NOBODY’S CHILD: The Saga of Doctor Leonard McCoy and Family-Chapter Six

NOBODY’S CHILD
by Pat McCoy

CHAPTER SIX – Spock!

When Patricia arrives back in her own quarters at her assigned post, and unpacks, she notices that her message light is blinking. “Computer, play messages.” She lays down on the bed while watching and listening to the messages play back. An image of Doctor Leonard McCoy appears onscreen and he does NOT look happy! “Patricia! I know that you are still away on shore leave. PLEASE call me as soon as you get this message! It’s about Spock!” The image fades from the screen and there are no other messages. “Strange”, she thinks to herself, “Gramps hasn’t called me by my formal name for YEARS! He usually calls me by a pet name. Oh, God! What’s happened to Uncle Spock!?” She gets up with a groan, a knot in her stomach, and sits down at the comm-system. She presses the buttons to call her Great-grandfather and his image immediately comes onscreen.

Leonard exhales in relief. “Child! FINALLY!” He peers at her. “You look EXHAUSTED! Did you just get home?” Patricia nods. “Yes, Gramps! My shore leave was quite busy and the journey home was tiring.” McCoy scowls at his Great-grandchild. “Shore leave is supposed to be for REST and RELAXATION! What were you up to?!” She knows that she can’t hide the guilty look on her face. “Well, I was playing with the Klingons, who also came to the party, enjoyed the Sail-a-bration of the Defeat of the Dominion, then helped Captain Sisko with his neighborhood block party/cook-out for Bajoran Freedom Day. Not much.” The old doctor shakes his head. “Even when you are under doctor’s orders to REST and RELAX, you STILL managed to get into mischief!”

Now it’s Patricia’s turn to become irritable. “Gramps! You know I start getting antsy if I don’t have SOMETHING to do to keep my brain occupied! Yes, it’s a form of stimming but at least it was a constructive form of stimming.” Her Great-grandfather calms down. “Did you enjoy the parties?” She grins at the memories. “It was FUN, Gramps, sharing an outdoor kitchen, cooking with Captain Sisko, and mingling with every sentient being from all quadrants! Sharing my cooking skills seemed to make it easier for me to socialize instead of focusing on work. You know what I mean?”

McCoy smiles. “I understand, child.” Then his smile fades. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news. Spock is missing!” She goes into shock. “WHAT?! Gramps! When?! How?!” “He disappeared shortly after you left for your shore leave!”, the old man replies. Patricia erupts in fury as she strikes the table with her fist. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME ABOUT THIS?!” McCoy attempts to stay calm during her onslaught of rage. “Because I know you very well, child! You would cancel your shore leave and get all worked up, exacerbating the health issues that required shore leave in the first place! You were under doctor’s orders to go off duty and REST! Besides, what would Spock expect from you?” She rubs her face with both hands, sighs, then looks up. “Uncle Spock would expect me to think things through and look at what I could logically … and physically … be able to do given my situation.”

The old doctor nods. “EXACTLY my point, child! Star Fleet Intelligence is already working on this case and Vulcan officials are doing what they can.” “Gramps”, she retorts, “I just don’t FEEL right sitting here, wringing my hands, and doing NOTHING!” The old doctor smiles at an old memory. “I remember saying something similar to that irritating old hobgoblin several years ago and received a well-placed verbal barb for that!” “Yes”, Patricia nods in agreement, “Uncle Spock would do that and he would have a point … no pun intended about his ears.”

Her Great-grandfather groans. “Even when you try to avoid puns, you find one anyway! Between Spock’s barbs and your puns, I don’t have a chance!” She is unable to smile at that. “Never mind that, Gramps. What do we do now? Where did Uncle Spock disappear? Was he on a diplomatic assignment on a Federation world or elsewhere? Should you and/or I go there?” The old doctor shakes his head and signals for her to stop. “Hold your horses, young lady! Neither of us goes anywhere until we hear back from the Top Brass! You know better than to go off gallivanting on your own without prior clearance from your bosses … and THAT includes ME! You are NOT James T. Kirk! Remember, I am still an Admiral!” “Yes, sir.”, she replies sadly.

The old man gives her an empathetic look. “Child, I know you want to ride to Spock’s rescue on a white charger! I want to do the same thing as badly as you do, given the history that he and I have since before you were born. Right now, until there is more information to go on, the only thing we can do is sit tight.” Patricia takes a deep breath and attempts to calm down. “What information is there, Gramps? Are you at liberty to share that with me or is it classified where only the Top Brass, like you, have access on a need-to-know basis?” McCoy pauses. “From what little that I’ve been told, Spock had gone home to Vulcan to take care of some personal or family business. You and I both know that he is as tight-lipped as an Aldebaran Shell-mouth when it comes to discussing ANYTHING that is personal! Not long after he arrived on Vulcan, he had an appointment with T’Pau but he never showed up. T’Pau knew that is VERY uncharacteristic of Spock as he is ALWAYS punctual! When the local authorities, their form of police, went to do a wellness check at Spock’s home, thinking he might have taken ill … there was no sign of him anywhere! His luggage and personal possessions that he brought with him were all there where he left it. You and I both know how neat and orderly he is with his stuff … but no indication of where he went.”

She knows that this is a very BAD sign. “And I presume that is when Vulcan contacted Star Fleet and/or someone within the Federation authorities who, in turn, informed you.” The old doctor nods affirmatively. “Yes. I knew that your shore leave was due to end after a certain number of days so I waited until it was close to when you were scheduled to come home to leave you that message to call me the minute you arrived. I had asked the Top Brass not to say anything to anyone until I had the chance to talk to you first, because Spock is considered family. If it had been leaked to anyone at Deep Space Nine, and someone else had told you, you probably would have been back here at Warp 10, or faster, and ready to wring my neck for keeping this from you.” Patricia scowls at her Great-grandfather. “Part of me understands your logic and another part of me STILL wants to wring your neck for not telling me as soon as you knew. You know how much I love my favorite Uncle!” “I expected as much.”, the old man answers, “At the same time, being your commanding officer in Star Fleet Medical, I also had to balance your own physical health with the need to know. If you had known earlier, your health might not have withstood the stress and I would have lost a good officer, not to mention my most beloved Great-grandchild. Once I knew that your health had returned to the required standards, then, and only then, could I take the risk to tell you the news about Spock. I can be certain that if I had put your health at risk, and something had happened to you, Spock would NEVER forgive me! He may be Vulcan but he still loves you as if you were his daughter as well, and he is VERY protective of you. As he might say, it is not logical, but it is true.”

Patricia sighs. “You’re right, Gramps! I’m sorry for getting angry.” McCoy shakes his head at his Great-grandchild. “Becoming angry is acceptable, under the circumstances, child. Acting out as a result of that anger can get you into a heap of trouble!” “HUH! Don’t I know it!”, she exclaims, The old doctor continues, “So for now, child, I’m ordering you to bed! You’ve just arrived home, after a long journey, and I can see that you are tired! Even though the bunks aboard ship are comfortable, I know you didn’t sleep well because it WASN’T your own bed, along with the ambient noises that every ship has. I know how your sleep patterns are. You’ve had that problem ever since you were little. Anyway, as soon as I get our orders, I will let you know. I promise!” She rubs at her face, attempting to rub the exhaustion away. “Thanks, Gramps! I’ll call you back later. Love you and signing off for now.” He looks back at her with affection. “Love you too, baby. Sleep well!” The image of Leonard McCoy disappears from the screen. She gets up from the comm-system, gets ready for bed, and is fast asleep a few moments after her head hits the pillow. She wakes up with a start, as the nightmare she was having fades. She gets up and begins puttering around her quarters until she is able to calm down from the night terror she had just experienced. She checks the time and realizes that she had not yet contacted Captain Benjamin Sisko to inform him of her safe arrival home. She sits down at the comm-link again and programs it to contact his office at Deep Space Nine. Captain Sisko’s image appears onscreen.

Sisko looks at his chronometer near his desk and is shocked. “Good grief, Pat! It’s the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT where you are! What are you doing up!?” She nods wearily. “I know. I just couldn’t sleep, Ben. It’s one of those nights again. I thought I should call you to let you know I arrived home safely and … to tell you that Uncle Spock is missing.” Sisko nods with empathy. “And that is probably why you can’t sleep!” She nods back. “You’re right, Ben! That is EXACTLY why I can’t sleep! I’m having all kinds of nightmares until I finally had to get up. I can’t DO anything except sit here and wait until I hear back from Gramps and/or the Top Brass regarding what I CAN do! That is hard as hell!” “I understand THAT all too well!”, Sisko replies, “I went through a similar experience during the conflict with the Dominion and I lost touch with Jake while he remained on the station! That was one of my WORST nightmares! He remained missing until we were able to regain control of DS9! I experienced nightmares as well until I was finally able to see my son again! Part of me didn’t want to let him out of my sight ever again and, at the same time, I had to recognize that he is a grown man who is capable of making his own decisions … mistakes and all.” Patricia rests her chin on her hand. “I remember hearing somewhere about a father’s burden … the struggle between faith in your child and fear for your child. You know that if you have done your job as a parent, correctly, then your child will be a productive member of society and yet, at the same time, cutting that umbilical cord is one of the HARDEST things to do! It feels like the reverse in my situation. Spock is like another father to me and I fear losing him permanently. That possibility is terrifying!”

“I understand how you feel.”, Sisko responds with a nod. “When Jennifer died at Wolf 359, I felt … lost! I forgot how to live. I was functioning … barely … because I had a young child to take care of … but I forgot the most important things that needed my attention. I forgot what Jennifer would have wanted me to do. The Prophets helped open my eyes the first time I met them.” Patricia considers this. “And I need to take a closer look at what I experienced during my own Orb encounter along with what Uncle Spock taught me during my own emotional struggles. I can only imagine that it wasn’t easy for him to try to get through to me. During the early years, after Gramps rescued me, I was physically combative with EVERYONE! I was a WRECK! I just did not know how to function! The only thing I knew was how to fight for survival, like a wild animal! I guess I can say that Uncle Spock ‘tamed’ that wildness.”

Sisko smiles at that. “Without breaking your spirit!” Patricia smiles back. “You’re right, Ben.” She looks at chronometer. “I need to let you get back to work and I’m going to try some Vulcan meditation techniques before trying to sleep some more.” “Take it easy, Pat.”, Sisko replies, “And I’ll talk to you later. I’m sure you’re going to need all the emotional support possible to get you through this.” She gives him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Ben! I’ll keep you posted as soon as I hear anything.” She signs off the comm-link and the image of Captain Sisko disappears from the screen. She then proceeds to set up the area for Vulcan meditation. At the end of the Vulcan Meditation period, she gets up, cleans up the area, putting the items away. She begins pacing back and forth, thinking aloud. “Fact … Uncle Spock went to Vulcan on personal business. Fact … he went to his home and unpacked his belongings, which were found later, neatly arranged as is his habit. Fact … he had an appointment with T’Pau but failed to show up. Fact … there was no mention of forced entry or violence at his home. Question … Did Uncle Spock leave voluntarily or involuntarily? Question … Did he leave alone or did someone accompany him? Questions, plural … If someone accompanied him when he disappeared, then who? What? Where? When? Why? How?” She looks at the chronometer again and sighs. “And it’s TOO early to call Gramps to talk about any of this!” Her comm-link chimes with an incoming call, which startles her out of her revery. “WHO?! At this time?! Does this mean BAD news?!” She sits down at the comm-link and activates it. The image of Leonard McCoy reappears onscreen. He looks haggard.

Patricia starts to panic. “Gramps! Bad news?!” McCoy holds up his hands and shakes his head. “No, child! No news at all. I can see you can’t sleep either.” She nods sadly in response. “I kept having those nightmares, again.” Her Great-grandfather gives her a worried look. “The recurring ones? The terrors?” She nods again, wearily. “Those plus some new ones about Uncle Spock.” The old doctor becomes even more worried. “No wonder you can’t sleep, child!” “And I don’t want to start that stupid merry-go-round of popping pills, developing more drug tolerance, changing meds, popping more pills, developing more drug tolerance while the insomnia continues! Damn pill-pushers don’t get that!”, she grouses with annoyance. “I hear you and I don’t blame you.”, the old man replies. “Not everyone understands the hell you lived through as a child nor do they understand the PTSD which is the result of that hell!” Patricia throws up her hands. “And I feel so frustrated and helpless about not being able to help Uncle Spock! He helped me! He saved my life! I need to find a way to help him!”

McCoy leans toward his view-screen. “He helped BOTH of us in more ways than we will ever know, child! Right now, you and I are struggling with this individually. I’m going to submit a request that you come over to where I am stationed. At least, that way, we can commiserate together until we know what can be done next.” She smiles at that. “Sounds like a plan, Gramps!” “Besides”, the old man adds, “I want to get a good look at you, health-wise. I know that you tend to neglect yourself when you get stressed … especially under circumstances like this!” Patricia nods with resignation. “Okay, Gramps! I understand.” “In the meantime”, he adds, “Go back to bed and try to get some rest and I’m going to do the same. I’ll talk to you later. Love you, child!” “Love you too, Gramps! Signing off!” The image of Leonard McCoy fades from the screen again. She walks over to her bed and lies down but is still unable to sleep. The longer she lays there, the more restless she becomes. She finally gets back up and walks into another room to find her crochet project. She finds her kit, brings it back to bed, sits up and begins crocheting. She has crocheted several squares when her comm-link chimes again. She gets up to answer it, taking her crocheting with her.

She presses a button and her great-grandfather’s image reappears onscreen. “Hi, again, Gramps!” He looks at the crocheting in Patricia’s hands and shakes his head. “Thought I told you to get some rest! Still couldn’t sleep anyway, huh?” She sighs. “Nope! At least concentrating on this”, she indicates the crocheting, “Took my mind off of everything else.” He wags a warning finger at his Great-grandchild. “Just don’t make it a habit of crocheting in bed all the time. That doesn’t help your insomnia. Your bed is supposed to be for sleeping, not working on fiber arts.” She gives him a mischievous grin. “I can think of a certain pleasurable activity to do in addition to sleeping! There might be snow on the mountain but the fire ain’t out yet!” Her Great-grandfather groans and shakes his head. “You sound just like James Tiberius Kirk!” She grimaces at the thought. “He’s too old to date me!” McCoy laughs out loud. “Don’t tell him THAT! He still believes he’s a ladies’ man!” She giggles at that.

Her smile fades. “Any updates on Uncle Spock?” The old man shakes his head again. “No, nothing new on that front. I’ve received approval for you to come to my station. How soon can you get here?” She thinks for a few seconds. “I just unpacked yesterday after I arrived home from Deep Space Nine. How much should I pack for this trip?” The old doctor looks thoughtful. “I don’t know how long this stay is going to be. It depends on what develops next while you’re here. Go ahead and pack what you did the last time, we’ll play it by ear once you arrive.” She nods with determination. “Sounds good to me, Gramps. Once I get there, then we can start doing some brain-storming.” McCoy grins at the thought. “Two McCoy’s brain-storming together! Now THAT is DANGEROUS!” She grins back. “Between the two of us, we might come up with more intelligent solutions!” Her Great-Grandfather laughs. “Get packing child and get over here ASAP! I’ll see you later!” “See you soon, Gramps! Love you!” She signs off the comm-link and begins packing for her trip.

As she rushes back toward the docking area to catch the next star-ship heading toward her Great-grandfather’s station, she encounters a member of her medical team, Doctor Greeley. “Hello, Doctor McCoy! When did you get back from Deep Space Nine?” She continues to hurry and really does not want to get involved in any conversations with this individual. “I just got back last night and I’m on my way out again! Doctor’s orders!” Greeley tries to edge closer, which annoys Patricia. “You’ve hardly had time to breathe! Why the rush? Is there a family emergency?” She continues walking toward the docking area, trying to figure out how to get rid of this interloper without appearing rude. “You could say that!” Greeley continues prying. “Is your Great-grandfather all right?” Patricia continues walking briskly. “Yes, he is. Thank you for asking!” Greeley attempts to pry further. “Then why…?” Patricia finally loses her patience, huffs, and then cuts him off. “DOCTOR Greeley! I hate to be rude but I just don’t have the time to discuss the details right now. I will call in as soon as I reach my destination and find out more information. I have to board NOW before I lose the opportunity! Good day!” She rushes to the waiting air lock and checks in. Doctor Greeley stands alone looking confused and flustered.

Once she’s aboard, she stows her luggage in her quarters while a crew-member waits nearby. “Thanks for checking me in.”, Patricia says to the crew-member. “I’m sorry for the last minute arrangements. Crew-member …?” She looks at the crew-member quizzically. “Silver Hawk.”, the crew-member replies, “No problem. We’re honored to have any of Doctor McCoy’s family aboard!” He hesitates as he glances out the window toward the airlock. “If I may be so bold, what was going on with that gentleman out there while you were walking to the airlock?” She follows his gaze. “Oh? You mean Doctor Greeley?” “Yes.”, Silver Hawk replies, “I may be mistaken, but he seems rather … smitten … with you.” Patricia gives an exasperated sigh and blurts without thinking. “Unfortunately, he’s young enough to be my grandson, straight out of the Academy! I think he’s infatuated with the FAMILY NAME instead of with ME as a PERSON! I’ve experienced that too many times and I’ve reached the point where I no longer have patience with it! Do you know, when he and I first met … he asked for my AUTOGRAPH?!” Silver Hawk looks confused. “And you were not happy with that?” Patricia shakes her head emphatically. “NO! I was NOT! When I was first assigned to this station, I was assigned as the Chief Medical Officer and Doctor Greeley was assigned as a member of my medical staff. I bluntly told him that I expect … even DEMAND PROFESSIONALISM … NOT hero worship! Didn’t phase him at all. He continued to tag after me like a drooling puppy! I don’t have the grounds to request that he be reassigned and, at the same time, my patience has been sorely taxed!” She suddenly realizes that this crew-member may not be the appropriate person to disclose this to. “Sorry. I should not have dumped that on you. I should have waited until I could vent to Gramps instead. Please accept my apology!”

Silver Hawk shrugs this off. “No problem. How old is Doctor Greeley anyway?” She pauses to try and calculate his age. “I think he’s still in his 20’s. Old enough to know better and young enough to still act foolish!” “Did you ever act foolish when you were his age?”, Silver Hawk asks. She hesitates before answering slowly, “Once … long ago, and it almost got me killed because I trusted the wrong person!” The crew-member suddenly feels awkward. “Oh.” Patricia realizes it’s time to speak in her command voice. “Never mind that, Silver Hawk! Now … since we have a long journey ahead … where does one go for relaxation aboard this star-ship?” “We have a recreational lounge on our forward deck and we also have holo-decks.”, the crew-member answers. “Sounds good to me!”, Patricia responds. “Tell the Captain that I’m looking forward to enjoying this trip!” “Very good, ma’am!” The crew-member leaves the guest quarters. Patricia goes over to the comm-link and taps on a key. One of the communications crew appears onscreen. “Good day! Would it be possible to get a message to Doctor Leonard McCoy?” “Yes, ma’am!”, Communications replies. Patricia smiles. “Great! Can you please let him know that Patricia is en route?” “Yes, ma’am! Right away, ma’am!” “Thank you! McCoy out!” She signs off the comm-link, finishes unpacking, then heads out of her quarters into the corridor of the star-ship. She suddenly realizes that she has no idea which direction to go. “Computer! Can you direct me to the recreational lounge?” A directional light begins pulsing, pointing the way to a turbo-lift. Eventually she finds her way to the recreational lounge. She looks around at what is available then makes her way to an empty table and sits down. A waitstaff person approaches her. “What would you like to have?” “I’ll have a glass of Root Beer and a Hot Fudge Sundae, please.”, Patricia responds. “Very good, ma’am!” The waitstaff brings her order to her table and she starts digging in. A voice chimes in. “That’s a sugar overload if I’ve ever seen one!”

Patricia slowly turns to look with quizzical annoyance at the source of the voice. “Excuse me?” A middle-aged gentleman is standing beside her, or, more accurately, hovering over her. She scowls at him. “Oh! Doctor McCoy! I didn’t recognize you from behind! Welcome aboard!” He holds out his hand and she stares coldly at him. He awkwardly withdraws his hand and clears his throat. “I guess I better start over and introduce myself first!” “Yes-s-s-s…”, Patricia responds drily. The middle-age gentleman tugs at his tunic and clears his throat again. “I’m the Chief Medical Officer here. Name’s Hatfield.” She quirks an eyebrow and replies, drily, once more. “Hatfield?” Hatfield is clearly feeling REALLY awkward. “I guess I put my foot into it! I am SO sorry for trying to joke with you BEFORE introducing myself! I don’t wish to start another family feud with another McCoy!”

Patricia’s annoyance is growing by the minute. “That’s a DIFFERENT group of McCoy’s that your clan fought with, NOT mine!” She pauses, then indicates a nearby empty chair. “Pull up a chair and sit down!” Hatfield grabs a nearby chair and sits down with Patricia as she turns her attention back to her dessert. “Based on your expression, I take it that you are not in a joking mood.” She eats a spoonful of ice cream and swallows. “No.”, she replies sourly, “I am not.” “May I ask why?”, Hatfield inquires. “No! You may not!”, she curtly replies. “This is neither an appropriate place nor time for such a discussion. I don’t know you!” Hatfield sits back as far as the chair will let him. “Fair enough. I didn’t exactly endear myself from the outset … and gave you a bad first impression. I am so sorry. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” He gets up and starts to leave. Patricia glances in his direction. “I may speak with you later … depending on the situation.” She turns her attention back to her Hot Fudge Sundae. Hatfield clears his throat again and starts to walk away. “By the way”, Patricia comments, “Given that you have cleared your throat about three or more times, I would get that seen to.”

Hatfield quietly returns and sits down so he can speak privately. “I have Tourette’s Syndrome. I wish I could control it better. Unfortunately, I can’t.” Patricia responds just as quietly. “I’m an Aspie … Asperger’s Syndrome. I get it. We can talk later when there is less sensory overload about.” Hatfield is relieved. “Thank you. Enjoy your dessert.” He leaves Patricia’s table and heads out the door. She finishes her Hot Fudge Sundae, her Root Beer, gets up and leaves the Recreational Lounge to return to her quarters. She sees that a message light is blinking and presses a key. Her Great-grandfather’s image appears onscreen.

“Child, I’m relieved that you are on your way! See you when you get here! McCoy out!” The message ends. She shuts off the comm-link and decides to go to bed. Just as she lays down on the bed, the door chimes. She gets up with a groan, puts on her bathrobe, and pads, barefoot, to the door and opens it. Hatfield is standing there with his hands behind his back and she scowls at him again. Once again, Hatfield is embarrassed. “Bad timing again!” She takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “No. Just me being tired. Traveling is catching up to me in my old age.” Hatfield gives her a quizzical look. “How so?” She turns and gestures. “Come in, sit down, and I’ll tell you!” “Oh.”, he replies timidly as he enters the guest quarters and sits down in the nearest chair. She sits down in another chair. “I was ordered to take shore leave for several days, due to health-related issues. I stayed at Deep Space Nine during that period, and found work to do in spite of doctor’s orders. That’s just my nature. Just got back from DS9 yesterday when I got word of a family emergency and had to head out immediately. Haven’t really rested as I should.” Hatfield looks concerned. “How well are you sleeping?” “Given the circumstances”, she replies, “It’s difficult to sleep. I can’t wait until I’m able to see Gramps. Then I’ll be able to relax a little.”

“Is he having health issues?”, Hatfield asks. She shakes her head. “Thankfully, no.” “Then the family emergency is …?” His voice trails off. “My Uncle Spock. He’s missing.”, Patricia responds. Hatfield looks confused. “Your Uncle Spock … I don’t understand. He is a Vulcan, am I right?” Patricia gives him an annoyed look. “Yes, he is a Vulcan and he is my adopted Uncle and part of my FAMILY! You got a problem with that?!” Hatfield hastily backpedals. “Oops! Sorry. I won’t interrupt again.” Patricia scowls at him silently, for a few seconds, before resuming her narrative. “As I was saying, my Uncle Spock is missing and I am needed home during this family emergency.” “I’m so sorry about your Uncle Spock.”, Hatfield replies, “Is there anything I can do?” She shakes her head. “Right now … no. Just be mindful about my being cranky.” He nods. “Understood.”, as he gets up, “I’ll be available whenever you wish to meet with me.” Patricia gets up and walks him to the door. It slides open as they approach. “Thank you. I will consider it, Hatfield.”

Hatfield steps back into the corridor. “Good day/evening/whatever time it is!” She shuts the door and goes back to bed. Hatfield shakes his head as he walks back to Sick Bay, muttering to himself. “Remind me not to stress out an already stressed-out Aspie! Whew!” He arrives back in Sick Bay and enters. Patricia is still restless in spite of her efforts to relax. She gets up and attempts Vulcan Meditation but continues to feel antsy. She resists the impulse to pace around her quarters. Finally, she gets up, gets dressed, and heads over to the ship’s Sick Bay. Hatfield sees her as soon as she walks in. “Doctor Hatfield”, Patricia begins, “I owe you an apology. It’s not your fault that I’m cranky. I’m feeling frustrated about a lot of things and I took that frustration out on you, which is inappropriate. I’m sorry.” Hatfield shrugs. “I wasn’t helping matters any. Here, let me find you a seat.” He pulls over a chair and indicates it to Patricia, who sits down. “Thank you.” Hatfield pulls up another chair and sits down. “Look. Let’s start over. I want to apologize for my insensitive comment in the Lounge. That was completely uncalled for! My name is Doctor George Hatfield. Please call me George.” Patricia nods. “And I apologize for wiping the floor with you. It’s not your fault that I’m frustrated with the situation I am dealing with and it was completely wrong of me to take out my anger and frustration on you. Please call me Pat.” Hatfield holds out his hand. “May we shake hands on that … Pat?” Patricia shakes his hand. “Done … George!”

There is an awkward silence. Patricia awkwardly withdraws her hand. “I’ve never been socially graceful.” Hatfield nods. “I understand.” There is another awkward silence. “Tell me … would you be willing to participate in medical consults while you are aboard?” Patricia considers this. “I don’t see any problem with that.” Hatfield looks relieved. “Thank you, Pat.” “You’re welcome, George.”, she replies, “I’ll be getting back to my quarters so I can attempt to get some rest.” She gets up. “Would you like some medication to help you sleep?” She shakes her head. “No thank you. Drugs don’t help.” “But …”, Hatfield attempts to interject then realizes he’s about to put his foot in it again as she gives him a silent glare. “Never mind. You know your body better than I do!” Patricia isn’t sure how to take that last comment from a near-total stranger. “Thank you, Doctor.” She leaves Sick Bay and returns to her guest quarters. Upon her arrival, she gets out her crochet project, lays across the bed, and begins crocheting. As she is focusing on her project, she hears the door chime. “Come!” The door to her quarters slide open and the ship’s Captain, Captain Harrison, comes in. “Doctor McCoy?”, he calls out. Patricia sighs as she gets up, again, and walks into the room where the Captain is standing … grumbling loudly all the while, not heeding who might hear her. “Murphy’s Law! Every time I lay down to relax … SIR!”, as she stops short in surprise.

Both Captains react awkwardly to each other. “Ummmm … I just stopped by to see if everything meets your needs while you are a guest aboard.” Patricia glances around the guest quarters. “So far, my material needs have been met. I guess I should have stopped by the bridge to report to you before now, as a common courtesy, one Captain to another.” Harrison waves dismissively. “Nonsense! You are a guest. Sorry I disturbed you.” “Thank you”, Patricia replies, “If I need anything else, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Harrison heads back toward the door. “I’ll see my way out. Have a restful evening.” He leaves the guest quarters. Patricia mutters to herself as she heads back to bed and her crocheting project. “Maybe I should post a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front of the door so they’ll leave me alone for awhile!” Just as she lays down and gets comfortable, the door chime sounds again. By now, Patricia has lost her patience. She stomps, barefoot, to the door and opens it, snarling, “WHAT?!” She finds a very young, very frightened, Ensign cowering there. “Doctor McCoy! I-I-I was hoping to get your autograph!”

At this point, Patricia has had enough. “Son, do you know what TIME it is?!” The young Ensign can only stammer, “I-I-I…” “It is TIME”, Patricia continues to snarl, “To post a notice on MY door that CLEARLY states: ‘Do NOT disturb! Until FURTHER notice! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?” The young Ensign is clearly shaking as well as stammering. “I-I-I’m sorry! I’ll make sure no one else disturbs you for the rest of your stay!” He hurries away as the door closes. Patricia growls to herself. “That’s an amend I will need to make to that Ensign, AFTER I have gotten some SLEEP!” She goes back into the bedroom.

Captain Harrison, Doctor Hatfield, and the young Ensign encounter each other in the corridor. The Captain notices that the Ensign seems to be upset. “Ensign! What seems to be the problem?” The young Ensign hesitates. “Well … um-m-m-m …” “Do you wish to discuss it in Sickbay?”, Hatfield interjects. The young Ensign shakes his head. “No, sir. It has nothing to do with my health, sir. It … well … it’s about Doctor McCoy. I asked for her autograph and she yelled at me for disturbing her.” Harrison is concerned. “When did you speak to her?” “A few moments ago.”, the young Ensign replies. The Captain nods. “A few moments after I disturbed her rest.” Hatfield looks at both the Captain and the Ensign. “Not long after I disturbed her attempts to rest. No wonder she had a meltdown.”

The Captain gives Hatfield a confused look. “Excuse me?” Hatfield continues, “Captain, are you aware of the reason why she is aboard?” “I understand it has something to do with a family emergency …” His voice trails off as the sudden realization sinks in and he gives himself a face-palm. “Damn! She is stressing about that, trying to rest, and we interrupt her attempts to rest not just once but THREE times within a short span of time … all because we wanted to impress her. Some impression!” Hatfield nods. “My point exactly, Captain!” He turns and looks sternly at the Ensign. “And did you receive permission, from anyone, to approach her?” The young Ensign stammers, “N-n-n-no, sir! I didn’t mean any harm, sir!” Hatfield relents. “There’s an old saying about ‘good intentions’, Ensign! Remember that!”

The Captain interjects with a stern order. “Ensign, you are confined to quarters until your next shift. I want you to think about the consequences of your actions … as I need to think about mine, and figure out how to apologize, to Doctor McCoy, for our blunders. Do I make myself clear, Ensign!?” The young Ensign stammers again. “Y-y-y-yes, sir!” He hurries to his quarters. Hatfield turns to the Captain. “Weren’t you being a bit rough on the boy? You and I need to think about the consequences of what we’ve done as well.”

Patricia finally manages to get some sleep and awakens the next morning in a somewhat better mood, considering the circumstances. She gets up, gets dressed, and putters around her guest quarters. She walks over to the food replicator. “Computer, COFFEE!” A cup of steaming hot coffee appears. “Computer, a pitcher of toffee-flavored cream!” The pitcher appears and she picks it up, carrying both the pitcher and her cup of coffee to the table. She sits down, pouring some of the cream into the coffee and savors the taste. When she finishes, she places the dirty dishes in the reclamator, presses a button, and the dirty dishes vanish. After sitting quietly and thinking, she gets up and goes out into the corridor. She walks down to the nearest turbolift and enters it. “Bridge!”, she calls out. The turbolift takes her there. She steps out of the turbolift and onto the bridge. Captain Harrison sees her and gets up out of his command chair. “Doctor McCoy!”, he calls out to her. Patricia approaches him. “Good morning, sir! May I speak with you in private?” The Captain nods. “Certainly. Let’s go to my Ready Room.” He turns to his First Officer. “Exater, you have the Conn.” Exater, a sentient being with four arms, moves to the command chair. “Yes, sir!”

Captain Harrison and Patricia enter the Ready Room and the door shuts behind them. She turns to the Captain. “Sir, before you say anything, I have an amend to make and an apology to give.” The Captain crosses his arms and leans back against his desk. “Go on.” She sighs and begins pacing the room with her hands folded behind her. “Yesterday, I let my stress get the better of me and I snapped at Doctor Hatfield, at you, and a young Ensign, who stopped by my door last night … asking for an autograph. I’m old enough to know better. I was wrong … and I’m sorry for my outbursts.” “That makes two of us.”, the Captain replies.

Patricia gives him a confused look. “Sir?” The Captain continues, “I should have thought first before I acted on stopping at your quarters last night. I was aware that you are dealing with a family emergency. I just didn’t think things through before I knocked on your door … getting you out of bed. For that, I apologize. As for the young Ensign, he owes you an apology as well. He has a habit of being impulsive at the wrong moments. His impulsivity got you out of bed … again. You were tired … you were stressing about this family emergency … and we were not helping you with our demands.” “But I over-reacted …”, Patricia continues.

The Captain nods. “Yes, you over-reacted … from being over-tired. I’ve done the same thing, so I understand. Let’s just say we all contributed to this unhappy situation.” Patricia nods in agreement. “Given that I also hold the rank of Captain, I should know better. If I had been in command during a battle, my losing control like that would NOT be helpful for my crew!” The Captain walks around his desk. “Have you eaten yet, Doctor?” Patricia shrugs. “I’ve just had coffee a little while ago.” The Captain raises an eyebrow at her. “Which means you have NOT eaten yet! Doctor, I’m surprised at you for skipping meals that way!” She gestures. “I couldn’t eat until I got this situation resolved.” “I see.”, said the Captain, “How about if we have breakfast together?” Patricia raises an eyebrow back at him. “Which means YOU haven’t eaten yet either!” The Captain grins. “Guilty as charged!” She smiles back. “Then I accept your invitation! Tell me, why haven’t you eaten breakfast yet?”

He blushes. “I … tend to forget when I get busy preparing for the day ahead.” She nods back in understanding. “Ah …! I’ve done that too, more than once!” The Captain walks over to the food replicator. “What would you like for breakfast?” “Let’s see.”, Patricia considers, “I think I’ll have a couple of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, biscuit, and a glass of orange juice. On the side, a container of grape jelly, butter, and a pepper grinder full of fresh peppercorns.” The Captain looks at her quizzically. “Grape Jelly? Butter? Pepper grinder full of fresh peppercorns?” “Um-m-m-m, yes.”, she replies, “Grape jelly and butter for the biscuit plus fresh ground pepper gives the food a special kick. You should try it someday!” He punches in the food order. “Sounds like you know how to cook without a replicator!” She nods affirmatively. “In fact, I do! It’s one of my many hobbies. To tell you the truth, fresh-cooked food TASTES BETTER than replicated! I don’t know how to explain it until you have been able to experience it yourself.”

Harrison looks back over his shoulder as he programs the food replicator. “But isn’t that a lot of work?” He takes plates of food out of the replicator and sets them down in front of Patricia and himself. After a silent pause, she starts to dig into her plate of food. “It can be, if you’re not into it. I have to tell you, fresh-cooked tastes a hell of a lot BETTER than field rations! I find that field rations just taste … UGH! NASTY!” She makes a face. Harrison sits down and picks up his fork. “When did you first have the opportunity to make these comparisons between fresh-cooked and field rations?” Patricia chews and swallows. “I’ll answer your question with a question, Dan. Have you ever had the opportunity to go on a training mission with the Klingons?” Harrison goes wide-eyed. “You mean that you …?!” Patricia nods. “Yup! I already had cooking skills from growing up with Gramps and Uncle Spock. We took many camping trips together, way back when. When I started the training missions with the Klingons, I quickly realized that I had to put my skills to immediate use in order to survive.”

Harrison leans forward. “I’m intrigued about your experiences during those early training missions!” Patricia swallows another bite. “In the beginning, it wasn’t easy. I have some physical challenges that I was born with. One Klingon tried to give me a hard time about them until I got fed up and punched his lights out! After that, I got respect!” The Captain looks curious but hesitates. “May I ask what those physical challenges are, if you don’t mind?” She takes another bite while she pauses. “Well, let’s just say that the physical challenges encompass neurological issues, digestive issues, physical endurance, and physical strength. I have my workarounds that have helped me to adapt to a variety of situations. This one individual thought it would be funny to target me because I was quote ‘different’ unquote, than your average Star Fleet type. I don’t take kindly to bullying in any form and he quickly learned that fact the hard way!” “What, exactly, did he do?”, the Captain asks. She swallows and clears her throat. “Tripping me, attempting to scare me with strange, ugly creatures … the usual schoolboy antics that I find very tiresome. I ignored those until the day he dumped over my cooking, picked me up by the front of my tunic, and spit in my face. THAT DID IT! He forgot that I still had a cast iron skillet in my fist when he put his hands on me. I was too angry to care when I punched him in the face and broke his nose! He was going to kill me when Martok intervened. Guaranteed that the bully NEVER attempted to mess with me again!”

Harrison is surprised. “MARTOK?! GENERAL MARTOK?! CHANCELLOR MARTOK?!” Patricia nods. “The one and the same. “Was there any fallout from Star Fleet over this?”, Harrison asks. Patricia shakes her head. “No, because Martok witnessed the entire incident from beginning to end. He vouched for me with the Top Brass and pronounced me an Honorary Klingon and a member of his noble House as his adopted daughter! The Top Brass weren’t about to go against the future Chancellor of the Klingon High Council of the Klingon Empire … even if he wasn’t a Chancellor yet! Martok seemed to command that kind of authority, even then. The Top Brass at Star Fleet seem to take the alliance between the Federation and the Klingon Empire quite seriously. When a member of Star Fleet is adopted by a high-ranking Klingon, especially someone like Martok, the Top Brass decided NOT to mess with that!” Harrison whistles then chuckles. “Remind me to NEVER get on your bad side! I don’t want the entire Klingon Empire coming after me!” Patricia chuckles. “”I’ll remember that!” The door chime to the Captain’s Ready Room sounds while Captain Harrison and Patricia are eating. The Captain puts down his utensils. “Come!”, he calls out. “The door slides open and Doctor Hatfield enters.

Patricia puts down her eating utensils and picks up her napkin to wipe crumbs off of her mouth. “Good morning, George.” “Good morning, Pat.”, Hatfield answers, “Feeling better this morning?” She puts down her napkin. “Yes, thank you. Sorry about being crabby yesterday.” The Captain turns to Doctor Hatfield. “Doctor McCoy was explaining what happened yesterday and I think we have finally cleared the air. The only loose end is the young Ensign. I would suggest letting him stew for a bit to think about his impulsiveness. This time it was harmless. Next time, it could get him killed!” Patricia nods. “Agreed! I presume that he is fresh out of the Academy? He seems to be about 17 or 18 years old … still a kid. The Captain nods in response. “Yes, he is quite young. He graduated early from high school. He’s very bright but socially inept. I worry about him and wonder if he will be a good fit here.” Patricia looks at both Doctor Hatfield and Captain Harrison. “Has this young Ensign ever been tested for the possibility of Autism Spectrum Disorder such as Asperger’s Syndrome or Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified?”

