic sentiment, Admiral."

     "And now we're back to waiting."  Pressman sipped at his coffee and 
returned to his chair.  "Waiting for the Romulans to slip up."

     "That we are."  The man nodded.  "Admiral, I will be leaving now.  I have 
other business to attend to.  I'll see you later."

     Pressman nodded and watched the man leave his office.  He sipped on his 
coffee for a short while before he called up the intelligence reports that had 
crossed his desk that day.

 

 

     There were certain things that commanders and leaders were supposed to do.  
That, at least, was what Marina Lenarova believed and had believed since very 
early in her life.  After spending the earlier portions of the day overseeing 
aspects of the ship's repair and meeting with the department heads to prepare 
/Great Lakes/' after-action report, she fulfilled one of those obligations by 
stepping into her ship's sickbay for the purpose of visiting the wounded.

     /Great Lakes/ had a crew of about two hundred and she made it her business 
to know each and every one of them by name and they, naturally, all knew her. 
Upon entry into sickbay she found every man and woman present standing at 
attention or trying too.  They had little time to do so, as she quickly ordered 
them to be at ease.  And naturally they responded immediately by relaxing and 
returning to whatever it was they were doing, reassured by her presence.

     Most of the wounded were engineering and damage control crew who had been 
hit something after being knocked off their feet during hits or, in a few severe 
cases, been wounded by shattered bulkheads or debris from the hull hits that 
/Lakes/ had suffered in the battle.  A number of wounded were from the rupturing 
of a plasma conduit caused by Romulan fire near the end of the battle.

     Marina was finishing a brief conversation with a young enlisted man from 
Bajor, trying not to look too hard at the plasma burns that covered part of his 
chest and left hip, when her CMO left her office.  Dr. Allyn was one of "the two 
'Chelles" as most crew knew them; she was Michelle and her wife was Lieutenant 
Rochelle Allyn, the ship's sensor officer.  Their marriage had been the first of 
three that Marina had performed as commanding officer of the /Great Lakes/, an 
ironic coincidence to Marina considering her own preference.  For her own part, 
Michelle had managed to maintain a nice and slim build, with brown hair rolled 
up into buns and equally-brown eyes.  Marina already knew the reason Michelle 
was approaching her, as it was the only reason she'd come.  Neither woman spoke 
a word while walking into the ship's morgue.

     Marina felt some relief at only seeing two sheet-covered bodies on the 
slabs.  It was unfair, of course, but it could have been worse.  She was 
saddened, however, when Allyn lifted up one of the sheets and revealed the paled 
face of Senior Chief Rachel Corwin.  To see those thick lips now turned blue was 
depressing enough; Marina felt an intense pain from knowing that her crew had 
lost the one person they all looked up to.  Even the officers had respected 
Chief Corwin's views and opinions, as she was about eight years Marina's senior 
in age and an honored veteran of Starfleet.  They would not be the only ones to 
suffer from this loss; Rachel had been a mother of four children and had a 
husband who was a civilian architect working in Chicago.  Her eldest child, a 
son, was working with his father as an architect; her next two oldest, a 
daughter and a son, were in Starfleet Academy, and the last Marina heard from 
Chief Corwin was that the youngest, another son, intended to join the Starfleet 
Marines next year when he turned 18.

     Marina waited for Doctor Allyn to reveal the other dead crew member; the 
continuing noise of the sickbay became an oddly great irritant in those heavy 
seconds.  This one was also a loss that would be missed; Ensign Kiska Karro, a 
Bajoran serving as an engineer and a victim of the port plasma conduit that the 
Romulans managed to rupture in the last minutes of the battle.  Half of his face 
and body was burned beyond repair.  He had started out as an enlisted man on the 
crew and made commissioned officer after several exemplary acts in previous 
skirmishes with the Klingons the past year.  Marina recalled the man's courage 
and will and his own personal pain; his wife had been brutally raped and 
murdered by the withdrawing Cardassians during the final days of the 
Occupation.  He still had a daughter, LoMarr, who was about fifteen... and now 
an orphan.  In this case, Marina would do as she had always done; go to the Bank 
of the Federation and establish a fund for young LoMarr's future education and 
ask the crew to contribute to it.  Though there were organizations established 
for this purpose, to Marina it was an issue of obligation and honor to lost 
comrades and her crew, like her, never shunned away from giving what they could.

     When they were done, she followed Michelle to her office for a drink.  
Though not a coffee person, she graciously accepted the Columbian stuff that 
Michelle offered from her pot.  "Two dead, twenty-three wounded," Michelle 
recounted for her.  "Four will be out of action for most of the next year and 
another four will probably spend the next month or two in therapy."

     "It could have been worse."

     "Probably, but I don't think Rod Corwin and his kids or Kiska LoMarr will 
feel very assured by that."

     /Touchè, Michelle./  "Of course. But we all have our duties."  Marina 
stared into the black liquid in her cup for a few moments, and into a strangely 
comforting silence.  "We all know that our next battle could be our last.  You 
know, 'Chelle, that I'd rather they were alive."

     "Of course."

     Immediately the subject changed.  Marina and Michelle spent about ten 
minutes with what might call "girl talk".  Michelle naturally asked her elder 
for advice in her own relationship troubles with Rochelle - these things 
happened in all couples, after all - and Marina did her best to answer well.  
Through the entire conversation, Marina noticed Michelle was periodically 
looking at her monitor and sifting through data.  Finally, she asked what it 
was.  "Data from Doctor Nguyen on the /Enterprise/," Michelle answered.  "He 
sent it to all of us to get our input."

     "What is the issue?"

     "A new Romulan-designed torture device," she replied.  "He found remnants 
of it in the bodies of two of the recovered /Equinox/ crew.  It's a nasty little 
thing.  Composed entirely of common biological elements so it can dissolve and 
disappear into the body, leaving no trace of it's presence.  Even their nervous 
systems healed quickly from the damage it caused.  It's designed, I'd say, to 
inflict maximum pain on someone with minimal damage, and to leave no evidence 
that the deed was ever done."

     "Evil."  Marina did think about it for a bit; like Parker she had studied 
the Romulans - the Rihannsu - and knew of their culture and manner.  "Not the 
kind of thing that their judiciary interrogators would employ?"

     "Maybe the first part, but why leave no trace?  This is... something 
else."  Michelle sipped at her coffee.  "Something else entirely."

     "I'm certain Starfleet Medical will be interested in reviewing it's 
effects.  If this thing gets on the black market I suspect it will make a very 
nasty slave-control mechanism.  And the Klingons will love it."  There was a 
hint of anger in those blue eyes that Michelle recognized easily as Marina's 
well-refined moral outrage.  Few invoked it as frequently, or as strongly, as 
Klingons.  Their allies were also pretty high on the list, since Marina was by 
nature a feminist and the Ferengi were noted misogynists.

     Michelle, for her part, did not reply, but went back to sipping coffee and 
reading the data.  Marina, after finishing her own - such was courtesy, after 
all - excused herself and left sickbay.  There were, after all, other things to 
do before she could retire to her room until her next bridge watch.

 

 

*U.S.S. Hood/, Sol System, Sector 001/*

*/23 May 2368/*

*/ /*

 

     The veteran warhorse /Hood/ was one of the lead ships in the /Enterprise/'s 
squadron formation, on the venerable ship's left flank, when they came out of 
warp near the Moon.  /Hood/ stood out among the other newer ships, considering 
she was over forty years old, which was perfectly fine to Captain Irvine as she 
proved that you didn't need to be brand new to be effective.

     /Hood/'s bridge layout was a classic one.  Helm/Navigation and Weapons at 
the two-chaired console in front of the captain's seat, Communications behind 
the Captain and to his left, Engineering and Sensors to his right.  At the helm 
was Ensign Meriweather, a petite young Englishwoman only a year out of the 
Academy.  Beside her sat a Bajoran, Lt. (Senior Grade) Renel Sakal.  Rosaline 
was in the chair to Drake's right, her usual position.  Back at Operations sat 
Lt. Cmdr. Achmed al-Hassad, Drake's Operations Officer.  An Omani and practicing 
Sunni Muslim, he spoke excellent English with a definitive Arabic accent.

     At Communications sat a young Chinese woman, Lt. S.G. Me-Ai Kim.  She 
turned to Drake and Rosaline and informed him that McKinley was ordering them to 
standby for clearance to dock.  "Ensign, bring us to full relative stop with 
McKinley."

     "Yes Commander."  Meriweather's hands pulled back the slide controls to 
zero, cutting off /Hood/'s engines.  She moved her attention to the thruster 
controls, using them to maintain /Hood/'s relative position to McKinley.

     After a few moments, Rosaline finally broke the silence.  "Another 
successful mission, /oui/ /Capitaine/?"

     "Indeed, Commander."  Drake put his hands together.  "And we're quite 
fortunate that Leyton picked Parker and not one of Pressman's people.  They 
undoubtedly would have gotten us all killed facing those Romulans."

     "You seem troubled, /Capitaine/."

     "I am."  Drake stared at the viewscreen, watching civilian craft whiz in 
front of the majestic /Hood/.  /Enterprise/'s engines fired; she had been 
cleared for docking.  A few moments later /Valiant/'s engines came to life.  
"Romulan pirates with that much backing does not suit me well.  Because the 
question must now be asked... who is backing them?"

     "You don't think they were on their own, Sir?" asked al-Hassad.

     "No, I do not.  A station like that, and ten warships of those sizes?  They 
had to get the material to support them from somewhere."  Drake crossed his 
arms.  "There are a number of possibilities and none of them are good."

     "Captain, McKinley is signaling."  Kim turned again from her station.  "We 
are clear to begin docking procedures through Entryway Beta, Dock 23."

     "Mister Meriweather, one quarter impulse power until we enter the Entryway."

     "Yes Sir."  Meriweather's fingers slid up the appropriate sliders to fire 
/Hood/'s impulse engines.  One hand began to direct the ship's maneuvers with 
the engine control.

     "When we get into dock, have Commander Engasser deliver a list of his 
needed parts and repair team man-hours to me."  Drake stood up and walked toward 
his ready room.  "Commander, you have the bridge."  Inside his ready room, Drake 
kept a small bookshelf of books mostly relating to naval history and 
mathematics, considering his family's traditional occupation was in that field.  
He eased into the seat behind the desk and began writing a log out.  By the time 
it was finished he could feel the vibration through the /Hood/ as it was latched 
onto by docking clamps.

     Drake's monitor beeped.  An incoming transmission was being routed to him.  
He showed no surprise when Marina's face flashed onto his screen.  She was in 
her private quarters and still in uniform.  Undoubtedly she was calling to 
arrange dinner or some such so they could continue their intellectual 
discussions face-to-face.  "Good day, Marina.  Docking now?"

     "We're in Dock 32," Marina confirmed.

     "So, where shall we meet tonight?  I recently had the time to read over a 
translation of Herzok's '/History of the Ancient Andorian Kings/', and it's just 
as good as you promised."

     She shook her head.  "Sometime later, I think.  Arik might wish to join you 
tonight, but as soon as I sign all of my forms and arrange a dock watch, I will 
be going planetside to see Valentyna."

     Drake nodded in understanding.  "I see.  I hope you and Miss Lahenza have a 
happy reunion."

     "Thank you, Drake."  A smile curled on Marina's face.  "I'll be sure to go 
over Herzok with you when I return Monday."

     "Excellent.  Good day, then."

     "Good day."

     They terminated the link almost simultaneously.  Drake brought up his logs 
again to give them a once-over before transmitting them to the Starfleet Archives.

 

 

*/Starbase 11, Sector 011, Federation Space/*

*/23 May 2368 Earth Standard Time/*

*/ /*

 

     /Minneapolis/ had berthed in one of the repair docks in Starbase 11 upon 
arrival the previous night.  The station's trained work crews had already been 
given the list of needed repairs, parts, and materials when they arrived and 
work had commenced immediately.  The crew had immediately stood down from the 
usual watches, going into the less frequent dock watches that increased their 
private time by a great deal.

     Zaharia had spent the night watch directing repairs from main engineering.  
The patch work done in the Triangle had been a temporary fix and actually 
increased the time needed to do full repairs, since they had to remove said 
patch work to begin reconstruction of the nacelle housing.  There were also 
other hull breaches to fix and a shield generator to replace.  All things 
considered, they'd be in dock for the next week and a half before they could 
join back up with the others at Earth.