Hatfield shakes his head. “He’s very bright. Why should he be tested for that? Aren’t all people with autism low functioning?” Patricia gives Hatfield a pointed glare. “Because Asperger’s, which IS part of the Autism Spectrum Disorder, could be one possibility.” Hatfield nervously clears his throat. “You’re right! I should have thought of that!” He heads for the door. “I’ll get on this right away!” He pauses and looks at Patricia. “If it turns out that he has Asperger’s, then what?” “I would suggest counseling to work through the grieving process as there WILL be grieving for what might have been and what has happened in his past. There’s a lot of adjustment involved and he will need a good support system of people who won’t put him down because of his special challenges. He has talents that ARE needed or else he would have never gotten through Star Fleet Academy and been assigned to this ship!” The Captain looks at Patricia. “You sound like you have experience in this field.” Patricia takes another forkful of food, chews and swallows before answering. “Yes … I do.”, she responds slowly, “I wasn’t diagnosed until a few years ago.”

Harrison is surprised again. “Are you telling me … ? You mean you are … ?” Patricia looks at Hatfield and back at the Captain. “Yes, I have Asperger’s Syndrome … which is why I had the meltdown yesterday after becoming stressed out past my limits. It’s a long, convoluted story about why it took so long to find a qualified professional who was willing to talk TO an older adult who had suspected it for years. I won’t go into WHY I was never diagnosed as a child. I’m not comfortable discussing that now.” Harrison quietly whistles. “Wow! I never would have guessed!” “You’d be surprised as to how many Aspies … both diagnosed and suspected, have contributed much to science and society.”, Patricia continues, “It’s been long suspected that Albert Einstein, Mozart, Thomas Jefferson, possibly Zephraim Cochrane and Erik Soong, were Aspies. Why else were they perceived as ‘strange’, ‘weird’, ‘socially inept’, but were able to BRILLIANTLY think OUTSIDE the box’ and accomplish what they did?”

Harrison opens and closes his mouth several times without being able to speak as Hatfield grins at this. Patricia indicates the computer nearby. “I could probably check the database and give you a list of all the Aspies, diagnosed or undiagnosed but suspected, who contributed much to science and technology … things that you take for granted today and can’t imagine living without!” She notices that both Captain Harrison and Doctor Hatfield seem to be skeptical. She gets up from her breakfast, goes over to the computer and pulls up information. “In addition to Albert Einstein, there’s also Sir Isaac Newton, Galileo Galilei, Richard Feynman, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs. Now where would we be without THEIR contributions?” The Captain and Hatfield come around to read the computer screen. Both are wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Patricia gestures toward the computer screen. “See what I mean? So don’t count out this young Ensign as an insignificant misfit that should be thrown out like garbage!”

The Captain begins stammering. “Doctor McCoy, I didn’t mean to infer …” Patricia holds up her hand. “I know you didn’t … not consciously anyway. But I sensed the underlying attitude that could be just as damaging. The challenge, for you, is how to build up the Ensign’s strengths while helping him see how he can compensate for his weaknesses. I take it that this is his first posting since he graduated from the Academy. Am I correct?” “As a matter of fact, it is.”, the Captain confirms. “Doctor, this is new territory for me. How can I avoid doing the wrong thing by him?” Patricia pauses as she returns to her breakfast and sits down. “I can only speak from my own personal experiences, Dan. Please keep in mind that when you meet someone with Asperger’s … you have met only ONE person with Asperger’s. Not every Aspie thinks or behaves the same way. Asperger’s is a Spectrum Disorder, not one size fits all. Don’t assume that he knows everything that you think he should know. For example, approaching me on impulse instead of thinking first. I’ve done that when I was younger. Unwritten social rules are not instinctively understood. My meltdown was a violation of an unwritten social rule … so both the young Ensign and I had a bit of an Aspergian conflict … two aliens from the Wrong Planet trying to deal with a First Contact situation without any guidelines.” Both the Captain and Hatfield chuckle at the analogy.

Harrison nods. “Hadn’t thought of it from that perspective before. The way you describe it makes sense. Since the unwritten social rules are not instinctively understood, then I will need to sit him down and try to explain them. I’m not sure if I can do that.” Patricia considers her next suggestion. “Well, Captain, from my perspective, you are a bit of a father-figure to these new graduates … teaching them what they need to know to survive in the worst of circumstances, even the Kobyashi Maru. May I ask, do you have any children?” Harrison shakes his head. “No … not yet, anyway.” Patricia nods at this. “I’ll try to make a couple of suggestions that I hope will help. If you had a son, what would you want to teach him? If you are unable to imagine having a child of your own, maybe if you think back on your own impetuous, impulsive youth, the mischievous child that you might have been … what would you say to your younger self, given what you have learned, the hard way, from your own mistakes?” Hatfield chuckles and starts to say something but stops when the Captain glares at his Chief Medical Officer. Patricia continues. “We’ve all made youthful mistakes and indiscretions. That’s how we know not to repeat those mistakes in adulthood. Sometimes the School of Hard Knocks in the University of Life was the only way we COULD learn, in spite of what your parents tried to advise you.”

“If I understand you correctly”, the Captain interjects, “In addition to being his commanding officer, I’m also to be his teacher AND a parental-figure.” Patricia nods emphatically. “I think that sums it up quite nicely. I have no idea about his family background. You’ve worked with him longer, under your command than I’ve known him. You would know, better than I, if he’s homesick, or eager to please you to prove a point at home, or whatever his internal struggles may be. Trust me, he is PAINFULLY aware that he is DIFFERENT but doesn’t understand why. I’ve been there, done that!” Harrison looks thoughtful. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Patricia finishes up her breakfast and places the dirty dishes in the reclamator. “Thanks for the breakfast, Dan. I’m going to head back to my quarters and have some alone-time to recharge my batteries.” She starts to head for the door and Hatfield approaches her. “May I walk with you to your quarters?” “Certainly.”, she replies. The Captain also gets up to accompany both Doctors out of the Ready Room. “I’ll do the best I can,”, the Captain states, “Now that I understand what I might be dealing with here.” Patricia looks at him with all seriousness. “That’s all I can ask for, Dan.” She smiles at him. “For formality’s sake, permission to return to my quarters?” Harrison grins at her. “Of course, Captain … Doctor! You’re my guest, after all!” Patricia and Hatfield head out the door of the Captain’s Ready Room. The Captain calls out as he cleans up his own breakfast dishes. “One more thing, Doctor Hatfield. How soon can you be prepared to run those tests?” “I’ll need to consult with Doctor McCoy as this is new territory for me as well.”, Hatfield replies. He looks to Patricia who nods in agreement. The two Doctors leave the Captain’s Ready Room and go to the turbolift. The Captain leaves his Ready Room and heads to his command chair, which is quickly vacated by his First Officer. “I look forward to receiving your reports.” Patricia smiles. “Certainly, sir, and thanks, again, for the breakfast!”

She and Hatfield enter the turbolift. “Guest quarters!”, she calls out, and the turbolift starts to move. Hatfield looks over at her. “Care to talk about your own childhood pranks or other foolish, impulsive things you did when you were young?” Patricia’s mood instantly sours. “I don’t want to discuss my childhood, thank you!” Hatfield is confused. “I don’t understand. We all had childhoods …” “Well, I did NOT have a childhood!”, Patricia snaps back, “You want to know the details, ask my Great-grandfather! He MIGHT answer your questions. Until then, I REFUSE to discuss the subject! Do NOT pry into my affairs!” She withdraws into silence as she recalls how much she sounded like her Uncle Spock when someone was dumb enough to ask him about Pon Farr. Hatfield belatedly realizes that he just put his foot into again and mumbles. “Sorry …” The awkward silence continues until she arrives at her quarters and enters without saying another word, leaving Hatfield alone in the corridor as he mumbles to himself once more. “Well, old boy, you just did it again!” Patricia heads straight to bed and lays down, staring at the ceiling. “I wish people would just BACK OFF when they are reminded to BACK OFF! DAMMIT!”

Hatfield is walking back down the corridor, heading toward Sick Bay, when he encounters the young, impulsive Ensign. “Trying to stay out of trouble, young man?” The young Ensign stammers in response, “Y-y-yes, sir!” “I need for you to schedule an appointment with me!”, Hatfield informs him, “I have some things I need to review for my records!” “Yes, sir. Right away, sir! The Ensign hurries away in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. Hatfield thinks to himself, “Which reminds me that I have to have a consult with Doctor McCoy in spite of our latest falling out.” He enters Sick Bay, sits down at his comm-unit, and contacts Patricia’s guest quarters. When she hears the comm-link chime, she gets up and answers it. “McCoy, here!” “I’m sorry I’ve upset you … again.”, Hatfield begins, “Would it be possible to put our differences aside and collaborate on assessing the Ensign for Asperger’s?” Patricia gives him a wary look. “I’ll provide the types of assessments that were used to diagnose me. Give me time to pull them up.” She severs the connection without another word, leaving Hatfield feeling awkward. “Yep! I REALLY pissed her off this time!”

Patricia re-establishes the connection on Hatfield’s com-link. “Here’s some basic information regarding how Asperger’s is diagnosed. Look up the following links: . /lib/2010/aspergers-syndrome/ . /lib/2011/adult-aspergers-the-relief-of-a-diagnosis/ . /lib/2007/how-aspergers-disorder-is-diagnosed/all/1/» How Asperger’s Disorder is Diagnosed – Psych Central Asperger’s Disorder (also known as Asperger’s Syndrome, or AS).” Patricia continues, “Additional information will be provided shortly!” She severs the connection again, then reconnects the com-link with Hatfield. “And here is the Aspie Quiz that is designed for adults: Aspie-quiz .net Other languages:Out-of-date translations (final version 1) “Good luck!” She cuts off the connection.

Hatfield shakes his head. “There is NO question! I have pissed her off … AGAIN! I just don’t understand what is wrong with discussing her childhood. Why won’t she talk about it?” After attempting Vulcan meditation in an attempt to calm down, Patricia gets up and goes over to the comm-link. A communications officer appears onscreen. “May I be connected to Doctor Leonard McCoy, please?” “Certainly!”, the Communications Officer replies. In a few moments, Leonard McCoy’s image appears onscreen. Patricia smiles at the sight of him. “Hi, Gramps!” “And how’s my favorite Great-granddaughter doing today?”, as he grins back. Patricia’s facial expression changes to a scowl. “Frustrated! Upset! Irritable! Worried! You know … the usual!”

“Who are you having conflicts with THIS time?”, the old man asks. “The CMO on board this ship.”, she replies, “We got off on the wrong foot when he criticized what I chose to eat the first time he met me in their ship’s Ten-Forward. And this was BEFORE he introduced himself!” The old doctor shakes his head. “Uh-oh! That wasn’t smart!” Patricia continues, “Then a little while ago, he attempted to pressure me to talk about my childhood. WHY should I discuss anything personal with someone I do NOT know and have only just met?!” “Another move that was not very smart.”, the old man answers, “I presume you told him that you had no wish to discuss it?” Patricia nods. “Yep! And he STILL continued to push until I found myself having to choose between another meltdown or just shutting down.” “And which did you choose?”, he asks cautiously. “Relax, Gramps! I went into shutdown mode given that we were in a turbolift. Otherwise, I would have done a LOT of damage to both him AND the turbolift!” He nods in response as he gives a sigh of relief. “Lesser of the two evils …”, he pauses to think, “By the way, what is this CMO’s name? His behavior reminds me of someone I met. I just might know him.” “Hatfield.”, Patricia replies, “Doctor George Hatfield.” The old man gives himself a face-palm and shakes head. “Hatfield! I might have known!”

“You KNOW this guy!?”, she asks incredulously. Her Great-Grandfather frowns. “We have a passing acquaintance. We didn’t get along when we met at a medical conference. Commented about what I chose to eat and my choice of friends … including my being friends with Spock!” Patricia narrows her eyes as she considers this. “I see …” The old man continues, “He gave me the impression that he’s an arrogant know-it-all! The kind of personality that annoys me to no end!” “Unless he’s attempting to impress a lady …”, she interjects. Her Great-Grandfather quirks an eyebrow at that comment. “Tried to impress you, eh?” Patricia has a disgusted look on her face. “Operative word is that he TRIED! I have the impression from him that when he is told to back off, butt out, and shut up, he thinks you mean butt in and keep talking!” The old doctor nods. “Yep! That is the Doctor Hatfield that I came to be acquainted with! No question about it!”

“He also seemed to be confused about my reference to Spock as my Uncle.”, Patricia continues. The old doctor’s expression turns sour. “I got the sense that he doesn’t approve of, or like, Vulcans very much.” Patricia becomes even more disgusted as she responds sarcastically, “Oh … wonderful!” Leonard McCoy gestures toward the screen, “Let’s talk about something more pleasant, child. Do you know how soon you will be arriving home … OUR home … I mean? I told the Top Brass that I prefer to stay at the old digs in Georgia while you’re visiting. I have your old room set up.” “I need to ask Captain Harrison. I don’t know what Warp Factor we are traveling at. I can’t wait to get back to my old stomping grounds and be able to REALLY hug you again!” “And I can’t wait to see YOU, child! I’ve missed you!” “I’ve missed you so much, too, Gramps! Any new developments on Uncle Spock’s disappearance?”, she asks.

The old man reaches for something toward the side, where Patricia can’t see. “There has been some new developments. After the Vulcan Investigators analyzed the crime scene the first time, new pieces of evidence turned up, that they do not recognize, when they went back to wrap things up. I’ve asked if they could preserve the scene until you get there to look it over. I know you’re also into forensics. What was found has Terran origins but the local Vulcan authorities are stumped about it. I thought you might be able to recognize it.” “Has anyone taken an image of this new evidence?”, she asks, intrigued. He continues to handle an item, off screen. “As a matter of fact, yes. It was sent to me, asking me if it belonged to Spock. I knew it didn’t but I didn’t know what these things are. Here, let me put it onscreen for you to look at.” The images of the items appear onscreen. As she looks at these images of the evidence, all the color drains from her face. “Gramps”, barely speaking above a hoarse whisper, “I DO recognize these pieces of evidence and I KNOW exactly who it belongs to!” Leonard McCoy’s image reappears onscreen, looking concerned. “What? Who?” Patricia looks grim. “My brother, James Yuri!”

The old man is thunderstruck. “Are you sure!? How can you tell? You were so little when you were abandoned. How is it possible you remember that!?” She pauses to find her voice. “Some horrors stick in your mind for the rest of your life, Gramps! That was one of the instruments of torture that he and the Womb-Donor used to abuse me. I also have a confession to make. Remember when I returned from an assignment and my mood was worse than before? I saw my brother, in adulthood, not long after Womb-Donor died. He still had at least one of those pieces, at that time, and threatened me with it. In fact, he attacked me like he used to do years ago. This time, he didn’t expect Star Fleet defense tactics in return!” “Tell me about this encounter.”, the old doctor somberly requests.

“That assignment, that triggered my PTSD … was when I was stationed at a nursing home for the elderly, for my geriatric rotation. I was called to the bedside of a dying patient. You can imagine my reaction when, upon my arrival in the patient’s room, I discovered it was she who gave birth to me and abandoned me … sold me into slavery! She had been admitted under a different name … an alias! Ethically, I could not take her case and called in another physician …” She pauses and swallows hard. “Go on, child …”, her Great-Grandfather coaxes. She continues her narrative. “Having another doctor there, as witness, didn’t stop her venom. Her dying words, aimed at me, were curses, vile-names, wished that she had never given birth to me, I was a mistake that should have been aborted, her son was her ONLY child … ad nauseum. I asked her … if he was her GOLDEN child, why wasn’t HE at her bedside … being the dutiful, loving son? She couldn’t answer that. The nursing home staff informed me that he had disappeared, leaving no current contact information. When she started cursing me again, I pointed out WHERE she was and, if she preferred to die alone, be my guest as no one was required to listen to that kind of hate! It might not have been the ethical thing to say. The way I was feeling, at the time, I no longer cared given what she had done to me. She just got more vile and hateful. I left. The other doctor came out into the hallway, about a minute or so later, to tell me that she had just died.”

“How did you feel … right then?”, he asks. “I felt … numb.”, she responds, “This … creature … was gone. That monster could never hurt me again.” “If your brother was still missing”, the old man inquires, “… then … how did you encounter him?” Patricia nods. “I expected you would ask that question, Gramps. The nursing home staff still had his last known address at the time this … creature … was admitted. I used that as a starting point, given that I had resources available to me that the nursing home did not. I was able to track him down on one of the non-Federation worlds and … against my better judgment, went to see him to tell him that she was dead. I know now that was a HUGE mistake! If you thought that monster was hateful … he was WORSE! She trained him well. That’s when he attempted to physically assault me with that, she gestures toward the view screen, … instrument … that was still in his possession at the time. He never expected that I could wipe the floor with him … and did! That was the last time I laid eyes on him.”

Leonard McCoy looks thoughtful. “And you think your brother had something to do with Spock’s disappearance?” Patricia gestures again. “Those pieces of evidence left behind leave no doubt in my mind!” The old man looks puzzled and confused. “But these items were not found earlier! And we both know how meticulous Vulcans are when they investigate anything!” Patricia nods. “Which tells me that my brother made a return visit to deliberately leave a message.” “Leave a message?”, he replies, quizzically, “For whom?” Patricia points at herself with her thumb. “For me.” The old man looks even more puzzled. “I don’t understand. Why would he go after Spock? He’s stronger than a human, he has more battle skills than I can ever hope to have! He could have easily killed your brother, with Tal Shaya, in self-defense, if not torn him limb from limb. I’ve seen what Spock is capable of when he loses all emotional control and it’s NOT pretty! It’s just not logical!” Patricia tilts her head as she gazes steadily at her Great-Grandfather. “Is it, Gramps? I’m looking at this scenario from Spock’s point of view. Consider this … Fact … my brother knows that he can no longer physically threaten me. When he left those instruments of torture at Spock’s place, he was leaving me the message that even though he can no longer hurt me, he can STILL HURT people I love!” “I’m not sure I follow that logic …”, he replies. Patricia gestures more emphatically. “Think about it, Gramps! Knowing my brother’s twisted psyche, he probably expected BOTH of you to show up at Uncle Spock’s home, as you have been known to visit his home world from time to time, consulting with the Healers. It’s no secret and I suspect that my brother has been stalking one or more of us for years. When he was confronted with only Spock, I’m sure my brother was enraged that nothing went according to his sick little plan! He probably threatened to hunt you down, knowing that you would not have the same defensive skills, nor strength, that Uncle Spock still possesses.”

“Go on …”, the old doctor says, while nodding. She continues. “Knowing Uncle Spock, his logical and diplomatic skills, he persuaded my brother to take him hostage instead … buying time for you and me.” “If that is the case …”, the old man asks, “What can you and I do?” Patricia scratches her head as she thinks, then shrugs, shaking her head. “Right now, I don’t know. I don’t dare underestimate my brother … even though he is clearly a sick man!” Leonard McCoy shakes his head with an incredulous look on his face. “I just cannot imagine anyone so full of hate … directed toward you … when the two of you have not had any contact with each other since you were children. I just don’t understand it!” She gives her Great-Grandfather a grim look. “God only knows what twisted filth that monster filled his head with over the years until he finally dumped her in that nursing home and left!” She shakes her head. “Ironic, isn’t it, Gramps? When she sold me into slavery, she abandoned me … and took off with him. Then HE ABANDONED HER! There’s an old saying … ‘Paybacks are hell and Karma’s a bitch!’ Looks like the Karma goddess finally caught up with her! I only wish we could undo the damage she did to him!” The chime at her door sounds.

“Hold on, Gramps!”, as she gets up, “Let me see who that is. I’ll be right back!” She walks over to the door, which slides open. Hatfield is standing there and Patricia scowls at him. “And what do YOU want?!” “Are you busy?”, he asks tentatively. “As a matter of fact, YES!”, she snaps. Leonard McCoy’s voice can be heard from the comm-link. “Tell DOCTOR Hatfield that us McCOYs can consult with him … LATER!” Hatfield seems to recognize who is speaking. “That voice! I think I’ve heard it before!” “As a matter of fact, yes, you did!”, Leonard replies. Hatfield gives Patricia a confused look. “I did?” “Yes!”, Leonard says. Patricia continues to glare at Hatfield as she adds in. “As a matter of fact … at the medical conference, where you insulted an old man regarding his choice of friends, including a certain Vulcan named Spock!” Hatfield searches his memory. “I vaguely recall joking with some old guy …” Patricia’s scowl deepens. “And the joke was NOT even remotely funny!” Hatfield looks even more confused. “I don’t understand. What does THAT have to do with you?” Patricia continues to glare as Leonard McCoy continues from the comm-link. “Tell him, child!” “Huh? Tell me what?”, Hatfield looks bemused. “THAT ‘old guy'”, Patricia snaps out, “Is Doctor Leonard McCoy also known as ADMIRAL Leonard McCoy!” Understanding is starting to glimmer in Hatfield’s mind. “Oh-h-h-h, yes! I remember meeting Doctor Leonard McCoy at the medical conference!” “And DOCTOR Leonard McCoy happens to BE MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER, YOU IDIOT!”

Hatfield is starting to understand a little more but Patricia isn’t finished with him yet. “I also understand that you DON’T approve of humans ‘fraternizing’ with Vulcans, or whatever it was that you said to that effect, to Gramps, at that conference!” “Pat, you’re being too sensitive! Vulcans do have their place …”, Hatfield starts to say until she cuts him off. “THEIR place?!”, she shouts with a glare. Hatfield finally realizes that the time to play games is over. “Well, if you must know, I don’t believe that humans and Vulcans should be fraternizing at all. We don’t need any more half-breeds like that Spock fellow!” Patricia has had enough. “For YOUR information … Hatfield, that ‘half-breed Spock fellow’ also happens to BE MY UNCLE SPOCK!” Hatfield realizes, too late, that he has crossed the line and there is no going back. “But, but, but, I only meant it as a little joke!” “A VERY LITTLE joke, Hatfield!”, Patricia spits out angrily, “Now take your insincere, two-faced racist self OUT OF MY SIGHT!” She shuts the door in his face. Leonard McCoy has heard the whole exchange between Hatfield and his Great-Granddaughter. “THAT told him!”, he adds in.

Patricia sits back down at the comm-link. “I DESPISE idiots like that!”, she seethes. The old doctor gestures at her to calm down. “Don’t let it get to you, child!” She takes a few breaths. “It’s hard to ignore when I encounter obsequious fools who try to get on my good side as the means to either get to you … or attempt to make another sexual conquest to add to the notches on their bedpost! DAMMIT” “I hear you!”, he says, “You’ll be here in a few days and then we can focus more on the issue at hand … finding out where your brother took Spock.” She looks worried. “Which could be ANYWHERE in ANY quadrant, including the Badlands!” “Child, we can analyze the possibilities AFTER you get here!”, he replies, “For now, I prescribe rest and relaxation so you can calm down from that encounter with that moron!” Patricia nods in agreement. “Good idea! Thanks, Gramps! I’m going to try that! See you then! Love you!” “Love you, too, child!”, as he signs off and his image vanishes from the view screen. She gets up, goes over and picks up her crochet project, then relaxes on the bed. “Now … where was I with this?” She resumes crocheting.

A few days later, the ship settles in at Earth’s space dock. Patricia thanks Captain Harrison and is given permission to disembark. Hatfield wisely stays out of sight. She takes a shuttle and lands near her Great-grandfather’s winter home in Georgia. As she exits the shuttle with her luggage, Leonard McCoy comes out to greet her. She drops her baggage and hurries to embrace him. “Gramps!” She and the old doctor hug each other. “I’ve missed you so much!”, she exclaims as she kisses his cheek. He holds his Great-granddaughter back at arm’s length. “Let me take a good look at you, child! Bags under your eyes, pale complexion … and you’ve put on too much weight!” “Dammit, Gramps!”, she snaps irritably, “The last time we were together, you told me I LOST too much weight! I can’t win either way!” He gestures towards her. “Okay! Okay! Point taken, child! Let’s get your luggage over here.” “Thanks, Gramps!”, she says as she walks over to get her luggage, then calls over her shoulder, “What’s on the game plan regarding the Vulcan investigation?” “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, in person, as soon as you arrived. Don’t unpack! We are going to Vulcan!”

Patricia straightens up, turns and faces him. “Why couldn’t you tell me this earlier?” He walks over to her. “I didn’t want to alarm you, child … nor tip off your brother. The Vulcan Investigators have found evidence that your brother has been monitoring our communications. That’s how he knew about your connection with Spock, your involvement with analyzing evidence, and my frequent travels with him. They’re just not sure HOW he was able to accomplish that.” “Gramps”, she responds, “Remember when I said that YOUR travels were no secret? The activities of you and Uncle Spock were often reported on the Federation News Network. My brother may not be a rocket scientist, but he DOES have connections to follow up on whatever plans he had been developing over the years based on what he learned from those news reports. For all we know, he could be hanging out with the Orion Syndicate … or still be in connection with the slaver creeps I was sold to.” Leonard McCoy nods at that. “And I still think that he found a way to tap into our communications so that he knew when we communicated … even recently. Not long after I told you that Spock had vanished without a trace and the local authorities were stumped … then those … things … suddenly appear at Spock’s home! The more I think about what you told me earlier, the more I understand that was his way to let us both know that he knew what we knew … besides giving you a threatening message.”

Patricia’s facial expression turns grim. “You have a point there, Gramps.” The old doctor gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got my bags already packed and a vehicle waiting for us. Let’s go!” She lifts up her luggage and starts to follow her Great-Grandfather. “How can we be sure that my brother has not set up an ambush before we get to our destination?”, she asks. As both McCoy’s approach the waiting vehicle, the driver overhears her question and responds, “Because I can make sure that you both get there in one piece!” Patricia stops and gives the driver a puzzled look. She doesn’t recognize him but her Great-grandfather starts grinning. “Who are you?”, she asks this new stranger, “I don’t think I remember you.” “Hikaru Sulu, at your service!”, he answers, “Your great-grandfather and I served together on the Enterprise! It’s been years since the last time you saw me so I can’t expect you to recognize me right away! You’ve come a long way since that little six-year-old I first met, all those years ago!” She looks back and forth between Leonard McCoy and Sulu. “You trust him with your life, Gramps?” Leonard is still grinning. “I most certainly do, child!” “But”, Patricia hesitates, “Don’t you think my brother picked up on the communication between the two of you?” The old doctor gestures toward Sulu. “That’s the beauty of it! When Sulu heard on the news about Spock’s disappearance, he came straight here without saying a word to anyone. At first, he wanted to offer his condolences. But when he learned about the circumstances, that’s when we came up with a plan to get us to Vulcan without your brother finding out.”

She shakes her head. “I know I’m sounding paranoid. I’m still afraid that my brother has ways to track us down no matter what we do or where we go.” “My piloting skills can take care of that!”, Sulu answers, “Plus I have friends.” “Thanks, Sulu!”, she says with relief as she places her luggage in the vehicle. Leonard McCoy also places his luggage in the vehicle. “By the way, child,” the old doctor says, “I brought along tri-ox and albuterol to help you breathe in the Vulcan atmosphere. The albuterol you take for your asthma might not be sufficient anymore as you get older.” She nods. “Thanks, Gramps! I never would have thought of that … especially given that I didn’t know I was going to Vulcan in the first place so I didn’t tote that stuff with me!” He winks at his Great-granddaughter. “Always looking out for your well-being!” Patricia grins back at him. “Yes, doctor!” Leonard McCoy scowls as Sulu laughs.

“By the way, Gramps”, she adds, “I’m sitting in the FRONT seat THIS time! You had your turn last time!” Sulu laughs harder. “LOVE your comedy routine, you two!” Patricia bats her eyes innocently. “What comedy routine?” The old doctor shakes his head. “You just want an excuse to sit with Sulu and flirt!” She gives her Great-Grandfather a mock scowl. “And what’s wrong with having a little fun during the trip?” Sulu is clearly ENJOYING this! “Come on, Leonard! My intentions with your Great-granddaughter are honorable!” Patricia wags a finger at Sulu playfully. “They better be or Martok might have something to say about THAT! He’s my unofficial body-guard, as well as my adoptive father, you know!” Sulu gives her a look of mock horror. “A KLINGON body-guard?! YIKES! I better be careful!” Patricia looks over the seat at her Great-Grandfather as the old man adds, “And if you are NOT careful with MY Great-granddaughter, then you WILL answer to ME!” Patricia grins as she looks back at her Great-Grandfather’s old friend. “Sulu, I think we better get going while Gramps is still in a good mood!” The old doctor quirks an eyebrow at that comment. “I’M in a GOOD mood?” She grins back at him. “Aren’t you always, Gramps?” Sulu continues to chuckle as he pilots the vehicle up.

The vehicle docks with one of the freighters in Space-dock on a nearby asteroid. The three passengers disembark onto the freighter and a departing passenger takes over the vehicle, piloting it away. Patricia gives a questioning look. “Which way, Gramps? I have NO idea where to find ANYTHING aboard a freighter! I’ve never had the opportunity to travel in one before. What kind of arrangements did you make?” The old doctor holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me! Sulu made these arrangements!” She turns to looks at her Great-Grandfather’s friend. “Sulu?” “Well, the way I look at it”, he answers, “You and Leonard would need to travel incognito. What better way than traveling aboard a Khobeerian freighter?” She nods. “I understand that, Sulu, given my brother’s proclivities. The thing is, I’ve never been on a freighter before, let alone a Khobeerian one, so I have NO idea where to find where we will be bunking, or where the Ladies Room is!” Sulu blushes while Leonard McCoy laughs. Patricia looks at both of them. “In that case”, the old doctor replies, “I think I can point the way. I’ve traveled on a freighter or two during my lifetime! Come on, child!” He starts to head down the corridor as Patricia begins to follow, and starts wheezing slightly. “Gramps”, she calls out, “Did you also bring along my old nebulizer that was given to me on Vulcan years ago? I think I’m going to need it!”

The old doctor turns toward her with alarm. “What symptoms are you having, child?!” Her wheezing is starting to worsen. “There’s something, possibly in the cargo bay, that’s triggering an allergic reaction.” Sulu turns to look at Patricia. “What are you allergic to?” She indicates her Great-Grandfather. “Gramps should have my medical records with him. There’s a long list of things. I thought I had outgrown them by now. Clearly, I have not!” She has a disgusted look on her face as she continues to wheeze. “I thought that with your experiences with the Klingons”, Sulu comments, “That you stopped having that kind of medical issue.” Patricia nods. “Normally, I have my asthma well under control, especially if I know what type of environment I’m going to encounter and prepare for it. However, this freighter is carrying some sort of unknown cargo that is triggering my asthma due to particulates floating in the air.” Sulu is puzzled about that. “I don’t understand how that is possible.” “As you may know, Sulu, on Star Fleet vessels, whether they are shuttles, runabouts, or star-ships, the air filtration system is required to be a certain standard and operates at peak efficiency. Non-Star Fleet vessels, such as Khobeerian and Ferengi, don’t always function at that same level. If you don’t have asthma, you don’t notice the difference … out of sight, out of mind. People like me detect it almost immediately and it feels miserable!” Sulu makes a face. “UGH!” “UGH is right!”, Patricia agrees.

The old doctor halts and points to a door. “Here’s one of the guest quarters. Let’s get you settled and get that nebulizer going.” The door opens and they enter the room. Patricia looks around hesitantly. “Gramps, how can you be sure that these are my quarters and not some random crew-person’s?” “Because Sulu and I had the chance to talk with the Khobeerian Captain before you arrived. These quarters are yours and the quarters across the hall are mine and Sulu’s. Now, let’s get you situated!” He sets down his luggage and starts rummaging for the nebulizer. Patricia looks at Sulu. “You’re rooming with Gramps?! Aren’t you two going to drive each other crazy?!” Sulu grins. “Me? No! If I could tolerate him on the Enterprise, I can tolerate him anywhere!” The old doctor glares over his shoulder at him causing Patricia to laugh. “Good enough for me, Sulu!” Leonard hoists the nebulizer triumphantly. “HERE it is!” “FINALLY!”, Patricia exclaims with relief. She takes it from her Great-Grandfather and places the nebulizer mask over her face. “That feels better!”, she says with a muffled voice.

Sulu and the old doctor wait quietly while Patricia completes her nebulizer treatment. “Ahhh!”, she breathes as she takes the nebulizer mask from her face and takes a deep breath. “THAT’S MUCH better!” “Did you have this much trouble while you were on missions with the Klingons?”, Sulu asks. Patricia shrugs nonchalantly. “On Corbus V, I had some challenges … both with the atmosphere and with a Klingon bully!” Her Great-grandfather grins proudly. “That’s where and when she broke a Klingon’s nose with ONE punch!” Sulu becomes wide-eyed. “Got it!” Patricia puts down the nebulizer. “Gramps, don’t forget that I cracked that dude with a cast iron skillet! Now, where do we get something to eat during this voyage?” “I’ll go check with the Captain.”, Sulu responds as he heads out the door.

The old man shakes head at his Great-Granddaughter. “Always thinking about food!” “Gramps”, Patricia retorts, “Remember Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs? Take care of the basic needs and we can continue with self-actualization.” He puts his arm around her shoulders and gives a gentle squeeze. You haven’t forgotten that, have you, when I was discussing that with Spock and you were listening without me realizing it? At times I forget that you still struggle with those memories.” She rubs at her eyes. “Thanks, Gramps. I’m so glad you and Uncle Spock rescued me!” “It still enrages me that you were abandoned, in the first place, by someone who SHOULD have been protecting you!”, the old man states through clenched teeth. “Well”, Patricia replies, “She is receiving her justice in HELL for eternity!” Her Great-grandfather gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s change the subject to something more pleasant, get you unpacked, and settled in for this trip!” “Sure, Gramps!”, she replies and starts to go through her luggage.

Sulu returns with good news. “Our friend, the Captain, has invited us to dine with him.” Patricia gives him a curious look. “Is this Khobeerian a good friend of yours?” Sulu shrugs. “Let’s just say he owes me a few favors.” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure I want to know …” Sulu laughs. “It’s not that bad. He and I play poker on a regular basis. I taught him the game and he’s been known to clean me out of credits from time to time. I just happened to win the last few games. Come on! Let’s go to the Captain’s Dining area. I’m hungry!” “I’m not sure about Khobeerian Cuisine!”, Patricia says reluctantly, “I’ve heard that it’s similar to the Ferengi diet, which I couldn’t stomach!” Sulu shakes his head. “It’s not as bad as Klingon cuisine!” Patricia gives him a doubtful look. “Depending on your taste preferences …” Sulu gestures. “Don’t worry! His food replicator can provide human food as well.” She looks relieved. “Well, in that case, I’m in the mood for sashimi!” The old doctor grimaces. “RAW fish?!” Both Patricia and Sulu turn and give him a raised eyebrow apiece. “And?!” “What’s wrong with sashimi and sushi?”, Sulu adds, “That has been part of my family’s cuisine for centuries!” “And don’t forget the Omega-3’s!”, Patricia chimes in with her best physician’s voice, “They are supposed to be good for you!” The old man holds his hands up in surrender and growls. “Forget I said anything!” Patricia and Sulu grin at each other as they all continue down the corridor toward the Captain’s Dining Area.

Sulu turns to her. “Don’t be surprised if he attempts to flirt with you.” Patricia stops short. “I think he needs to be forewarned that I’m not in the mood for flirting, especially with a total stranger. It’s one thing to joke with you, but as for anyone being interested in me … NO! Ever since Quon was killed on the Guardian’s planet, I have no interest in that department. I tolerated Quark’s flirting, to a certain extent while I was on DS9, because he’s … Quark. Anyone else … no thank you … NOT interested!” “I think Doctor Quon would have liked for you to go on living instead of existing.”, Leonard McCoy says gently. Patricia turns and looks her Great-grandfather square in the face. “Is that what you did, Gramps, after Great-Grandmother bugged out?” “That’s different!”, the old man snaps angrily, “And mind your manners, young lady!”

Patricia glares back. “I am no longer young, physically. I am old enough to be someone’s grandmother. Mentally and emotionally, I was not allowed to be young in order to survive. You know what I went through, Gramps! We both grieve the deaths of relationships and … both Quon and Great-grandmother are dead … murdered as a result of treachery by someone else. Face it, you and me being Star Fleet got them both killed. I don’t want to risk that again. I also made one other mistake, at Star Fleet Medical Academy, trusting someone who I thought cared about me, as I am, and he almost murdered me for my attempt to have a normal life, whatever that’s supposed to be.” Sulu clears his throat awkwardly. “Excuse me …” Patricia shakes her head. “Never mind. I’m not hungry now.” She turns and heads back to her quarters.

Sulu turns to his old friend, gives him a questioning look and the old doctor growls, “What?!” Patricia re-enters her guest quarters and locks the door behind her as she shouts, “Dammit!” Her Great-grandfather follows her to the door and finds it locked. “Child!”, he calls out. “Gramps!”, she shouts tearfully, “I was NEVER a child! PLEASE LEAVE ME BE!” He is at a loss about what to do. Sulu quietly approaches and gently pulls him away from the door. “Leonard”, he says quietly, “Give her some breathing room. I get the feeling that she has been dealing with a lot for many years. And now that Spock has been kidnapped by her brother, doing God knows what to him …” The old man pauses. “She’s probably having PTSD flashbacks to the abuse she endured. If only I can persuade her to try the new medication that’s recently become available. It’s better now than years ago.” Sulu gently places a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Leonard, drugs cannot undo the damage that was done since she was a baby. This is something that SHE needs to work through … without well-meaning interference from anyone. All we can do is be supportive. No one has the right to tell her how she SHOULD feel! Even Spock knows that.”

The old doctor sighs. “You’re right. And I should talk … given that I reacted the same way when my wife left me … taking everything in the divorce and leaving nothing but bones. I didn’t accept what happened. I simply ran away … to Star Fleet.” Sulu nods in understanding. “At least Pat has someone to run to … you and Spock. Now with Spock missing, she’s scared because she KNOWS what her brother is capable of doing!” McCoy nods back. “And I’m scared too! That man is a psychopath!” Sulu looks his friend straight in the eye. “Is that his fault, Len?” The old man shakes his head. “No. That MONSTER who married their father did all this to BOTH of them!” “We can only hope that Spock can talk some sense into her brother.”, Sulu replies, “Don’t underestimate him.” “You are correct there as well, Hikaru.”, McCoy says with a half-smile and a chuckle, “Don’t let Spock know how much he has influenced all of us. He’ll get a swelled head!” Sulu chuckles in response. “Okay. In the meantime, let’s go talk to the Khobeerian Captain. He’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.” “Okay.”, the old doctor replies, “But I’m NOT having raw fish!” Sulu claps him on the back as they walk on down the corridor to the Captain’s Dining area.

Patricia makes several futile attempts at Vulcan meditation but fails. She gets up, with a sigh, and starts pacing around the room muttering to herself. “I know Gramps means well. I wish I knew if Spock is all right.” McCoy and Sulu arrive at the door to the Captain’s Dining area and push the door chime. They hear the Khobeerian Captain’s voice call out, “Come!” The door slides open to reveal the Captain straightening the table ware. “Good! Good! You’re finally here!” He gives the two humans a puzzled look. “I thought there would be three of you.” “My Great-granddaughter is not feeling well.”, the old doctor replies. The Khobeerian looks disappointed. “I see. Please let her know that I hope she feels better soon.” Both humans seat themselves at the table. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”, McCoy replies. Back at the guest quarters, Patricia eventually calms down after pacing for quite a while and unlocks her door. She lays down on the bed again. “I’m sure Uncle Spock would see this reaction as completely illogical.”, she mutters to herself as she shakes her head. She hears the door chime. “Come!”, she calls out. The door slides open revealing her Great-grandfather and Sulu. They are each carrying a covered dish. “I shared your regrets with the Captain and he insisted on sending you something to eat.”, the old man gestures with the covered dish he is holding, “He says you need to keep your strength up and, as your doctor, I concur!” Patricia sits up and accepts the dishes. “Thanks, Gramps, Sulu.” She lifts the lids from both dishes. “Sushi! Sashimi!”, she exclaims with delight.

Sulu grins. “I told the Khobeerian Captain that you liked this so he programmed his food replicator for it. It’s not bad for replicated food even though I prefer it fresh-caught near my ancestral home in Japan.” Patricia samples a piece of sliced salmon. “YUM!” Gramps shakes head with a grimace. “I can NEVER understand how you can eat RAW fish!” “Do you remember Oysters on the Half Shell?”, she asks. The old man gestures, “But that’s different!” “I love Oysters on the Half Shell as much as you do, Gramps!”, she continues, “Has it occurred to you that they are still RAW oysters?!” Sulu is trying hard not to laugh out loud. “And Gramps, I remember the last time you STARTED to prepare Oysters on the Half Shell for dinner and kept snacking your way through the prep! By the time you were done, you had spoiled your dinner and there were barely enough left over for my portion!” Sulu snickers. “Isn’t there a saying about Oysters and Lovers?” McCoy glares at him and Sulu holds up his hands. “Never mind!” “The point I’m trying to make”, Patricia says patiently, “Is that if we can eat raw oysters then we can also eat Sushi and Sashimi.”

“Spock’s logical mind has rubbed off on you!”, her Great-grandfather comments. “We’ve both have had a mind-meld with him so you also know how he thinks,Gramps!”, she retorts, “You also had his Katra and I didn’t, remember? Having his Katra gives you an advantage about understanding his Vulcan logic.” “Leonard”, Sulu chimes in, “I think you better quit this argument. You’re not going to win because you are basically arguing with yourself PLUS Spock!” Patricia grins. “Thanks, Sulu! Given that both Gramps and Spock raised me, both of their ways of thinking have rubbed off on me!” The door chime sounds and Patricia gives both men a quizzical look. “Who?” The door slides open, revealing the Khobeerian Captain who acknowledges everyone in the room. “Hello.” “Hello, again.”, replies the old doctor. Patricia indicates the covered dishes. “Thank you for sending the sushi and sashimi. I really appreciate this.”

The Khobeerian Captain bows his head to her. “You’re very welcome, Doctor McCoy. Are you feeling better?” “Yes”, she replies, “Thank you.” “I’m glad.”, says the Khobeerian, “If you need anything, please let me know. I’ll be on the bridge.” He leaves and the doors slide closed. Patricia looks thoughtful. “He seems … respectful … of my boundaries.” The old doctor hesitates before responding. “Child, I understand your caution. Just try not to become too extreme about it.” Patricia turns to her Great-grandfather. “And, at the same time, don’t jump into the deep end with both feet.” The old man gives her a quizzical look. “Meaning … ?” “Meaning”, she adds, “You can’t just blindly trust everyone completely. Trust has to be earned.” “I see …”, he responds. Patricia indicates the door, “Nothing against him, personally. I just don’t know him.” “Leonard”, Sulu comments, “She does have a point.” “As long as we get to Vulcan, safely, and find Uncle Spock …” Patricia concludes, “THAT is my top priority!” McCoy and Sulu nod. “Agreed.” The Khobeerian freighter arrives at the planet Vulcan. Patricia, her Great-grandfather, and Sulu disembark via shuttle as both McCoy’s detest the transporter. Sulu pilots the shuttle and lands it at a port near the city of ShiKahr.

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NOBODY’S CHILD: The Saga of Doctor Leonard McCoy and Family-Chapter Five

NOBODY’S CHILD
by Pat McCoy

CHAPTER FIVE – Celebrations at DS9

Patricia steps through the airlock of Deep Space Nine and looks about the Promenade. The place is bustling with activity in preparation for celebrating the anniversary of the Defeat of the Dominion. She is surprised to see Bajorans and Cardassians working side-by-side on various details and logistics. She continues walking down the Promenade, making note of what is located where…the Replimat, various shops and stalls selling JumJa sticks, jewelry and clothing. Suddenly, she hears someone shouting: “DABO!” With curiosity getting the better of her, she follows the sound. Eventually, she finds herself standing in front of Quark’s Bar and Ferengi Embassy. While she was posted on Ferenginar, attending to Zek’s illness, she had heard a lot about various Ferengis…some good, like Grand Nagus Rom, his mother, Ishka and his son, Nog, who is now a Star Fleet officer and a war veteran, earning Star Fleet’s Purple Heart. Other things she heard were not so good, like his cousin, Gaila who was involved with selling arms to both sides of various wars and Liquidator Brunt, formerly of the Ferengi Commerce Authority. As for Rom’s brother, Quark, he was his own unique shade of gray. While she is standing there, thinking to herself, she smells food and her stomach growls. She realizes it’s been too long since she’s eaten. She strolls into Quark’s and notices a bald alien sitting at the bar, nursing his drink. She looks around for an empty table so she can keep her duffel bag with her for the time being. Seeing none, she stands near the bar, waiting for an available seat. An officious-looking Ferengi sidles up to her.

“Do you have a reservation?”, he asks. She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Since when did Quark’s start requiring reservations?” The Ferengi strokes one of his ears while leering at her. “Since my establishment became the official embassy!” Patricia nods, “Then you must be the INFAMOUS Quark!” Quark takes umbrage at this. “Rumors! Exaggerations! Lies!” Patricia grins at him. “And I haven’t even stated what you’ve been accused of yet!” Quark gestures, “Rule of Acquisition 190 – Hear all, trust nothing! Anything you hear about me, you should not trust!” She shakes her head in bemusement. “That CAN backfire on you, you know! Especially, if I hear all that you say and trust none of it, or, your brother, the Grand Nagus, praises you and your business skills!” Quark pauses. “Good point! By the way, I didn’t catch your name!” Patricia crosses her arms. “Funny. That’s because I haven’t tossed it to you yet! Do you always greet your customers this way?” Quark leers at her. “Only the loveliest!” She throws her head back and give a belly laugh! “I haven’t had anyone flirt with me for the longest time! I didn’t think anyone would look past my age!” Quark continues to rub one of his ears. “Well, Rule of Acquisition 4 says: “A woman wearing clothes is like a man in the kitchen! How about I check you out?” She chuckles. “One good look at me and you would be BEGGING me to put my clothes back on! Besides, I’ve known some men who are GREAT cooks!” Quark gives her a quizzical look. “Name one!” She grins at him. “Captain Benjamin Sisko for one!”

Quark dials back his flirting. “You must be Star Fleet!” Patricia nods in confirmation. “Yup! I’m here on leave and came to enjoy the party! Aren’t you glad that you’re not under the thumb of the Dominion?” The Ferengi thinks about this for a few seconds. “Well, Rule of Acquisition 35 says that ‘War is good for business.” She looks around the room and indicates the crowd. “Judging from the activity here, Rule of Acquisition 34 is at play here … ‘Peace is good for business! Besides, look what almost happened to your Cousin Gaila. He could have suffered the same fate as his associate, Hagath!” Quark studies her more closely. “Are you sure you’re not a Trill with the Dax symbiot?” Patricia shakes her head. “Sorry, Quark. I’m just a mere Hoo-mahn female. Name’s McCoy, by the way.” Quark tilts his head. “Isn’t there a saying about the ‘Real McCoy’ among you Hoo-mahns?” Patricia quietly glares at him. Quark quickly gestures. “Forget I said that!” He laughs uneasily. She crosses her arms again as she gives him a stern look. “That last question is forgotten. Just don’t repeat it within my hearing as I have big ears of my own! Now, as for the original reason I came in here. I’m hungry! Can I get service here or do I take my business to the nearest replimat? As your 274th Rule of Acquisition states: ‘No one can worship God or love his neighbor on an empty stomach’ and my empty stomach is bringing me closer to that door out of here if I can’t get any service!” She glares at Quark again.

Quark hesitates. “I was going to complete the quote of the 274th Rule but I get your point!” He points to the bald alien. “Morn! You’ve had enough! Go home!” Morn gives Quark a puzzled look, shrugs his shoulders, gets up and leaves. Quark ushers Patricia over to the seat that Morn has just vacated. She indicates with her thumb over her shoulder. “You don’t mind losing HIS business?” Quark waves a hand dismissively. “Morn? He practically LIVES here! He’ll be back as sure as I have my lobes! Now, what would you like to eat?” She thinks it over. “Can you program your food replicator for Pan-seared Salmon Filet, covered in mushroom/truffle sauce over spinach greens and Irish Colcannon potatoes?” Quark rubs his ear and grins. “For you, pretty lady, anything!” He heads over to the food replicator while Patricia shakes her head and chuckles. She mutters to herself, “I’m sure you say that to ALL the ladies who come through here!”

She digs through her duffel bag, pulls out a PADD, and begins scrolling through it. Quark returns with her meal. “I was so captured by your beauty that I forgot to ask … what you would like to drink, my dear? Some Synthehol, perhaps? Or maybe a Sumerian Sunset?” She looks over the top of her PADD. “I’ll have to look up which Rule of Acquisition refers to flattering women. For now, I’ll have the favorite beverage of the Federation … Root Beer!” Quark tries, unsuccessfully, not to make a face. “Coming right up!” Patricia ducks behind her PADD to hide her snickering. Quark returns with a glass Root Beer and sets it down beside her plate. She is working on her PADD while she is eating.

Quark observes her for a few moments then gestures toward her PADD. “Isn’t working while eating bad for your digestion?” Patricia glances up. “Yes. Unfortunately, in my line of work, sometimes it can be the only way I can get a bite to eat! It’s a hard habit to break while I’m on leave.” The Ferengi gives her a curious look. “And your line of work is …?” She glances up from her PADD, albeit briefly, before responding. “I’m a doctor.” Quark starts to ask another question but Patricia interrupts him. “And I’m not here to talk shop or give impromptu diagnoses. Now, I need to know … is there a program guide, somewhere, of what various activities are part of the festivities? My preliminary research indicates that there will be replicas of ancient Bajoran solar sailing ships flying between here and Cardassia and to other points in between, runabouts also providing transportation to various points of interest, performances by various space craft plus theatrical groups, and a variety of vendors hither and yon.” Quark grins in anticipation. “For two strips of gold-pressed latinum I can provide that.” Patricia scowls at him. “Or I can go to Ops, ask Captain Sisko, and obtain this information for free!” She puts down her PADD and huffs. “Quark, you ought to know Star Fleet better than THAT by now!” Quark holds up his hands in surrender. “The 61st Rule says: ‘I tried to cheat you and I lost, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up the game!’ Truce? Do we have a deal?” Patricia picks up then lowers the PADD as she considers this. “To which my answer is … the 29th Rule of Acquisition … ‘What’s in it for me?!’ I KNOW how Ferengi usually deal with FE-MALES!” Lowering his head in defeat, Quark grumbles as he walks away. “I need to remember the 94th Rule of Acquisition, ‘Females and finances don’t mix’, or I’ll be as bad as Rom!” Patricia snickers and shakes her head as she resumes eating and studying her PADD.

After she finishes her meal, Patricia packs up her PADD in her duffel bag, heads out of Quark’s and starts walking about the Promenade. She notices that the Infirmary is nearby and walks over there. As she walks in, various medical staff are bustling about, checking and double-checking their medical supplies in case anything should happen. One staff member notices her and approaches. “Do you have a medical emergency?”, the staff member inquires. Patricia responds with a shake of her head. “No. I’m a doctor. I’m visiting DS9 while I’m on leave. Is Dr. Bashir available?” She hears a voice call out. “Over here!” Patricia turns and walks in the direction of the voice. Spotting Dr. Bashir among numerous medical supplies, Patricia shifts her duffel bag and holds out her hand. “Good day, sir! I thought I would pay a courtesy call while I was in the neighborhood!” Dr. Bashir accepts her handshake. “And you are…?” Patricia adjusts her duffel bag again. “I’m Dr. Pat McCoy. You’re Dr. Bashir, I presume?” Dr. Bashir nods. “The one and the same. Are you related to…?” Patricia completes his sentence for him. “Dr. Leonard McCoy? Yes! He’s my great-grandfather.” She glances around the Infirmary. “Looks like you’re up to your eyeballs in preparing for any possible contingency during this celebration!”

Dr. Bashir follows her gaze. “Yes! Given the number of visitors from various planets on both sides of the wormhole, we have to plan for every possible accident, disease, injury, food-borne illness, alien metabolism, blood type, you name it!” She whistles in response. “I hope this celebration goes off without a hitch! From what I read about the Bicentennial Celebration of the War of 1812 in Baltimore, Maryland, during the 21st Century, it appears the only wrinkles they had were too many people drinking and not enough port-a-potties to go around!” Bashir gives her a quizzical look and she explains, “Port-a-potties were the ancient form of waste extraction during the 20th and 21st Centuries, by the way. My namesake ancestor wrote quite a description about her experiences at that city-wide party! She was stone-cold sober and observed everything!” Dr. Bashir looks curious. “What made you think of Baltimore, Maryland in particular?”

She responds, “Like Deep Space Nine, there were more ships arriving than docks available for them … plus their version of runabouts and shuttlecraft albeit on the water … sailors who got so drunk they were ‘legless’, so to speak, and VERY tight security. Besides, there’s also my ancestral history there. I couldn’t help but wonder if history would repeat itself here.” Bashir looks thoughtful. “Did your ancestor write about any violent incidents that might have occurred during their Bicentennial?” She thinks for a few moments. “If I remember correctly, there was only one close call of one person becoming drunk and disorderly. The security force clamped down on him fast before the situation got out of control. It was over before it started.” Bashir smiles. “I can only hope that we will fare as well without too many bumps and bruises!” Patricia nods in agreement. “Especially when the Klingons arrive with their kegs of Blood Wine and get rowdy! I’ve been around their parties a time or two and stayed sober. Good thing I did as I had to deal with the aftermath of their good natured brawls. Good practice for combat medicine skills! Patch them up, straighten out a few broken noses, then send them back into their sandbox to play some more!” Bashir chuckles. “I have to concede that the Klingons do know how to throw a party!” Patricia chuckles with him. “And keep us in business! Well, I better get out of your way and stop by Ops to let the Captain know I’m here. Even though I’m on leave, it would be polite to let him know I’m aboard.” Dr. Bashir shakes her hand again, she heads out of the Infirmary and over to the nearest turbolift.

As she enters the turbolift, she gives a command. “Ops!” The turbolift comes to a halt upon its arrival in Ops and Patricia steps out onto the deck. Several personnel look up from their work, noting her arrival, then return to their tasks. She walks toward the Captain’s office as the office doors slide open, revealing Captain Benjamin Sisko as he heads toward the stairs and descends. They meet at the bottom of the stairs and shake hands. Patricia grins. “It’s so good to see you again, Ben! I was just praising your cooking over at Quark’s.” Sisko chuckles. “I’m sure he appreciated that! What brings you to the neighborhood?” She readjusts her duffel bag on her shoulder. “I’m on leave and thought I’d join the celebration of the anniversary of defeating the Dominion. It’s really busy all over the station with the vendors, etc. I hope everything works out fine!” Sisko nods. “Compared to what we experienced during the War with the Dominion, I think this celebration will be a ‘piece of cake’!” Patricia winces at that. “Sorry to sound superstitious … I’m afraid that statement just jinxed us!”

Sisko gives her an odd look and she continues. “I’m looking at it from the perspective when the Klingons arrive to a ‘BYOB’ type of party with their countless kegs of Blood Wine! We both know how rowdy their parties can be!” Sisko nods again. “How well I know! That time I was disguised as Jud’mos, son of Kobar, attending their Order of the Bath’leth ceremony on Ty’Gokor, and then attending the wedding of Dax and Worf, here on DS9 were experiences never to be forgotten! To describe their parties as rowdy is a mild understatement! It’s difficult to describe to others who have never been there!” Patricia exclaims. “True that! I’m just hoping that there won’t be too much damage to sentient beings and/or property!” Sisko pauses. “Before we discuss the celebrations any further, Pat, I need to ask you … where are you staying? I presume that you have just arrived on the station not too long ago.” Patricia looks a little uncomfortable. “I was about to ask you where I could stay. I’m afraid everything is all booked up, both planet-side on Bajor, and elsewhere.” Sisko indicates his office. “Come on up. I’ll ask Kassidy if we could put you up in Jake’s old room. We could have the baby in our room.” They head up the stairs. “That reminds me, Ben. How is your daughter?”, Patricia asks. Sisko grins proudly. “Growing by leaps and bounds! Rebecca amazes me every day!”

Patricia shakes her head ruefully. “I’m terrible! I should have remembered her name!” Sisko waves off the comment. “Don’t worry about it! You haven’t had the opportunity to meet Rebecca Jae until now. I’ll be getting off duty soon so you can relax. Let me talk to Kass. Make yourself comfortable.” Patricia sits on a nearby sofa, setting her duffel bag beside her, while Captain Sisko calls his wife. She stretches. “I had no idea how much travel catches up with you until you have a chance to sit and relax!” Sisko, waiting for Kassidy to answer his call, chuckles. “Tell me about it!” The image of Kassidy appears onscreen and she grins at her husband. “Hello, Darling!” Sisko grins back. “Hi, Sweetheart! I need to ask a favor.” Kassidy quirks an eyebrow. “What is it?” Sisko glances in Patricia’s direction. “Dr. Pat McCoy has just arrived on the station and is looking for a place to stay during the Celebration. Everything else is already booked solid. Can she stay in Jake’s old room while we have Rebecca in our room?” Patricia calls out to Kassidy from the sofa. “I’m willing to earn my keep being the family doctor on-call and on-site!” Kassidy laughs. “Dr. Pat! It’s good to see you again! Of course, you can stay with us!” Patricia grins. “Fantastic! It’s been too long since I’ve seen y’all! I’m looking forward to meeting little Rebecca for the first time!” Sisko signs off from his wife and prepares to go off duty. Patricia slowly gets to her feet and picks up her duffel bag. They walk out of his office and down the steps into the Ops area, heading toward the turbolift. One of the staff looks up from her station. “Sir, sensor readings indicate a fleet of Klingon ships are approaching. Shall I hail them?” Sisko nods. “Go ahead!” The crewman hails the lead Klingon ship, the Rotarran, and the view-screen activates showing Chancellor Martok with Ambassador Worf standing beside him. Both Captain Sisko and Dr. Pat McCoy grin at the sight of them.

Sisko greets the arriving visitors. “Chancellor Martok! Worf! Q’Pla! It is good to see you both again!” Martok nods toward his view-screen. “Q’Pla, Captain Sisko! It is good to see you again as well, my friend! I see that Dr. Pat McCoy is there with you! How are you feeling, my adopted daughter? Are you well?” Patricia gives him the Klingon salute. “Q’Pla, my adopted father! I’m doing better! It is good to see both you and Worf!” Worf glowers at her. “Are you staying out of trouble, Dr. Pat?” Patricia chuckles. “You know me and my family, Worf! Wherever a McCoy goes, something usually happens!” Martok chuckles at that then turns his attention back to Captain Sisko. “We have brought several crates and kegs of Blood Wine for the party! Will that be enough?” Sisko looks thoughtful. “Sounds like it! What do you think, Pat?” Patricia rubs her chin. “Well, since I’ll be sticking to the other beverages of either Root Beer or Prune Juice, there should be enough Blood Wine to last throughout the week!” Martok gestures in her direction. “We understand why you cannot have the Blood Wine, Dr. Pat, and we respect that! As Worf has often told me, Prune Juice is a Warrior’s Drink as well so there is no shame in that! We’ve brought several bottles of Prune Juice in case we crossed paths with you!” Patricia salutes Martok again as she grins. “Thank you! I appreciate that!” Worf turns toward Captain Sisko. “Permission to dock at the station!” The Captain responds, “Permission granted! My staff will assign you your docking port.” He looks to one of his staff, who responds, “Docking Port 7 is available, sir, on the upper pylon.” Sisko nods. “Very good, Ensign.” He turns back to the view-screen. “I’ll be at the airlock shortly. Sisko out!” Worf and Martok acknowledge and the view-screen shuts off.

Captain Sisko and Dr. Pat McCoy enter the turbolift and he directs the turbolift to the habitat ring. He turns toward Patricia with curiosity. “You’ve been to Klingon parties but you can’t drink Blood Wine? How did you manage to avoid hostilities?” She responds, “Martok and I have a bit of a history. We first crossed paths during my initial assignment after I graduated from the Academy. I had an unfortunate encounter with a bully. During our scuffle, I broke his nose with a cast iron skillet and the bully was about to kill me. Martok happened to see that, commanded him to stop, then he knocked that bully on his butt! He dressed him down for acting dishonorably toward me and I haven’t seen that particular Klingon since. However, Martok was impressed that I wasn’t intimidated by a Klingon bigger and stronger than me. He offered me a drink from his jug of Blood Wine and I explained that, as a recovering alcoholic, I could not partake and maintain the safety of his crew, including him. He had difficulty, at first, understanding what it means to be an alcoholic until I shared my experience, strength, and hope with him. Once he understood that I cannot safely drink as my system is allergic to alcohol, and the potential consequences to future missions, his respect deepened. As it turned out, the Klingons had also brought along a supply of Prune Juice so we saluted each other with that! I didn’t find out, until much later that my commanding officer, Doctor Bob Smith, had requested that the Klingons bring along that supply of Warriors’ Juice!” Sisko chuckles. “That particular Klingon must have been surprised when you hit him!” Patricia nods. “I’m sure he was!” The Captain continues. “If anything, you earned respect by hitting him. That should make him pause the next time he attempts to bully anyone half his size!” Patricia chuckles. “He learned the hard way that big surprises can come in small packages!” Captain Sisko and Patricia arrive at the doorway to his quarters. He indicates his door. “Here we are! Home sweet home!”

The door slides open, Sisko and Patricia step through, and a toddler comes running as soon as she hears the door. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” She stops short as soon as she sees a stranger, Dr. Pat McCoy. The toddler looks up at her father, thumb in mouth, not certain what to do. Sisko grins, walks over to her and scoops her up, giving her a kiss. Patricia smiles at the child. “This must be Rebecca.” She waves at her shyly. “Hi there.” Rebecca buries her face in her Daddy’s neck and peeks out shyly, thumb still in her mouth, then smiles at Patricia. Patricia sits down, then sets her duffel bag on the floor. Sisko lowers Rebecca to the floor and watches what his daughter does in reaction to this new person. The toddler clings to her father’s pant leg but watches this new stranger with curiosity as Patricia rummages through her duffel bag. Finally, unable to contain herself, Rebecca toddles over to the duffel bag and peeks in. Sisko smiles broadly as he watches this silent exchange.

Patricia finds what she is looking for. “Ah! There she is!” She pulls out a teddy bear and holds it up for Rebecca’s inspection. “What do you think?” Rebecca grabs the teddy bear and hugs it tightly and Patricia grins. Before she could blink, Rebecca climbs into her lap and hugs her! “You’re welcome, Rebecca! I’m glad you like Theodora! You can give her another name if you’d like.” Sisko laughs gently. “I don’t think she can pronounce Theodora.” He turns to Rebecca. “What’s the name of your new friend?” Rebecca points to Patricia. “Bear!” Patricia laughs at this. “Now that’s a new nickname! I’ll have to add that to ‘Bones’!” Sisko laughs as he picks up his daughter. “I’m afraid that’s another nickname that is going to stick!” Patricia grins at the Captain. “Coming from Rebecca, I don’t mind at all!” Kassidy Yates-Sisko enters the room and Patricia gets up. They meet and hug each other. Kassidy steps back to look at her. “It’s good to see you again, Pat! We’ve missed you!” Patricia smiles back. “Yes! It’s been so long! The last time we saw each other, you were pregnant with Rebecca! I can’t get over how much she’s grown!” Kassidy beams as she gazes at her child. “Oh yes! It seems like only yesterday she was a newborn! Now she’s toddling around and it’s all I can do to keep up with her! If I blink, she’s into something!”

Patricia chuckles, “Very normal for her age! She’s insatiably curious about her environment, just mobile enough to explore and learn, just like us Star Fleet folks, but not quite old enough to understand and appreciate the danger that can lurk nearby! She’s still a baby and a highly mobile baby at that! Keeps us all on our toes!” Sisko grins at his little girl. “Sounds like Rebecca is in training to follow in her parents’ footsteps!” “Speaking of which”, Patricia responds, “Do you think Martok and Worf have docked by now?” Sisko nods as he hands Rebecca to her mother. “They probably are!” He gives a quick kiss to his wife and daughter. “Dr. Pat and I will be back shortly!”

Captain Sisko and Patricia leave his quarters and head to the docking ring. They arrive at the airlock just as it opens. Martok and Worf step out, both are wearing Klingon battle armor and Martok is wearing his Chancellor’s cloak atop his armor. Patricia looks them both over. “Are you coming for a party or to do battle?” Martok chuckles. “Both! You have been to our celebrations! You know what they are like!” Patricia chuckles and shakes her head. “Only too well! I’ve lost count as to how many times I had to patch y’all up before we went out on our next training mission! Just take it easy on the civilians here. They’re not used to THAT kind of partying!” Sisko laughs. “I’m sure Worf will take care of that!” Worf looks at Sisko, then at Patricia, and growls. Patricia walks over to him and gives him a big hug! “Love you too, Worf!” Martok chuckles. “McCoy, you have not changed a bit!” Patricia grins at him. “The older I get, the more mischief I can do! And you have to respect your elders!” Martok roars with laughter and Worf permits a smile. “It is good to see you again, my adopted daughter, and I’m looking forward to celebrating our victory over the Dominion!” Patricia raises an imaginary cup in the air. “Same here! I’m also looking forward to checking out the holosuites and getting some exercise, including water jogging!” Worf grimaces. “Swimming? That is too much like … bathing!”

Patricia tilts her head toward him, giving him a slight smile. “It might do you some good to practice military tactics in the water, Worf! I’ve been doing some family history research and learned that some of my ancestors fought ON water and IN water! They did not have any of the technology that we do today! They were victorious against all odds!” Martok looks thoughtful. “That would be a difficult challenge! I like that suggestion! There is always the possibility of being called to a mission where we must encounter water whether we like it or not! We must always be prepared for any battle anywhere in any environment!” Patricia turns toward Martok. “The challenge would be to adapt weapons for aquatic battle. Bath’leths and traditional weapons used on land may be useless if a warrior finds herself or himself battling an enemy in water!” “What did you learn about your ancestors, McCoy? How did they do battle?”, Martok asks.

Patricia thinks for a few moments. “Based on my research, during the War of 1812, some battles took place at sea, using cannons mounted in the sides of the tall ships. Other battles took place on land, such as the Battle of North Point at Baltimore, Maryland, where one of my ancestors, Lewis A. Pindell, and his brother, John, fought the British. Both sides used rifles that fired lead pellets and were affixed with bayonets. Those ancient weapons were just as deadly as phasers and Bath’leths. The 41st Maryland Regiment saved the city of Baltimore on September 11, 1814. In later wars, underwater ships called submarines, were used and they fired ballistic missiles called torpedoes. Humans also used self-contained breathing units, called scuba, to swim underwater and they carried various weapons on their persons. I can pull up this information from the computer and have it demonstrated in the holosuite so you can get a better idea of what took place back then. Seeing what these ancient weapons looked like might give you a better idea of how form followed function. History lessons can be invaluable. If you recall, I previously mentioned that back on Earth, the victory in the War of 1812 is commemorated in song called the National Anthem of the United States of America which was composed by Francis Scott Key, a very distant cousin of mine.” Martok grins. “This Francis Scott Key of yours sounds like he would do any Klingon proud!”

Worf does NOT look happy at the idea! “Being in water still sounds too much like … bathing!” Patricia smiles. “Or maybe you are reluctant about not being as agile in water as you are on land! Is your age catching up with you, my friend?” Worf growls at Patricia but says nothing more. Sisko indicates the corridor. “What say that we head over to the Promenade and join the festivities?” Patricia nods. “I’m all for that!” Martok grins while Worf solemnly nods. They all head toward the Promenade. Sisko turns toward Patricia. “I’m going to head over to my quarters to spend some quiet time with my family, then we’ll join you later. Try not to cause too much trouble while I’m gone.” He chuckles. Patricia gives him an innocent look. “With ME as their chaperone?! No trouble at all!” That comment brings a grin to both Martok’s and Worf’s faces.

Sisko heads over to the nearest turbolift to go to the habitat ring and his quarters. Patricia, Martok, and Worf head over to Quark’s. As soon as Quark sees them, he visibly cringes at first then puts on his best host attitude as he greets them. “Welcome to my establishment!” He shows them to a nearby table, that has just been vacated and cleaned, where they take their seats. “What can I get you?” Martok bellows, “BLOOD WINE!” Worf barks, “PRUNE JUICE!” Patricia gives Quark an evil grin and shouts, “ROOT BEER!” She tries not to snicker at Quark’s reaction as he hurries away to fill their orders. As soon as Quark is out of earshot, which is no small feat, McCoy starts to unsuccessfully stifle a laugh. “I can’t resist giving him a hard time ever since I first walked in here earlier today!”

Worf glares in Quark’s direction. “What did he do? Did he insult you?” Patricia continues to snicker. “Worse than that! He attempted to flirt with me!” Worf growls. “How dishonorable!” Patricia scowls at Worf. Dishonorable for whom?! Him or me? Are you insinuating that I’m that old and/or ugly?!” Worf starts to search for the right words to get himself out of what he just created while Patricia glowers at him. Martok tosses his head back and roars with laughter until Patricia is unable to keep a straight face and joins Martok in laughing as she bends double. Worf finally realizes that Patricia was sending him up and starts grinning.

Quark returns with their beverages. “Sounds like you are having too much fun over here and you haven’t begun to party yet!” Patricia manages to catch her breath. “It’s always possible to have a LOT of fun without drinking, Quark! Lighten up a little!” Quark is stunned. “ME?! I need to lighten up?! I have to live by the 57th Rule of Acquisition, otherwise I’m out of business!” Patricia bats her eyes at him. “AWWWWW! You treasure me like Latinum! I’m touched!” Quark straightens his jacket and responds with dignity. “Thank you!” Patricia continues. “But I’m still not going to date you!” Quark looks disappointed. “I had a feeling about that! Excuse me, I have another customer coming in the door!” He walks toward the door as Morn walks in, looking for his favorite bar-stool.

Worf turns toward Patricia. “He will not give up that easily!” Martok chimes in. “He is clearly smitten with you, McCoy!” Patricia shakes her head. “He needs to have Grilka back! I may be good-looking but I can’t fill her shoes!” Worf does a double-take. “You KNOW about Grilka and Quark!?” Patricia nods. “During my many travels, Grilka and I crossed paths. She shared with me about how Quark gave back her name, her family, and her property when D’Gor tried to lie, cheat, and steal everything from her. I’ve also had the opportunity to meet Quark’s family and his brother, Grand Nagus Rom, told me about their experiences on Q’onos. After meeting Quark today, I now have a face to connect to the name.” Martok gives her a thoughtful look. “McCoy, do you still have second thoughts about becoming a member of a noble Klingon family? When I first adopted you, you weren’t sure.” She shakes her head and places her hand on Martok’s arm. “Uncle Spock taught me IDIC when he was helping Gramps raise me. I don’t mind having both Vulcan and Klingon relatives! I just needed time to adjust, dear father.” Martok gives her an approving look. “Spock is very honored among the Klingons as well! You have a very diverse family!” Worf gives Patricia a quizzical look. “What about the Ferengi?”

Patricia glances in Quark’s direction. “After meeting Quark, I have a lot of mixed feelings about that. I’m not sure how much is genuine or how much is purely for show just to get Latinum.” Martok nods in agreement. “I believe you have an accurate assessment of Quark as he is a combination of both. After all, he DID risk his life to save Grilka! A brave Ferengi is a RARE Ferengi!” Patricia glowers at Martok. “Are you trying to fix me up with a date, or attempting an arranged marriage with Quark?!” This time it’s Worf’s turn to laugh out loud. Martok grins and raises his hands in surrender. “I know better than to do that to you, my adopted daughter!” Patricia laughs out loud then raises her glass of Root Beer in salute to her friends and comrades. Martok and Worf raise their glasses in salute to her. Each take a deep swig of their respective beverages then slam their glasses down.

Patricia gazes around Quark’s establishment, looking over the Dabo tables and the patrons walking about. “The 34th Rule of Acquisition is definitely operating here! We need to negotiate with Quark regarding the use of the Holosuites. I want to get my daily water jogging resumed plus we need to study the history and battle tactics I previously mentioned. Isn’t there a Klingon saying that such studies keeps the blade edge sharp?” Martok grins at her. “If not, then you have coined one for us!” Patricia bows her head. “I humbly accept your accolades!” Worf nods with approval. “You are becoming more like a Klingon every day, McCoy!” Patricia snickers. “Do you mean that as a compliment or an insult?” Worf hesitates for a few moments. “I think I better quit before I get into any more trouble with you!” Patricia laughs heartily. “I think you’re right!”

Quark returns to their table. “Anything else?” Martok turns to him. “Yes! We require the use of your Holosuites!” Patricia gives Quark a warning look. “I wouldn’t attempt to gouge, or cheat them, if I were you! Do you want TWO KLINGONS angry at you at the same time?!” Quark responds meekly. “No.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Tell you what, during this Celebration, the use of the Holosuites, for the three of you, is on the house!” Patricia is suspicious. “What’s the catch, Quark?” Quark leans toward her. “That I join you!” Patricia looks over at Martok and Worf with an expression that says “Uh-oh!” Worf looks mischievous. “This should get interesting!” Patricia gets up from the table. “You two can negotiate the details! I’m going for a walk!” She walks out onto the Promenade.

As she walks about, she is noting other sentient species arriving, greeting each other, shopping, when she suddenly collides with another being and nearly falls. “Oops! Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going!” A familiar voice answers, “You often do that, McCoy!” Patricia’s head quickly turns to see who is speaking. “GRILKA!” They salute then hug each other. “I was just speaking about you to Martok and Worf a little while ago!” Grilka looks at her askance. “And why is that?” Patricia gestures toward Quark’s bar. “Because Quark has been flirting outrageously with me and I strongly believe he needs you and NOT me! I think he’s lonely!” Grilka resumes walking and Patricia falls in step with her. “I was just on my way to see Quark now. I’ve been wondering how my ex-husband has been faring since the War with the Dominion ended.” Patricia gets an evil grin on her face. “I have a BETTER idea! Come with me!” They walk off together as Patricia outlines her idea to Grilka.

Meanwhile, back at Quark’s, Martok and Worf are negotiating with the Ferengi about when they will have use of the Holosuites. Worf seems surprised at Quark’s suggestion. “We have the use of TWO Holosuites during our ENTIRE stay here?!” Quark grins. “Of course! As long as I get to stay close to the LOVELY Dr. Pat McCoy!” Martok shakes his head doubtfully. “We cannot control her and she may not agree to that!” Quark gestures. “She doesn’t have to know! I’ll just find ways to stay as close as possible! I doubt that she’ll notice.” Worf quirks an eyebrow. “You like to live dangerously, Quark!” Quark replies, “The 264th Rule of Acquisition! The bigger the risk, the bigger the win! And don’t forget the 62nd Rule: The riskier the road, the greater the profit!” Martok gives Quark a sly grin. “It should be interesting to see what McCoy does to YOU when she finds out your little scheme!” Worf also starts grinning. “Now THAT would be FUN to watch!” Quark leans toward both Klingons. “So … is it a deal?” Martok and Worf look at each other, nod, then turn back to Quark. “Yes! But don’t say we never warned you!” Quark grins happily then leaves to wait on other customers. Martok and Worf walk out of Quark’s to find a quiet place to send a communication to Patricia.

Worf touches his communicator. “Worf to Doctor McCoy!” Patricia is still walking with Grilka. “McCoy here!” Worf continues. “The negotiations with Quark are complete. We have use of two holosuites tomorrow morning beginning at 0900. Quark insisted he join us in order to permit us to have access. I take it you know what that means!” Patricia shakes her head even though she knows Worf cannot see her. “I recognize his type of drooling anywhere!” She turns to Grilka and puts a finger to her lips indicating to keep quiet. “He will have quite a surprise all right!” Grilka grins as Patricia continues her conversation. “I’ll see you two, at the Holosuites, at 0900 tomorrow! McCoy out!” Patricia turns to Grilka. “Are you up to it, Grilka? I know you have never done anything like THIS before!” Grilka continues smiling. “I like the challenge! Besides, I would enjoy watching Quark’s reaction!” Patricia gives her a sly grin. “Or maybe this would become one of his favorite fantasies coming true! Think about it! The two women he is lusting after giving him Oo-mox!” Grilka laughs heartily. “The last time THAT happened, he also ended up with some broken bones!” Patricia joins in her laughter, then continues. “From what you previously described, BOTH of you enjoyed that encounter! Klingon mating rituals are a bit too rough for me!” Grilka gives Patricia a thoughtful look. “Someday, you will find another mate who is perfect for you! There is no reason for you to simply exist, McCoy. Your late Par’Machai would have wanted you to live, not just exist. Life is for living to the fullest!” Patricia shakes her head. “At my age, I’ve become more realistic. When I’ve met other potential mates, these guys start out with lust, then when they get to really know me, they’re gone! I’m at the point that I tell them up front, ‘if you’re not interested in me as a being with feelings, then don’t waste my time!’ As for Quark, I’ve told him several times that I’m not interested in him but he won’t accept that. Besides, I’m aware of his connection with you. I don’t want to get in between the two of you!”

Grilka shakes her head. “I am not jealous, McCoy. He and I are divorced, remember?” Patricia persists. “But the feelings are still there between you two and you have a shared history.” Grilka nods in agreement. “That is true. He risked his life for me! He will always be my Warrior, my Kahless, in that regard!” Patricia gestures. “And he should be again! Come on! We need to prepare for what is to come tomorrow morning and you have to get your gear fitted.” They head to a nearby shop to find what they need. Later, Grilka and Dr. Pat McCoy walk to a nearby airlock with parcels and packages. Patricia indicates their purchases. “I think we got everything we need. What do you think?” Grilka looks at the packages. “I will need to get used to this. I can practice in private on my ship. I will see you in the morning.” She enters the airlock to board her ship. Patricia shifts her parcels around, walks to the nearest turbolift, goes to the habitat ring, and to Captain Sisko’s quarters.