     It was 0700 when Zaharia stumbled into her quarters.  Though she and Mark 
slept together most nights, there was no way they could fit all of their things 
together in the same room so she had accepted the quarters that were her's by 
regs.  It was fortunately on the same deck as Mark's though in the next quadrant 
over so it required a short walk.  As it was now, though, she didn't feel like 
walking to her bed, much less walking another twenty meters to her lover's 
quarters.  Zaharia tossed the uniform jacket draped over her shoulder onto the 
lone couch in her room and peeled off her sweaty uniform trousers and shirt.  
She finished stripping and jumped into the shower to wash the grime of a hard 
night's work off.  Zaharia was not one to mind sleeping in the buff, so she 
didn't bother doing more than drying herself off with a towel before stumbling 
back into her room and curling up into a semi-fetal position on her bed, not 
even pulling the sheets over herself.  "Lock door," she muttered to the 
computer.  "Dim lights to ten percent."  The computer did both duties immediately.

     Within minutes Zaharia was nearly asleep.  But she didn't stay that way.  
The door chime sounded.  At first she ignored it until it sounded again.  "Go 
away!"  Even that didn't work, however, so at the fifth chime she slipped under 
the sheets and sat up, taking care to hold the sheets over her chest.  "Come on 
in, then," she sighed.  /If my phaser was by the nightstand I'd stun the bastard 
just for bugging me/.

     That emotion did not dilute in the slightest when Berger walked in, wearing 
his role-playing get-up.  "Kathy and Martin are going to meet us at the holodeck 
at 0825, Zaria.  Got your costume ready?"

     "Mark, if I didn't love you I'd kill you."  She let the sheet fall when the 
door closed; it wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked breasts before (indeed, he 
typically did very pleasing things to them).  "As it is, you're looking at about 
two weeks /at least/ before I fuck you again."

     A cringe crossed his face; whether Berger was disturbed by her hostility or 
by the prospect of two weeks without sex, one could not tell.  "You stayed up 
all night, didn't you?  I thought you were going to let Kathy relieve you at 0200?"

     "She and Martin lost track of time," Zaharia muttered.  "And I wanted to be 
on hand to make sure that the airhead dock master didn't fuck anything up."

     "Oh.  Well, I'll call 'em and let them know we're not coming."

     "Do that.  But you're still not getting sex for two weeks."

     "Hmm...."

     Zaharia turned onto her stomach and closed her eyes, burying her face into 
the pillow.  She heard Berger walk about, calling up Martin to tell him they 
were cancelling, and was again falling asleep (though not as well from 
agitation) when she felt Berger sit on the bed.  She was about to yell at him to 
leave when she felt his hands press against her bare back and begin to knead her 
tight muscles.  They were surprisingly cold at first, prompting her to hiss at 
him, but suddenly they warmed up.  She felt an oily texture on her back even 
where he wasn't touching her.  She almost asked about what kind of muscle 
relaxer he was rubbing onto her, but all that came out was a moan.  Her tight 
muscles protested being forced to relax, but that pain mixed well with the 
pleasure of the very same relaxation, giving her an intensely enjoyable 
sensation not unlike sex.  She even said as much, murmuring under her breath 
that it felt better than sex, but Berger could not hear her.  Zaharia's 
breathing slowed and she relaxed, only taking the time to moan while she allowed 
sleep to come on.  She felt his hands move down, rubbing the backs of her thighs 
and calves for a short while the remaining muscle relaxer kept her back warm.  
Her feet were next, his fingers kneading the muscles around her ankles before 
kneading the bottom of her feet.  And then he worked his way back up, massaging 
her buttocks this time.  Zaharia's moans temporarily grew louder from the 
increased pleasure.  But that gave way to the pull of sleep, and Zaharia slowly 
felt the feel of Berger's strong hands fade...

     Berger could tell Zaharia was sound asleep shortly after he was rubbing her 
shoulders.  He slid off her bed and moved the sheet and blanket back over her.  
He put the container of massage oil back on the shelf, noticing the Risan 
lettering on the bottle for the first time while his fingers moved away from 
it.  He turned back to Zaharia's sleeping form.  She had turned in her sleep, 
laying on her back.  He stood for a moment, quite unable to tear himself from 
the image of her lovely face sound asleep, but it only lasted for a few 
moments.  He used each hand to rub the other, getting out some of the ache that 
had developed from the massage, and walked out the door while taking care to 
activate the computer lock.

 

 

*/McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001/*

*/ /*

 

     Phillips and Petersen were arriving at the airlock together and Phillips 
was not surprised in the slightest to find Zandra waiting on the other side.  
They stopped walking and he looked to Petersen.  "Well, Garrett, this is where I 
leave you for the weekend."

     "Yeah."  Petersen shook the offered hand.  "Well, have fun with the family, 
Phil."

     "I will.  Just make sure you don't get too used to staying planetside."

     "Oh, don't worry, I'll be back."  An amused grin crossed the younger man's 
face.  "Unless my lady decides not to untie me."

     They broke out laughing together while walking toward the airlock.  "Take 
care, Garrett!" Phillips shouted after him while Petersen walked out the lock 
and toward the civilian transporter bays.  Phillips himself walked up to his 
waiting wife, who hugged him closely.  "I told you I'd be back on time," he said 
to her during the embrace.

     "Yes, you did," she replied.  Zandra smiled sweetly at him when the hug 
ended.  "The kids are back in the rooms.  Got anything planned?"

     "Oh, I was thinking we beam down to Aruba..."  He put a hand around 
Zandra's waist and held her close with his left arm while they walked away.  
"Let the kids play in the beach while you and I catch up on some things."

     "Not everything, though."

     "Of course not."  Phillips winked at her.  "The rest is for tonight."

     And that made Zandra giggle from anticipation.

 

 

     Diane Howard had walked up to the airlock just as Phillips put his arm 
around his wife's back.  She watched the happy couple walking off together and 
heard their laughter very faintly.  She could not help but fear a tinge of 
jealousy in her heart.  Edward would have held her like that, she knew.  He 
would have brought her close with those strong, loving arms of his and she would 
have gladly let him, wanting to feel security in them.

     She had not yet seen the two /Equinox/ crew tortured by Madred yet, but 
Howard didn't need to.  She had heard enough in her lifetime.  Sometimes at 
night, when sleep would not come, she thought of how the Cardassians tortured 
Edward to death.  She had not been there - thank God for small favors - but the 
thoughts stayed with her, unceasing, over the years.  And every time she did, 
Howard raged that the Federation had backed off with the victory still 
incomplete.  In the name of galactic politics and expediency, they had let the 
brutal torture and murders perpetrated by the Cardassians to go unpunished.  
There were days Howard wished Cardassia Prime had been burned to the ground.

     A single tear began to work it's way down that cold right eye of icey 
blue.  It wasn't fair, dammit!  Zandra Phillips had the perfect husband.  A 
noble, brave man, a caring father who loved his kids and who literally 
worshipped her.  And what was she left with?  Diane Howard was left with a 
broken heart, an orphaned son, and a bitter hatred in her heart for all things 
Cardassian.  That little girl, that stuck up little girl, didn't know how damned 
lucky she was.  Why did she get to have her husband while all Diane was left 
with was her memories, bitter and sweet?!  What did Zandra Phillips do to 
deserve that man, whom she certainly didn't earn, while Diane Howard was left 
alone?!  Howard was close enough to Phillips to know how Zandra whined and cried 
about Phillips not being home, about having to take care of the children.... 
that bitch didn't deserve them in the first place!  Diane deserved Edward, she 
deserved those beautiful little girls, and GOD DAMMIT IT WASN'T FAIR!

     /You're being too harsh/, Diane chided herself.  /Zandra has done nothing 
wrong.  She misses Patrick as much as you miss Edward/.  But at least she got to 
be with him every few months.  She could do something with that pent-up passion 
that Diane felt within herself every day.  Sometimes Diane wondered if she 
should stop being the mourning widow and actually see if there were men willing 
to be with her.  She wasn't bad looking, after all.  In fact, Diane could be a 
very sexy woman when dressed right.  But Starfleet uniforms weren't exactly the 
pinnacle of sexy clothing, despite their form-fitting nature.  She had to get a 
dress.  A hot red dress that would certainly net a man to bed her for the evening.

     With her emotions overflowing, Diane struggled to restore her control 
before she burst.  She was not a tramp and she certainly wasn't going to look 
for the first willing man to sleep with her.  Edward was gone, and for ten long 
years she had accepted that as best she could.  Zandra Phillips was a good 
woman, a loving mother and doting wife who only wanted her husband home, just 
like Diane wanted Edward.  And she had to be more careful with her feelings.  
She was Commander Diane Howard of Starfleet.  More than that, she was Her Grace 
Diane Howard, Heiress to the Duke of New Norfolk.  She had a responsibility to 
her family and title - not to mention Starfleet - to conduct herself accordingly.

     Footsteps came from behind, prompting Diane to turn.  Walking up behind her 
was Dr. Drola Marskukas, the /Intrepid/'s CMO.  Drola was an Orion and had a 
particularly bright emerald green complexion.  She had brown eyes, dark brown 
hair, and stood at about a hundred and sixty five centimeters with an attractive 
build.  Drola was probably the closest thing to a friend Diane had on the ship 
and had her own personal share of tragedy in her life.  Diane didn't know all 
the details save that Drola had at one time been a slave.  Whether she was a 
household slave, a concubine, or a prostitute-slave Diane didn't know and never 
asked about, all she knew that Drola had been born in the Orion upper classes 
and had, through misfortunate for her nation of Rorlurai in one of the many 
Orion internecine wars, been taken for slavery.  She had an accent, somewhat 
like on would expect from an Iranian (The language of the Rorlurai had some 
phoenetic simularities to Farsi), and spoke to Diane upon being noticed.  "Doing 
okay, Commander?"

     "I'm fine, Drola."

     "I don't think so."  Drola put a sympathetic hand on Diane's right 
shoulder.  "The tears in your eyes are telling me that you're lying."  She 
grinned slightly.  "Why don't you let me take you to the Locker and buy you 
something?"

     After a few moments, Diane replied, "Give me an hour, Drola.  I have to 
talk to Sevak and make sure everything's in order for the dockmaster."

     "An hour, then."  Drola nodded.  "I'll met you at the Locker."

 

 

     In her quarters, Razmara was finishing the procurement and repair requests 
to the dockmaster when she noticed an icon flashing in her monitor's corner.  
She tapped the screen to bring it up and saw that it was Jack.  Smiling, she 
began playing it.

     The smile evaporated when she saw that he was not in his quarters on the 
station but on a ship, with a window in the background clearly showing a ship at 
warp.  "Hi Jack," Razmara said faintly, her heart falling into her stomach.

     "Hi Sophia."  Jack didn't seem so happy either.  "I... tried to wait.  But 
the company had a cargo at Andor headed out to a distribution warehouse out in 
Sector 220-B and I have to go run it out there."

     "That's awfully close to G'kkau space."  Razmara shifted in her seat.  The 
disappointment was obvious, since both had been looking forward to another 
dinner date and the love-making that always followed.  "Be careful, okay?"

     "You know I will.  And Sophia..."  Jack finally restored the smile on his 
face.  "Good luck on the /Enterprise/.  You've earned it.  Who knows... maybe in 
a few years you'll be sitting in that captain's chair?"

     Razmara smirked.  "Don't I wish?"

     "I know you do.  Well, I've got work to do, so I'll call you later, when we 
get to Sector 220-B.  Maybe we'll be able to run into each other soon enough?"

     That made her cringe.  Jack and Razmara never had such good luck; their 
meetings in the last six years were annual if they were lucky.  "Well, we can 
always hope, can't we?"

     Jack nodded.  "Talk to you later, lover.  Take care of yourself."

     "I love you, Jack."

     "And I love you."  Jack touched a button on his desk and the signal cut.  
The symbol of StarComm Technologies Incorporated appeared on her screen; it was 
the company that his subspace communications were routing through.  Razmara let 
a few tears come down her cheeks, an outlet to the sorrow of another lost chance 
with the man she loved, before returning to finishing her work.

 

 

     Leyton had been kinder than Pressman in their meeting.  Though Starfleet 
Command was Not Happy with his actions in handing the data over to the Romulans, 
Parker's handling of the situation was being lauded.  The press was now labeling 
him as the man who kept peace with the Romulans, seeming to confirm to the 
public his worthiness to command the /Enterprise/.

     The /Equinox/ crew was going to be debriefed extensively.  Lieutenant 
Farrelis and Commander Carter would be given two weeks paid leave, with 
psychological therapy with the most prestigious medical experts on Earth, before 
returning to duty.  If either requested retirement, Starfleet would do so 
immediately and give them full benefits.  For the interim, Starfleet was going 
to keep Carter in her position aboard /Enterprise/ until she made that decision.