Patricia enters Sisko’s quarters attempting to balance the parcels and packages in her hands. Just as the doors slide close behind her, one of the parcels falls to the floor. Baby Rebecca is playing nearby and comments, “Uh-oh!” Patricia smiles at the toddler. “Yep! I dropped something!” Captain Sisko enters from the kitchen area wiping his hands with a dish towel. “Did the party break up early?” Patricia shakes her head. “Not quite. We have plans for 0900 in one of two Holosuites. These packages are part of what I’ll be using when I get there.”
Kassidy Yates-Sisko enters the room behind her husband. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a day!” Patricia nods. “And I’ve set up a practice mission, involving water training, in the Holosuite in the morning! Martok and Worf may be here for a party but it never hurts to practice new situations and keep one’s edge!”

Kassidy looks concerned. “Doesn’t that conflict with your role as a doctor?” Patricia thinks for a few moments. “Yes and no. When I was assigned on my first mission with the Klingons, I quickly realized that some situations that I was familiar with, they had never encountered before. As a result, I had to deal with a lot of injuries that could have been easily avoided. By sharing my knowledge of history, plus my experiences, the more they learn how to respond to different and new situations … and the less injuries I have to patch up!” Sisko responds, “You sound like a good trainer, Pat!” Patricia shrugs. “I try my best. I don’t always succeed. This one is going to be a first!” Sisko gives her a curious look. “Did I hear you correctly about water training … with the Klingons!?”

Patricia grins. “That is correct! As I was talking with Martok and Worf about my water jogging, it suddenly occurred to me that I have NEVER seen a Klingon engage in a battle involving water! If they were ever called to a combat situation where the enemy has a distinct advantage in water, the Klingons would be unprepared and at risk of huge casualties. Presenting a drill situation under those possible conditions may be an eye-opening experience for everyone. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sisko grins back at her as he gestures. “I like how you think outside the box! That possibility had never occurred to me until you brought it up!” Patricia’s grin turns sly. “What’s going to make this drill even MORE interesting is that Quark is insisting on joining us! He has NO idea what he’s going to be facing!”

Sisko starts laughing. “Quark?! Joining a Klingon battle drill?! In water?! Now THAT will be a sight to see!” Patricia starts giggling. “You’re welcome to come and observe, if you’d like, Ben.” Sisko grins at this idea. “I can’t miss THIS!” Patricia continues while grinning. “Quark will be learning a new Rule of Acquisition – Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it!” Sisko chuckles. “But not in the way he expects it!” Patricia adjusts the packages in her arms, then reaches for the one she dropped. “If it’s all right with both of you, I’m going to head off to bed as I have an early appointment at the Holosuites first thing in the morning and will need to prepare. Good night, y’all!” Both Sisko and Kassidy bid her good night. Patricia heads off to bed while still juggling her parcels and packages.

The next morning, Martok, Worf, and Quark are waiting in Holosuite #1. Patricia walks in, wearing a robe and carrying some mysterious items that are covered up. Quark leers at her and McCoy scowls back. “Don’t even think about it, Quark!” Quark gives her an innocent look. “What?! Me?!” “Yeah! You! I’ve heard quite a lot about you!”, Patricia shoots back. Quark protests. “I told you before! All lies and falsehoods!” Patricia shakes her head at him. “My guest, who should be arriving shortly, has PERSONAL knowledge and I doubt would appreciate your comments!” Quark gives her a questioning look. “Who?” Captain Sisko walks in and Quark starts to act obsequious. Patricia gives an evil grin. “Oh no! I didn’t mean Captain Sisko!” Quark looks flustered. “Don’t keep me in suspense! WHO?!” At that moment, Grilka walks in and the expression on Quark’s face is priceless! Patricia’s grin gets wider. Captain Sisko, Martok, and Worf are enjoying this! Grilka is wearing a Klingon robe that conceals everything. Quark looks at her, then at Patricia, then back at Grilka. He doesn’t know what to do with himself!

Grilka nods toward Patricia. “My crew will be joining us for this drill. They need to be as prepared as I am!” Quark’s expression starts to fill with dread. “Drill? As in Klingon Drill? As in MANY Klingons!?” Patricia continues her evil grin. “Oh, didn’t Martok and Worf tell you WHY we needed the Holosuites?” Quark shakes his head. “Uhhhhhhh, I didn’t think to ask.” Patricia nods. “Uh-huh! Thought so!” Grilka turns to Patricia. “I have been practicing with the equipment on board my ship. Now I will see how well I fare in water!” Quark looks puzzled. “Water!?” Patricia turns toward Quark. “Yes, Quark. Water! We are conducting a Klingon Battle Drill in WATER! Are you up to the challenge?” Captain Sisko is trying hard NOT to laugh! Martok is GRINNING and Worf is suppressing a grin but his eyes are dancing with amusement!

Sisko is thinking to himself, “This is BETTER than I expected!” Quark is completely flustered, starts shaking his head, holding up his hands, and backing away. “I-I-I-I was not expecting anything like this! I don’t have anything for a battle drill! With all the Glebbening on Ferenginar, we’ve never had any reason to learn how to swim!” Patricia is still grinning. “Given what I have learned about Ferenginar, after being assigned there, there’s no place to go swimming anyway!” Grilka chimes in. “And, until now, we Klingons had no need to be in water! But Dr. Pat helped me realize that should we ever face an enemy that fights better in water than on land, we would be at a disadvantage. We need to prepare our warriors for any possibility!” Patricia adds, “Which is why traditional Klingon battle armor could also be a disadvantage in water battles. The weight alone would cause warriors to sink and drown! Martok, Worf, are your crewmen prepared to dispense with their usual armor during this first stage of the drill?”

Martok responds, “They are complaining but have agreed to try this. Haven’t they, Worf?” Worf nods. “Once they realized the goal of this drill, they understood.” Patricia nods back. “Since I’m aware that no one knows how to swim, I have programmed the Holosuite to provide swim belts. I have my own as I go water-jogging on a regular basis. How long before the rest of the warriors arrive?” Grilka gestures toward the door. “My crew should be here momentarily.” “As well as my crew!”, Martok adds. The Holosuite doors slide open and several Klingon warriors enter. They are all looking distinctly uncomfortable without their battle armor and wearing concealing robes as everyone else who are participating in the drill. Patricia acknowledges the new arrivals. “Ah! Here they are! Q’Pla!” Various Klingon warriors grumble in response. Patricia walks among the warriors while speaking, “I take it that after last night’s partying, no one wants to be a morning person today, eh?” Grilka smiles as well as Martok and Worf. Sisko grins. Quark looks like he wants to escape as unobtrusively as possible.

Grilka and Patricia arrange the drill equipment to be used and McCoy provides an explanation of what each piece is and how it is used in water-related combat. The equipment appears to be antique-looking. Patricia continues her lecture. “As you may notice, these pieces of equipment are considered ‘low-tech’ in comparison to what you are used to. That is because high-tech equipment, such as phasers and tricorders, are not designed to work underwater. D’k Tahgs, Mek’leths, and Bath’leths MIGHT work, in close hand-to-hand combat, if you are able to maintain a firm footing as well as keep your balance. In water, you could easily lose your balance and your advantage. I purposely chose these antiques to give you a challenge to think about. After the first stage of our drill, during our rest period, each of you will have the opportunity to study this equipment up close, share your theories of how you think they are supposed to work, and one-by-one, test your theories. This Holosuite has the safeties on to ensure no one gets hurt. Then you will be shown, via a holographic re-creation, how my ancestors used these weapons in sea battles. The objective here is to learn how to operate in a battle within an aquatic environment where your opponent could, conceivably have the upper hand.”

A young Klingon growls menacingly and Patricia turns toward him addressing the young Klingon. “You have a problem with that, son?” The young Klingon shouts with derision, “I am Kempok! Son of Modor! I do NOT need to take a bath to do battle! And I will NOT demean myself by wearing this…this.. so-called ‘swim-belt’!”.” He ends his tirade with a contemptuous sneer. Patricia walks over to Kempok. “Oh really? Tell me, Kempok, are you willing to put your team-mates, your comrades, at risk of failing their mission because you place your ego above the mission’s objectives?” Kempok glares silently. Patricia continues, “and are you willing to endanger the mission, and your fellow warriors, by drowning yourself, when a single warrior could mean the difference between victory or defeat?” Kempok is clearly considering her words. “How is training in water going to do THAT!?” Patricia steps up and gets nose to nose with Kempok. “Listen and learn, son!” She turns to everyone within the Holosuite. “If you wish to participate in this first drill, put on your swim-belts now! If you choose to sit this one out, you can explain to Martok and Worf why you chose to do so…later. If you need assistance, ask and it will be given. There is no shame in doing so in this unfamiliar situation. I expect mistakes to be made. I want mistakes to be made because we can LEARN from those mistakes and survive them in an actual battle. Do I make myself clear?”

All Klingons shout out, “Yes, Dr. McCoy!” Captain Sisko is impressed. Quark is looking more scared by the minute. Quark turns to Patricia, gesturing with both hands. “I prefer to sit this one out, thank you very much!” Patricia grins back. “Suit yourself.” She turns toward Grilka. “Are you ready, Grilka?” Grilka grins back. “As ready as I can be!” She removes her robe, revealing aquatic-wear and wearing a swim-belt. Quark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Patricia whispers to Grilka, “I think Quark likes what he sees!” Grilka softly snickers. Patricia walks from warrior to warrior, checking the security of each swim-belt to make certain they don’t come loose at a crucial moment during the drill. “Does anyone have any questions before we begin the first stage of the drill?” No one says a word. Patricia looks at everyone. “Speak now if you have any questions! Don’t wait until you are in trouble because you didn’t ask questions!” Still no one says a word. Patricia nods with satisfaction. “All right! Let’s begin!” She calls out to the Holosuite computer. “Computer, an Olympic-size swimming pool with water three-feet deep at a temperature of … 75 degrees Fahrenheit!”

An Olympic-size pool appears with warm water at a depth of three feet. Patricia turns to the group. “I’m starting you off at a shallow depth, with warm temperatures, to help you understand the resistance water can give you when you attempt to run. The water will be cooled down as we progress in our training. Who wants to try this first?” Grilka steps forward. “I will be first!” Kempok steps forward. “I will be next!” Patricia acknowledges both. “Good! Let’s start with just you two and the rest observe. Grilka, Kempok, please enter the water!” Grilka and Kempok ease carefully into the water from the side of the pool. Kempok is unsure of this new situation. Grilka takes this in stride. Patricia smiles approvingly. “Good! Now, what I want you to do is try to race each other to the other side of the pool as fast as you can. Ready? Go!”

Both Grilka and Kempok try to run as fast as possible in the water and quickly discover it is not as easy as they thought it would be. Patricia shouts over the noise of the water. “You may have surmised that the harder you try to run, the more the water resists you.” Kempok slips, falls under the water, fights to get to his feet, quickly becomes exhausted and struggles to the side of the pool to catch his breath. Patricia leans down and pats him on the shoulder. “Good job, Kempok! You have reason to be proud!” She stands up. “Now … imagine you are in battle with an opponent who is adapted to an aquatic environment. As you can see, given that none of you have ever been conditioned for this, you will quickly become exhausted, at best, or mortally wounded at worst when fighting such an enemy. It may be a good day to die, but NOT under those circumstances! Becoming quickly exhausted is costly.” Patricia pauses, then continues while pacing before her audience. “And quickly exhausted could mean a failed mission.” She looks over at Grilka. “Grilka, how are you faring with this?” Grilka is trying to catch her breath. “I see what you mean! I had assumed that, as warriors, we were always in battle-ready condition no matter what. This exercise has opened my eyes! We need to work more on our strength training, stamina, and conditioning!” Patricia nods and turns toward Captain Sisko, Martok, and Worf. “What are your thoughts?”

Captain Sisko likes what he has seen. “I’m impressed and, you are right, a water-based battle presents challenges that I had never thought of before!” Worf nods in agreement. “I am prepared to participate in this exercise until I am ready for this type of battle!” Martok chimes in. “And I can do no less!” Patricia nods to the commanding officers then turns to the rest of the warriors. “Okay, who are the next two volunteers for this exercise? We will take turns in teams of two until everyone has had an opportunity to experience this!” She turns to Quark with an evil twinkle in her eye. “Ready to race me in the water, Quark?” Quark turns pale. “Uhh-h-h-h-h, I just remembered, I left something on the stove!” He runs out of the Holosuite.

Patricia turns back to the group as everyone roars with laughter. McCoy finally catches her breath. “His turn will come, sooner or later.” Grilka winks at Patricia. “I have plans for HIM!” Patricia snickers back. “Oh, yes! I know YOU will!” McCoy manages to regains her composure. “Now, who are the next two volunteers for the water race?” Two more Klingons raise their hands then jump into the water. They proceed to race each other, laughing and whooping. At the end of the day, Patricia is sitting on her bed, in the guest room of Sisko’s quarters, toweling her hair dry. She is EXHAUSTED. She hears a light tap at the door. She calls out, “Come!” The door slides open and Sisko enters the room. “I think your drill was a resounding success! It definitely raised everyone’s awareness, including mine!” Patricia continues drying her hair. “I think Grilka, Worf, and Martok are going to continue. I’d rather they pick up the baton and run with it. I’m at an age where it’s getting more difficult for me to physically keep up! At least, I can focus on medicine during any mission.”

Sisko nods. “I hear you! Have you ever considered a desk job at Star Fleet Academy?” Patricia puts the towel down. “Tried it once and HATED it! I was BORED out of my mind!” She gestures toward the stars outside the window. “I prefer to be out there, traveling among the stars, seeing other worlds!” Sisko smiles. “I agree! Not all of us are cut out for desk jobs! Staying active in the field, as much as possible, keeps us young.” Patricia looks thoughtful. “Not to change the subject too much, Ben. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow in connection with the ongoing celebration?” Sisko pauses for a moment. “Off the top of my head, there will be a flyover performance of various warships, there are rides available for people who want to experience being in ancient solar sailing ships similar to what Bajorans used to sail to Cardassia several centuries ago, other star-ships will be docked where people are allowed to tour them, and interstellar pyrotechnics.” Patricia grins. “Sounds like many opportunities for fun!”

Sisko continues, “Kass and I are trying to decide which activities would not be too much for Rebecca. At her age, she’s not old enough to understand what all the fuss is about and we both know how children tend to react if they become inundated with sensory overload or become overtired.” “Plus if she eats too much of the wrong food, then you’ll both be up all night with her!”, Patricia adds. Sisko nods in agreement. “That too!” Patricia attempts to stifle a yawn. “If it’s all right with you and Kass, I’m going to turn in early. After today’s aquatic battle drill with the Klingons, I am EXHAUSTED!” Sisko grins. “You’ve earned it! Good night, Pat.” Patricia rubs one of her eyes. “Good night, Ben.” Sisko leaves the room and the door slides shut behind him. Patricia puts the towel away, changes into night clothes, and climbs into bed. “Computer, lights off!” The lights in the room shut off, Patricia lays her head on the pillow and is fast asleep in a few minutes.

In the morning, Patricia is awakened when she hears a tiny hand smacking at her door and a baby voice calling out: “Bear! Bear!” Then hears Kassidy laughingly calling to her daughter. Patricia smiles in amusement at the baby’s attempt to open the door. She gets up, gets dressed, and picks up her PADD to check the day’s agenda. She continues to scroll through her day’s agenda as she opens the door and exits the guest bedroom. Baby Rebecca is sitting in her high chair having breakfast … or more accurately, throwing breakfast everywhere … coating the floor, the walls, Mom and Dad. The baby sees Patricia and starts calling out while waving her arms, splattering more food. “Bear! Bear!” Patricia surveys the mess and laughs. “I think I better stay out of range!” Kassidy and Captain Sisko laugh. “One of the joys of parenthood! Jake did the same thing at that age!” Patricia continues grinning. “I can imagine! I’ve also had the ‘luck’ of being the ‘bull’s eye’ when I was examining a baby boy or two shortly after delivery! You be surprised at how good they can aim!”

Sisko chuckles. “How well I know! Jake did that to me too the first time I changed his diaper! Right between the eyes!” Patricia laughs. “That’s why I try to stay out of range whenever a baby starts to launch anything!” Sisko chuckles again. “Understood! By the way, what’s on your agenda for today?” Patricia glances down at her PADD. “After my morning water-jogging, I’m going to check out those Bajoran Solar-sailing vessels. I want to experience what it’s like. What are you and Kass going to do during the Celebration?” Sisko looks over at Kassidy then back at Patricia. “We haven’t quite decided yet. There’s really not much that is designed for a young baby and Rebecca isn’t old enough to really appreciate experiences such as Solar-sailing. I’ve gone Solar-sailing with Jake after I built my own vessel and Jake was old enough to understand and appreciate the experience.” Kassidy adds, “Given that I worked as a freighter captain before I married Ben and had our daughter, solar-sailing would be too similar to work so it wouldn’t be that much fun for me. Plus, if Rebecca needed a diaper change during the voyage, there’s not enough room for a changing table.”

Patricia wrinkles her nose. “Not to mention that some of the other passengers, along with the pilot, might not be into that kind of an experience … especially if it is quite odoriferous!” Sisko and Kassidy chuckle. “Only another parent would appreciate it! Plus there is one other complication on replicas of ancient Bajoran Solar-sailing vessels … at least I didn’t see one in the blueprints that I worked from.”, Sisko adds. Patricia gives him a questioning look. “What’s that?” Sisko responds. “Where can one dispose of a smelly dirty diaper? There’s no waste extraction system or the usual reclamators that can accommodate dirty diapers aboard such a vessel!” Patricia makes a face. “EWWW! You’re right! Imagine being on such a voyage for several hours having to hold one’s nose!” Sisko laughs. “Now you understand our dilemma!” Patricia nods. “Yes, that would limit your choices. How long can you walk around the Promenade before Rebecca decides she has had enough of the crowds and the noise and gets fussy, not to mention what would be fun for you and Kass? What about a holo-program?”

Sisko looks doubtful. “I’m not certain if there are any baby-friendly holo-programs available that would be fun for us adults. Rebecca’s not old enough to enjoy, let alone appreciate, baseball. Besides, Kass and I use the holosuites from time to time when we go to hear Vic Fontaine sing. It wouldn’t really be tied in with the celebration as it wouldn’t be that special.” Patricia scratches her head for a few seconds. “Let me do some thinking while I’m water-jogging. Sometimes, I get my best ideas that way.” Sisko gives her a grateful look. “Any suggestion is better than nothing. Kass and I are fresh out of ideas.” Patricia starts to head toward the door. “I’ll try my best.” The door slides open and Patricia puts one foot out of Sisko’s quarters. Sisko gives her a quizzical look. “No breakfast?” Patricia shakes her head. “It’s best to exercise with an empty stomach. That way I won’t have any unpleasant surprises. I’ll eat when I get back.” She steps out the door. Sisko calls after her. “Enjoy!” The door closes behind Patricia and she heads down the habitat ring hallway to the nearest turbolift. She enters turbolift and calls out a command. “Promenade!” The turbolift takes her there. As Patricia walks along the Promenade, Grilka joins her.

Patricia smiles in greeting. “Morning, Grilka! How are you?” Grilka smiles back. “I am still recovering from yesterday’s water drill! And you?” They continue walking together as McCoy answers. “Taking things one day at a time. I’m going to do some water-jogging this morning. Care to join me?” Grilka grins. “Yes! I will join you! I need to build up my stamina. One drill is not enough!” Patricia nods in response and smiles. “I agree! Plus I need to brainstorm with someone.” Grilka looks puzzled. “Brainstorm? What do you mean?” Patricia continues. “You may not be aware but I’m a guest in Captain Sisko’s quarters while I’m here for the Celebration. I have the freedom to participate in the various Celebration activities. Captain Sisko and his wife, Kassidy, have to consider and plan for their daughter’s needs and there’s not much that is considered ‘baby-friendly’ to do. I feel bad that there’s so much fun stuff around but nothing really appropriate for a family with a young toddler.”

Grilka looks thoughtful. “I think I understand. Captain Sisko and his family want to participate in the Celebration but what activities can a baby enjoy?” Patricia gestures and nods. “Exactly my point! Rebecca is still only a toddler in diapers and isn’t old enough to understand what all of this is about. The noise and the crowds can become too much for her within a short span of time. I’m trying to think of ways that Captain Sisko, Kassidy, and Rebecca can enjoy the Celebration as a family without stressing them all out too much.” Grilka gestures ahead. “Maybe Quark can babysit for a little while?” Patricia shakes her head emphatically. “NO, Oh No! I don’t think so! Given his track record and what Captain Sisko knows about him, I doubt he can be trusted to take care of a young toddler even for a minute! Unfortunately, he has that reputation.” Grilka presses her point. “But he did risk his life for me.” Patricia gestures toward Grilka. “Because he has feelings for YOU. He doesn’t view babies as anything valuable. He treated both his brother, Rom, and his nephew, Nog, miserably and they’re family! Rebecca has no connection to him and she is a naturally shy child. I’m also concerned that he may exploit the fact that she’s the Emissary’s daughter, for latinum. I remember Rule of Acquisition Number 111: ‘Treat people in your debt like family … exploit them ruthlessly.’ I am NOT comfortable with Quark exploiting the Sisko family! She and I have managed to connect but I’m not in a position to babysit, especially if I’m called to a medical emergency.”

Grilka looks thoughtful. “Let’s go ahead with this ‘water-jogging’ and maybe we can think of something else while we are exercising.” Patricia nods. “Agreed!” They enter Quark’s together and Quark greets them. “And what will both you lovely ladies have today?” Patricia gestures with her thumb toward the upstairs. “Right at the moment, we have need of your holosuite for our morning water-jog.” Quark gets a gleam in his eye. “I’ve been re-thinking about our previous arrangement on that.” Grilka gives him a suspicious look. “You mean you want to back out of our agreement?” Quark gives both ladies an innocent look. “And which agreement is that?” Patricia narrows her eyes as she leans toward Quark. “The one you made with the Klingons, Quark! Remember Martok and Worf? Or do you prefer to be given a painful reminder of why you should never double-cross a Klingon!?” Quark grins at Patricia. “But, dear Doctor McCoy, YOU are not a Klingon!” Grilka leans in toward Quark. “But I am and she is part of THE deal! Or have you forgotten that, DEAR?”

Quark realizes his error. “Oops! Thanks for reminding me, Sweetheart! I had forgotten that! Go right on upstairs! Your holosuite is waiting!” The two women head for the spiral staircase leading to the holosuites. Grilka starts to head up first. Patricia pauses on the bottom rung, glances up at Grilka, then looks over at Quark. “If you’d like, you can watch two lovely mermaids in bathing suits have fun in the pool!” Grilka grins at Quark. “And you and I can have some private time, later, reciting romantic Klingon poetry! Like we did when you and I played Lukara and Kahless?” Quark is nearly swooning. “Okay! Okay! I’ll be there in a few minutes!” He heads out of sight. Patricia looks back at Grilka and snickers. “He better be careful not to get too close to me while I’m in the pool. I can get mischievous … or, more accurately, downright EVIL!” Grilka snickers back. “I know you will!” Patricia and Grilka are water-jogging in the pool when Quark enters the holosuite. He cautiously stays away from the edge to avoid getting splashed. At the end of the water-jogging session, Patricia and Grilka climb out of the pool, pick up their towels and begin to dry off. Grilka looks over at Quark. “What is wrong, Quark? Why not join us in the water?”

Quark shakes his head. “Exercise is bad for my health!” Patricia looks over at Grilka. “Meaning, if there’s no Latinum involved, then it’s not worth the effort! I believe that is the 13th Rule of Acquisition, ‘Anything worth doing is worth doing for money’.” Quark nods at Patricia. “You got the concept correctly, Dr. McCoy!” Patricia gives him an evil grin. “One of these days, we WILL get you in this pool!” Quarks backs away toward the door. “But NOT today!” Quark makes a quick exit while Grilka and Patricia laugh heartily. Patricia turns toward Grilka. “So, Grilka, have you thought of any other suggestions for Captain Sisko and his family?” Grilka pauses for a few seconds. “What say that I stop by Captain Sisko’s quarters and make their acquaintance? I’d like to meet this Rebecca.” Patricia nods. “I’m heading back over there for breakfast. I don’t think they would object to a visit from the Noble House of Grilka!” Grilka responds with a smile. “You mean the honored head of the Noble House of Grilka!” Patricia realizes she’s made a mistake. “Oops! Sorry! The words didn’t match the picture in my head!” Grilka smile grows wider. “I am not offended. I am looking forward to having breakfast as I have not eaten yet.” Patricia smiles in appreciation. “Let me call ahead to let Captain Sisko know.” She taps her Comm-badge. “McCoy to Captain Sisko!” Sisko’s voice can be heard over the Comm-badge. “Sisko here, go ahead.” Patricia continues. “I’ve concluded my morning exercise and I’m heading back for breakfast. My friend, Grilka, has joined me for the morning jog and she hasn’t eaten yet. Would that be all right, with you and Kass, if I bring her with me?” Sisko responds. “Kass and I would be honored to have Grilka visit us! Sisko out!” Patricia turns toward Grilka. “Now it remains to be seen how Rebecca will react upon meeting you. Don’t be offended if she gets scared or shies away from you. I don’t believe she’s ever met a Klingon before.” Grilka smiles with understanding. “She is still a baby. I will not be offended.”

They continue on to Sisko’s quarters. As Patricia and Grilka enter, they meet Sisko near the door. He is in uniform and preparing to leave for his office in Ops. “Grilka! Q’Pla! It is an honor to meet you!”, Sisko exclaims in greeting. Grilka bows her head. “Thank you, Captain. Dr. McCoy has spoken highly of you and your family.” Kassidy enters the room with baby Rebecca in her arms. Rebecca takes one look at the new stranger and hides her face in her mother’s neck. Kassidy greets the new visitor. “Hello, Grilka. I’m Kassidy, Captain Sisko’s wife.” Kassidy gestures toward the baby. “And this shy little girl is our daughter, Rebecca.” Grilka smiles. “I am honored to meet you both.” She softens her voice as she leans toward the child. “Hello, Rebecca.” Rebecca peeks out at her then buries her face in her mother’s neck again. Patricia smiles at everyone. “She’s being shy today.” Patricia walks over to Kassidy and Rebecca and playfully rubs Rebecca’s back.

Rebecca peeks out again, sees Patricia within reach and gleefully leaps into her arms, catching her off-guard. She quickly recovers as she catches Rebecca. Patricia reacts to the unexpected launch. “OOF! You’re getting to be a BIG girl!” Kassidy is embarrassed. “I am so sorry, Pat! I didn’t expect her to do that! Are you all right?” Patricia regains her balance. “I will recover!” She turns toward Grilka. “Rebecca, this is my friend, Grilka. Can you say ‘Hi’?” Rebecca sticks her thumb in her mouth and stares shyly at Grilka. Grilka smiles back at her. Patricia looks toward Rebecca. “Do you want to sit with us while we have breakfast?” Rebecca looks up at Patricia and nods. Pat turns to Kassidy and Captain Sisko. “Is that okay with both of you?” Sisko nods while Kassidy responds, “That’s fine! If you don’t mind, I can do some housework while you have breakfast. Rebecca made quite a mess this morning! Didn’t you, little girl?” Kassidy playfully touches Rebecca’s nose and the baby giggles. Patricia tries to redistribute the weight she is holding. “And she’s growing like a weed! Where’s her high chair?” Kassidy indicates toward the kitchen area. “Right over here. I just cleaned the floor around it. As you can see, I still have to clean the walls!” Grilka is surprised when she sees the splatter. “Oh!” Patricia grins at Grilka. “Rebecca LOVES to share her breakfast EVERYWHERE!” Kassidy chimes in, “That she does! If you’ll excuse me while I continue cleaning this up.” Patricia responds back to Kassidy. “I should be asking your pardon for intruding.”

Kassidy smiles as she continues to clean the walls while Patricia places Rebecca in her high chair. Dr. Pat then walks over to the food replicator. “Grilka, do you want anything in particular for breakfast?” Grilka pauses for a few moments. “I think, for this morning, I will try one of your favorite breakfasts … scrambled eggs and bacon. If I order the usual Klingon fare, the baby might get scared. I don’t think she’s ever seen Klingon cuisine before.” Patricia grins. “Good point! Scrambled eggs and bacon coming right up!” She programs the food replicator for two such plates plus a pitcher of orange juice. “I hope you don’t mind my getting orange juice too.” Grilka nods. “I am willing to try that too.” Patricia brings the items to the table, along with silverware, and sets them down. She sits down, pauses quietly for a few moments, then looks over at Grilka. “I hope everything is to your liking.” Grilka looks at her plate of food. “It looks delicious!” She takes a taste. “And it is delicious! I will include this on the food replicators on my ship!” Rebecca is watching all of this, wide-eyed. She is still not sure what to make of this new stranger. Kassidy continues to clean the walls nearby. When Kassidy turns a corner and is briefly out of sight, Rebecca starts to wail. Kassidy comes back around.

Kassidy walks over to where her daughter is seated in the high chair. “What’s the matter, baby girl?” Patricia nods toward the toddler. “I think she still has a little bit of separation anxiety. Perfectly normal for her age.” Kassidy sighs. “I know.” She leans toward Rebecca and kisses her daughter. “See, Mommy’s here.” She looks at Patricia and Grilka. “I’ve tried other babysitters before. She just got more and more upset. The only person she doesn’t mind staying with is Jake. She knows him. I wish he was able to come and join the Celebration but his job has him on the other side of the quadrant.” Patricia gives Kassidy a curious look. “I thought he is writing his next book.” Kassidy nods. “That too. His job includes researching his next book. He was hoping to be here this week but his schedule couldn’t permit it.” “I also heard, through the grapevine, that he got engaged.”, Patricia adds. Kassidy smiles. “Oh yes! A beautiful Bajoran girl! She’s helping him with his research. We haven’t had the opportunity, yet, to meet her.” “What will his book be about?”, Grilka asks. Kassidy responds, “He’s writing about how the Prophets helped us all. It also includes Ben’s discovery that his mother was influenced by one of the Prophets to ensure he would be born.”

Grilka looks intrigued. “The Prophets? You mean the Wormhole Aliens?” Patricia chimes in. “However each of us choose to label them, they are POWERFUL beings! The Dominion learned, the hard way, that they deserve respect!” Grilka is impressed. “I see!” Patricia continues, “And if memory serves me correctly, the Prophet that took human form and became Benjamin’s mother …. what was her name?” Kassidy answers. “Her name was Sarah, if I remember correctly.” Patricia nods, “Which, given the big picture and everything that has happened in his life, Ben was preordained to be the Emissary of the Prophets before he was born! Sounds like Jake is writing a book about family history, then. That would require a LOT of research!” Grilka looks at Patricia. “You believe in the Prophets?” “My form of spirituality has never fit any one particular faith or religion. I look at what happened and, yes, it is awe-inspiring!”, Patricia answers. Grilka takes a bite of her breakfast. “As the Vulcans might say … fascinating!”

Kassidy continues, “Which is one of the reasons why I’m a bit nervous taking Rebecca out into crowds or leaving her with just any babysitter. I don’t want to put her at risk of being exploited for being the daughter of the Emissary.” Patricia and Grilka look at each other as the same thought hits their brains … “Quark!” Kassidy resumes speaking, “Which is why I turned down Quark’s offer to babysit one time. He may have a heart but he’s still a Ferengi looking for a profitable opportunity!” Patricia chuckles. “You must have been reading my mind because I was just thinking that at this moment!” Kassidy chuckles with her. “Great minds think alike!” Grilka nods and smiles. “I too was thinking along the same lines. Have you tried walking around the Promenade with your daughter?” Kassidy turns toward Grilka. “Yes, I did, when she was just a newborn. I needed to get out for awhile and walk around. Too many people kept crowding in to get a look at the daughter of the Emissary! It was frightening!” Grilka looks concerned. “You and your daughter need a body guard!” Kassidy looks reluctant about that idea. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

Patricia shakes her head. “Given the circumstances, no. There are more crowds here this week than usual. You shouldn’t have to be a prisoner in your own home during the Celebration, Kass.” Kassidy considers this. “You have a point. Ben can only do so much given that he is responsible for this entire station.” Patricia responds. “So, if you had a choice of anything you would like to do during this Celebration, what would it be?” Kassidy smiles at the thought. “I would love to be able to watch the star-ships flying in close formation!” Patricia and Grilka look at each other again. Grilka looks toward Kassidy. “Consider it done! I, and my crew, will be your bodyguards to ensure no one bothers you or your daughter!” Patricia finishes her breakfast and places her dirty dishes in the reclamator. The dirty dishes dematerialize. Patricia gestures. “How about I scout around the Promenade to get a feel for what’s going on today while the two of your work out a plan for attending the Celebration?” Kassidy looks reluctant and hesitates. “I don’t know …” Grilka speaks up. “It would be an honor being a body guard for Dr. Pat’s friends!” Patricia nods in agreement with Grilka. “Either way, let me do a bit of reconnaissance to see what’s going on around the station. I’ll be back shortly!” Patricia leaves Sisko’s quarters and enters the nearest turbolift. She gives it the command, “Ops!” and the turbolift deposits her at there. She walks through the area and up the stairs to Captain Sisko’s office.

Sisko looks up as Patricia enters his office and greets her. “Hi, Pat! What brings you to my office?” Patricia finds a chair and sits down in front of his desk. “Just wanted to run an idea by you. I understand that Kass is a bit reluctant to go out and about the Promenade on her own because of the crowds and as a result of an unpleasant experience she had shortly after Rebecca was born.” Sisko nods. “Yes. That is the biggest factor about why we are reluctant to take Rebecca out and into the crowds during this Celebration. There are those who see my child as the daughter of the Emissary and there has been some … unpleasantness … as a result. I’ve accepted my position as the Emissary to the Prophets and Kass understands what it means to be the wife of the Emissary. Until Rebecca is old enough … well, I tend to be overprotective of her …” Patricia gestures and smiles. “As any father should be! Wait until she gets old enough to start dating! I can see you standing at the door with a baseball bat … or a phaser … or BOTH!”

Sisko laughs as he holds up his hands. “Whoa! Give me some time to get used to THAT thought!” Patricia smiles and nods. “In the meantime, Grilka has volunteered herself and her crew to be bodyguards to make sure no one bothers them while they enjoy the Celebration. What are your thoughts on that?” Sisko smiles. “I like the idea. The detail would be small enough so it wouldn’t call too much attention, Rebecca could get used to more people being around her, and anyone who has designs on my daughter would have second thoughts if they had to tangle with a Klingon to get close to her! But I don’t want to impose on Grilka or her crew. They’re supposed to be having a good time here, not work for me!” Patricia smiles back. “Grilka is talking with Kass right now and I’m hoping Rebecca is becoming used to her as she has gotten used to me.” Sisko nods. “One thing I’ve come to know about my baby daughter … she is a SMART little cookie! Mind like a mousetrap!” Patricia grins. “She gets that from BOTH her parents!” Sisko laughs. “Right you are!” Patricia continues, “In the meantime, I’m going to walk around the station and get a feel for how the crowds are today. Then I’ll report back to Kass and Grilka and we can adjust our plans accordingly.” Sisko nods in agreement. “Sounds good to me! I’ll be here!”

Patricia gets up and heads out of Captain Sisko’s office, down the stairs, and over to the turbolift. She calls out, “Promenade!” and the turbolift takes her there. She gets out to walk around. As she passes by the Bajoran shrine, she sees a Vedek beckon to her. She walks over to speak to the Vedek. “Are you having a medical emergency?”, Patricia asks. The Vedek replies, “No, child. I wish to invite you into our Shrine.” Patricia looks at the doorway and back to the Vedek. “How very kind of you. Let me walk around first and then I will return to take you up on your offer.” The Vedek acquiesces to her suggestion. “Before you go … with your permission …” The Vedek indicates McCoy’s left ear and she pauses, uncertain. “Oka-a-ay …” The Vedek grasps her ear and Patricia winces in pain. The Vedek closes his eyes and breathes deeply for several seconds, then releases her ear. “When you return to the Shrine, you must consult the Tear of the Prophet!” McCoy gives him a confused look. “What? Why?” The Vedek smiles at her. “The Prophets will tell you!” He enters the shrine without another word. Patricia stands there, rubbing her ear, and feeling very confused. She walks on around the Promenade, making mental notes of the crowd and trying to make sense of her encounter with the Vedek at the Bajoran Shrine. She goes back to Captain Sisko’s quarters to report about the volume of the crowds to Kass and Grilka but keeps quiet about the Vedek. She does not want to upset Kass, who is already uneasy about any mention of the Prophets and is aware that Grilka perceives the Prophets as only Wormhole Aliens. As for informing Ben, she felt it would be a non-issue as he has had his own experiences as the Emissary.

Grilka states that she will discuss her plans with her crew and departs for her ship. Patricia informs Kass that there is an errand she needs to take care of and will return when it is completed. She leaves Sisko’s quarters and heads back to the Bajoran Shrine, feeling very nervous and anxious. Patricia approaches the doorway of the Bajoran Shrine, feeling fearful. She’s not certain what to expect. As she enters the Shrine, the Vedek she encountered before is there, waiting for her, smiling. “You have returned, as you have promised! Welcome! Do not be fearful, my child!” Patricia folds her hands behind her back to hide her nervousness. “Sorry if I seem anxious. I’ve never encountered anything like this before so I tend to react negatively until I understand what I’m dealing with.”

The Vedek nods. “The Prophets know what is in your heart, my child, and see you are sincere in what you do. Come, approach the Tear of the Prophet that we have here.” Patricia hangs back apprehensively. “Do you keep the same Orb here all the time?” The Vedek shakes his head. “Oh, no. Each Shrine takes a turn keeping each Orb. In the past, we have housed the Orb of Wisdom, the Orb of Prophecy and Change, the Orb of Contemplation, the Orb of Memory, the Orb of Destiny, the Orb of Truth, the Orb of Souls, and the Orb of Unity. We keep the Orb of Time and the Orb of the Emissary under tight security as it would be so easy to misuse them. Besides, the Orb of the Emissary is for the Emissary alone.”

Patricia shakes her head. “And I know that I am NOT the Emissary to the Prophets! Benjamin Sisko is.” The Vedek nods at this. “And you are close friends with the Emissary and his family.” She looks at him suspiciously. “How do you know that? We’ve never met before and I prefer to keep private things private.” The Vedek gestures toward her then toward the Orb nearby. “And the Prophets see that in your heart as well, which is why they have invited you to commune with them.” Patricia looks confused. “Excuse me? They want ME to commune with THEM?!” She points to the Orb. “And which Orb is this one?” The Vedek smiles enigmatically. “I cannot recall. I’ve lost track … After so many changes.” Patricia is still suspicious. “Doesn’t the writing, on the outside of its case, tell you?” The Vedek shrugs his shoulders. “The writing is very ancient and I am unable to decipher what it says.” She shakes her head. “No offense, Vedek, but I don’t find that very comforting.” The Vedek gestures again toward the nearby Orb. “The Prophets are await you. Come!”

She is unable to stall any longer, does not want to appear rude, and accepts she must go through with what she promised the Vedek. She approaches the Inner Sanctum of the Shrine, where the Orb is kept and sits in front of an elaborately decorated box. She indicates the box. “Is this where the Orb is always kept?” The Vedek nods. “Yes. I will leave you now. You may open it when you feel ready.” The Vedek leaves the room. Patricia waits until she is sure she is alone and begins to pray. “Oh Great Spirit, Shekhinah, and King of the Universe, you know what is in my heart and, right now, I’m scared! You have been with me since birth and through everything that I have survived. I hope I have the strength to face whatever these Prophets wish to share with me. Please guide my path as I commune with these beings that I have never met until now! Amen!” She leans forward and gently opens the box. Immediately, she is surrounded by light and energy that she has never encountered before. As her vision clears, she sees people that she knows from her past and present … Ambassador Spock, her adopted Vulcan Uncle that she loves dearly, Dr. Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy, her beloved Great-Grandfather, her estranged brother, James Yuri, that she has not seen for several years, Kalinda Yuri, the woman who gave birth to her and then abandoned her, Captain Benjamin Sisko, Kassidy Yates-Sisko, Jake Sisko, Baby Rebecca, among several others from Star Fleet. Patricia feels her anxiety level ratchet up several notches. The last time she had seen Kalinda, the woman who abandoned her, was when the woman was in a nursing home, dying, screaming curses at her because she DARED to survive birth and succeed in spite of her attempts to destroy her. At once, she felt sorry for that creature who threw away a child. The being who resembled the woman stepped forward and confronts her.

The woman screams in Patricia’s face, “YOU feel sorry for ME?! Why?!” Patricia looks back calmly. “Because now I understand why you did what you did to me. You were unable to love yourself and attempted to sacrifice me to make yourself feel better. You had no way of knowing that love and acceptance comes from within, not from external stuff nor from other people. If you cannot love and accept yourself, how can you force others to love and accept you?” The woman considers this. “You are the McCoy, friend of the Sisko!” Patricia nods. “That is correct! And you are one of the Prophets of the Celestial Temple, choosing the image of she who gave birth to me. May I ask you a question, please?” The woman calmly replies, “I cannot guarantee an answer.” Patricia nods again. “Fair enough. The God of my understanding doesn’t always guarantee an immediate answer. That answer may be a ‘Yes’, a ‘No’, or a ‘Wait a While’ as I walk through linear time.” The woman tilts her head, gazing at Patricia with curiosity. “The Sisko has told you about us.” Patricia nods once more. “And you have the power to know what I cannot know. The question I have, at this moment, is: ‘Did you take the form of the woman who bore me to test my courage and resolve?’ The woman calmly gazes back at her. “What do you think?” The being resembling her estranged brother steps forward and physically threatens Patricia. “She is not intelligent enough to be allowed to live! She is defective GARBAGE that must be DESTROYED!”

Patricia looks “James Yuri”, her estranged brother straight in the eye. “Have you walked in my shoes, lived in my skin, experienced what I experienced, to qualify you to make that judgment of me?” The being resembling her estranged brother steps back, lowers his head, and falls silent. The woman nods. “You have gained courage through many painful experiences and continue to help others, whether or not they deserve help. You have forgiven those who abused and abandoned you even though they do not deserve forgiveness. She who bore you is dead. He, who is estranged from you, still lives. If you wish, we can end his life here and now!” Patricia sternly shakes her head. “Leave my brother alone! He does not know any other way because he never had the opportunity to learn the truth. She who bore me carefully taught him how to hate. There were no others available to negate that hateful teaching. She carefully saw to it that she was the only one to have absolute total control over his mind and heart until he was finally able to break away from her. But, by then, the damage was done and I was unable to undo that damage, no matter how hard I tried on my own. If you have that kind of power, and I suspect you do, I ask that you guide him with love and help him understand that I am NOT his enemy and that he need not live in hate. He has free will. I only hope that he is willing to open his mind and heart and understand that I was not born to harm him in any way.”

The woman nods at her. “We understand. He does have free will. We can open a path for him. Which path he chooses is up to him.” Then the beings resembling Captain Sisko and his family step forward. “Captain Sisko” begins speaking on behalf of Kassidy, Rebecca, and Jake. “We see your true intentions and know you mean no harm.” Patricia responds, “Many years ago, in linear time, I took an Oath to first do no harm. I take that Oath seriously!” The beings resembling the Sisko Family step back. Then the beings resembling various members of Star Fleet step forward. “Admiral Akaar” speaks first. “You are often afraid! Doesn’t that make you a coward?” Patricia shakes her head. “In my book, a coward is one who runs away in fear ALL the time, no matter what is happening … big or small. For what it’s worth, my understanding of courage is being afraid and doing what needs to be done even though the fear is still there!” The “Admiral” considers her words. “I see.” He turns to other Star Fleet figures. “What say you?” The other Star Fleet figures murmur and nod but say nothing more. The “Admiral” steps back and then the beings resembling Ambassador Spock and Dr. Leonard McCoy step forward.

“Ambassador Spock” states unequivocally, “You often respond illogically.” Patricia smiles at him. “Because I was born an illogical human, Uncle Spock. Would it be logical to demand that a human become a Vulcan or vice versa?” The “Vulcan” asks, “What do you think?” Patricia continues, “I was born an illogical human, full of many emotions both positive and negative. That, plus everyone I’ve met and the sum of all of my experiences have shaped my personality. Illogical as it is, I have adopted and loved you as my Uncle since childhood and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You saved my life and I owe a debt to you for that. I have no idea how to repay you for what you have done for me since you and Gramps rescued me. You have taught me about IDIC … Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. I consider you family because you are Vulcan and have taught me many things I needed to learn, even though I am sure I taxed your patience. If that is illogical, then I accept that.” She sees a slight smile appear on the face of “Ambassador Spock”. “Flawlessly logical!” He steps back and “Dr. Leonard McCoy” steps up. “Isn’t family only related by blood?” She shakes her head at her “Great-Grandfather”. “People may be related by blood, but it doesn’t always transform them into a loving family. She who bore me was related by blood but she could not love me. She was never a family member to me otherwise she never would have abandoned me the way she did. Uncle Spock and I are not related by blood but he has accepted me as a member of his family and loves me in his own Vulcan way as a father would love a child. You rescued me, as a very young and traumatized child, and came to love me from that moment on. To me, a family is more than a blood-connection, it is how you feel towards someone and treat them as preciously as you would treat yourself.”

“Dr. Leonard McCoy” grins with approval. “Spoken like a true McCoy!” Then his face grows serious. “Watch for one who will love you, unconditionally, in spite of what you have been through.” He steps back. Patricia is puzzled at this and looks around at all the beings resembling everyone she knows. “Why have you called me here? What does this all mean? The Vedek said that you would know. Will you tell me?” Suddenly there is a flash of light and she finds herself sitting in front of the Orb again. As she rubs her eyes, she mutters to herself. “I guess the answer, to those questions, is to wait awhile. It wasn’t a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’! I wonder what is to be revealed to me when the time comes?” She reaches over, closes the case housing the Orb, and gets to her feet. As she is walking from the Inner Sanctum, the Vedek greets her. “Was the experience what you expected, my child?” Patricia steps back a pace. “No offense, but as I mentioned before … I prefer to keep private things private.” The Vedek nods in understanding. “As it should be with an Orb experience! May the Prophets continue to bless you!” She silently nods her thanks and leaves the Shrine. She walks swiftly to the nearest turbolift. “Ops!”

The turbolift takes her to Ops. She exits and walks straight toward the steps leading to Captain Sisko’s office. He is standing near the foot of the steps, speaking with a staff member. He looks up and sees Patricia approaching, starts to smile, then realizes that she seems troubled. He approaches her. “Pat, is everything all right? Kassidy!? Rebecca!?” Patricia gestures, “Your family is fine, Ben! Can we go into your office where we can speak privately?” He nods. “Of course!” They head up the steps and into his office. Patricia waits until the doors close behind them, then quickly heads over to the sofa and practically falls into it. She is clearly shaking. Captain Sisko quickly becomes very concerned.

“Pat, what is it? What’s wrong?!” Patricia finds herself struggling to find words before she is finally able to speak. “For the first time in my life, I have set foot inside a Bajoran Shrine!” Sisko’s expression reveals his understanding. “And you encountered an Orb! It has that effect on people when they are not truly prepared for it!” Patricia gets up and begins pacing nervously. “I know I can’t ask you for details as your Orb experiences are private to you. May I ask … the first time you encountered an Orb, did it scare the blankety-blank out of you?!” Sisko sits down on the sofa and indicates for her to sit back down beside him. “I can tell you this. The first time I encountered an Orb, it was right after I met Kai Opaka and, yes, it threw me for a loop. The next time I encountered the Prophets, it wasn’t with an Orb … it was within the Wormhole itself! And yes, those experiences were disorienting and frightening. Just as the Prophets chose to speak to me, they have chosen to speak to you for a reason. Try to keep an open mind and see where it leads.”

Patricia wrings her hands nervously. “I know I have to keep an open mind and keep praying about it to the God of my understanding. At the same time, I am SCARED!” Sisko nods with empathy. “Not long after my experience, Major Kira told me something that helped me a great deal. She said: ‘I don’t know that anyone fully understands an orb experience, not at first anyway. You have to live with it for a while, absorb it … and then, one day, it becomes a part of you, part of who you are.’ That comment has stuck with me ever since. And you want to know something? It did become a part of me!” Patricia considers this. “Just as people, places, things, and experiences has shaped my personality. I guess I have to sit with these feelings for awhile and wait for my Higher Power to lead me to wherever it needs to lead me. You know what is ironic? Years ago, in my younger days, my first reaction to these kinds of fears was to drink and drug at it, hoping to make them go away. My efforts didn’t work and I nearly killed myself as a result. I look back on what I attempted to do to myself and realize how much I nearly wasted my life and wasted the gifts that the God of my understanding gave me. I’m wondering, now, if the Prophets are asking me to share my gifts with them?”

Sisko gives her a concerned look. “Are you feeling the urge to pick up a drink or a drug now?” Patricia shakes her head. “No. I don’t have that craving at all! I understand that self-medicating never solved anything. It actually made a bad problem worse! I think it’s time to work on my 11th Step again!” Sisko is puzzled. “Eleventh Step? I don’t understand.” Patricia smiles. “As a recovering alcoholic and recovering drug addict, I try to work the 12 Steps to stay clean and sober just for today. In light of today’s experience in the Bajoran Shrine, I think the Step that will help me is the 11th Step: ‘Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for us and the power to carry that out.’ On a personal level, I will be trying to improve my conscious contact with God, as I understand God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for me and the power to carry that out, no matter how scared I am, regarding what to do with this Orb experience!” Sisko nods in agreement. “Makes perfect sense!”

Patricia gives him a worried look. “However, when I return to your quarters, Kass will sense that something has happened, that something is different, and I don’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than she is about anything connected to the Prophets in the Celestial Temple. I understand that she went through a difficult time being pregnant while you were with the Prophets and she was very relieved when you were able to return in time for Rebecca’s birth. Then when I learned how some people tried to either crowd in on her and the baby and/or worse, tried to snatch Rebecca from her claiming that the Prophets wanted the child, I can’t say that I blame her for wanting to keep her distance from ANYTHING connected to the Prophets! Unfortunately, there are some ‘fringe’ elements who will use any excuse to harm a child for their own self-gratification! God help them if I catch them red-handed in the act! That will be the only time I will forget my Oath to ‘do no harm’!”

He nods in agreement. “And, as Kass’ husband and Rebecca’s father, I will do whatever is necessary to protect my family!” Patricia looks relieved. “I’m glad we agree on that, Ben! In the meantime, how do either of us broach this difficult subject if Kass senses what has happened to me? I have never mastered the ‘poker face’ completely and I don’t lie very well. My body language will be a dead give away!” Sisko pats her on the shoulder. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Pat. In the meantime, just sit here and try to calm down the best you can. I’ll be getting off duty in a few hours.” Patricia gets up. “If it’s all the same to you, Ben, I’m going to go back to the Shrine and meditate on this. I’m feeling drawn there, if that makes any sense.” Sisko gets up and walks her to the door. “I understand. I’ll stop by the Shrine after I finish work here.” Patricia gives him a hug. “Thanks, Ben!” She leaves the office and returns to the turbolift. “Promenade!” The turbolift takes here there and she returns to the Shrine where she makes herself comfortable on one of the cushions. She begins to silently pray and meditate.

Another Vedek walks in and notices her sitting quietly with her eyes closed, then quietly walks out. Eventually, she opens her eyes and slowly gets to her feet. She seems calmer than she was before. The first Vedek that she met enters the room and approaches her. “You have returned after your Orb experience! How are you feeling, my child?” Patricia brushes herself off. “Much better, thank you! I needed time to contemplate what had occurred.” The Vedek nods. “And you received counsel from the Emissary, which is also wise. It is very rare for non-Bajorans to commune with the Prophets.” Patricia considers this. “And I get the sense that invitations from the Prophets are even rarer.” He nods. “That is true.” He indicates Patricia’s ear. “If I may, with your permission?” She reluctantly nods and prepares to have her ear grasped once again. “Go ahead.” This time, she is able to refrain from wincing as she did before. The Vedek nods after he releases her ear. “Your Pagh is strong, even stronger than from the first time I touched it. The Prophets have plans for you, the Emissary, and the Emissary’s family.” Patricia becomes defensive. “If anyone intends to do harm to my friends, in the name of the Prophets, they will have to answer to me!” The Vedek raises a restraining hand. “Please do not assume that I intend to harm anyone. I understand your suspicions given that unscrupulous people had misused the Prophets in the past for their own gain.” Patricia states flatly, “If you are truly sincere, I beg your pardon. Since I do not know you, I tend to view all strangers with suspicion until they can prove they are trustworthy. I can do no less!”

The Vedek nods sagely. “As well you should … especially when you are protecting a baby! That is what a Guardian should do!” Patricia is taken aback and puzzled. “Guardian?” “Yes.”, the Vedek replies, “You are acting in the role of Guardian to the Emissary and his family. The Prophets recognize that in you.” She is bemused at this. “I can only hope I can meet their standards. It is quite a responsibility.” She pauses. “I have been here long enough. I should go.” The Vedek raises his hand in blessing. “May the Prophets continue to bless you as you walk with Them!” Patricia bows her head. “Thank you.” She leaves the shrine and encounters Captain Sisko approaching from the Promenade. He observes her as she approaches. “You look a bit tired. Did stopping at the Shrine help?” Patricia sighs. “It helped to calm me down as I had a quiet place to pray and meditate. I’m not sure if the Vedeks understood what I was doing given that we were raised with different belief systems. But, from my point of view, if it works, and it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix it!”

Sisko smiles. “I don’t pretend to understand everything myself. After spending time with the Prophets, as you and I understand the concept of time, I think I have a better comprehension. It’s not perfect, but better.” “Were you able to explain things to Kass when you returned to linear time?”, Patricia asks. Sisko shrugs. “I think the operative word is ‘tried’ to explain things to Kass. She’s had that one experience with me and the Prophets and she found it very unnerving.” He begins walking down the Promenade and Patricia falls in step beside him. “I can relate to THAT!” Patricia comments, “It’s one thing for the Bajorans to have a face-to-face encounter with the Prophets. They have been raised in a religious system that reveres them the same way I revere the God of my understanding. I often hear them say the phrase: ‘Walk with the Prophets’. I don’t always understand what their concept means. But for you, me, Kass, and any other non-Bajoran who was raised in a different belief system to suddenly find ourselves in an environment where linear time doesn’t exist and the laws of physics doesn’t apply … YIKES!” Sisko laughs gently. “Yikes could sum it up quite nicely!” Patricia gestures questioningly. “So-o-o-o-o-o, where do we go from here, regarding talking to Kass, once she senses what has happened … again? We’re heading home and this can’t be ignored, like a pink elephant sitting in the middle of the living room!” Sisko laughs as he visualizes that analogy. “As if a pink elephant sitting in the middle of the living room CAN be ignored! But I see your point!” They walk down the Promenade in companionable silence, each one thinking on their own experiences with the Prophets. As they approach one of the turbo-lifts, Patricia notices that Kassidy is on the Promenade, alone, and looking worried. “Captain!”, she exclaims as she points to Kassidy. They both hurry over to her.

“Kass, what is it?”, he asks her with concern on his face. Kassidy is near tears. “It’s Rebecca! Somehow, she got out of our quarters. I don’t know where she went!” Patricia looks at both of them. “The only way I can think that could have happened is when the door to the corridor was open for any reason. Did anyone come and see you after Ben, Grilka, and I left?” Kassidy looks at both her husband and Patricia. “Quark came to the door, looking for you and Grilka. My back was turned for only a short time, talking to him. She must have quietly slipped out without either of us noticing she was near the door!” Sisko gently holds his wife’s arms. “I’ll notify Security!” He taps his Comm-badge. Patricia starts to walk. “And I’ll head over to Quark’s to question what he might have seen in the corridor after he left your quarters!” She hurries down the Promenade to Quark’s. When she arrives at Quark’s establishment, it is wall-to-wall customers everywhere, either standing at the Dabo tables, sitting at various tables, a line at the bar, and various Ferengi employees running to and fro waiting on them all. Quark is behind the bar, serving drinks and barking orders at his employees. Patricia walks up to the bar between Morn and a burly Klingon. “Quark!”, she shouts. Quark does not hear her over the noise in the bar and his attention is focused elsewhere. “QUARK!” She shouts again. Quark nods, absent-mindedly, in her direction then turns his attention elsewhere. She finally loses her temper and grabs Morn’s metal mug out of his hand, and slams it, HARD, on the bar several times! “QUARK! OVER! HERE! NOW!”

Morn sits there staring at Patricia bug-eyed. As Quark starts to head in her direction, she calmly returns Morn’s mug to him. “What can I get for you, lovely lady?”, Quark asks flirtatiously. “INFORMATION!”, she barks back. The Ferengi is flustered. “What?!” Patricia glares at him. “You stopped by Captain Sisko’s quarters earlier today, looking for me. Did you see a small child in the corridor as you were heading back to your bar?” Quark shrugs nonchalantly. “Now why would I pay attention to someone else’s children? As the … OWWWWWWWW!” Quark continues screaming as she grabs his ear HARD! Morn is shoved off his bar-stool in the process. The bar falls completely silent from other patrons as they stop and stare. Quark continues screaming in pain.

Patricia continues gripping his ear. “I know what the various Rules of Acquisition say about children and I know your view of them, given the way you have treated Nog in the past! Don’t forget the 87th Rule of Acquisition: ‘A friend in need means three times the profit’. After all that Captain Sisko has done for you since he first came to Deep Space Nine, THIS is how you repay him?!” Quark continues to scream. “OWWWWW! You’re torturing me! OWWWWWW! I don’t know what you’re talking about! OWWWWWW!” Patricia leans in as she snarls, “Quark, if you value your lobes, you will tell me whether or not you saw a small child in the habitat ring corridor after you left Captain Sisko’s quarters! Any more p’tak coming out of you and I will RIP your lobes off of your head! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!” Quark is at a loss. “What does any of this have to do with me?! She tightens her grip again. “DID. YOU. SEE. ANYTHING?!” “YES! YES! PLEEEEEASE! MY EAR!” She loosens her grip a little but does not completely let go. “I thought I saw something move in the corridor but I wasn’t really paying any attention.”, he continues, “What does Captain Sisko have to do with this?” Patricia is furious. “Captain Sisko’s little baby daughter is MISSING you tiny-lobed, self-centered IDIOT!” Quark starts to act obsequious. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place, my lovely…? OWWWWW!” Patricia tightens her grip on his ear again. “If ANYTHING has happened to that little baby, I am holding YOU PERSONALLY responsible, QUARK!” The burly Klingon, who is sitting nearby, speaks up. “I will have my crew search every parsec for this child!” He starts to get up and leave when Patricia grabs his armor with her free hand. “When and if you find this child, Warrior, you will bring her to Grilka and she will contact me!” The Klingon salutes her. “It will be done!” He quickly leaves Quark’s bar with several of his crew. Patricia turns her attention back to Quark as she continues to hold his ear. “Now, Quark, tell me, step by step, what you did and saw when you went to Captain Sisko’s quarters looking for me …”

Captain Sisko and Kassidy are frantically looking for their baby daughter. Security, both Bajoran and Star Fleet, are also searching every nook and cranny of the station. Rebecca is nowhere to be found. Kassidy is in tears. Dr. Pat McCoy leaves Quark’s establishment and is searching everywhere along the Promenade as she walks. As she approaches the Bajoran Shrine, she gets a STRONG feeling to look there even though there is no evidence that the baby had gotten that far. Patricia enters the shrine, looking about the outer room for anyone. After doing a visual sweep and finding no one, not even the Vedeks, she enters the Inner Sanctum, calling softly, “Rebecca! Rebecca! Are you playing Hide and Seek, baby? Come on out! You won the game, sweetie! Where are you?” She notices that the Orb container is open then suddenly she is surrounded by light and energy. She finds herself standing before the Vedeks she had met earlier plus other familiar people. The being resembling the first Vedek speaks, “You are the McCoy, Guardian for the Sisko!”

She tries to calm down by breathing. “Yes, I am the McCoy, Guardian for the Sisko. His daughter is missing!” The “Vedek” smiles. “The Sisko’s daughter is perfectly safe!” Patricia is trying hard not to panic. “Do you know where she has gone?! She’s not in her quarters! I need to find the child!” The “Vedek” repeats, “The Sisko’s daughter is perfectly safe!” Patricia is having difficulty controlling her anxiety. “Please! Direct me to her! I need to bring her back to the Sisko and his wife, the baby’s mother!” The being resembling the Vedek seems puzzled. “We do not understand the emotional upheaval over the Sisko’s child. The child is safe.” Patricia pauses to gather herself. “It’s hard to put into words the bond that should exist between a mother and her child; the strong bond that DOES EXIST between Kassidy and her daughter, along with a father’s love and protectiveness that exists between the Sisko and his little girl.” The being still does not understand. “Please explain.” By now, Patricia is trying hard not to weep. “The Sisko and wife of the Sisko, parents of Rebecca, deeply love their daughter. They are distraught as they don’t know where she is! There are many dangers that can befall a toddler. She’s only a BABY who doesn’t know any better! I don’t know how else to explain! PLEASE, help me FIND her!” The being resembling the Vedek looks back at Patricia. “You have never given birth to a child.” She shakes her head sadly. “No, I have never given birth. That doesn’t mean I have no maternal feelings. I don’t want anything to happen to Rebecca! She’s an INNOCENT BABY!”

The being looks back at her sagely. “You do not want her to experience the horrors that you experienced when you were her age!” By this point, tears are pouring down Patricia’s face. “Yes! Please help me find her and bring her safely home to the Sisko and his wife! PLEASE!” A baby’s voice comes out of nowhere. “Bear!” Patricia looks around frantically. She’s HERE!?” The “Vedek” smiles. “She is perfectly safe … with us!” She is dumbfounded. “How did she get in here?” “Vedek” smiles more broadly. “Only the Rebecca knows.” Patricia’s fears are starting to give way to impatience and anger. “I thought you told me that I am the Guardian for the Sisko and his family!” The “Vedek” responds, “You are the McCoy, Guardian for the Sisko!” Patricia answers back, “And Guardian for the Sisko’s wife and child?” The “Vedek” replies, “You are the McCoy, Guardian for the Sisko’s wife and child!” Patricia continues, “If I am the Guardian for the Sisko’s child, then how can I do my job properly if you are keeping her here?” The “Vedek” gently shakes his head. “No one is keeping the Rebecca here.” She hesitates as she takes in this new information. “Then she is free to go home to her mother and father? She is free to go home to the Sisko?” The “Vedek” nods. “The Rebecca is free to leave.” Patricia looks around then faces the being resembling the Vedek. “Which brings me back to my original question … where is she … in … here?”

The being resembling the “Vedek” gives her a questioning look. “What do you mean by ‘here’?” Patricia is flustered. “The semantics are getting difficult. Tangled verbs are bad enough but THIS?! I know that you are of Bajor and the Bajorans refer to your home as the Celestial Temple. You have sent Orbs, that Bajorans call ‘Tears of the Prophets’ that help guide them with wisdom, prophecy and change, and other virtues that I can’t recall at the moment. The Sisko visited you within the Celestial Temple and explained Linear Time as corporeal beings understand Linear Time. Where the Rebecca and I, who are corporeal beings, are physically standing does not have Linear Time and the Laws of Physics do not apply. You are not corporeal. The Rebecca, who is corporeal, needs her mother and father, she needs to be fed, loved, and taken care of by her family. As a corporeal child, a toddler, she cannot stay with you in the Celestial Temple the way her father, the Sisko did. The Rebecca needs to come home. I am the Guardian to the Rebecca and I need to bring her home to the Sisko. Please bring the Rebecca to me.”

Patricia feels a tug on the pants leg of her uniform. She looks down and sees Rebecca gazing up at her, grinning. “Bear!”, the toddler giggles. McCoy scoops the baby up in her arms and hugs her tightly. “Rebecca!”, she exclaims, “I was so worried about you! Don’t run off like that again!” The being resembling the “Vedek” gestures toward them. “The Rebecca is where she belongs!” Suddenly, there is a flash of light, the Vedek and the other Prophets vanish, and Dr. Pat McCoy finds herself, still holding Rebecca, standing before the Orb within the Shrine. Balancing the child on one arm, she uses her free hand to close the doors on the shining Orb. Patricia turns to Rebecca. “Let’s go home! Mommy and Daddy are looking all over for you!” She shifts Rebecca in her arms so she can easily reach her comm-badge. “Dr. McCoy to Captain Sisko!” Sisko’s voice is heard. “Sisko here!” Patricia continues, “Rebecca is with me! I found her in the Bajoran Shrine!” She can hear the relief in his voice. “Thank you, Pat, for finding her! How did she manage to get from our quarters to the Shrine without someone noticing a toddler all alone? She’s normally shy!” Patricia decides to refrain from mentioning the Prophets for fear of upsetting Kassidy, who must be within earshot of her husband. Instead, she responds, “Lord only knows! Rebecca is the only one who knows how she got here and she’s not talking!” Rebecca giggles at that. Sisko replies. “The important thing is that she is safe and sound! Stay at the Shrine! I’ll be right there! Sisko out!”

In what seems like a matter of moments, Captain Sisko, Kassidy, and several security personnel enter the Shrine. Kassidy practically runs to Dr. Pat McCoy and scoops Rebecca out of her arms, holding the baby tightly. Captain Sisko and Dr. Pat McCoy make eye contact with each other and she subtly nods in the direction of the Orb. Captain Sisko subtly nods his understanding. Kassidy is sobbing. “Rebecca! Baby! Where have you been?!” The toddler points toward the Orb, laughing. “Play! Magic people! Play!” Patricia and Sisko look at each other thinking: “Uh-oh! Here it comes!” Kassidy looks at the box containing the Orb then looks at the toddler. “You mean to tell me you opened THAT and were with the Wormhole Aliens?! But HOW could you get in here without anyone seeing you?!” Rebecca replies with laughter. “Play!” She claps her chubby hands in delight.

Patricia interjects. “From Rebecca’s perspective, she’s found new playmates. They did give her to me, unharmed.” Kassidy looks at Dr. Pat McCoy. “You went in THERE after her?” Patricia awkwardly scratches the back of her head. “Ummmm … yeah.” Kassidy is awe-struck. “Weren’t you terrified in there, your first time encountering those beings!?” Patricia looks over at Sisko, then back at Kassidy. “Well … to tell you the truth, while Ben and I were on the way to your quarters, I was trying to figure out how to explain that I had already had a prior visit … and Rebecca took care of that! I didn’t get the chance to tell you that I had a previous encounter, earlier today. A Vedek invited me into the Shrine … I accepted the invitation as part of my IDIC philosophy that Uncle Spock taught me … and … well … I had my first encounter with the Orb and learned some things about myself that I wasn’t consciously aware of before. It was both a frightening and learning experience at the same time.” Kassidy is both apprehensive and relieved. “I see …”

Sisko puts his arms around his wife and child. “Kass”, he gently tells her, “the Prophets don’t invite just anyone to drop in on them for a little visit. They have a purpose for each corporeal being they invite. We just don’t know, or understand, what that purpose is until much later. For instance, my coming to understand what my role of being the Emissary really means.” Patricia interjects. “And in answer to your question, Kass, my first encounter earlier today did scare the …” She glances quickly at the toddler to remind herself to watch her language. “You-know-what … out of me! Ben saw how I reacted afterwards, which is why I didn’t come straight back to your quarters after taking care of some other things. I needed time to process what I experienced even though I am not at liberty to discuss the details.” Kassidy is trying to take this all in. “And Rebecca wasn’t frightened at all?” Patricia gestures toward the baby. “Like I said a little while ago, from Rebecca’s point of view, she has found some new playmates and they seemed to delight in her. You don’t need to fear them.”

Kassidy shakes her head. “I’m just not ready to let her play with them again anytime soon!” Sisko speaks gently. “Kass, the important thing is that Rebecca is all right. She’s back with us, safe and sound. There is nothing to fear.” Rebecca points to the Orb. “”Wanna play!”, she laughs. Patricia takes Rebecca’s hand. “Not right now, Sweetie. You played so much with them that they’re very tired. They’re taking a nap.” Rebecca happily chirps, “Okay!” Kassidy, Sisko, and Patricia try to keep a straight face at that. Sisko picks up Rebecca from Kassidy. “Well, little girl, it’s time for your nap too!” Rebecca starts to pout. “No! Wanna play!” “How about we take her to the Holosuite and have her run around a baseball field until she’s tired?”, Patricia suggests. Kassidy nods. “Sounds like a plan to me! What do you think, Ben?” Sisko considers this. “If it helps her to take a nap, I’m all for it!” A Security Guard steps up. “I would suggest we escort you there so no one bothers you.”

Patricia gestures toward the corridor. “I think Grilka’s crew might still be around. We need to let them know that Rebecca’s all right.” The Security Guard replies. “One of us can escort you to the Holosuite and the others can direct the Klingons there if they wish to join you.” “And/or have them communicate with me.”, Patricia adds. The Security Guard nods. “Yes, ma’am.” One of the security guards heads out the door of the Shrine. The remaining security guards escort the Sisko family and Dr. Pat McCoy as they head out onto the Promenade and walk toward Quark’s and the Holosuites.

As the group enters Quark’s establishment, Quark timidly approaches Dr. Pat McCoy, giving her the Ferengi greeting with hands held together at the wrists. “I am so relieved that Captain Sisko’s daughter has been found safe!” Patricia gives Quark an evil grin. “And your lobes are safe … for now! Maybe you’ll be able to get Ooh-Mox later!” Quark starts to say something, then Patricia interrupts him. “And don’t even THINK about ME giving YOU Ooh-Mox!” Quark nods silently and walks away looking dejected. Patricia turns to Captain Sisko. “Do you have the baseball program with you?” Sisko gestures toward the upstairs. “I had Quark save it in the system so that either Jake, Kass, or I could call it up at any time.” Patricia nods. “Sounds like a plan!”

They head upstairs and enter one of the Holosuites. Sisko calls out, “Computer! Run Sisko Baseball program!” A baseball field materializes within the Holosuite. Kassidy puts Rebecca down and lets her run around the adults in circles. Patricia calls out to the toddler, “Hey! Rebecca! Want to run with me around the bases!?” She starts to trot toward home plate and Rebecca toddles after her. Captain Sisko puts his arm around Kassidy as they watch. Sisko turns to Kassidy. “How much you want to bet that Pat will be ready for a nap long before Rebecca finishes running around the bases?” Kassidy laughs.

Back at the home quarters of the Sisko family, Rebecca is finally able to take a nap. While she is napping, Dr. Pat McCoy, Captain Sisko, and Kassidy Yates-Sisko are sitting in the living room area, resting and recuperating from playing with an energetic toddler. They hear the door chime. Sisko calls out, “Come!” The door slides open and Grilka enters the room. “My men have informed me that Rebecca has been found!” Sisko nods. “Yes. Thanks for helping to search for her. On a station like this, there were so many places she could have decided to play ‘Hide and Seek’, which is one of her favorite games!” Grilka is puzzled at that. “Hide and Seek? I’m not certain I understand. What sort of game is that?” Patricia chuckles. “It is a VERY ANCIENT children’s game that doesn’t require any toys … only imagination. Not only have I seen it played on Earth, I’ve seen it played on other worlds as well, including here on Bajor, when the children had no toys to play with and their parents were busy rebuilding after the Cardassians left.”

Grilka looks intrigued. “What do the children do?” “Well”, Patricia responds, “when a group of children decide to play Hide and Seek, one child is chosen to be ‘IT’. That child closes her or his eyes and begins to count to 100. While the IT-child is counting, the other children run and search for creative places to hide. When the IT-child finishes the count to 100, the child shouts: ‘Ready or not, here I come!’ and proceeds to hunt for the other children. If the IT-child finds the Hider, then the IT-child chants: ‘1-2-3 on…’ and names the Hider that was found. Those who succeed in staying hidden, by the end of the game, wins.” “What do they win?”, Grilka asks, “Weapons? Food? Spoils?” Patricia shakes her head. “Nope! No weapons! Nothing material, per se … only bragging rights!” Grilka is bemused. “Bragging rights?” Patricia grins. “Similar to what we sing about after we win a glorious battle! Some children might sing about their bragging rights … others would just brag for awhile until the next time they play Hide and Seek.” She pauses. “I just remembered that you and I, along with your crew DID play a version of this game not too long ago during a training session! Remember the old-fashioned paint-balls that we used?”

Grilka grins. “Yes! And YOU bragged for the longest time after you tagged Martok!” Patricia gives a belly-laugh. “THAT was FUN!” Grilka adds, “And then Worf got YOU!” Patricia chuckles. “Until YOU got WORF! He didn’t see you sneak up from behind and hit that tempting target! He couldn’t sit comfortably for a week!” Everyone laughs. Grilka nods, smiling. “I am glad that Rebecca is safe and at home with her family. I will return to my ship. I will see you in the morning. Rest well! You have earned it!” Sisko gets up to walk her to the door. “Thank you, again, Grilka, and thank your crew for me.” Grilka smiles back. “You are welcome, Captain. I will.” Patricia calls out from where she is sitting. “Good night, Grilka. See you in the morning.” Grilka leaves Sisko’s quarters. Patricia turns to Sisko and Kassidy with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “That gives me an idea! I can replicate my paintball equipment and then Grilka and I could play Hide and Seek with Quark!”

Sisko laughs and shakes his head. “Pat, please don’t torture him any more! He’s had enough roughing up already from you!” Patricia holds up her hands. “Okay! Okay! Besides, I’m sure he’s enjoying himself while Grilka is visiting!” “And we both know how Grilka and Quark feel about each other.”, Sisko agrees. Patricia nods. “Exactly! Which is why I’ll stay out of the middle of their relationship. There’s only a short time left until my shore leave is over with and I’ll need to return to duty. Part of me is tempted to design more training exercises for the Klingons while they’re here.” Sisko gives her a mock-stern look. “And I am ordering you to enjoy your vacation by PLAYING and NOT working!”

Patricia looks wistful. “Left to my own devices, I don’t know how to play. That’s why I usually end up working because I don’t know how to do anything else.” Sisko looks thoughtful. “Do you like to fish?” She sits up, looking eager. “I LOVE to go fishing!” Kassidy smiles. “That would be perfect!” Patricia gives her a puzzled look. “What is?” Kassidy responds, “Ben has been wanting to go fishing for a long time but doesn’t want to go alone. Ever since Jake left home, he has not had a fishing buddy for a long time. Rebecca is too young and I have some other projects that I would like to do while Ben is fishing.” Patricia turns to Sisko. “Have you ever gone crabbing?” Sisko shakes his head. “No, can’t say that I have.” She grins at him. “Then I can teach you. We’ll need to replicate fishing nets, some string, chicken necks …”

Kassidy does a double-take. “Chicken necks?!” Patricia nods. “Uh-huh. The chicken necks would be bait for the crabs.” Sisko likes that idea. “Sounds intriguing!” Patricia starts ticking off a list on her fingers. “We can have a combination of fishing equipment, tackle, bait, and so forth to catch either crabs or fish. When we tire of one, we can switch to the other.” “Sounds like a plan to me!”, Kassidy chimes in. Patricia turns to Kassidy. “And what do you plan to do while we go fishing and/or catching crabs?” Kassidy winks at her husband. “You’ll find out when you get back!” Patricia misses the clue between the spouses. “Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying your own vacation while Ben and I are having fun fishing?” Kassidy gives her an incredulous look. “And what makes you think I’ll be working while you two are playing?” Patricia suddenly realizes what she meant. “Touche’!” Kassidy shoos them both toward the door. “Now you two run along! I’ll see you when you get back!” Sisko walks over to his wife, kisses her passionately, then hugs her tightly. Patricia looks away to give them privacy. Sisko walks back over to Patricia and gestures toward the door. “Let’s go! We have some seafood to catch!”

Captain Sisko and Dr. Pat walk out of his quarters and head over to Quark’s and the Holosuites. “Ben, do you have the fishing holo-program with you or does Quark have it saved for you?”, Patricia asks. Sisko replies. “It’s easier to store it at the holo-suite. I have a back-up in my quarters, if it’s ever needed. Ready to catch the biggest fish?” Patricia grins. “Heh! I guess I tend to perserverate too much. What kind of fish does the program include? Bluefish? Salmon? Rainbow trout?” “We could fish from a wharf, from a rowboat, or deep sea fishing if you’d like.”, he replies. Patricia is enthusiastic about these possibilities. “Oooh! So many ways to fish, so little time!” Sisko chuckles at this. “We can fish for any type of fish you’d like.” Patricia thinks about this. “I think I prefer to fish in calm waters for now. I’ve had more than enough turbulence ‘on land’ for today!” Sisko chuckles again. “You and me, both!”

They re-enter Quark’s establishment and head upstairs to one of the Holosuites. Upon entering, Sisko calls out to the computer, designing a wharf, a rowboat tied to the dock, fishing rods, fishing tackle, tackle box, fishing nets, heavy twine, bait, and any other fishing or crabbing equipment that the two of them can brainstorm that they think they will need. They settle down on the dock, prepare their fishing rods and cast their lines into the water. Patricia settles back, relaxes, and closes her eyes. “Ahh! I’ve forgotten how relaxing fishing can be! This is Paradise!” Sisko has also settled back. “I’ve forgotten too! What was that quotation I’ve often heard you say about plans and life?” “John Lennon was the one who originally said it.”, Patricia responds, “Life happens while you are busy making other plans. Gramps, Uncle Spock, and I often planned to go fishing here or there but something always got in the way and the fishing trip always ended up on the back burner, which we never got around to. Personally, I think fishing is the best prescription for stress! I should have prescribed this for myself, long ago, but I didn’t want to go fishing alone. It’s no fun that way.”