     Parker sincerely hoped that Carter would stay.  He entered sickbay through 
the aft door and went through two labs before finding himself in the room where 
she was kept.  Carter was sitting up, talking with a attractive 30-something 
nurse standing nearby with her back to Parker.  The white Nurse Corps uniform 
contrasted sharply with the other colors of Starfleet uniforms, not to mention 
her chestnut-coloredhair.  Her rank insignia on the collar identified her rank 
as Petty Officer 1st Class.  She was probably the chief nurse of the watch, and 
was giving Carter a hypospray when Parker got next to them.  "Commander, doing 
well?"

     Carter nodded.  The woman turned and faced Parker, stiffening her back in 
response to his presence.  Parker gave her a quick lookover.  She was quite 
attractive, with a generous and curved bosom.  Her eyes were aquamarine in 
color, a definite sea-green shade, and her face made her look more like her late 
twenties even if she was probably at least five years older than she looked.  
"Captain, nice to meet you.  I'm the Chief Nurse of Beta Watch, Petty Officer 
Kristin Ignacian."

     "Miss Ignacian, the pleasure is mine."  Parker nodded to her.  "Can I speak 
with Commander Carter for a few minutes?"

     "Oh, yes."  Kristin nodded.  "In fact, as soon as Doctor Nguyen gets back, 
she'll probably be free to go."

     "Excellent."  Parker watched Kristin walk off, trying not to seem too 
intent on admiring her posterior - Parker was a warm-blooded man, after all, if 
unattached and older - and looked back to Carter, who had an amused smirk on her 
face.  "What's so funny?"

     "She's far too young for you, Captain," Carter needled.  She certainly 
seemed in a joyous mood now, even if Parker knew it probably hid deeper and 
unpleasant feelings.  "Don't bother trying to deny it, I was trained to spot 
that kind of thing."

     "Okay, I'm guilty."  Parker raised his hands in a sign of surrender.  He 
slid a chair up and sat down by Carter.  "You look better."

     "Well, yeah."  There was an edge to her voice as she added, "Doctor 
Nguyen's so good that I"m sure you can never tell I just spent a few days being 
tortured half to death."

     "Sharon, I'm sorry we didn't get Madred."

     "It's not that."  Carter drew in a breath, noting the informality he was 
using now.  "Even if I personally tossed him screaming into the plasma chamber 
of a nacelle, he'd still be there in my dreams.  I'm... never going to forget 
this, Adrian."

     "I know."

     "So, what did Starfleet say about us?"

     "Two weeks paid leave, at least.  Further leave will be issued on advice 
from the psychologists you'll be sent to see.  And naturally Starfleet will be 
paying for your therapy.  And if either you or Lieutenant Farrelis decide to 
resign your commissions, Starfleet will accept them without complaint."

     "Ah."  Carter nodded.  "The admirals heard about what happened to Jadzia?"

     "Yes.  Officially, it's a foregone conclusion that nobody can resist 
torture for prolonged periods of time, and she will not be penalized.  
Unofficially, Admiral Leyton tells me that with her will so thoroughly broken, 
Starfleet can never trust her with a command position.  She'll be planet or 
station-bound for the rest of her career and probably never do better than 
science officer postings."

     Carter pounded a fist onto the bed.  "God dammit!"  She began, slowly, to 
weep.  "God dammit..."  Parker moved from his chair to sit beside her.  Carter 
buried her head into his shoulder, while he saw Kristin re-enter to investigate 
the shout.  He waved her off with a free hand while Carter began to go from 
weeping to all-out crying.  "I should have given in, for Jadzia!  She's ruined 
now, because I... I was too stubborn...."

     "Shh...."

     "How could I have been so selfish?!"  Carter gripped him tighter.  Parker 
could feel some moisture through his red uniform shirt.  "Jadzia's life is gone 
now, Adrian.  She had potential.  So much potential.  And it's all gone now.  
God dammit it's all gone."

     Parker held onto Carter and let her continue to cry.  It was a few minutes 
before she managed to work it out of her system.  She moved away from him 
awkwardly and tried to smile weakly.  Her eyes were reddened from crying now.  
"I'm sorry," she murmured.

     "Don't be, Sharon."  Parker brought his left hand up and cleaned the tears 
off her cheeks.  He had to repress some old feelings he had for Carter.  As a 
junior officer on the /Yamato/, she had been a rather spunky redhead and Parker 
had always found that appealing, though he'd never acted upon it.  To see that 
spunkiness, that defiance and self-confidence, so badly damaged by Madred just 
added further insult to the injury his brutality to her had caused.  "Sharon, 
Madred destroyed Jadzia's potential, don't let him destroy your's too.  And it's 
not the end for Jadzia.  I talked with Admiral Leyton.  Starfleet is going to 
have an opening on a frontier station out at Bajor, /Deep Space Nine/.  They're 
going to send her out there in three months."

     After a few moments, Carter seemed to calm down.  "It's good to know she'll 
have something to do.  She's a really bright girl."

     "I'm sure of it."  Parker nodded and tried to smile.  "So, shall I go about 
finding a new Weapons and Security Officer?  Or do you want me to leave the 
position open for you?"

     "Oh, let me think about it for a minute," Carter said with much sarcasm.  
"It's such a tough choice, a planetside posting or the /Enterprise/....  I'll 
take the /Enterprise/."

     They both laughed, and Parker felt good to see some of that spunkiness back 
in Carter.  "Well, Commander, then you are cordially invited tonight to Sisko's 
Bistro in New Orleans.  Ben Sisko's an old buddy of mine, and his dad's going to 
throw a party for the /Enterprise/'s officers tonight."

     "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Carter laughed.

 

 

     After Parker had left, Nurse Ignacian and Doctor Nguyen returned and gave 
Carter a final checking before letting her go.  While responding to them, Carter 
could not help but think back...

     She had survived.  She had beaten Madred.  Or had she?  All those moments 
of doubt, all those moments contemplating the sweet bliss of surrender, those 
were still there.  Madred had been a very good torturer; that much was certain.  
And he knew he had her close to her limit.

     But how close?

     Carter could not bring herself to consider that at the end, she might have 
actually seen four lights....

     /No!/  The voice, her voice, echoed in Carter's mind.  She beat Madred!  
She was not going to surrender.  Death would have freed her from him, and she 
knew she was going to take it.

     But the crew had mattered too.  He was going to hurt them if she died.  Was 
she going to surrender for them?  For Jadzia?  For Rose Masters and her unborn 
baby?  Would she have sacrificed them for her pride?

     Madred never would have hurt them anyway; the Romulans would never let 
him.  He was bluffing.

     Or was he?

     "You're free to go."

     Phong's voice had been gentle, but it cut straight through Carter's 
concentration.  She blinked and asked, "Huh?"

     "I'm done."  Phong patted her on the back.  "Nurse MacMillan will be 
returning with a uniform for you, Commander.  Then you're free to do what you 
want.  Though I'd recommend being down at McKinley's Alpha Transporter in three 
hours.  That's when we're beaming down to New Orleans for the party.  It should 
be a fun night."

     Carter forced herself to grin.  "I'll be there."  She watched Phong walk 
away.  Again her mind returned to the question.  Had Madred broken her?  Had she 
been close to submission?

     These questions, Carter would find out, would haunt her for quite a long time.

 

 

     The sentiment "Tonight should be fun" was also foremost in the mind of Arno 
Vanbeginne, currently in his modest quarters about five meters away from the 
lounge.  He had a different reason, of course, given that his face was not even 
an inch away from the ample cleavage of Kristin Ignacian.  He had met the buxom 
young nurse when he first arrived on the /Enterprise/ and had been pursuing her 
- in a chivalric manner of course - since that time.

     All that hard work had finally paid off.  She had come in when her shift 
was ended, a glass of champagne in hand.  After drinking some of the sweet 
alcoholic beverage, the two had settled on Arno's couch and some friendly 
talking had become touching, kissing, and now they were starting to undress.  He 
could hardly help himself; Arno was a romantic gentleman, enjoying the pleasures 
of life with beautiful woman whenever he could.  Of course, he didn't sleep 
around.  He would give Kristin a chance for a relationship; if they ever called 
it off for whatever reason, he would go looking for something new.

     Nor did Arno bed or seek to bed every lovely woman he met.  He took his 
self-appointed position as soother of sorrows very seriously, and never sought 
ladies who he felt needed his help in that regard.  Kristin, however, did not 
fall into that category.  She fell into an entirely different category, with her 
beauty and feisty personality; that of the woman to be desired.

     Arno had nearly unbuttoned her uniform by this point.  Her exquisite 
breasts would be freed next, and he would use them to pleasure her while they 
worked their way to the bottom set of clothing.  However, he was just about to 
undo the last button when his door chime sounded.  Kristin moaned irritably, but 
Arno showed his usual cheer and even had the presence of mind to pick up a case 
of beer that he knew the man on the other side of the door would be expecting.

     However, it wasn't Commander Dalke as he expected, but Commander Data.  The 
golden-skinned android appraised Arno carefully, noting his undressed state.  
"Commander Dalke beamed down early," Data explained.  "He asked me to come down 
with the beer."

     "Ah, yes, well, hear it is."  Arno lifted the heavy case and let Data take 
it.  "Do enjoy it, Commander.  There should be plenty for everyone!"

     "I will convey that to the others."  Data seemed to hesitate for a moment.  
"Have I interrupted something?"

     "Yes, but do not worry about."

     "Ah."  Data had learned just enough of human interactions to not reveal 
that he had already seen Kristin Ignacian from Sickbay in the room and in a 
similar undressed state.  "Can I speak to you tomorrow?  I am curious as to how 
I might better improve my relations with my fellow officers."

     "Of course."  Arno, for his part, did not show the slightest bit of 
impatience in getting Data to leave.  It was some cleverness on his part; if he 
got mad, Data would be inquistive as to why.  And then he would delay even further.

     Data nodded.  Arno wanted him to leave to resume mating with Nurse 
Ignacian.  Undoubtedly he had chosen her because of her uniform, which Data was 
told made women very attractive as mates.  He would have to study that 
phenomenom in the future.  For his part, Data stepped away from the door and let 
it close.  He still had twenty minutes and twenty three point five four nine 
eight seconds to get to Sisko's Bistro.

     Arno stepped away from the closed door and found that Kristin had finished 
the undressing job herself during the conversation.  She was laying on the bed 
half-naked, her arms to either side and under her head so as to not obscure his 
view of her chest.  He grinned; she had left her panties for him to remove at 
their leisure later on.

     The night was looking very fun indeed.

 

 

     At 1840, a freighter registered in Ferengi space departed McKinley, bound 
for the frontier past Breen and Thallonian space.  Deep within it's recesses, 
one of it's handful of passengers was seated alone in his spartan room, 
apparently thinking to himself.

     He began to speak, and though he was conversing with someone, if one were 
to observe from afar one could never hear the voice replying to him.

     "The Romulans will undoubtedly purge the elements responsible for the rogue 
base in the Triangle.  But our material involvement remains unseen.  To 
Starfleet, and to the Romulans, it simply appears that the renegades were 
well-funded."

     A pause.

     "Yes, I agree.  Pressman will suffice for our purposes.  His vigilance is 
narrow, directed only at those he feels are enemies and oblivious to the threats 
around him.  We will simply have to insure that his vigilance is properly directed."

     Pause.

     "Given that the Romulan faction we were courting will undoubtedly lose it's 
grip inside the Romulan military, we will have to find another suitable target 
for our purposes.  The Romulans can still be manipulated, certainly, but no 
longer in that fashion.  Even with their xenophobia, their honor code remains an 
annoyance."

     Pause.

     "Yes, the Cardassians are incontent, but their leadership still fears the 
Federation.  And the Klingons and Ferengi are allies, we must not forget.  
However, there could be elements in the Klingon Empire we can use.  After all, 
the Ferengi are just as dependent upon Klingon military strength as the Klingons 
are upon Ferengi latinum.  That will translate into leverage."

     Pause.

     "I'll see what I can do then."

     Pause.

     "I know we would have preferred the /Enterprise/ firing on the Romulan 
government's forces, but it didn't happen.  Adrian Parker is a clever man.  I 
think we need to keep our involvement hidden from him.  Otherwise he would 
certainly pose a viable threat to our operations."

     Pause.

     "That won't be necessary at this juncture.  Currently he's no threat, and 
could be an asset if used properly."

     Pause.

     "This is different than that, I think.  Besides, we took care of /them/, 
didn't we?  They will not be in a position to interfere, or to alert Parker or 
anyone else to our goals."

     Pause.

     "Yes, that one got away.  But he's just one man, and he doesn't know of our 
plans.  Let him wallow about in his ignorance."

     Pause.