Sisko nods. “I have to agree. I loved to go fishing with Jake when he was just a boy. Now that he’s grown, he’s so busy that we rarely see each other and my job doesn’t make it any easier.” Patricia grins. “And to think, that in a few more years, Rebecca will be old enough to take fishing with you. I’d love to see the expression on her face the first time she sees a worm!” Sisko chuckles. “It’s too early to tell if she will be a girly-girl, like my mother, or a tom-boy like her mother!” Patricia nods. “From my perspective, let her enjoy just being a kid and follow her bliss. As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters!” Sisko nods back. “True. For someone with such instincts, I’m surprised you’ve never adopted a child of your own.” Patricia sighs with a sad expression on her face. “I’ve had several people tell me that. It’s complicated, Ben. Only the Prophets and the God of my understanding know my reasons. For now, I’m content with just being the Favorite Aunt.”

Sisko looks thoughtful. “I can’t say I completely understand. At the same time, I respect your decisions. Just as I have learned … not everyone is destined to walk the same path.” Patricia gives him a sad smile. “Thanks, Ben. Not everyone has been willing to accept my decisions and they have even attempted to violate my boundaries where deeply personal stuff is concerned. You are one of the few people that I have permitted into my ‘Inner Circle’ because you respect my boundaries.” Sisko nods with understanding. “I know how I would feel if someone violated my boundaries where my family is concerned so I can relate with what you said. Changing the subject, what are your plans when your vacation ends?”

Patricia sighs. “I’m sure I’ll have a stack of work waiting for me back at my post, plus touch base with Gramps and Uncle Spock to make sure they are both doing okay. Neither of them are getting any younger and that worries me. I also expect I’ll be sent out on another training mission with the Martok and his crew, especially now that I’ve introduced the water training recently. The work never ends.” Sisko considers this. “What was it that I’ve often heard you say … one day at a time?” Patricia nods. “You’re right, Ben! Just for today, I need to focus on relaxing and enjoying sitting here and fishing!” Sisko nods and they enjoy a companionable silence while fishing. Suddenly, Patricia’s line starts to bob and weave. She begins to slowly reel in the line and pulls up a small perch. She carefully unhooks it and places it back in the water.

After a blissfully long, quiet time, Sisko’s communicator chirps. “Ops to Captain Sisko!” Sisko taps his comm-badge. “Sisko here. Go ahead.” “Just doing a routine check, as per your orders, sir.”, the officer at Ops responds. “Acknowledged. Sisko out.” He taps his comm-badge off. Patricia sighs. “I guess it’s time to head back to the real world, eh, Ben?” Sisko nods. “Yes. It’s time. You can stay longer if you like.” Patricia shakes her head as she gets to her feet. “No, thanks. It’s no fun if I can’t eat what I catch and I don’t like doing that alone.” Sisko nods again as he stands up. “I understand.” He calls out to the holosuite computer. “Computer, end program!” The scenery disappears and the holosuite reappears. Captain Sisko and Dr. Pat exit through the doors.

Quark acknowledges their presence as they walk down the spiral staircase and into the bar area. “Would you two like anything?” Sisko shakes his head. “No, thank you, Quark.” Patricia hesitates. “Got any grilled salmon to go?” Quark gives her a funny look and Patricia sighs. “Never mind, Quark. I’ll get something back at home quarters.” The two of them leave Quark’s Establishment and start walking down the Promenade. Sisko looks over at Patricia, who is looking glum. “Come on, Pat. Out with it!” Patricia looks back. “I guess I just wanted to replicate the taste of freshly-caught salmon grilled over an open flame and then realized that I can’t do that here. A touch of home-sickness, I guess.” Sisko nods. “There’s nothing like freshly cooked food, like I learned in New Orleans, that can compare to replicated MRE’s.” Patricia makes a face. “Don’t remind me of Made-Ready-to-Eat and canned rations! ICK!”

“Yes! I know!”, Sisko replies with a smile, “I’ve experienced the taste of fresh-caught, freshly-cooked salmon at my father’s restaurant! It was out of this world DELICIOUS!” Patricia starts to reminisce, “Then add in the crab boil, shrimp boil, craw-fish, gumbo, jambalaya, seafood pulled fresh from the water! Replicators just can’t do that!” Sisko sighs. “I get homesick for that too, sometimes. Now that Dad’s gone, it’s just me that can teach those traditions.” Patricia looks at Sisko. “Has Jake learned?” Sisko chuckles. “Well, yes and no. He can do well enough to feed himself in a pinch … but as for entertaining friends and family … or even running SISKO’S Creole Kitchen ….” Patricia nods in understanding. “I know from my experience THAT takes a LOT of WORK!” Sisko gives her a puzzled look. “I didn’t know you cooked for parties.” “My specialty is Barbecue Grilling.”, Patricia replies, “Hamburgers, hot dogs, corn-on-the-cob, salmon, chicken, steaks … if I can toss it on a grill over HOT charcoals, it cooks! Have you invented a dish in memory of your Dad … the Joseph Sisko Special … yet?”

Sisko shakes his head. “Not yet. But you got me thinking! Thanks! By the way, I get the impression that you have cooked for a party not too long ago.” Patricia chuckles. “Yep! While I was on a mission with the Klingons. To give you a bit of a back-story … I learned, the hard way, long ago, that my digestive system just cannot handle some of the Klingon cuisine and I became very dehydrated during my first mission with them, and you know my opinion regarding MRE’s. I discovered that when I was able to cook what I could over an open fire, I was able to digest it more easily. I won’t bore you with a lecture on the chemical changes that take place during cooking as I’m sure you are aware of that. During the last mission I had with them, some of the young’uns attempted to give me a hard time about cooking, saying that a REAL warrior eats the meat RAW, and I dared them to come near me and the open flames to prove their bravery. Talk about trading insults! It did get FUNNY! Eventually, I found myself cooking for EVERYONE and they kept begging for more!”

Sisko laughs. “I can imagine! Martok and Worf tell me that your cooking is legendary … the stuff of songs!” Patricia howls with laughter. “Now THAT is FUNNY!” Sisko looks at her quizzically, “Are you going to be doing any grilling in the near future?” She considers this possibility. “If we can go planet-side on Bajor, we could probably set up a grill there. Speaking of which, when you had your home built on Bajor, did you build a barbeque grill or an outdoor kitchen out back?” Sisko looks thoughtful. “I need to add that. Between my being in the Celestial Temple, and Kass being pregnant with Rebecca, some things had to be … postponed.” Patricia grins, “Pardon the obvious pun, you put the building of the backyard grill on the back burner.” Sisko groans. “You just had to go there, didn’t you, Pat?” Patricia gives him an evil grin. “Couldn’t resist!” “Any idea when you want to grill for the troops again?”, Sisko asks.

Patricia scratches her head as she thinks. “It’s going to take some planning. I need to scout for what’s available in the way of equipment and food. She thinks for a few more minutes. “We COULD build it behind your house and it would be a permanent fixture for you. What do you think?” Sisko looks dubious. “Have you considered how my Bajoran neighbors might react? Their culture is different from ours and the Klingons. They might not be comfortable with my having a backyard barbecue.” Patricia gives herself a face-palm. “I should have thought about that! It might trigger unpleasant memories of the Occupation. Dumb me!” Sisko shakes his head. “No, not dumb. I appreciate the idea. I can talk with my Bajoran neighbors, see how they feel about it. There’s always the possibility of hosting a neighborhood party from time to time, celebrating holidays, birthdays, weddings, and what have you. I might have to order you to be the hostess. After all, you ARE the expert with the grill!” Patricia grins at him. “And you ARE the expert at Cajun cooking!”

Sisko laughs and holds out his hand. “Okay! We’ll team up and combine our cooking skills whenever the opportunity arises! Deal?” Patricia shakes his hand. “Deal!” They arrive back at Sisko’s quarters and Kassidy greets them. “How was your fishing trip?” Patricia smiles. “Didn’t catch much, and yet, it was good to be able to have some quiet time without any catastrophes and disasters hitting from all sides!” Kassidy smiles back. “Good! You both needed that!” Patricia gives her a quizzical look. “And what did you do while we were fishing?” Kassidy gives a sly grin to her husband. “That’s for Ben to find out later!” She winks at him and he grins in response. Patricia holds up her hands. “Okay! I’ll quit before I step into something I shouldn’t step into!” Sisko grins at that then turns to his wife. “Honey, Pat and I were batting around some ideas. What do you think of having a barbecue grill, or an outdoor kitchen, in our backyard, on Bajor, if our neighbors agree to it?”

Kassidy looks surprised. “You mean actually cooking REAL food, over an open fire, instead of replicating it?” Patricia grins at that. “Grilling real food is fun!” Kassidy looks dubious. “Wouldn’t that be messy?” Patricia shakes her head at that. “It’s not too bad, once you get used to it. Imagine going camping with the Klingons on their missions! Now THAT is MESSY!” Sisko smiles at both his wife and at Patricia. “Compared to camping and roughing it, backyard grilling is easier to prepare, easier to control, and easier to clean-up. You’ve seen me cook indoors. Cooking outdoors sounds like fun!” Kassidy scowls at her husband. “And I’ve seen the mess you’ve created while cooking. Thank goodness for the reclamators to help clean THAT up!” Ben grins at his wife. “I remember the one time you attempted to cook and made an even BIGGER mess!” Kass holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay! Okay! How are you going to clean up after grilling outdoors when the reclamators might not be able to handle it all?”

Patricia rolls up the sleeve of her civilian garb, flexing her arm. “I’ve learned the old techniques that my ancient ancestors used … soap, water, a wire scrub brush, muscle power that used to be called ‘elbow grease’. Whenever one of the Warriors messed up during a drill, that Warrior learned what K.P. meant when they had to prepare the meals, according to my specs, and clean up according to my specs!” Kassidy looks confused. “K.P. What does that mean?” Patricia grins. “Kitchen Patrol! The Warriors learned how to peel a LOT of potatoes whenever something didn’t come up to scratch!” Kassidy is amazed at that. “You managed to get that many potatoes among your supplies?” Sisko interjects. “Honey, before we get any further into the discussion about the Klingons, kitchen patrol, and so forth, are you amenable to the idea of having a backyard barbecue or an outdoor kitchen?” Kassidy thinks this over. “If you take responsibility of keeping it clean, in between uses, I won’t object. However, if you leave it messy, you KNOW what I will do with it! I can be a good shot with a phaser!” Patricia gives Sisko an anxious look. “Ben?”

Sisko holds up his hands. “Honey, I promise to take care of it!” Kassidy nods. “In that case, I’ll agree to it.” “Let me get on the communicator and discuss this idea with my neighbors.”, Sisko continues, “I have to make sure that I won’t accidentally create any unintentional bureaucratic headaches with the local authorities.” “And if it’s all right with you,”, Patricia interjects, “I’ll go and put my feet up while doing some meditating. I want to hold on to this calm as long as I can!” Kassidy laughs. “Don’t let me stand in your way! Rebecca’s taking a nap so that’s fine!” Patricia grins. “Thanks, Kass!” She heads to her room and shuts the door. Later, as she is lying down on her bed, with her eyes closed, she hears a gentle tapping at the door. She gets up and goes to the door. Sisko is standing there.

“What’s up, Ben?”, Patricia asks as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. “Thought you might like to know that our idea was approved.”, Sisko replies. “The neighbors have even volunteered to provide the materials and help build it. I just need to choose a design.” She grins. “Sounds good!” She pauses. “I just thought of something based on our earlier discussion where I thought I might have triggered unpleasant memories for the Bajorans.”

Sisko leans against the doorway. “Go on, Pat. What’s on your mind?” “Well …”, she continues slowly, “Part of my spiritual practice is observing Passover, in remembrance of the Hebrews obtaining freedom from slavery in Egypt … and remembering how our ancestors, yours and mine, were freed from slavery back on Earth during the 1800’s. I was thinking, why not have this outdoor party as part of an observance of the day Bajor became free of the Cardassians? The Bajorans already celebrate the arrival of the Emissary, which you prefer to avoid. I understand your preference. Is there any way to change that to Bajoran Freedom Day?” Sisko pauses. “I have a feeling you have more to your idea.” Patricia nods. “Uh … yeah. Instead of avoiding Emissary Day, wouldn’t it be better for you to be there, helping to change the focus off of you and celebrate the day Bajor became free? Otherwise, the Bajorans are going to continue to focus on you, much to your discomfort and very much to the displeasure of Star Fleet.” Sisko considers this suggestion. “Sounds like you are proposing a Win-Win solution to Star Fleet’s problem that they have been pressuring me, for years, to resolve.”

Patricia continues to look thoughtful. “I’m hoping it will be a Win-Win for everyone concerned. Not sure how the Cardassians would perceive it, now that Gul Dukat is gone. How do you feel about it?” Sisko mulls it over. “It feels good. I can run it by the top brass at Star Fleet and see what they say. In fact, let me contact the Admiral now.” He heads over to the comm-link nearby. Patricia continues to rub her eyes as she follows Captain Sisko over to the comm-link, as he contacts Admiral Akaar at Star Fleet Command, and gives an outline of Dr. Pat’s idea. The Admiral is serious in his reaction. “We would prefer that you not be involved in any way, Ben, but we have come to understand that the Bajorans are going to do what they are going to do anyway.” He looks at Patricia. “You’ve come up with a good idea, Captain. I commend you for that!” Patricia bows her head in response. “Thank you, sir.” The Admiral turns back to Captain Sisko. “Go ahead and implement this idea. I only hope it won’t end up proving the saying of: ‘No good deed goes unpunished! Admiral Akaar out!'”. He signs off.

Sisko turns Patricia. “Looks like I need to get busy, choose a design for this backyard barbecue, coordinate with my neighbors, and talk with the Bajoran Council of Ministers about Bajoran Freedom Day.” Patricia gestures. “And I’ll study Bajoran cuisine to see what could be adapted for a barbecue and draw up a proposed menu. I think, given that we are celebrating Bajoran Freedom Day, I should honor the Bajorans with their own cuisine, don’t you think?” Sisko nods. “Sounds like a plan to me!” Patricia continues, “And you could add in some of your special touches, from New Orleans, to a few of the dishes. Have a mix of traditional Bajoran foods plus Cajun cooking! That could acknowledge the origins of the Emissary. It will be like having our own version of Passach.” Sisko smiles. “I like the way you think!”

Both Captain Sisko and Dr. Pat get busy with their respective tasks. Patricia has another thought and approaches Captain Sisko. “Ben, how can we include the Cardassians? Based on our own Earth history, America and Great Britain became close friends and allies after the War of 1812. In fact, my ancestral namesake wrote about an encounter that she had with a British citizen while celebrating the War’s Bicentennial in the Port of Baltimore in 2012. She was on one recreational ship and the British citizen was on another private ship in Baltimore’s harbor. They were able to joke and laugh with each other about both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. How can we promote that kind of healing between the Cardassians and the Bajorans?” Sisko contemplates this. “Good question. I know just the person I can ask about that … Garak.”

Patricia looks dubious. “Ben, can he be trusted? He was part of the Obsidian Order …” “All the more reason to talk to him.”, Sisko replies, “The healing has to start somewhere.” Patricia nods. “True that! May I be permitted to speak to Garak?” Sisko gives her a quizzical look. “Can you tell me why?” Patricia responds, “As you just said, Ben, the healing has to start somewhere. I still have a lot of healing to work on and I’m sure he does too.”

Sisko indicates his comm-system. “All right. Go ahead.” Dr. Pat sits down in front of the comm-link and punches in the code to contact Garak on Cardassia. His image appears on the view-screen. “Hello, Garak. How are you?” Garak glares hard at her. “Why are YOU contacting ME?!” “First of all”, Patricia responds, “To admit that I was wrong, I should have promptly admitted that, to you, long ago. My human pride got in the way. I’m sorry.” Garak still looks angry. “I’ll have to think long and hard before accepting your apology, McCoy.” Patricia nods. “That’s fair. What I did to you was stupid, which is an understatement. I don’t blame you for hating me.” Garak’s expression softens. “Hate is a strong word that has done too much damage to Cardassia. I think the operative word here is that I am still angry with you. I don’t hate you.” Patricia pauses as she takes this in. “That is also fair. I deserve your anger. I’m old enough to know better than to do something as impulsive as what I did. I don’t know how to make amends that would be acceptable to you.” Garak gives a hint of a smile. “We are communicating. You have admitted to what you did wrong. In your culture, on your world, isn’t that the beginning of making amends?” Patricia nods in agreement. “Yes, sir.”

Garak smiles at that. “Don’t call me ‘sir’. ‘Elim’ will do.” Patricia smiles back. “Yes … Elim.” Garak’s smile widens. “Just don’t assume that I will ‘forgive and forget’. You know that is not the Cardassian way!” Patricia’s expression becomes serious. “I understand. Which brings me to a question that I have been discussing with Captain Sisko. How can we bring about healing among everyone that had been hurt in the past? There had been the war involving Cardassia with members of the Federation, the Occupation of Bajor by Cardassia, your subsequent exile on Deep Space Nine, the War with the Dominion that led to mass destruction on Cardassia, my stupid actions … all of that had to hurt. Can the healing begin with a single step?” Garak looks thoughtful. “I believe celebrating the Defeat of the Dominion helps in that regard.” Patricia nods. “That is a good beginning. I’m wondering … if I may be permitted to ask … how do you feel about the idea of Bajoran Freedom Day, which would be celebrated the same day the Bajorans celebrate the arrival of the Emissary to the Prophets?” “Meaning the day the Bajorans celebrate the arrival of Captain Benjamin Sisko?”, Garak asks, “I must admit, I have mixed feelings about that … reminding me of my exile … which began the day Gul Dukat and the others left that planet, among other things that occurred between the Bajorans and the Cardassians.”

Patricia nods at that. “And when Captain Sisko arrived, it started a chain of events that eventually allowed you to return home to a position of authority on Cardassia.” Garak considers this. “Looking at it that way, I can see your logic. How would you celebrate such a day?” Patricia leans toward the view-screen. “I was thinking about having an inaugural cookout in Captain Sisko’s backyard and having it like a neighborhood-wide party.” Garak looks confused. “A cook-out? What is a ‘cook-out’? Patricia thinks for a moment. “Garak, have you had the opportunity to experience some of Captain Sisko’s cooking?” Garak shakes his head. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall ever being invited. Doctor Bashir described several of the dinners he attended.” Patricia considers this information while rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Given the circumstances in the past, it might have proven awkward on all sides, if you had been invited. Especially given the fact that Gul Dukat was part of the equation causing a lot of grief for everyone. We both know how quickly the political winds changed back and forth, on Cardassia, before and during the conflict with the Dominion. Dukat could have used that social situation to make you look worse and we both know what he was capable of when he got the chance! He could have used that as an excuse to find a way to get you killed … just for the heck of it!”

Garak gives a grim nod. “That is so true, my friend. Gul Dukat was quite an unpleasant fellow! Go on with your explanation of this ‘cook-out’. I find it intriguing!” Patricia continues. “Well, to try to explain it simply … instead of getting food out of a replicator, there would be an outdoor cooking area where Captain Sisko and I would be cooking food over an open fire.” Garak is incredulous. “Over an open fire?! Not replicated? That sounds so … messy … barbaric!” Patricia grins. “Cooking outdoors is actually fun for me. It also reminds me of how my ancestors survived before there were replicators or even the kind of energy that is used now to power everything. Have you ever thought how your ancestors survived in the distant past before any of the current comforts were invented?” Garak thinks for a few moments. “No, can’t say that I have. I never really thought of that before. What are you planning to cook?”

“I’m studying Bajoran cuisine to see what can be adapted for outdoor grilling, along with other cuisines.”, Patricia replies, “Captain Sisko will be adding in his specialties as well. I’m not well versed in Cardassian cuisine, Quark’s replicator notwithstanding.” “Keep in mind that Quark’s replicator is Cardassian in origin.”, Garak responds matter-of-factly. Patricia shakes her head at the mention of Quark. “And Quark tends to put his own mark on things, if you know what I mean.” “That is true.”, Garak replies. She continues. “I’m willing to look at Cardassian recipes, see what can be adapted to outdoor cooking, then see what is logistically possible for one person to do as I expect Captain Sisko to be quite busy with cooking his specialties.” Garak gives her a half-smile. “Not to be too obvious, Pat, but am I invited or not?” Patricia smiles. “Okay, I am inviting you, Elim.” Garak’s expression turns serious. “Do you think the Bajorans will be offended by my presence?” Patricia looks back at him, puzzled. “And how long did you reside on Deep Space Nine with Bajoran shopkeepers as your neighbors? Were they offended?”

Garak gestures. “I wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms.” “Well, now that you are in a position of authority on Cardassia”, Patricia replies, “I have to ask the question … can you play the part of a diplomat?” Garak thinks about this. “That will be a bit of a challenge …” She gives him a sly grin. “And since when have I known Elim Garak to shy away from a challenge?” Garak looks astonished at this cheekiness. “Are YOU issuing a challenge to ME!?” Patricia bobs her head. “Well … yes and no. I am inviting you to the Bajoran Freedom Day cookout at Captain Sisko’s home. It’s up to you how to address the past issues with the Bajorans as the diplomatic representative from Cardassia.” Garak considers her words. “That IS a challenge … but not an unexpected one. You are correct that there is a lot of healing left to be done, my friend.” She nods in agreement. “And the journey begins with a single step.” Garak nods. “In that case, I accept your challenge. When is the big day?” Patricia glances over her shoulder toward Sisko’s direction. “I’ll have to confer with Captain Sisko. He’s more used to the Bajoran calendar than I am. I’m still working from Federation and Star Fleet star dates.” Garak nods. “Fair enough. Keep me posted and give Captain Sisko my regards. Garak out.” His image vanishes from the view screen.

Patricia gets up from the comm-link. “Well, that was relatively painless.”, she comments to Sisko, “But it remains to be seen how well things turn out in person!” She walks over to Sisko, who is perusing several different plans for the backyard barbecue. “Have you found something to your liking?” Sisko gestures toward the plans on the table. “The more I research, the more I’m leaning toward an outdoor kitchen instead of just a grill. What do you think, Pat?” She leans over the table, looks at the plans and nods. “More room to maneuver … baking … grilling … all kinds of ways to indulge in different cooking techniques … I LIKE IT!” Kassidy overhears Patricia’s comment and enters the room. “Now what kind of mischief are you two plotting NOW?!” Sisko pulls up the plan for an outdoor kitchen. “Hon, what do you think of this design in the backyard? It blends perfectly with the design of the house!” Kassidy looks over the plans. “That is BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE that!” Sisko grins. “How soon can we get it done?”, Patricia asks. “Between replicating the necessary materials and the neighbors assisting in its construction, it shouldn’t take too long.”, Sisko replies, “It should be ready in time for Bajoran Freedom Day!” Patricia nods in response. “Then we need to get busy building and organizing this event … especially if we are going to have diplomatic representatives taking time out from their busy schedules to come here!” Captain Sisko and Kassidy nod in agreement. Each proceed with their respective tasks … Dr. Pat with the proposed menu, Captain Sisko with building the outdoor kitchen in his backyard on Bajor with the assistance of his neighbors, and Kassidy Yates-Sisko conferring with both her husband and Dr. Pat on the guest list and sending out the invitations. Everything is completed by the deadline. Sisko wipes his brow. “A lot of hard work but it’s done! It’s finally finished!” Kassidy hugs her husband. “It’s GORGEOUS! It turned out more beautiful than I could possibly have imagined!” Patricia is nodding as she walks around the outdoor kitchen, inspecting each detail. “Wow! This just takes my breath away!” Sisko hugs his wife back. “I’m really looking forward to this celebration!”, he says with a delighted grin.

Bajoran Freedom Day finally arrives. All the invited guests are gathered in Sisko’s backyard. Dr. Pat and Captain Sisko are both busy grilling and cooking the various cuisines on the menu. Kassidy Yates-Sisko is greeting guests as they arrive. Baby Rebecca is in a playpen, where she can watch her Daddy in the kitchen without being underfoot or in any jeopardy. Both Sisko and Dr. Pat take turns talking to Baby Rebecca and making her laugh. Cardassians, Bajorans, Ferengi, Humans, Vulcans, and all other members of the Federation are mingling at the party. While the two Star Fleet Captains are coordinating their culinary efforts, a familiar figure walks up to the outdoor kitchen.

Sisko looks up from the stove and grins with surprised delight! “Jake!” Patricia looks up from the grill and also grins. “Well, I’ll be …!” Jake comes around to his father and they hug. Jake looks around. “This is some PARTY!” Sisko points to his cooking partner. “She deserves the credit for giving me the idea. Are you hungry?” Jake looks longingly at the food. “I can’t stay too long but the aromas from the grill and the stove are calling to my stomach! I’ve missed your cooking, Dad!” Jake looks at both Dr. Pat and his father. “By the way, what IS on the menu?” “Well”, Patricia responds, “I have old-fashioned hamburgers, hot dogs, corn-on-the-cob, and salmon on the grill at the moment. The Klingons, Cardassians, Bajorans, Ferengi, and others are bringing their cuisines to add to the ‘Pot Luck’ and your Dad is handling what is on the stove.” Sisko gestures around the outdoor kitchen. “I have both a Crab Boil and a Craw-fish Boil bubbling on the stove here and we have some meat in the smoker over there.”

Kassidy points to another area nearby. “And we have coolers with beverages over there.” Another familiar voice speaks out. “Any chilled snail juice with shells?” Jake turns toward the voice. “NOG!” Kassidy smiles. “Coming right up!” Jake and Nog hug each other. Dr. Pat notices Quark mingling among the guests, attempting to sell souvenirs. She comments to Sisko. “I’m not surprised that Quark is STILL attempting to make a profit everywhere he goes!” Sisko chuckles. “The 18th Rule of Acquisition – ‘A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.'” Patricia chuckles back. “Yep! You’re right! And Quark is making every effort he knows how to be the Ferengi’s Ferengi! Especially given that his Lady Love is nearby!” Sisko gives her a quizzical look. “Quark’s Lady Love?” She nods toward a group of Klingons standing nearby, conversing with members of Star Fleet and the Federation. “Grilka!” Sisko is bemused. “I thought they were divorced.” Patricia shrugs good-naturedly. “They are divorced and still have the HOTS for each other! Go figure.”

Sisko chuckles and shakes his head. Jake walks over to his Dad, with Nog not far behind. “Dad, anything on the menu for Nog?” Patricia points to a large cooler nearby. “How about some chilled tube grubs, Nog?” “And I’ve prepared some other Ferengi dishes as well.”, Sisko adds. Nog smiles with delight. “Thank you, sir! Memories of your cooking always make my mouth water!” Jake looks around. “You have a Universe-worth of a menu here! Bajoran, Klingon, Cardassian, Ferengi, and Terran cuisine!” He whistles. “Both of you have been BUSY at the stove!” Patricia waves her grill tongs with a grin. “AND at the grill!” Jake salutes Dr. Pat and grins back. “Yes, Ma’am!” Patricia gives Jake a mischievous grin. “Jake-O! I’ve heard a rumor that you have a girlfriend … and that you are ENGAGED! Where is she?” Jake blushes and grins shyly. “Well …” Sisko grins at his son. “Jake … where is my future daughter-in-law?” Jake blushes more. “I was waiting for a good time to introduce her given our busy schedules and all.” Nog nudges his friend. “And how long are you going to make us all wait, Jake?” A beautiful Bajoran woman walks up beside Jake and places her arm around his waist. Jake places his arm around her and kisses her.

Jake looks around at everyone. “Dad, everyone, this is Karenna … my fiancee’.” Patricia grins with delight. “Both of you have done well!” Karenna smiles shyly. Sisko hastily puts down his cooking utensils, cleans his hands, comes around to where Jake and Karenna are standing and hugs his future daughter-in-law. “I am SO glad to finally meet you!” Patricia gestures with her grill tongs. “Now the REAL party can begin! Ben, can I do the honors and make the announcement to everyone and make it official?” Sisko laughs. “I can see you champing at the bit! Go ahead!” Patricia puts down her grilling equipment, grabs two metal cooking pots, hurries to in front of the outdoor kitchen and begins banging the two pots together as loudly as she can. The crowd quiets down and looks expectantly in the direction of the noise. “Greetings to all sentient beings who are gathered here today to celebrate Bajoran Freedom Day. We have a joyful announcement to make! Captain Benjamin Sisko has the pleasure and pride to announce that his son, Jake Sisko is ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED! His beautiful fiancee’, Karenna, is here! Let’s wish the happy couple all the best!”

The crowd cheers and shouts, “Congratulations!”, as Jake and Karenna smile shyly at all the attention. Kassidy arrives with a tray of drinks for everyone who has not had one already. Friends and neighbors who have been assisting hurry to refill others’ glasses with their beverage of choice. Kassidy joins her husband and gives him a glass of his favorite beverage and hands a glass of root beer to Dr. Pat. “On behalf of my husband, I would like to propose a toast to the happy couple. May they find happiness and joy that exceeds all expectations!” Patricia raises her glass of Root Beer. “Hear! Hear! And, quoting my favorite uncle … ‘Live Long and Prosper!’ Congratulations to the both of you!” Everyone applauds as Jake and Karenna blush and acknowledge everyone’s good wishes. Quark sidles up to the happy couple. “I can host your wedding and give you a discount!” Dr. Pat and Captain Sisko get annoyed. “”Quark!” Nog shakes his head. “Uncle Quark …” Jake holds up his hand. “Thanks, Quark, I appreciate your offer. Karenna and I have already arranged where our wedding will be … at my grandfather’s restaurant on Earth. You’re welcome to come!” Quark is trying hard not to look too disappointed. “I’ll … think about it …” Patricia whispers an aside to Sisko and Kassidy. “He was probably hoping to charge admission to all the guests!”

Quark responds irritably, “I heard that!” Jake turns to his father and step-mother. “Dad, if you and Kass don’t mind, Karenna and I are going to circulate among the other guests then come back to eat.” Sisko smiles at his son. “I have no problem with that.” Sisko glares at Quark. Quark gives Sisko an innocent look. “What?!” At that moment, Garak walks up to Sisko. “Ah! Captain Sisko! May I be the first to congratulate you?” Sisko indicates his son and future daughter-in-law, who are circulating among the guests. “If anyone deserves congratulations, it’s my son and his fiancee’. They make a beautiful couple!” “Hello, Garak.”, Patricia interjects, “Have you had a chance to get anything to eat or drink yet? We have some Kanar for you, if you’d like and we have several dishes available for you to sample.” Garak eyes Dr. Pat suspiciously. “I have to think about it …” Sisko looks over at Garak. “What can be said to put you at ease, Garak?” Patricia gestures toward a group of Star Fleet officers. “If you’d like, I could have Doctor Bashir scan everything to check for poisons.”

Garak smiles at that. “Thinking like a spy! There IS hope for you yet, McCoy! Where is dear Julian?” Patricia turns and points to a specific group of Star Fleet science officers. “He’s right over there. He’s changed a bit since you’ve last seen him.” Garak looks about for his friend. “I don’t see him.” Patricia gestures toward her face. “He’s added some facial hair so he would look less boyish. His new look has been quite a hit with the ladies! If only I were younger, I could go for that!” Garak grins at that remark. “What is that old Earth saying …?”

Patricia grins back. “Just because there may be snow on the mountain doesn’t mean the fire is out! I still can admire the male physique from time to time!” Garak gives her a curious look. “Only human physiques?” Patricia gets a glint in her eye. “Ever visit Risa … or the Hoobishian Baths on Trill? A LOT of eye-candy to look at!” Garak is confused by the idiom. “I don’t understand what you mean by the phrase: ‘eye-candy’. Please explain!” She pauses to think. “The term, ‘eye-candy’, is an ancient human phrase. Tell me, Garak, when you were a young man in search of a mate, did you ever see someone that was VERY physically attractive and you enjoyed looking at that person?” Garak gives her a serious look. “I didn’t have time for that kind of activity. I was busy training with Enabrin Tain.” She tries again. “Well, have you ever met anyone, during your travels, that you were attracted to?” Garak hesitates, then sadly replies. “Yes … but she is dead now.” Patricia looks down. “I’m sorry. I guess I put my foot in it again.” Garak shakes his head. “On the contrary, my friend, I asked you a question and you were attempting to provide an answer with examples. Now I understand the concept of ‘eye-candy’ … someone who is so beautiful that one cannot take their eyes off that person.” She nods. “And I hope that you will be able to meet someone, someday, who is just as attractive to you as you are attractive to that person. It has to be lonely at the top.”

Garak gives her a thin smile. “You are too kind. Just don’t try to play matchmaker again!” Patricia holds up her hands. “That was a VERY DUMB thing for me to attempt to do! I’ve learned my lesson!” Garak nods at her. “Apology accepted. I know you meant well, my dear. Unfortunately, you don’t understand Cardassian society.” Patricia shakes her head. “No, I do not. How about we enjoy the party? Would you like to sample any of the cuisine that Captain Sisko and I have prepared?” Garak looks at the food that is being served. “I think I will live dangerously for the moment and taste Captain Sisko’s Cajun Cuisine.” Patricia grins. “You won’t regret it! His cooking is the BEST!” Garak gives her a curious look. “Better than yours?” “Undoubtedly!”, she replies, “And not because he’s my commanding officer, in the kitchen, while I’m here even though we are of equal Star Fleet rank!” Garak nods at that. “In that case, I’ll taste one of your hamburgers as well! If I die from your cooking, then I’ll die a happy man!” Dr. Pat grins and gives him a hamburger on a bun. “Here ya go! Well done on whole wheat! Do you want any condiments with that?” The Cardassian nods amiably. “I’ll be a daredevil and ask for what you usually put on such a meal!”

Dr. Pat places ketchup and relish on the hamburger. Garak takes a bite and chews thoughtfully while she waits expectantly for his verdict on his first genuine grilled hamburger. After chewing for several minutes, Garak exclaims. “This is delightful! Is this the only way humans consume hamburgers?” Patricia shakes her head, grinning. “Oh no! There are several different ways that hamburgers can be prepared and consumed. In addition to the traditional ketchup and relish that you have just tasted, others prefer mustard, onions, steak sauce, teriyaki sauce, Thousand Island dressing, mayonnaise, tomato, lettuce, cheese, pineapple … just to list a few variations. For sentient beings who do not eat meat, such as the Vulcans, we have veggie burgers and Portobello mushrooms. The Universe is the limit on hamburger variations!”

Garak indicates the food. “I would like another hamburger, please, well-done, with Yamok Sauce!” Patricia nods as she wields her spatula. “Coming right up!” She plates another hamburger on a bun and tops it with a little Yamok Sauce. “I don’t know how strong a flavor Yamok Sauce is for your taste buds so I don’t want to overpower the flavor of the hamburger.”, she comments, “I want to balance the taste of both so that you will enjoy it.” Garak takes the second plate of hamburger.” Let’s see.” He takes a bite, chews it thoughtfully, and smiles with delight. “This is even BETTER than the first hamburger! Doctor McCoy, you have more than one talent that I can see!” Patricia smiles at the compliment. “I’m not planning on quitting my day job to open a catering business and I doubt that Captain Sisko will do the same! We just enjoy cooking for our friends and today is a good excuse to do so!” “And I forgive you for your previous blunder.”, Garak replies, “Excuse me while I go socialize with people I haven’t seen for awhile.” He heads over to where Doctor Bashir is standing. Patricia calls after him. “Enjoy!”

A voice speaks from behind Dr. Pat. “May I try one of your hamburgers with Yamok Sauce?” She turns around and is startled to find herself staring into a face eerily reminiscent of Gul Dukat! She is unable to hide her startled expression. “I’m sorry! Let me introduce myself. I am Gul Muldred. The late Gul Dukat was my cousin. We have an unfortunate family resemblance.” Patricia stammers. “I-I-I apologize for reacting so rudely.” Gul Muldred nods solemnly. “Quite understandable. It is widely known that my cousin is deceased so it would be startling to turn around and see his face staring back at you!” Patricia gulps nervously. “Quite right! It must be difficult for you when people react as if you are Gul Dukat and you have done nothing wrong.”

Now it is Gul Muldred’s turn to be startled. “That is the first time a human has said that to me! I do deeply regret what my cousin and my compatriots did to Bajor as well as the atrocities that were committed during the earlier war. I am hoping that we could all move beyond that.” “I think today would be a good beginning.”, Patricia replies, “Now let me get you that hamburger that you requested!” She plates up a hamburger and pauses with the Yamok Sauce. “How much Yamok Sauce would you like on your hamburger?” Gul Muldred takes the container of Yamok Sauce. “Since we just met and you are not familiar with my tastes, let me do the seasoning with it.” He pours Yamok Sauce on his hamburger and hands the container back to Patricia. “Now for my first taste!” He takes a bite but he isn’t sure he likes it.

Patricia observes his reaction. “Based on your facial expression, it appears that you don’t like hamburgers very well.” Gul Muldred shakes his head. “Do not worry about it. I have never tasted hamburger before and it will take time to get used to it. As I have often heard it said … it is an acquired taste. Do you happen to have any Kanar?” “As a matter of fact, we do!”, she replies, “Captain Sisko’s wife, Kassidy, is assisting with the libations over by the house.”, as she points in Kassidy’s direction. Gul Muldred bows his head in Patricia’s direction. “Thank you. I will return to sample Captain Sisko’s cooking.” He walks toward where the beverages are being dispensed. Patricia mutters to herself, “That went diplomatically well!” Sisko chuckles. “Don’t worry about it, Pat. He is one of the most laid-back Cardassians I have met. I think he keeps a low profile given the reputation of his late cousin.” Patricia nods thoughtfully. “I guess I can relate about having a dysfunctional family member.”

“And that what helps you to be diplomatic.”, Sisko responds. Patricia shakes her head. “I will never be a diplomat like Uncle Spock. I’m often too honest at the wrong times!” “Just for today”, Sisko reminds her gently, “Let our cooking conduct our diplomacy!” Patricia looks about. “The guests sure seem to be enjoying themselves!” Sisko grins with satisfaction. “I think we achieved our objective.” She gives him a quizzical look. “Are you up to making this an annual event?” Sisko sighs. “If it helps to maintain peace, I think we can find a way.” Patricia gestures emphatically. “We don’t have to do it alone! There are friends, colleagues … look around you. These people are here because they WANT to be here! They believe in the common goal because they have experienced the pain of the alternative. They know something better is there if they really want it! I look around and I see Bajorans mingling with Cardassians, including Gul Muldred and Garak, along with Klingons, Romulans, Vulcans … and the Great Bird of the Galaxy is covering them all with its wings! I would say that this is the dream of the Federation come to fruition!” Sisko follows her gaze. “You’re right, Pat! Given what you said and the way you said it, why not become a diplomat along with being a doctor?”