     "I should be out on the frontier in a couple of weeks to gather more agents 
for our use.  We'll let things simmer for a while and allow our agents to move 
the pieces into position.  Then we shall set our plans into motion."

     Pause.

     "Of course."

     And then the conversation abruptly ended.




*/Epilogue/*

 

 

 

 

     Located near the French Quarter of New Orleans, Sisko's Bistro was a 
favored dining spot for the locals.  Tonight, they got treated to a larger show, 
that of a crowd of Starfleet officers from the /Enterprise/ who were in one of 
Joe Sisko's side rooms drinking a great number of things.  Most of them were in 
uniform.  A few, though, were not; O'Keefe had come in a nice shirt and khaki 
pants, and Parker could see Jobrie in the corner wearing a strapless red evening 
gown showing her spotline down to the shoulders where it turned down her body.  
She had her arm crooked around a junior doctor from Sickbay and a wide smile on 
her face.

     Ben Sisko emerged from the kitchen with a few side dishes, wearing a cook's 
uniform opposed to a Starfleet one.  His son Jake trailed behind him with 
another side dish.  They brought the dishes to the large table that stood in the 
center of the room.  Sisko took the time to kiss his wife Jennifer on the cheek 
and pat her growing belly before returning to the kitchen.

     Parker was watching the entire assemblage from the corner of the room.  
Carter was seated with Phong and Razmara, carrying on a conversation, while 
Dalke was chatting with his senior Engineering Mates and Hamblin.

     O'Keefe returned from restroom and walked up to Parker.  "Looks like a 
lively place tonight, huh Captain?"

     "Oh, it does," Parker agreed.  "So, that cute girl turned you down, huh?"

     There was a dissatisfied expression on the younger man's face.  "The 
night's still young."

     "Well, go get 'em, tiger."  Parker watched O'Keefe walk back out to mingle 
with some of the people waiting to be seated.  He watched Sisko emerge again 
with more dishes, with Jake on his heels still, and set them on the table.  This 
time he didn't return to the kitchen and instead walked toward Parker.  "Looks 
good, Ben.  You've already got my stomach growling."

     "Oh, it's not done yet."  Parker could swear there were two stars in 
Sisko's eyes, they way they were lighting up.  "No no no, we still have the 
souffles and the...."

     "You look like a kid, Ben."

     There was an expression of mock horror in Sisko's face.  "Never insult a 
man's calling," he chided Parker mockingly.  "Cooking is in the Sisko family blood."

     "I already knew that."

     "So..."  Sisko looked back at the table.  Jennifer took the challenging 
role of keeping prying hands away from the dishes, giving a quick slap to an 
erring hand from Commander Dalke and glaring down some of the junior officers 
eyeing the table.  "The /Enterprise/.  You're one hell of a lucky man, Adrian."

     "Well, we all have luck in our own way, Ben.  Another baby on the way?"

     Sisko nodded.  "Yes.  We're going to name him after my father if it's a 
boy, and after Jennifer's mother if it's a girl."

     "Ah, one of the couples that doesn't like finding out the sex before birth, 
huh?"  Parker grinned.  "Make sure to tell me when she's due, I'll have that 
buddy of mine in Havana send you a box of cigars."

     "He'll be shipping them an awful long way..."

     Noticing the tone to Sisko's voice, Parker asked, "What's wrong, Ben?"

     "Still getting used to the idea of a new assignment."  Sisko crossed his 
arms.  "Operations decided the /Saratoga/'s going to cost too much to upgrade.  
They're sending her to the scrap yard."

     "My condolences."

     "Yes, well, everyone on board is moving up.  Chakotay is getting his own 
command, that new ship that Planitia's designed, the /Voyager/.  He's going to 
take her out for shakedown runs next year.  She's some kind of new explorer 
ship, even has a new warp propulsion system using configurable nacelles."  A 
smirk crossed his face.  "Those damned engineers are always coming up with new 
toys."

     "Oh, they are."  A young Caucasian woman with a Cajun accent stepped up and 
offered them drinks.  Parker took a glass of wine but Sisko didn't bother.  
Parker sipped at the rich wine for a moment, recognizing it as Chateau Picard.  
"So, where are you going to go?"

     "Since I can't go back to /Saratoga/ and there weren't exactly any choice 
postings available, I asked Starfleet to let me take a position where I could 
have Jennifer and Jake with me.  They offered me a frontier posting out at 
Bajor.  That rickety old Cardassian space station they christened /Deep Space 
Nine/."

     "Bajor's not that close."

     "No, but at least it's not out near Thallonian space or, heaven forbid, 
G'kkau."  Sisko shrugged.  "The station's safe for families, I'm told.  So I 
figure there's no harm in heading out there for a year or two until Starfleet 
finds me a bigger ship."

     "Yeah, that's a good idea.  You're probably good for an /Akira/ at the very 
least.  Though I hear they're going to be bringing a new line of modernized 
/Excelsior/."

     "We'll have to see."

     Parker nodded.  After a moment of looking around, he asked Sisko, "So, have 
you see Larrisa?  I know she was coming down."

     "That blonde Edo girl they assigned to you?  Not yet."  Sisko checked the 
clock.  "Ah, the roast is probably done now.  Let me go get that and the jumbalaya."

     Parker nodded and watched Sisko go back into the kitchen.  Razmara walked 
up, having come from the outside floors of the bistro.  She was in full uniform, 
jacket included.  "In uniform tonight, Commander?"

     "Best thing that fit the occasion," she replied.  "You're in uniform too, I 
see."

     "Couldn't think of anything better."  Parker heard a commotion in the other 
room and walked in to see all of the civilians staring at Data in his full 
uniform, holding a massive box.

     "Captain, I apologize for being...."

     "Data!  Come here."  Parker waved him over into the side room.  When Data 
got into the room he had him set the case down and out of the way and opened 
it.  It was a cooler, set to keep the contents rather cold.  They were glass 
bottles - Glass!  Like out of some holovid in the 20th Century! - and filled 
with a thick golden fluid.  Parker reached into one and pulled it out.  The 
markings, while Human, were in a European language he didn't know, but he didn't 
need that to read the title.  "Bilzen Brewery?"  A wide grin crossed his face.  
"Been years since I had this.  Oh, Vanbeginne has outdone himself this time."

     He turned to watch Data take a seat beside Jennifer Sisko.  Data did not 
wait and immediately reached for a roll.  Jennifer, as she had done with 
everyone else, smacked him on the hand.  However, it was she who made a yelp of 
pain.  She reached for her hand and rubbed it.  "What are you made of?"