Patricia sadly shakes her head. “Because my Asperger’s will always get in the way, Ben, and you know it!” Sisko looks over at her. “Whether you realize it or not, Pat, you are being a diplomat now … with your cooking. This party was your idea and see what it has achieved!” Patricia gestures toward the stove. “Your cooking is part of the diplomacy too! I couldn’t do it all alone!” Sisko pauses. “You don’t have to answer this as I’m asking as a friend instead of as a Star Fleet officer. Why wasn’t your Asperger’s addressed when you were a child?”

Patricia hesitates, then quietly says in a low voice that only Sisko can hear. “I’ve never really discussed my childhood with anyone outside of Gramps, Uncle Spock, Captain Uhura, and my AA home group that I helped establish at Star Fleet Headquarters with another Friend of Bill W. and Doctor Bob. To make a long story short, between the ages of 2 until I was 6, I was in the quote, ‘foster care system’, unquote after I was abandoned on a non-Federation planet … and I use the term ‘foster care system’ loosely. When dealing with the public, whenever we have been interviewed for whatever reason, Gramps and I refer to it with the euphemism, ‘foster care’. It was much worse than that! To be blunt, Ben, it was a criminal organization involved with the child slave trade.” Sisko is shocked but remains silent. Patricia continues. “My father had suddenly died, under circumstances that I don’t fully understand, and … I was unwanted by she who gave birth to me. The slavers didn’t care about my disabilities as long as they could ‘sell my services’, if you know what I mean.” She can see the horror on Sisko’s face as he glances at his baby daughter, playing in her playpen. Patricia follows his gaze and realizes that Rebecca is now the age that she had been when she was sold into slavery. They both involuntarily shudder at the same thought.

She resumes her narrative. “After Gramps and Uncle Spock rescued me, Gramps was unable to find any professional who was willing to give me a neurological assessment. The more I think about it, even if I had been officially diagnosed when I was a child, I couldn’t really be treated … at least, not LEGALLY. Remember why Doctor Bashir’s father was prosecuted? Do you remember the group that Doctor Bashir tried to help … Jack, Patrick, Lauren, and Sarina, who were institutionalized because the ‘experiments’ on them ‘failed’? I could have easily ended up institutionalized, like them, instead of being functional, like Doctor Bashir! Thank God I wasn’t dumped into an institution. When Gramps took me in, I was dealing with a whole boatload of other issues as a result of being abused as a child slave. The Asperger’s wasn’t finally diagnosed until long after I was an adult. Not much could be done by then.”

Sisko is thoughtful. “I see …” “From my point of view”, Patricia continues, “Asperger’s isn’t a curse. Several historical people, in the past, are suspected of having Asperger’s … Albert Einstein for one. Where would we be without his unique genius?” Sisko is surprised at this fact. “You have a point!” Patricia smiles. “Besides, I have a family of choice now! That makes things easier when the emotions start crowding in on me.” He looks at her, confused. “Crowding in? What do you mean, Pat?” Patricia sighs. “From time to time, Ben, I struggle with PTSD … Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, stemming from the childhood abuse. That’s why I practice the Vulcan meditation that Uncle Spock taught me. When I’m away from home, and the nightmare flashbacks start up, the Vulcan techniques are helpful. When I’m around family and friends who know and understand, I can talk about it. Right now is neither a good time nor place to go into any further detail. For the moment, it is sufficient that I am considered Rebecca’s favorite aunt and that I can be treated as a sister by you and Kass.” Sisko nods with empathy. “I understand about PTSD. I watched Nog struggle with it when he lost his leg. Once he got through it, it made him a better officer. I have faith in you too and, yes, I count you as family. You can discuss anything with me or Kass anytime you need to whenever you’re here.”

Patricia grins at that. “Thanks, Bro!” The party eventually winds down and the clean-up begins. When the clean-up is completed, Dr. Pat finds a seat and puts her feet up. “I am EXHAUSTED! But WHAT A PARTY!” Captain Sisko also finds a seat and Kassidy sits in his lap. “I will have to say that the party was a success!”, Kassidy comments, “Everyone enjoyed themselves!” Sisko grins at his wife and at his friend, Patricia. “I agree! It was hard work and, at the same time, I enjoyed cooking! Gave me a feeling that Dad was with us in spirit. I’m sure he would have LOVED it if he could have been here!” “And now you have to start gearing up for your son’s wedding on Earth!”, Patricia adds, “Are you up to that task?” Sisko is awestruck. “It seems as if it was only yesterday he was just a baby, then just a kid! Now he’s a grown man! Where have all the years gone!?” Patricia shakes her head in astonishment. “The years fly by too quickly, if you ask me!”

“That is so true!”, Kassidy chimes in, “It feels like it was only yesterday that Rebecca was a newborn! Now look at her! Before we know it, it will be her turn to announce she’s engaged!” Sisko looks at her wide-eyed. “Please, Kass, don’t rush THAT! I’m having a hard enough time wrapping my head around the fact that my eldest child is getting married!” “Just for today”, Patricia says, “We have to sit back and wait for Jake and Karenna to ask us for what they need us to do. The majority of the planning needs to be done by the two of them as it will be their day. I’ve seen some of my friends driven absolutely CRAZY when they were planning their weddings and various relatives attempted to interfere, overrule and CONTROL everything! At one point, I had to threaten to throw the relatives in the Brig if they didn’t back off! I know I don’t have the authority to make such a threat to civilians … but it worked! It gave my friends the breathing room they needed!”

Captain Sisko and Kassidy laugh. “I’ll make it a point of remaining a patient father and future-father-in-law. When it comes to having grandchildren, I don’t know how I will be able to patiently WAIT!” Patricia laughs at that. “Ben, give them time to settle down and get used to being married first! I’ve lost count as to how many times I had to toss obnoxious relatives out of the maternity ward while I was attending to a mother in labor! Their being overbearing made Lwaxana Troi look meek and timid!” Sisko and Kassidy wince in unison, “Ouch!” “Now THAT is BAD!”, Sisko comments.

Kassidy looks at both her husband and at Patricia. “How bad was Lwaxana Troi?” “AMBASSADOR Lwaxana Troi”, Sisko replies, “And it is a L-O-N-G story!” Patricia slowly gets up. “Well, I’m going to turn in for the night as I have to start packing up in the morning! My shore leave is up and it’s time to start getting ready to return to duty!” Sisko and Kassidy call out together, “Good night!” “And thanks for helping, Pat!”, Sisko adds. Patricia waves back as she walks. “You’re welcome and glad to do it! Good night!” She heads off to bed and immediately falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

In the morning, Patricia is up and packing. Rebecca toddles in to see what is going on. “Bear!”, the toddler laughs. She pauses in her packing to pick up Rebecca and give her a hug. “Good morning, Sweetie!” She gives Rebecca a kiss on the cheek and sets her back down the floor, then resumes packing. Kassidy comes in after Rebecca. “What would you like for breakfast this morning?” Patricia looks up from her packing. “After all that cooking and eating yesterday, I think I’ll have oatmeal this morning.” Kassidy smiles. “Coming right up!” She turns to her daughter. “Come on, Rebecca, and help Mommy make breakfast!” Rebecca toddles out of the room holding her mother’s hand. Dr. Pat completes packing the rest of her belongings then sits down, feeling sad. Captain Sisko comes in.

“Why the sad face, Pat?”, he asks. Patricia gestures. “I always feel sad when I have to leave someplace … or leave family behind. It’s hard to explain, Ben.” “Maybe because it feels like a home here …”, Sisko suggests. Patricia nods. “That’s it exactly! I felt the same way when I had to leave Gramps and Uncle Spock. It felt like HOME there too, wherever they were!” Sisko looks at her empathetically. “It will get better, Pat, once you get busy again. I felt the same way when I left Earth to come back here after Jadzia died. This will always be one of your homes. If a spot ever opens up in the Infirmary on the station, I will ask that you fill it!” Patricia smiles. “Thanks, Ben! I should go ahead and have breakfast before I ship out.” She gets up and both of them head to the dining area for breakfast.

The Sisko’s and Dr. Pat sit around the breakfast table having one last meal together, chatting about sundry or other when the door chime sounds. Sisko calls out, “Come!” The doors slide open and Grilka comes in. “I just wanted to say good-bye before my ship heads out.” Martok and Worf walk up behind her. “As do we!” “I enjoyed seeing you all on the station again!”, Sisko replies. Martok grins. “And we enjoyed ourselves as well! Your party yesterday was one of the best that we experienced! WHERE did you find that Blood Wine?” Sisko grins back. “I have my sources!” “I’ll be shipping out shortly too!”, Patricia adds, “I have to head back and check my posting before my next assigned mission.” Worf nods. “We will probably see each other on our next mission!” “Yes, Worf!”, she responds, “And I’m looking forward to that! The crew seemed to enjoy the water drills once they got used to them! Now it’s time to devise a new strategy to keep the young un’s on their toes!” Martok, Worf, and Grilka grin mischievously. “Q’Pla, McCoy, my adopted daughter!”, Martok declares, “Until we meet again!” Patricia gives him the Klingon salute. “Q’ Pla!”

Martok, Grilka, and Worf leave and the doors slide shut behind them. Patricia puts down her napkin. “I hate to say it but it’s time for me to get going or Star Fleet Headquarters will send out a search party for me or charge me with going AWOL!” Kassidy picks up Rebecca out of her highchair. “Let me get Rebecca cleaned up and we’ll go with you to the airlock.” Sisko places the dirty dishes in the reclamator. He presses a button and the dirty dishes disappear. “Let me get this cleared away and I’ll walk with you on the way to my office.” “Thanks, Ben!”, Patricia responds, “I’ll go and get my stuff.” She heads to where she left her luggage. The Sisko Family and Dr. Pat walk toward the airlock where her ship is waiting. Quark walks up to them.

“You’re leaving without even saying ‘good-bye’ to me?”, the Ferengi asks. Patricia looks back at him with a smile. “I didn’t want to intrude on your private time with Grilka given that she is heading out too.” Quark shrugs. “Nothing wrong with being with two beautiful women at the same time!” Patricia shakes her head. “And you are still a shameless flirt!” Quark laughs. “It’s a gift!” She gives him a wistful look. “Maybe someday you and Grilka can settle down. The two of you get along so well!” Quark nods. “Maybe so. It would be a bit awkward being a member of the House of Grilka.” Patricia gives him a sly grin. “You can profit in other pleasurable ways that I can’t mention in front of the baby!” She nods toward Rebecca who stares at them sucking her thumb. Quark returns the sly grin. “You’re right! It would be more fun if you’d join us!”

Patricia shakes her head. “In your dreams, Quark! In your dreams!” She gently touches his ear. “Bye, Quark!” Quark places his hand over hers. “I’m going to miss your acerbic wit!” He steps back so she can continue toward the airlock, turns and heads back to his bar. She turns to look at the Sisko family and shakes her head. “I just don’t know what to make of him!” Sisko shrugs. “Like I told Worf a long time ago, Quark is a shade of gray. A UNIQUE shade of gray!” The group stops at the airlock leading to Dr. Pat’s ship. “Well, this is where I head out. I’m going to miss ALL of you!” She starts to well up and choke but fights to keep the tears under control. As the airlock rolls open, Rebecca suddenly understands that her favorite aunt is leaving and starts to cry, holding her arms out to Dr. Pat. She picks her up, gives her a hug and a kiss. “Be a good girl and mind your Mommy and Daddy! Okay! I’ll be back, Sweetie! Auntie Bear has got to go to work now!” She kisses her again and hands her back to Kassidy. Rebecca continues to cry. “I better go now before I start crying!”, Patricia chokes out. She walks through the airlock while Captain Sisko and Kassidy wave good-bye. “See you the next time you stop by, Pat!”, Sisko calls out. Kassidy adds, “Stay safe!” She waves Rebecca’s hand. “Rebecca, say ‘Bye-bye’!” Rebecca cries louder instead.

The airlock doors roll shut and Dr. Pat disappears out of sight. The Sisko Family leaves the area, with Captain Sisko heading to Ops and Kassidy taking Rebecca back to their quarters. Rebecca continues to cry: “Bear!” as they walk down the corridor. Dr. Pat looks out the window as the ship pulls away from Deep Space Nine. She mutters quietly to herself. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll be back. Can’t stay away from my favorite god-child for too long.” She settles in for the long flight to her post, pulls out her PADD and begins reviewing her orders for her next assigned mission. On Grilka’s ship, she looks at an unseen object cradled in her hand, sighs, then puts it away before anyone else notices. On Martok’s ship, Worf is also reviewing his orders for their next mission. Martok is sitting in the captain’s chair looking about the bridge as each crew member focuses on her or his task. In a secluded hide-away, a happily engaged couple is busy planning their wedding to be held in New Orleans at SISKO’S Creole Kitchen. Back at Deep Space Nine, Quark stares lovingly at a small holo-portrait of Grilka, Captain Sisko places a new holo-portrait of Jake and Karenna on his desk alongside holo-portraits of Kassidy and Rebecca, and Kassidy remains busy being a mother to energetic toddler Rebecca.

[To be continued … ]

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NOBODY’S CHILD: The Saga of Doctor Leonard McCoy and Family-Chapter Four

NOBODY’S CHILD
by Pat McCoy

CHAPTER FOUR – Through the Ranks

It felt like it was only yesterday that Patricia had been admitted to Star Fleet Medical Academy and began her studies as a cadet. She couldn’t believe how fast the years had flown by! In spite of all the set-backs and hardships, she had managed to progress through the ranks of Ensign, Lieutenant Junior Grade, Lieutenant, Lieutenant Commander, then Commander. She was continuing her efforts to earn her next rank of Captain. She felt that since Gramps was able to achieve the rank of Admiral, she should be able to eventually work her way up through Commodore and earn the same rank as he did. Before that, when she was finally granted her degree as a medical doctor, her relief knows no bounds. “At last!”, she thought to herself as the degree was placed in her hand and she shook hands with the faculty, “I’ve done it! I’ve reached my first goal!” It was all she could do to refrain from dancing her jig across the stage but couldn’t resist doing a playful skip and twirl, curtsying to her former instructors. Captain Smith and the others laughed heartily. As she descended the stage, she searched the audience for her loved ones and friends. Then she saw the sign held up by Gramps, “WAY TO GO!”, and he was grinning from ear to ear! Captain Uhura was applauding her and Uncle Spock…even from a distance, she could see the pride shining in his eyes. She blew all of them a kiss then punched the air in triumph!

Shortly after the ceremony, she receives her new assignment along with her orders. Before she is due to report, she asks for some leave time to spend with her family. She returns to her Great-Grandfather’s home in Georgia where he throws a party in her honor and she assists him with the outdoor grilling. She is so overwhelmed at the number of former crew-mates, from the U.S.S. Enterprise, plus other Star Fleet friends and former classmates, showing up to congratulate and welcome her to their ranks that she is uncertain whether to laugh or cry. She finally slips away to have some alone time, trying to sort out her emotions. Spock finds her and sits down next to her.

“What is that ancient human question that I have often heard your Great-Grandfather ask you, Patricia-kam, ‘A penny for your thoughts’?” says the old Vulcan. Patricia chuckles. “That’s right, Uncle.” Then her smile fades. “My feelings are all jumbled up right now. I don’t know what I’m feeling or SHOULD be feeling! It’s … overwhelming!” Spock nods in response. “There is much to sort through, Patricia-kam.” She looks at Spock. “Do you remember how I used to be, when Gramps first brought me home…after I was rescued from the slavers? I couldn’t really relate to anyone and I was TERRIFIED of EVERYONE! All I wanted to do was hide or fight anyone who approached me! Then I accidentally hurt you by grabbing your ear the first time we met! I look back through time … when I was learning how to waltz with you for my physical therapy as I re-learned how to walk. Remember how I was finally able to grasp mathematical concepts? Remember all the messes and scrapes I got into, growing up? I got into Gramps’ collection of original Kroeker bio-gel packs even though it took him 40 years to amass that collection. I had no idea what they were! I thought I was creating the greatest scientific experiment. Remember Great Aunt Edith? She was trying to teach me etiquette and to act like a lady. She was expecting me to behave like a girly-girl and I was more tom-boy! Gramps thought it was hysterically funny because I tend to take after him with his mannerisms and salty language. I thought Aunt Edith was going to have a cow when I let loose with an expletive during one of her parties!” She giggled then her smile fades. “But I became addicted to alcohol and drugs and all hell broke loose. I can’t forget that I threatened all of you with that broken bottle. You saved my life when I attempted suicide. With you and Gramps helping, I managed to get back on track. I also picked up where my late father left off, becoming the Family Historian. I’ve managed to trace other McCoy ancestors, and our distant cousins, a long way back with my genealogy research. It boggles my mind when I remember that I couldn’t talk at all in the very beginning and now it seems I can’t shut up.” Her voice trails off as she looks at Spock’s face. Then she quietly adds, “I’m not being very logical right now, Uncle.”

She pauses when she sees Spock swallow hard. It was slight, barely noticeable by anyone else. Through the years, she had learned to pick up on slight nuances in his emotional state even though she understood the Vulcan custom of stoicism and logic. She understood that he was feeling emotions, now, without being obvious. He quietly responds. “I remember, Patricia-kam. I remember well the time when you were unable to speak…up through your struggle with your addictions. The incident involving my ear was only minor. You were only six years old and had never met a Vulcan before. You have traveled a long way and have overcome many obstacles! I am pleased at your accomplishments and … I am proud … of you.” His face becomes unreadable.

Patricia reaches up and places a hand on his shoulder as she nods and smiles. “I don’t know where I would be without you, Captain Uhura, and Gramps! I was NOT an easy child! You all loved me in spite of myself!” She chuckles then her smile fades again. “I look back on everything, Uncle. The good, the bad, the ugly, and I feel…overwhelmed…by all of it! Now, I’ve finished my Academy studies, gotten my medical degree, and I’m officially a doctor, just like Gramps. It’s exciting and scary all at once! I know I should be practicing the meditation I learned on Vulcan and, at the same time, it’s so hard to sit still right now! I want to be a perfect Vulcan, just like you!”

Spock looks over at her and gives her a slight smile. “It is not logical to try to be a perfect Vulcan, Patricia-kam, when you were not born as one, let alone raised as one since birth. I am a Vulcan and yet I am not perfect either. I’ve had my moments!” He pauses. “To change the subject in regards to what you describe as exciting and scary, have you received your first assignment?” She nods. “I’m being embedded with a platoon of Klingons, to practice treating their battle wounds while they conduct training missions. It’s as close to a genuine battle situation to practice combat medicine before I find myself in the middle of the real deal! I’m to report to Q’onos at the end of three months, to meet with the commanding officers and be given orientation, then travel to Corbus V for the training mission itself. This should get interesting … which is an understatement!” Spock looks at her. “I have faith in you, Patricia-kam. Your Great-Grandfather and I taught you survival techniques during our camping trips. You practiced self-defense skills with Captain Uhura. You know other skills from your Academy days as well as what you have learned here, at home, along with what you have learned when you were in treatment on Vulcan. You can do this.”

Patricia nods in agreement then tilts her head as she looks at her beloved Uncle. “Do you know what I find ironic, Uncle Spock?” He quirks an eyebrow in response. Patricia continues. “Here I am, a recovering alcoholic and a recovering drug addict and I’m being assigned to work with a platoon of Klingons who LOVE to party, and get blind-drunk, fighting-drunk, with Blood Wine and God knows what other kinds of intoxicating beverages! And I will be practicing my Program in the middle of that in order to STAY sober! YIKES!” She shakes her head in astonishment. Spock gives her a slight smile again. “You were able to take down a violent bully, who was twice your size and weight as well as a much higher rank. If you could face down someone who was abusing his rank, Patricia-kam, then you should have no problem working alongside our Klingon counterparts.” Patricia chews her lip, feeling uncertain. “I hope so, Uncle. I really hope so!”

Patricia’s assignments, on both Q’onos and on Corbus V are eye-opening experiences for her. She quickly realizes that she needs to develop workarounds for the Klingon cuisine given her history of digestive sensitivities. Working alongside proud warriors, she knew that relying solely on Star Fleet issue MRE’s was NOT going to cut it! Using her creativity, she adapts many of the available foods to outdoor cooking over an open campfire. She drew the line, however, regarding the Blood Wine which flowed in copious amounts among the warriors. For her to pick up one drink…that would have been too high a price to pay! She is painfully aware of the hostility aimed in her direction because of being “different” and, for the most part, is able to shrug it off.

Unfortunately, one warrior, Morath, decides to take the hostility to a whole new level. In spite of the frequent surgeries that Patricia had undergone in childhood, she would start limping whenever she became overtired. Being perceived as “weak” by Morath, he begins a campaign of harassment …tripping her, shoving her, tossing dead creatures at her, etc. She either ignores him, shrugs him off, brushes herself off, or tosses the dead creatures back at him and continues about her business. This seems to infuriate this particular Klingon all the more. While she is preparing a batch of stew over the campfire, Morath decides he is going to show her who is “boss” and kicks over the stew-pot, spilling its contents on the ground. She stands up, glaring at him while holding a small cast iron skillet. He reacts by grabbing the front of her tunic, lifting her off the ground, and deliberately spits in her face. Without a second thought, she lashes out, striking him across the face, hearing his nose crack underneath her fist. Only then does she realize she is still holding the skillet!

Bellowing in rage, like a mad bull, he pulls out his d’ktahg ready for the kill! The only thing that Patricia has to defend herself is the skillet still in her hand. At that moment, a shout rings out from offside, “MEVYAP!” Morath immediately drops Patricia, sending her sprawling in the dirt. An older warrior walks up and punches the offender to the ground. The elder warrior shouts something else in Klingon and Morath scrambles away. The elder Klingon turns toward Patricia. “Q’Pla, Doctor! You fight well for one so little!” Patricia nods as she picks herself up, cleans up the mess and tosses the small frying pan into the now-empty stew-pot. “Thank you, sir!” The elder Klingon hands her a bottle. “Come! Let us celebrate your victory with some Blood Wine! It is a good vintage! The best from the House of Martok!” Patricia hesitates, then asks, “With all due respect, do you happen to have Prune Juice, sir?” The elder Klingon eyes her suspiciously. “You do not accept my offer of Blood Wine!? All warriors drink this!” She squares her shoulders and looks directly at the elder warrior as she hands the bottle back. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” He responds, “Hlja!” She struggles to maintain eye-contact with this elder warrior, who is clearly bigger and stronger than Morath. “You may have noticed that I have some personal…”, she pauses, “… ‘challenges’, which has made me a target of your warriors. One of those personal ‘challenges’ could endanger you, endanger your warriors, and endanger the mission if my ‘challenge’ gets out of control. I am a recovering alcoholic.”

The elder warrior grunts. “I do not understand what ‘recovering alcoholic’ means.” Patricia nods. “Not everyone understands, sir, including others who struggle with the same disease that I do.” She pauses, rubbing her chin, realizes that Morath’s spittle is still on her face, and wipes it off with her sleeve. “The best way I can think of to explain it, sir, is that I’ve had a history of endangering others whenever alcohol was in my blood and in my brain. While I was under the influence, I threatened to stab my Uncle, who I LOVE DEARLY! My Uncle Spock helped to save my life and that is a debt that I can never repay! To me, threatening to kill him is insane behavior. Every time alcohol gets into my brain, it takes total control and I have NO control over where it will take me or what I will do. My responsibility, and my oath as a doctor, is to first do no harm. My responsibility is to treat the wounded and the sick. If you get hurt in battle, it would be my responsibility to make you well so you could return to that battle and achieve your victory. If I were under the influence of alcohol, I could accidentally kill you because my brain would not be functioning as it should. Do you remember that incident with Chancellor Gorkon, years ago, after Praxis exploded? My Gramps attempted to treat the Chancellor’s wounds, when Gorkon was attacked, but Gramps was unable to save the Chancellor’s life … and Gramps was COMPLETELY SOBER! Because he failed to prevent the Chancellor’s death, he was wrongly convicted of the Chancellor’s assassination and sentenced to Rura Penthe! I could end up in Rura Penthe, because of the death of a Klingon warrior if I were to operate under the influence of alcohol. I don’t want to repeat history while under the influence! I cannot permit endangering you or the other warriors because of alcohol. As long as I do NOT pick up that first drink, and I remain in recovery, you … and your warriors are safe around me.”

She sees that the elder warrior is considering her words, then he nods and smiles. “I LIKE you, little warrior! I will heed your words and I will ensure that no other warriors will harass you again.” The elder Klingon takes one of the medals off of his uniform and pins it on her. “From this moment on, you are a Daughter of the House of Martok! Any warrior who touches MY daughter will answer to ME! Now permit me to find some Prune Juice for you so we can properly celebrate!” He walks away, leaving Patricia slack-jawed and speechless.

When she reports back to Star Fleet, after her assignment with the Klingons, she expects some fallout. After all, she was sent there as a doctor to treat the sick and wounded during her battle training, not punch out the Allies or assault them with cast iron skillets. She is met by her old mentor, Captain Smith. He gives her a stern look. “You have something to tell me, Doctor?” She nods, straightens her uniform tunic, and relates what took place on Corbus V. Instead of receiving the expected reprimand, the Captain grins. “Martok told me as much during the debriefing. I was worried about how you would be able to handle yourself, and be able to maintain your sobriety, around a group of hard-drinking warriors who would kill at a moment’s notice if anyone looked at them cross-eyed. Good job!” He pauses. “Oh, and by the way, Martok has requested that you be assigned to accompany him and his platoon on future missions. He tells me that he needs to teach you how to fight like a Klingon! A cast iron skillet is not going to be sufficient.” He chuckles as he walks away while Patricia grins and shakes her head in bewilderment.

To continue adding to her medical experience and familiarizing herself with myriad alien physiologies, she is assigned to various clinical as well as forensic, settings on a variety of Federation planets over the years, including Ferenginar, where she treated Grand Nagus Zek, and on Bajor. While at Bajor, she becomes briefly acquainted with Worf, who is visiting with Captain Benjamin Sisko on Deep Space Nine, in his role as a Federation ambassador to Q’onos. Patricia recalls the Battle with the Borg at Wolf 359, which caused the death of Benjamin’s first wife, Jennifer…then the War with the Dominion which kept them all busy beyond belief! After the Dominion was defeated, she crossed paths with Benjamin’s second wife, Kassidy Yates-Sisko, who was pregnant at the time and had developed complications. Benjamin’s disappearance, within the Fire Caves of Bajor, did not help her situation. Thankfully, she, and the baby, had pulled through and Kassidy was reunited with her husband just in time for the baby’s birth.

Eventually, Captain Patricia is put in charge of a mission, studying how crew members are affected by the environment on an unnamed planet, its location is classified due to security reasons and only certain select officers were given any further details on a need-to-know basis. Preliminary research, in preparation for the mission, revealed that the planet had the enigmatic nomenclature of “Gateway” and that its coordinates were located in Sector 90.4. She had been informed that various Star Fleet crew members had complained about after-effects from this particular planet and she was asked to research this phenomenon. Once she arrives, she discovers an ancient structure that is referred to as the “Guardian of Forever”. She also becomes acquainted with a very handsome Tiger Caitian named Doctor Quon, an astrophysicist specializing in temporal mechanics. He often shared his passion about temporal mechanics even though she often struggled to understand it. “I thought math was confusing!,” she thought to herself, “but temporal mechanics, its formulae, equations, and theories REALLY befuddle and discombobulate me! At the same time, HE is FASCINATING!”

Within short order, she and Quon become mates. It didn’t feel like a conscious choice on her part, but it felt…right. She never discussed her past with him and the first time he saw her scars, he asked no questions and accepted her just as she is, flaws and all. That was fine by her. Certain other Star Fleet personnel don’t seem to approve of their relationship, especially Commander George Primmin, who is the head of the Security detail. She quickly becomes aware of his xenophobic, as well as his homophobic, racist, sexist opinions along with his negativity toward anyone with any level of disabilities, challenges, differences, or orientation! It’s obvious that Primmin does NOT like the idea of any woman outranking him and being his superior! It was all Patricia could do to control her temper whenever she had to deal with him. She had to constantly remind herself to remain professional and ask herself, “What would Uncle Spock do?”

“How Primmin got his job, I’ll never know! If he was ever stupid enough to demonstrate THAT attitude toward Admiral Nechayev, today,”, Patricia thought to herself, “Primmin would find himself peeling potatoes on a garbage scow! Damn idiotic prig!” Shortly after her arrival, she had to give Primmin a dressing down when she caught him bullying young Ensign David Gerrold for being “different” even though the young lad was fresh out of the Academy. Primmin’s response to her authority demonstrated that he doesn’t seem to approve of her, personally, being a Captain and being in command during this mission due to her own physical and neurological differences. More than once, he skirted the edge of insubordination as he questioned every decision she made. She was certain he mocked her behind her back. So much for the evolution of humans and the extinction of prejudice and bigotry! All she could do was shake her head in disgust.

While on the planet’s surface, Captain Patricia is informed of evidence of a possible temporal disturbance in the area of the ancient monolith. Curiosity gets the better of her and she and Quon go out to the vicinity of the Guardian to investigate. The Caitian scans the Guardian while Patricia scans the surrounding area. Questioning the ancient Guardian about the recent disturbance only results in enigmatic responses that leave her flustered and confused, if not annoyed. After awhile, Quon and Patricia look at each other, shrug, and she shakes her head. They both reach for their comm-badges but she taps hers first, “McCoy to Time Piece Ops.” A voice responds over the comm-badge, “Time Piece Ops, Commander Primmin here.” McCoy continues, “Primmin, the only response we’re getting from the Guardian is, and I quote, ‘Many such journeys are possible.’, unquote. Doctor Quon and I have found residual energy traces, but there’s no one around now.” Primmin sounds sarcastic as he responds, “Count your blessings, Doctor. What would you have done if you found them?” Patricia irritably thinks to herself, “Pompous ass!”, but manages to keep her voice professionally assertive. “I can take care of myself, Commander. Given my rank as CAPTAIN, that is part of my job!” Primmin continues his sarcastic tone, ignoring her reference to rank. “I know you can. It’s Doctor Quon that I worry about.” Patricia looks over at Quon and rolls her eyes. Primmin is really taxing her patience! “I can take care of Quon, too, Primmin. I’ll remind you who is in command here!”, she snaps. Primmin pauses for a moment, hearing the annoyance in his commanding officer’s voice. “Well … let’s err on the side of caution. No heroes, if you’re in trouble, holler. Don’t want to lose a Captain on my watch!” Patricia grins wickedly at Quon as she responds, “I’ll scream like a girl. McCoy out!” Quon gives her a sly grin, “You’re evil!”, before walking back over to the Guardian. He stands in front of it, arms akimbo, smiling and shaking his head. She walks over to him, smiling and touches his shoulder.

Quon continues to shake his head. “Security. They all think they’re Jim Wayne.” Patricia chuckles. “I think you mean John Wayne.” Quon tilts his head and gives her a quizzical look. “Are you sure? He was a famous pirate, right?” Patricia chuckles again. “Cowboy.” Quon doesn’t understand. “What?” Patricia repeats her explanation. “John Wayne was a cowboy in the ancient movies during Earth’s 20th Century.” Quon shrugs his shoulders. “If you say so, you’re the history and genealogy buff.” Suddenly, the Guardian swirls to life and the two doctors snap to attention! A younger version of Doctor Leonard McCoy leaps through, knocking Quon down in the process! The new arrival jumps to his feet and looks about wild-eyed! He screams, “Murderers! Assassins!” Patricia is dumbfounded and can only stand there, frozen in place, agape and wide-eyed. Leonard McCoy looks at her and there appears to be a tiny spark of something familiar. He gives her a confused look, then gestures toward her, “Who…who are you?” Patricia does a double-take, thinking to herself, “I don’t FREAKING believe THIS!” Her voice squeaks as she responds, “Gramps?!”

Patricia is standing several paces away from this younger version of Doctor Leonard McCoy. He half- crouches with a wild look in his eyes. Doctor Quon lies, sprawled, on the ground nearby…unmoving. Patricia glances quickly between Quon and Doctor Leonard McCoy, sizing up the situation. Doctor Leonard McCoy screams at her, “YOU!” and he charges at her. She shouts back, “Gramps! NO!” Patricia does a combat roll to avoid his charge. She rolls back to her feet, in a defensive stance, expecting an additional attack only to see the younger version of Gramps run out of sight. She watches him for a second, then rushes over to Doctor Quon. She rips out her medical tricorder, quickly scans him, then breathes a sigh of relief. The scan reveals only a mild concussion but it will still require medical attention due to his being Caitian. Patricia taps her comm-badge, “McCoy to Time Piece!” A voice responds, “Time Piece! Primmin here!” She continues, “We have a medical emergency! Send my medical team, and Security personnel, to the Guardian!” Primmin curtly responds, “Acknowledged. Primmin out!” He signs off. Patricia continues to assess Doctor Quon. “Take it easy, Tiger. Help’s coming.”

She grips Quon’s shoulder, reassuringly, then stands and walks a few paces in the direction that the younger version of Leonard McCoy fled to as she puts her medical tricorder away. She pulls out her standard tricorder and scans the distance, checking her readings. In short order, she hears the hum of a transporter beam. She turns in the direction of the sound and sees four Security officers, including Commander Primmin, and two of her medical team appear. The Medics immediately go over to Doctor Quon and begin to attend to him. Primmin rushes over to Patricia. The remaining officers take up their positions, securing the perimeter of the area. Primmin stands in front of Patricia and asks, “Are you all right?”

Other than nodding, Patricia does not respond immediately as she continues to scan the area, focusing on her readings. Primmin pulls out his own tricorder, begins scanning, and scowls with annoyance at Patricia. She notices his annoyed expression and quirks an eyebrow at him. Primmin dials back his annoyance and tries again, “What happened?” She continues to study her tricorder while she answers, sounding preoccupied, “A man.” She pauses while she continues scanning. “A man who most certainly shouldn’t be here!” She walks away from Primmin in the direction that she saw Leonard McCoy’s younger version run off to. Primmin follows behind.

Primmin mutters to himself, “Someone came through the Guardian.” He raises his voice, “Team!” His Security team responds and gather close. Primmin makes sure that everyone is present, then continues, “An unidentified intruder came through the Guardian, attacked Doctor Quon”, he points past Patricia, “and ran off in that direction. I want him found! Phasers on…” Patricia whirls around and faces Primmin, reminding him who is in command as she completes his sentence, “STUN!” Primmin and the Security Team turn to face her. Patricia continues, “I repeat, phasers are to be on STUN! He is not…” Primmin looks at her suspiciously. “Dangerous, Doctor McCoy?” He looks at Doctor Quon and the medical team.

Patricia glares back at him, thinking to herself, “So you fancy yourself a cowboy, you pompous ass?”, but she keeps THAT thought to herself. Instead, she says aloud, “He’s NOT armed, MISTER Primmin! Nor is he an alien. He’s Star Fleet…from the past. He’s obviously ill and disoriented. I am ordering you…all of you…to set your phasers on stun!” Primmin stands toe-to-toe with her. “Do you know something I don’t…Doctor?” Patricia puts on her best poker face that she is able to manage. “Whatever do you mean?” Primmin attempts to push the envelope. “Have I been demoted, and you’ve been made Chief of Security?” Patricia glares at him. “No, you have NOT been demoted … COMMANDER! But you have NOT been promoted either! I am STILL THE CAPTAIN AND IN CHARGE HERE! Should I continue to explain the obvious or do you get my drift yet?” They stare each other down for a moment while Primmin silently works his jaw. While he still glares back at Patricia, he speaks to his Security team, “Phasers set on stun. Let’s move out!” He gives her a look as if to say, “Happy…now?” Patricia wishes there wasn’t a regulation against bitch-slapping an insubordinate idiot!

He starts to walk away, then pauses as another thought occurs to him. He turns back to look at Patricia. “You said he was Star Fleet. Did you happen to recognize the intruder, Doctor?” She maintains her poker face as she responds, “Nope. I have no idea who he was. All I recognized was the uniform from the 23rd Century. I’m the history buff, remember? I KNOW the various Star Fleet uniforms from the different eras!” She has NO intention of giving this fool the satisfaction of telling him what she really knows about Gramps. Primmin nods back to Patricia and turns to his team, gesturing to them to proceed forward. The Security team moves out and Patricia breathes a heavy sigh of relief. She turns back toward Quon’s direction to see to his medical needs.

Back at the base camp for Operation Time Piece, everyone, who is a member of the Project’s senior staff, gathers in the Briefing Room around a large conference table. Primmin looks over at Doctor Quon and bristles. “First of all”, Primmin growls, “Doctor Quon shouldn’t be here!” Quon looks back at the Chief of Security, puzzled, “What?” Patricia barely manages to tamp down her annoyance as she glares in Primmin’s direction. Primmin attempts to dig himself out of the hole he has just dug for himself. “No offense, Doc!” He turns to Patricia, “but shouldn’t he be in Sick Bay, under observation, or something?” Now it is Quon’s turned to become annoyed. “I’m fine, George.” Primmin does NOT like this and it shows on his face. Patricia reaches out and rubs Quon’s shoulder while staring Primmin down. She sees that he is even more annoyed at this blatant public display of affection but cannot say anything. She permits herself an evil smile. She turns to Quon, “He asked me, Tiger.”, then she turns back to Primmin, “He’s fine, George. I’ve given him a clean bill of health and authorized him to return to duty.” She notices Primmin’s reaction to this and her smile grows a little wider.

Primmin clears his throat and turns his attention to Doctor Quon. “If someone came through the Guardian, why don’t our sensors detect them? The orbital station alone could detect a microbe a mile, or a kilometer, underground.” Quon thinks about this, then responds, “This visitor hit me so hard and fast that I didn’t get the chance to look. Maybe this being came from the future, where superior technology exists that could make our technology seem like stone knives and bear skins.” Primmin gives him an odd look, then turns to look at Patricia. “You said that this intruder came from the past.” She shrugs nonchalantly, struggling to maintain her poker face, “Well, I could have been mistaken. At the same time, you have to take into consideration that Quon was struck before he had the opportunity to get a good look at him.” She decides that now is NOT the time to reveal the truth to this pompous idiot! Primmin looks annoyed when he realizes that he has just detected a bald-faced lie and comments, “No. You were quite sure he was from the 23rd Century, based on his uniform, and quite adamant that he was unarmed.” Quon looks at Patricia, realizing that she knows who this newcomer is, “Pu-r-r-r-fection, I do not understand. Explain, please?”

Patricia finally realizes that there is nothing else to do except to come clean and mutters an expletive under her breath. She reluctantly responds, “He’s my…Great-Grandfather…” Another team member, Communications Officer Elroy George is flabbergasted. “Leonard McCoy?!” Chief Engineer Enrique Castillos chimes in, shocked, “Admiral McCoy?!” Patricia nods, “Yes.” Quon is in awe, “From Spock’s Enterprise?!” Patricia is really starting to get annoyed, “Yes!” The Communications Officer mutters in shock, “By Grapthor’s Hammer!” Primmin raises his voice, “You LIED to me, DOCTOR!”