     Parker cringed when Data began to rattle off the precise nature of his 
construction.  The android was going to take quite a bit of work.  However, he 
soon gained the attention of Jennifer's son.  Jake quickly left his mother's 
side and began bombarding Data with all sorts of questions.  Parker now had to 
smile, wondering which would win out first; Data's compulsive need to share 
unnecessary information or Jake's compulsive need to ask for it?

     Sisko was coming out with the jumbalaya and gumbo when Parker heard another 
hubbub in the main dining room.  O'Keefe was standing nearby and his jaw nearly 
dropped from surprise.  Parker walked over and quite nearly dropped his jaw as well.

     Larrisa entered the Bistro wearing a sparkling black evening gown, an 
appropriate thing when one considered the sparkles resembling stars on black 
space.  It was cut below her shoulders, with two thin straps rising up from 
where the gown covered her cleavage - it revealed only the beginning of the 
split between her breasts - and wrapped around the back of her neck.  The gown 
bared her upper back as well, but that was all it showed; it flowed down over 
her waist and legs, hiding her legs and the curve of her posterior.  She was not 
wearing high-heels but rather flat-heeled shoes that matched her dress 
perfectly.  Diamond earrings, adorned with the Edo words for light and love, 
hung from her ears and added to her sparkling appearance.  Her blonde hair was 
free and curly, flowing over her shoulders and halfway down her back.  Her lips 
were a bright and sexy red color.  Larrisa looked more like a diva than a 
military officer.

     This marked the second time that Parker felt his mental image of Larrisa 
change.  He had first seen her in a sex club, tied to the ceiling and having sex 
with two men, and that had made him think her a typical Edo.  Then he had seen 
her in uniform, professional and disciplined, and his image of Larrisa changed 
to that of her being a Starfleet officer.

     Larrisa, as should have been obvious he now realized, was not just an Edo 
or a Starfleet officer; she was a /woman/ and a very beautiful one at that.  
This fact seemed obvious but Parker, in his haste, had never actually thought of 
Larrisa as one.  She was, to him, an Edo and a Starfleet officer.  But he never 
considered her in the sense that she was a woman.  However, dressed as she was 
now, that fact was undeniable; Larrisa possessed all of the feminine grace and 
dignity that womanhood bestowed.  She seemed to glide across the room, but did 
not get far.  Somehow, Joseph Sisko appeared beside her and offered her his 
arm.  "Welcome to Sisko's, young lady.  Would you like me to show you to a table?"

     "I already have one."  Larrisa looked up at Parker, who was doing quite 
well hiding any surprise at her appearance out of uniform.

     Joe Sisko noticed Parker and the looks they were exchanging.  "Ah, you're 
from the /Enterprise/.  Well, young lady, follow me."

     Parker stepped back into the side dining room and gave Joe Sisko and 
Larrisa a wide berth.  All eyes turned toward them, particularly male eyes, 
which were lingering as she took a seat beside Data.  Joe Sisko offered her a 
drink and she chose one of the wines on his menu after consulting with him on 
them.  Jennifer and Larrisa began introductions to each other and concerning 
Jake, Larrisa ignoring the eyes still peering her way once and a while.  Parker 
finally sat down near her, waiting for her to finish with Jennifer.  When she 
did, he asked her, "Where did you get that dress?"

     "It was a gift," she replied.  "A friend of the family, you might say.  He 
gave it to me when I graduated from the Academy."  She touched one of the 
earrings.  "And these were my mother's."

     "It's, well, stunning."

     "Thank you sir."  Larrisa looked around at everyone, smiling.  Joe Sisko 
returned from the kitchen with a bottle and a glass and poured her a drink.  
Larrisa sipped at the rich red liquid and set it back down.  "Looking at 
everyone I guess I should have worn the uniform."

     A half-dozen dissenting voices rose up.  Razmara sat down on the opposite 
end of the table and shook her head.  "Don't worry about it, Larrisa."

     "Exactly what I was going to say."  Parker stood back up and walked to the 
head of the table, where the Siskos had insisted he sit.  As he arrived, the 
last dishes came out, including a large pot roast.  A second, Parker had been 
told, was on the way, just to feed all of the fifty officers in attendance.  The 
main table and a smaller one was nearly filled with a number of side dishes.  A 
pair of Joe Sisko's waitresses helped to re-fill everyone's glasses.  Sisko 
himself, having seen Jake off to his bedroom for the night, returned to take a 
seat between Jennifer and Parker.  Before anyone could make a grab at the food, 
Parker rose to his feet, gathering the attention of the senior crew at the table 
and the other officers scattered around this side room and the balcony.  When 
all fifty were in the side room or at the doorways, Parker looked around him and 
picked up his glass of Chateau Picard.  "Ladies and gentlemen, I propose a 
toast.  This past week, we've had an honor that is probably unrivaled in the 
annals of Starfleet.  We get to say that yes, we served about the /Starship 
Enterprise/.  We brought her out and back again in one piece."  Parker looked 
down into the glass for a moment.  "Just a week ago, I had half of Starfleet 
wanting to wring my neck.  I had been taken from my ship and sent back to Earth 
for re-assignment to, well, God knows where some of the Admiralty wanted to send 
me; probably some place unpleasant, like the Embassy on Quo'noS."  A roar of 
laughter came from all the assembled save Data, who looked around at the 
others.  "But now I'm Captain of the /Enterprise/.  That's a big leap, and I 
couldn't have done it without you.  I can't tell you how much it honors me to 
know that I've got a crew like you to back me up."  Parker raised his glass, 
prompting the others to do the same.  "To the men and women of the /Starship 
Enterprise/; past, present, and future.  And to the /Enterprise/ herself.  May 
we all keep that name proud and true.  To the /Enterprise/!"

     And the others responded.

     "To the /Enterprise/!"

     And as the dinner began, and everyone received their plates, Parker could 
not help but consider again the voice inside his head.  The voice that insisted 
that the /Enterprise/ transcended what she had been built for.  She would not be 
content with her mission.  She couldn't be.  She had a mission of her own...

     And the words of that mission still echoed.

 

 

     /Space, the final frontier.  These are the voyages of the /Starship 
Enterprise.  /Her continuing mission to explore strange new worlds... to seek 
out new life and new civilizations.../

/     To boldly go where no one has gone before..../

 

 

*The End....  for now*