Patricia bristles at him. “As the CAPTAIN on this mission, I should NOT have to remind you, again, who is in command! I didn’t want you, or your trigger-happy dragoons to injure him! He was not himself!” She sighs as she calms down a little as she gets up and starts to pace, “I’m not sure how it’s possible. Temporal mechanics has never been my forte’.” She turns toward Quon. “Doctor Quon, I think you need to re-think your hypotheses.” Primmin dials back his attitude. “If I’m remembering this correctly, your”, he pauses, “Great-Grandfather changed history! Captain Kirk and Commander Spock fixed the time-line, but there was no record of the Admiral traveling to the future.” Quon interjects, “There wouldn’t be. I believe he traveled here, first, then went back in time. What happens with him, here and now, in his future might or might not affect what happened a hundred years ago.” He turns to Patricia. “Did he ever talk about his time traveling experiences?”

She shakes her head. “He never discussed THIS particular place…refused to discuss this experience. The only time travel experience he shared was when the crew of the USS Enterprise went back to the 20th Century to bring us George and Gracie, the humpbacked whales. He enjoyed sharing THAT experience because it gave him additional opportunities to tease Uncle Spock about his little swim!” She gestures. “Long story!” She pauses as she rubs her chin thoughtfully. “There was something about this particular travel that deeply affected him. He named a relative, Edith, because of it, I’m sure, but he would never explain why. I can’t ask Great-Aunt Edith if she ever was told anything about her name because she’s dead and gone now.” The Communications Officer raises his hand to get Patricia’s attention. “He’s still alive, isn’t he, I mean…the Admiral.” Primmin attempts to take charge of the discussion, “We need to question him!” Patricia glares at him. “Primmin, my Great-Grandfather does NOT like to be questioned, ESPECIALLY by Security! Need I remind you that he is an ADMIRAL?” She turns to Quon, “We can test your new holo- communicator that you’ve been developing so I can talk to Gramps. Is it ready?”

Chief Engineer Castillos responds, “It’s ready and on-line.” Patricia grins at Quon. “I can’t believe you got that for me and gave Gramps the other one!” Quon grins back, “It was your birthday!” Primmin is clearly annoyed to no end and he blurts out. “We need to speak to him!” Patricia glares again at the Chief of Security. “I’LL give him a call.” Primmin can barely hide his sarcasm. “I’d hate for you to have to trouble yourself.” She scowls at him in response. Her look clearly says, “Don’t push it, buster!” She turns back to Quon with an expression that clearly says, “I love you” and resumes speaking to him, “That was the sweetest birthday present ever.” Quon holds up his hands with an expression of, “You got me!” Primmin looks disgusted. The Communications Officer and the Chief Engineer look at each other with a shrug.

Back at Sick Bay, Castillos and Quon are putting the finishing touches and making the final adjustments on the newly-installed holo-communicator. Patricia paces anxiously, checks her appearance, tugs at her jacket, and smooths out her uniform. She turns to Quon, suddenly feeling concerned. “You don’t think Primmin’s found him already and isn’t telling us? The sensors should have found him by now.” Quon walks over to her and places his hands on her shoulders. “Even Primmin is not that stupid. Missions to this planet have reported sensor and temporal problems since the Admiral first came here and long after. They’ll find him.” Castillos makes one final adjustment and steps back. “It’s ready to rock and roll!” The Chief Engineer is dismissed and he leaves. Quon turns back to the holo-communicator and taps out a sequence. “Here we go!” The Caitian presses another button and the holographic image of Admiral McCoy suddenly appears. Patricia is overjoyed. “Gramps! You look so huggable! How have you been?” Admiral McCoy quirks an eyebrow at his Great-Granddaughter. “How am I? Didn’t I just talk to you on your birthday not too long ago?” His facial expression turns to one of concern. “Are you in some kind of trouble, again?” She gives him a pseudo-innocent expression. “Moi? In trouble? I’m your perfect angel, remember? Even when I accidentally contaminated your collection of original Kroeker bio-gel packs!” The old doctor gives her a mock-stern look. “It took me forty years to amass that collection!” He looks at her, questioningly. “That’s not what this call is about…is it?” She starts to answer, then hesitates, which the old doctor notices. “Child, there IS trouble! Tell me what is wrong.”

Patricia takes a deep breath and decides that it’s now…or never. “Gramps, it’s about the Guardian of Forever. You’re aware that I’m currently assigned here, at Gateway in Sector 90.4. I know you don’t like to talk about it…” The Admiral cuts in abruptly, “You’re right! I don’t! I was psychotic on Cordrazine!” She tries again, “Well, Gramps…do you recall ever meeting me”, she pauses, “Here?” The old man shakes his head. “I’d think I would remember meeting my Great-Granddaughter. But, as I said, I was psychotic on Cordrazine.” Quon steps into the Admiral’s view. “Are you sure, sir?” The old Admiral stares at Quon, shakes his head, then quickly glances toward the rest of Sick Bay. Patricia reassures him. “It’s just the two of us on this end, Gramps. I trust Quon. What do you remember? What CAN you remember?” The Admiral doesn’t say anything for several seconds. He just stares, wistfully, into space. He finally turns back to his Great-Granddaughter. “I remember saving Sulu. The ship was rocked by time waves and I fell onto my hypo-spray, which was full of Cordrazine, and I injected myself with an accidental overdose. Then…I met a woman in the past, in a mission. Her name was Edith Keeler.” Patricia and Quon look at each other, then back at the Admiral. “That’s where the name ‘Edith’, for Great-Aunt Edith, came from, isn’t it, Gramps?” The old doctor realizes what they are trying to get at. “I’m there…now? The old, uh…I mean…young me?” Neither of them know what to say.

Commander Primmin and two Security officers are searching for the younger version of Admiral McCoy. Primmin turns to the two officers, “Stay sharp, gentlemen! I don’t believe we’re looking for a crazed Star Fleet officer out of his time. I think someone, or something, else came through the Guardian earlier.” Officer Watkins responds, “Aye, sir.”, while Officer Lauten sweeps the area with his tricorder. Watkins covers with his phaser, takes a few steps away, and stands on a rock, straining to get a better view. Lauten suddenly begins to gesture frantically to the others, bringing Primmin and Watkins to his side with phasers at the ready. Primmin asks him, “What do you have?” Lauten indicates his tricorder. “I’m not reading anything out of the ordinary now…”, when Watkins interrupts him, pointing, “There! Right there! Behind that rock!”

The trio edge closer to the area that Watkins has pointed to. When they are in visual range, they all drop their hands and their faces fall. Primmin sighs, “Another rock.” Watkins is embarrassed. “I could have sworn…” At that moment, Lauten puts his hand on his stomach and grimaces. His stomach gives off a loud growl. He gives Primmin an embarrassed look. “Sorry, sir”, Lauten says with a shrug, “I don’t think the replicators are capable of making a digestible Plomeek soup.” Primmin scowls, “That’s why I stick to Earth foods. No crazy Vulcan or, even worse, Cardassian food, for me! And don’t even mention Klingon cuisine!” Primmin’s comm-badge chirps, “McCoy to Commander Primmin!” and he taps it. “Primmin here.”

Patricia’s voice betrays her anxiety in spite of her best efforts to conceal it. “Did you find him yet?” Primmin responds with irritation, “When we find him, Doctor McCoy, you’ll be the first to know. We’ll contact you immediately.” Patricia’s command voice is heard, loud and clear, “Just make sure your phasers are on stun. He’s not the enemy. He’s suffering from a Cordrazine overdose. Understand?” Primmin silently mouths her last word, mockingly, with a look of annoyance. “This is not my first dance, Doctor!” She catches on to his attitude and reminds him, once more, who is still in command. “If you hurt him, Primmin, I will have your rank AND your butt! You’ll be knocked back down to Cadet, if not lower! You get my drift?!” Primmin scowls, “Perfectly! Primmin out!” He taps his comm-badge again. Lauten looks at Primmin, uncertain. “Phasers on stun, sir?” Primmin scowls back, “I don’t take orders from scientists, Lieutenant! Understood?” Lauten nods, “Aye, sir.” Primmin looks at Watkins, “Phasers set on stun.” Primmin stomps off while Lauten sets his phaser on stun. He follows Primmin. Watkins inspects his phaser. “This thing has a stun setting?”

The search party walks amidst the rocks and boulders, with Lauten scanning the area in front of them. Both Primmin and Watkins have phasers drawn. A Reman is hiding among the rocks, watching the search party pass by. As the alien raises his weapon to draw a bead on the trio of Security officers, a small rock falls behind him. The moment the Reman turns toward the sound, he is attacked by the younger version of Doctor Leonard McCoy. The Reman is knocked to the ground and the two of them struggle. Leonard McCoy manages to grab a fist-sized rock. When the Reman struggles to turn over, Leonard McCoy smashes the rock down on him, knocking him senseless. For a few moments, Leonard McCoy stares at the Reman, then jumps to his feet and runs off.

The Security team hears the scuffling and converge on the area. They discover the Reman where Leonard McCoy left him. In addition to Primmin, Lauten and Watkins, there are also Ellison, a young female Security officer, fresh out of the Academy, and Beckwith, a medical team member. Beckwith is scanning the Reman with a medical tricorder when Lauten arrives on the scene. Lauten indicates the Reman with his phaser, “He’s alive?” Beckwith nods, “Yes, he’s alive, but he’s out like a light.” Lauten looks over at Ellison, then grimaces. He points to Ellison’s phaser, “You can lower your phaser, Ensign. We have things under control now.” Ellison places her phaser back in its holster. She nods at Lauten, “I told you to avoid the Plomeek soup.” Beckwith shakes his head, “I’ll bet the replicators were taken out of our stipends. The scientists were probably given theirs.”

Primmin and Watkins arrive seconds later. Primmin goes straight to the Reman’s body. “He’s alive?” Beckwith nods again, “Yes, sir. I’ve got life signs.” Ellison gestures toward the unconscious alien. “Whoever attacked him, tapped him one good!” Primmin looks at his team. “Anyone get a look at his attacker?” Beckwith shakes his head, “No, sir.” Young Ellison excitedly indicates toward the ground. “There are tracks heading east!” Primmin stands up. “At ease, Ensign.” He indicates instructions to the other team members. “Lauten, you and Beckwith stay here with our ‘guest’. Watkins and Ellison, you’re with me.” Lauten gives him a puzzled look. “Where are YOU going?” Primmin looks back at him, “We’re going hunting for a crazy man dressed like a Star Fleet officer from a hundred years ago.” His entire team look at him as if he is speaking Klingon. Primmin scowls at all of them. “What? Didn’t you know that my ancestors were indigenous tribal members? Move out!”

Back in Sick Bay, Patricia is continuing her conversation with Admiral McCoy. “Child, don’t worry about me! They’ll find me. I never could run very fast.” Patricia shakes her head. “Gramps, that’s EXACTLY what I’m worried about… you being found! I just want you in one piece. We both know how trigger-happy Security can be, especially given that Primmin is the Chief of Security and he has an attitude that is plucking my LAST nerve!” Admiral McCoy rolls his eyes. “Some things never change. I just wish I could remember any of this!” Patricia is feeling frustrated. “I put in a request for the full debriefing file from Memory Alpha. But with Star Fleet clearance procedures, it will be WEEKS before I hear back!” Admiral McCoy chuckles, “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. The bureaucratic mentality is the only constant in the universe!” Patricia snickers, “Just like the oxymoron of military intelligence!” They both chuckle together.

Back at the rocks and boulders, Lauten and Beckwith stand guard over the Reman. Primmin, Watkins, and Ellison are heading back. Beckwith heads over to meet the returning team and gestures back toward the direction they’ve come. “I take it you couldn’t find him.” Primmin scowls at him, “Genius, you should have been an officer. We lost his trail about a half mile down.” Ellison approaches where the Reman is still lying on the ground. She stands next to Lauten and looks at him questioningly, “A man from a hundred years ago?” Lauten nods, “The big donut’s a time portal, Ellison, or do they still teach history at the Academy?” Ellison quirks an eyebrow at Lauten, “If he was around a hundred years ago, YOU must have known the man, Lauten.” Before either of them can react, the Reman suddenly rolls into Lauten, knocking him to the ground.

The Reman leaps to his feet and twists back toward Ellison, striking her, snapping her head back. She drops straight to the ground. Just as the Reman spins around, he is brought down by phaser fire from both Primmin and Watkins. Watkins and Beckwith then rush to the Reman, keeping their phasers on him, while Primmin rushes to Ellison and checks for a pulse. Lauten slowly gets to his feet. Primmin barks, “Watkins! I wanted him alive!” Watkins shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, sir. Ellison showed me the stun setting.” Primmin taps his comm-badge, “Primmin to Sick Bay! Emergency medical beam out! Six to beam back!” The Away Team, with their prisoner, beam directly into Sick Bay. Primmin is carrying Ellison. When Doctor Quon approaches to take Ellison from him, Primmin reacts to Quon’s presence with a nasty look, then carries Ellison to a nearby bio-bed. He lays her down and continues holding her hand. The remaining Security team starts to drag the Reman to a holding cell. As Patricia rushes into Sick Bay, a nurse hands a medical tricorder to her and she quickly scans Ellison, while activating the bio-bed. She barks at the Security team, “Put him on the other bio-bed!” The Security officers stop, surprised. Lauten attempts to argue, “He’s going to a holding cell!”

Patricia glares over to the Security team while her medical team continues working on Ellison, “He may be our prisoner and, at the same time, he’s injured. He needs medical attention! Bio-bed … NOW!” The Security team look over her shoulder at Primmin, who is still standing beside Ellison’s bed, holding her hand. Patricia barks at Security, “Don’t look at him! I gave you an order! Move it!” They quickly carry the Reman to the other bio-bed and a nurse activates it. Patricia calls out, “Doctor Charles…” as she gestures toward the prisoner. A doctor rushes over to the Reman and a nurse joins him, handing him a medical scanner. Patricia returns to her patient’s bedside, rejoins her team, gives Ellison a hypo, then continues working on her. She looks up at Primmin, “Did you find anyone else?” Primmin does not respond. Patricia turns her attention back to Ellison, working on her, then stops. She looks at Ellison’s readings then turns, sadly, toward Primmin who still seems to be in shock. “I’m sorry…there’s nothing more I could do. She’s dead.” Primmin snaps out of it. “Dead? She’s … dead?” Patricia puts her hand on Primmin’s shoulder. He’s still holding Ellison’s hand and he begins shaking his head. “This was her first assignment…she was fresh out of the Academy.” Patricia nods, sadly. “I know, George. I’m sorry.”

Primmin regains his composure and turns toward Patricia. “I haven’t found your Great-Grandfather yet. I have a hunch that he was the one who gave that Reman his head wound. We’ll find him for you, Doctor.” Patricia nods. “I know you will. Now go. Tend to your men. I’ll keep this Reman in a stasis field.” Primmin looks at Patricia, then down at Ellison’s body. He finally lets go of the Ensign’s hand and starts to leave. He stops at the doorway and turns back toward Patricia. “You ever had to inform a Star Fleet officer’s parents that their child has died?” She gives a solemn nod. “Yes…I have. And it’s never easy.” Primmin’s eyes are unreadable. “I haven’t…until now.” He turns and leaves. Patricia stares after him for a few seconds, sighs, then she turns her attention to the Reman. She barks orders to her medical staff. “I want him sedated and his injuries treated. Keep him in a stasis field! I don’t want any more fatalities because of him!” She gives a heavy sigh as she looks at Ellison’s body. “And prepare Ensign Ellison’s body for an autopsy.”

After the Reman had been treated for his injuries, he is moved to a cell in the Brig where he is guarded by Watkins, Lauten, and Koestler. Koestler chooses to stand as far from the Reman that she possibly can. During their duty shift, Lauten grimaces and Watkins notices this and comments, “I think you have a bleeding ulcer. You were in Sick Bay not too long ago and you didn’t say a word.” Lauten looks at him coldly. “The last person to joke with me, about my condition, was Ellison.” Watkins glares back at Lauten, then walks over to Koestler. He gestures at the tricorder in her hands, then at Lauten. Koestler looks at Watkins with apprehension, then at Lauten, who is pointedly ignoring both of them. She glances back at Watkins, then begins scanning Lauten. Commander Primmin arrives to check on the situation in the Brig.

Primmin walks up to Lauten, “Is the prisoner awake?” Lauten looks over toward the Reman in the cell. “I’m not sure, sir…” Primmin scowls, “Faking, probably. You know, Remans are sensitive to light.” Lauten gives him a worried expression. Primmin then calls out to the computer, “Computer, turn cell lights up one hundred percent.” The lights in the cell glow brighter. The other officers on duty turn their attention to the Reman’s cell…except Koestler. At the lights reach full intensity, the Star Fleet officers blink and squint as their eyes adjust to the brighter intensity. The Reman sits up abruptly, covering his eyes, and tries to tolerate it as long as possible. Finally it becomes too much for him and he begins screaming, “Ahhhhhh! Turn them off!” Primmin eyes the Reman without emotion, then calls to the computer, “Computer…two hundred percent.” The lights glow even brighter, the officers shield their eyes, and the Reman continues to scream. The Security team give worried looks in Primmin’s direction, who remains stoic. Koestler yells out, “Commander Primmin!” Primmin ignores her while the Reman continues screaming. Koestler tries again, “Commander Primmin!” Primmin continues to ignore her while staring at the Reman.

Finally, Primmin calls out to the computer, “Computer …” the Security team braces themselves for another onslaught as Primmin continues his command to the computer, “Reduce the lighting three hundred percent.” The lights dim to its original setting and the Reman’s pain seems to lessen although he is breathing heavily. Primmin gives a casual look to Koestler, then walks over to the containment field. As he approaches, the Reman stands and the two study each other. The Reman speaks first, “I am Vkryk.” Primmin responds, “Why are you here?” Vkryk moves closer to the containment field while Lauten and Watkins step forward with phasers drawn. Primmin does not move.

Vkryk smiles at his captors. “Ironically, my friends, my mission has nothing to do with Star Fleet. We were not aware of your presence, here, in this time period.” Primmin scowls at him. “If you’re unaware of Star Fleet’s control of the Guardian, then you must be from the future.” Vkryk slowly nods. “One hundred years in your future. My mission was to travel back in time, before the Romulans acquired space travel. I was then to travel to Romulus and kill them all.” Primmin looks confused. “Why kill the Rom…?”, then understanding crosses his face, “kill all the Romulans to prevent your people from being enslaved! Well, ‘friend’, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re one hundred years, or more, too late…” Vkryk contemplates this. “My mission has failed and I will be dead soon. Unfortunately, so will all of you!” Primmin has another thought, “You mean to tell me that, in your time, Star Fleet no longer controls the Guardian of Forever? How did we lose control of this planet?” Vkryk gives him an evil grin. “If you live another one hundred years, you may find out.”

Patricia approaches the Guardian of Forever, looks around to ensure that she is alone, then activates the recording feature of her tricorder. “Guardian, may I ask you a question?” The Guardian responds, “Long have I awaited…a question.” She gets annoyed and sarcastically responds, “I asked you a question, last month, and you answered it with a riddle.” The Guardian continues, “Long before your sun burned bright in the sky, I have been here. Time is far more complex than your species can comprehend.” She grumbles under her breath, “Hmph! You’re the Guardian of Forever and you can’t even tell time!” She attempts to address the Guardian once more, “Earlier today, my Great-Grandfather, Leonard Horatio McCoy, came through your portal. I need to know why.” The Guardian responds, “The answers you seek will come to pass.” Patricia’s annoyance increases. She can’t believe she is getting MORE riddles! “Why did my Great-Grandfather come through to the here and now? Was history changed in some way?”

The Guardian remains silent and she gets more irritated. “I’m sorry, was that question too hard for you?” There is still no response from the Guardian and she raises her voice. “HEL-LOOOOOOOO! I’m talking to you! I asked you a question! Has history been altered?” The Guardian rumbles to life, “There has been no alteration in the current time-line.” Patricia is skeptical. “Are you sure?” The ancient monolith repeats, “There has been no alteration in the current time-line.” She is relieved to hear that, “Well, that’s good news.”, until the Guardian adds, “Not as of yet.” She does a double-take, shocked. “What?! Run that by me again?” The Guardian only says, “History has not been altered. Everything is as it should be.”

She shakes her head, feeling confused. “How is that possible? And what do you mean by, ‘Not as of yet’?” The Guardian continues, “Everything is as it should be. There are out-of-time elements, in this time period, that threaten the current time-line.” Patricia tries her questions again, “Admiral Leonard McCoy came through your time portal! I saw him! Are you telling me that this was a pre-destined paradox?” The Guardian can only respond, “The answers you seek will come to pass.” She starts to fume helplessly. “You are not answering my questions!” The Guardian can only say, “My answers are simply as your level of understanding makes possible.” Patricia takes in a deep breath, then exhales sharply. “Okay…let me ask a different question. We found…a being…from a race called the Remans, on this planet. Did they come through your portal?”

The Guardian rumbles, “The beings, known as Remans, did come through the portal.” She reacts with shock, “Beings?! There were more than ONE?!” The Guardian goes silent and Patricia’s irritation increases. “I am waiting for an answer!” The Guardian replies, “The answers you seek will come to pass.” She reacts, angrily, “Is that all you’re programmed to say?! What kind of teaching tool are you?!” The Guardian answers, “I am both and I am neither. My function is to display the past, display the future, and record all.” She begins pacing back and forth, “Then give me a straight answer for once! What is the meaning of my Great-Grandfather coming to this time and place?” Once again, the Guardian replies, “The answers you seek…” and Patricia angrily completes his sentence while gesticulating, “Will come to pass! I know! I know! It’s like talking to a…a…a Pakled!” Unbeknownst to her, a figure rises behind her, the expression on his face is wild.

Patricia continues to pace to and fro in front of the Guardian, feeling more frustrated than she can ever remember feeling frustrated in her life! The figure, standing behind her, begins to approach like a wild predator stalking its prey. A loose rock is accidentally kicked and Patricia quickly spins toward the source of the sound, taking a defensive stance. Her eyes widen in recognition. Leonard McCoy silently looks back at her, with a slight look of recognition on his own countenance. She manages to find her voice, “Gramps?” He charges at her and she backs up. There’s a rock behind her and she trips. The subsequent fall sends her sprawling. Leonard McCoy jumps over her and continues on toward the Guardian, leaping through the now-inanimate portal. He lands on the other side, flat on his face. He gets to his feet, confused, and jumps through the portal again. He appears to be surprised that he does not materialize in another time. Patricia picks herself up and dusts herself off, keeping a watchful eye on this obviously-deranged individual. She attempts to reason with him, “Gramps? Are you all right? That was a rough fall you just took.”

Leonard McCoy stops and looks around, as if he can’t hear her, before focusing on her, uncertain. He looks thunderstruck. “Do I know you?!” Patricia takes a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m your Great-Granddaughter.” She sees a look of rage cross his face as he screams at her, “You’re lying! I don’t have a Great-Granddaughter! I don’t even have a Grandchild!” Patricia manages to remain calm. “Not yet. You will, but that’s not important. Right now, you need to remember. I want to help you remember. Let me help.” He shakes his head, “No! You don’t want to help me! This is a trick!”

Patricia holds up both hands to show she is not holding a weapon. “No tricks, Gramps! No tricks! Let’s just talk. I just want to have a rational conversation…” He shakes his head at her, “Rational?! Now you sound like a Vulcan! I don’t like Vulcans!” She nods in response, “I know you don’t like Vulcans. But you do TRUST Vulcans, especially ONE Vulcan! Besides, Vulcans are logical, not rational. Please…sit down.” Leonard McCoy eyes her with suspicion but crouches down. Patricia cautiously eases herself down on a boulder and continues speaking in a calm voice, even though she can’t believe she is actually speaking to a younger version of her Great-Grandfather…a one hundred YEARS younger version! “Let’s just talk…Gramps…I…you… look so…”

Leonard McCoy rises to his feet, screaming, “You sound insane! I am NOT your ‘Gramps’! I don’t have grandchildren!” Patricia holds up her hands again, “Just talk?” She waves at him to sit back down and he crouches … still on edge. She tries again, “I…I…just find this all so hard to believe! There’s no Star Fleet record of you coming to the future!” She gestures to the ancient monolith behind her, “The Guardian…” Leonard McCoy looks up, wildly, then suddenly leaps to his feet, “is trying to trick me! You’re one of them!” She feels herself starting to panic and struggles to bring her panic under control, “I am not one of them, Gramps!”, she replies with a shake of her head, “No! No tricks! You are Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy of the Federation Star ship Enterprise. You serve under the command of Captain James Tiberius Kirk!” The younger version of her Great-Grandfather calms down a little but continues to eye her with suspicion, “How do you know who I am?” She holds out her hand to him, “I’m your…friend. You helped me. You saved my life! Please let me help you.” He rises to his feet, screaming, “NO! I don’t know you! I never met you before! You don’t want to help me! You want to kill me!” He charges at her full-tilt, leaving Patricia no choice but to pull out her phaser and stun him. He sprawls on the ground, unconscious.

She shakes her head in exasperation as she gets up and walks over to his prone form. “Oh, Gramps!”, she groans, “Whatever am I going to do with you…?” She taps her comm-badge. “McCoy to Sick Bay. I need a medical team and an anti-grav gurney at the location of the Guardian. I’ve found our patient. McCoy out!” She looks back down at the younger version of her Great-Grandfather and gives herself a face-palm, still shaking her head, groaning in exasperation. Within a few moments, a medical team beams in, with a gurney, and heads over to where both McCoy’s are. A few of the team start to exclaim in recognition until they see Patricia’s glare and think better of it. They load the unconscious patient onto the gurney and beam back to base.

Back at the Brig, Primmin stands outside of Vkryk’s cell. The three Security officers remain on watch and Vkryk looks bored. No one speaks for several seconds. Primmin shakes his head, “You expect me to believe that you were sent back to destroy Romulus?” Vkryk shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I have given you the truth. I do not care what you believe.” Primmin starts to pace, thoughtfully rubbing his chin, “If what you’ve told me is the truth, then how did you expect to get off this planet? If your goal was to come back before the Romulans had developed space travel, and you were not aware of our presence here, how were you going to get to Romulus from across the quadrant? The only way to complete your mission…” his face shows sudden comprehension, “You have a ship? You smuggled a ship here before now?” The Reman does not answer…he only smiles…evilly.

Primmin continues, raising his voice, “You do, don’t you?!”, he yells, “How many came back with you?! ANSWER ME!” The Reman just grins at him, revealing the ugliest fangs that Primmin has ever seen. Primmin’s voice drops to a whisper, “You know the human you killed, from my unit? So you already know I have no qualms about killing you! But I think that is exactly what you want. Vulcans, Romulans, and Remans share a similar genetic make-up. Did you know that?” The Reman looks at him sharply. Primmin nods at him, “Touched a nerve, didn’t I, Reman? Vulcans and Romulans live much longer than humans…by hundreds of years. I’m betting that Remans do as well. So, if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I GUARANTEE you will see the next hundred years, or so, serving in a Star Fleet penal colony. Is Rura Penthe still around in your time?” The Reman resumes smiling and crosses his arms.

Vkryk shakes his head at Primmin, “Your threats are devoid of substance, my friend. You can’t scare me with permanent incarceration, because I will be dead within a day.” Primmin starts to back away from the cell and approaches Koestler. He whispers to her as she looks at her tricorder, “Did you scan him?” Koestler gives him a confused look, wondering what the hell is going on, “Yes, I…” Primmin barks at her, “Get those scans to Doctor McCoy…NOW!” Koestler looks scared as she rushes out of the room. Primmin walks over to the other Security officers, “Lauten, Watkins, leave…NOW!” Lauten starts to protest, “But…sir…?!” Primmin will brook no arguments, “That’s an order!” The two Security officers nod in agreement, then leave. Primmin returns his attention back to the Reman.

Primmin continues, “You say that you will be dead within the day? How is that possible? I’ve told you, we will not kill you, much as I would LOVE to have that honor. You’re ours for the duration!” Vkryk calmly looks at him, “Before leaving my time, I was infected with a disease that kills within hours. There is no cure.” Primmin scowls at him, “You’re lying! I don’t think you have the courage to commit suicide!” Vkryk shrugs, “What you believe, or do not believe, is of no importance to me. I will be dead, within a day, and my only satisfaction is that you, and everyone else on this planet, will be dead as well.” The Reman sits back on his bunk, and continues to grin at Primmin.

Patricia enters the corridor, leading to Sick Bay, guiding an anti-grav gurney with Leonard McCoy on it. Two medical technicians are assisting her with the gurney while Doctor Quon is taking medical tricorder readings from the patient. Quon is astounded, “I don’t believe it! By Grapthor’s Hammer, I don’t believe it! It’s him! It’s REALLY HIM! IT’S THE REAL MCCOY!” Patricia shoots him a look of irritation at the pun and growls, “How are you, dear? I’m quite all right, Tiger…even though I could have been KILLED!” Quon doesn’t really register what she’s just said and dismisses it, “Oh, you’re fine. It’s just that ….no one has EVER come through the Guardian to the future before!” She can’t believe that her lover can be so dense! He is standing close enough to Patricia that she hauls off and punches him in the arm. He moves out of range for a moment, realizes what he’s just done, then approaches her, placing a hand on her shoulder, in a non-verbal apology, while keeping his eyes on Leonard McCoy. She adds to his comment, “No one has ever come through the Guardian to the future before…that we know of.” Quon is giddy about seeing his idol…in the flesh! “And the first one is HIM!” Patricia looks down at her Great-Grandfather and lightly touches the side of his face affectionately. “Gramps, you were a handsome man. Were? Was? Is?” She’s not sure of the correct verb. She HATES tangled verbs!

Quon is still giddy. “I just can’t believe it’s HIM! An officer from the NCC-1701! The Enterprise! Patricia silently acknowledges to herself that she cannot believe she is actually looking at a younger version of Gramps, “There is so much I can learn from him…” Quon gets giddier, “He knew Kirk! And…more importantly…he knew Spock! He knew Ambassador Spock BEFORE he became Ambassador Spock! My God! He knew Pavel Chekov!” The medical team takes a right and steer the gurney into Sick Bay. Patricia glares at her lover, “Excuse me … DOCTOR … but I have a patient to attend to!” Quon is shocked. “What?! You want me to leave?!” She nods, “You’re an astrophysicist specializing in temporal mechanics, not a medic! I would really appreciate it if you would vacate Sick Bay for awhile and let me do my job. Don’t you have some Temporal Mechanics equations you should be working on?” Quon starts to shake his head, “But, you can’t ask me to leave! It’s…HIM!” Patricia gives him another glare and he realizes that if this Caitian doesn’t cooperate, HE will be in the doghouse! He holds up his hands in surrender, “Okay! Okay! I’m going!” He heads back out the door. Patricia pushes the gurney up to a bio-bed. Doctor Vaterhoelter and Nurse Koestler are studying the results of their readings.

Patricia calls out to them, “I could use some help, guys! This BODY needs a BED!” Vaterhoelter is still looking at his readings. “Doctor McCoy, I think you may want to see this.” Patricia responds with irritation, “Right now, I need help getting this patient onto a bio-bed…STAT!” Koestler puts down her tricorder and moves to assist Patricia. She comes to a screeching halt the moment she sees the patient! “Oh my Stars and Garters!”, Koestler exclaims, “I don’t believe it!” Patricia reacts with annoyance, “What’s the matter, nurse, you’ve never seen a patient before?!” Koestler reverts to an adolescent fan, similar to the ancient vids of Beatlemania, “But it’s him! IT’S HIM! A YOUNG, IMPOSSIBLY HANDSOME…HIM!” Patricia snorts in annoyance, “Oh, please…”, as she gestures to the bio-bed, “the PATIENT?!” Koestler positions herself at the foot of the gurney while Patricia stands at the head of it. “On my mark, one…two…THREE!” They shift Leonard McCoy’s unconscious form onto the bio-bed and activate it. Patricia hits a few more buttons and activates a stasis field. Koestler is standing there with her mouth agape. Patricia walks over to her and pushes her jaw shut. Doctor Vaterhoelter is still staring at his medical tricorder. He gestures to Patricia as he approaches her, “Doctor, you really should look at this…” When Vaterhoelter raises his head, he notices Leonard McCoy for the first time. “By the holy rings of Saturn!” Patricia gives him a glare as if to say, “Not you, too?!” Her exasperation shows in her voice, “YES, it’s HIM! Yes, this is impossible! And, YES, I will explain it all…LATER!” She pauses as she mutters under her breath, “As soon as I am able to understand it and explain to myself!” She turns to Doctor Vaterhoelter. “You wanted to show me something?” He stands there, frozen in shock, and continues to stare, slack-jawed, at Leonard McCoy. Patricia gives him a slight tap on the side of his face, “McCoy to Vaterhoelter! Come in, Vaterhoelter! Are you on this planet? Hello?!”

Vaterhoelter seems to come to his senses. “Oh! Uh! Yes! Nurse Koestler brought me a scan of the Reman in the Brig. I found…this.” Patricia takes the tricorder, looks at the screen and examines the results. She points to something, “What is that? Some kind of pathogen?” Vaterhoelter nods, “It appears so.” She looks at her colleague. “You interned on Romulus. What do you make of it?” He shakes his head, “It’s like nothing I have ever seen before!” They hear a commotion at the door and they look up to see Quon being shoved in by Primmin. Patricia loses her temper. “Commander Primmin! Have you lost your mind?!” Primmin continues pushing his luck, “Look! Doctor! I’ve got some questions…” he does a double- take the instant he sees Leonard McCoy on the bio-bed. “By Jupiter’s moons! Is that HIM?! Quon goes toe-to-toe with Primmin. “That IS Leonard McCoy of the star ship Enterprise! Kirk’s Enterprise! CHEKOV’S ENTERPRISE! The things we could learn from him!”

Primmin gestures toward Leonard McCoy’s unconscious form, “We could learn about the Reman! We need to wake him!” Quon argues back, “He’s a doctor! Not a fortune teller!” Primmin continues pressing his case, “I believe he was the first to contact the Remans!” He gesticulates more urgently, “We need to wake him!” Patricia’s patience is at an end! “Yes! He is MY Great-Grandfather! He is also MY patient! NO ONE is going to interrogate, talk to, question, quiz, investigate, ask, examine, grill, or ANNOY him! I’m giving everyone a direct order…ALL NON-medical personnel leave Sick Bay…NOW! OUT!” Primmin scowls and refuses to move. Patricia stomps over to him and gets in his face. “You want to push me past my limits?! Fine! I will shoot you if I have to! I’m giving you a choice…leave MY Sick Bay voluntarily or INVOLUNTARILY!” Primmin attempts to stare her down. She doesn’t budge. “NOW! COMMANDER Primmin! Or do I have to CALL SECURITY, YOUR SECURITY TEAM, and have you BODILY REMOVED from MY Sick Bay and have you court-martialed for insubordination?!” Primmin glares silently at Patricia for several seconds, clenching and unclenching his teeth, then turns on his heel and leaves. She then rounds on Quon, who starts to smile at her, thinking that, as a doctor/scientist, he’s safe. When he sees the fire in her eyes, he quickly realizes that he better make a hasty retreat! He hurries after Primmin.

Lauten and Watkins are continuing their patrol among the rocks and boulders. Watkins has his phaser drawn while Lauten scans the area with his tricorder. He has one hand on the tricorder and the other on his stomach. He’s trying not to wince. Lauten nods toward his tricorder, “I’m not picking up anybody. Are you sure there are more Remans out here?” Watkins nods in response while he continues to be vigilant. “The Commander seems pretty sure. Something the Reman said to him. He also says that Remans never work alone!” Watkins suddenly halts, holding up his hand. The two of them stop as Watkins gestures toward a boulder. Lauten puts his tricorder away and draws his phaser. They creep up to the boulder from opposite sides and find…NOTHING! Watkins shakes his head, “I thought I heard something!” Lauten is annoyed. “That’s the second time you’ve done that to me!” Watkins looks apologetic. “Sorry, Lauten. I got excited. This planet is to Security what peace is to a Klingon!” Lauten shakes his head. “You just want to kill something!” Watkins looks at his colleague. “Semper Vigiles!” Lauten rolls his eyes. “Tell THAT to Doctor Quon. He thinks we’re simply gold-shirted pack mules!”

Back at Sick Bay, Patricia is at the holo-communicator, when Nurse Koestler interrupts her by handing her a medical tricorder. She gives the nurse a quizzical look as the nurse points out the readings, then leaves. Once the nurse is out of sight, she returns her attention back to the holo-communicator and continues to work the controls. When Admiral McCoy appears, Patricia’s expression softens. He nods at his Great-Granddaughter. “Child, I would say my diagnosis is…acute paranoia. I would recommend…”, he does a double-take when he sees the figure on the bio-bed behind Patricia. “I’ll be damned!” Patricia glances back at the younger version of Gramps, then turns back to the current version with a grin. “Well, Gramps, what do you think?” He stands a little taller. “I think I was a damned good-looking man!” Patricia chuckles at that. “Do you have any questions for me, Gramps?” The old doctor looks over at his younger self, “Just one. If I was that good-looking, in my day, then why did Kirk get all the women?” Patricia shakes her head at him. “Gramps! I’m serious!” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “That’s Admiral Gramps to you! What can I tell you? I was under the influence of Cordrazine. How was I supposed to remember this? I’m a human, not a Vulcan…even though I might be as old as a Vulcan! Patricia tilts her head to gaze at the old doctor’s ears, trying to hide a smirk. “They are getting pointier…” Her Great-Grandfather growls back at her. “Don’t even joke about such things!” She gives him a mischievous grin.

Lauten and Watkins are still patrolling the area, climbing among the rocks and boulders. Watkins forges ahead while Lauten lags behind, wincing and rubbing his forehead. Watkins is so focused on his task that he doesn’t realize that Lauten is unable to keep up with him. Watkins muses to himself and to Lauten, “I don’t get it! This planet is more secure than Earth! It’s not on anyone’s career path to a post like the Enterprise … the Defiant … the Voyager … DS9.” Lauten chimes in, “Unless you’re…” Watkins finishes his thought for him, “George Primmin!” Lauten suddenly grabs his head just as Watkins turns toward him. “What’s wrong, Lauten? Bad soup’s gone to your head?” Lauten is looking really nauseous. “I-I-I don’t know. I’m just not feeling right!” Watkins indicates the way back to base, “Why don’t you head back? I can handle things from here.” Lauten looks at him questioningly. “Are you sure? Semper Vigiles?” Watkins laughs. Lauten shakes his head. “Our orders are to stay in teams…” Watkins points to Lauten, “You…tricorder”, then points to himself, “Me…phaser.” Watkins’ looks up and gestures overhead, “Orbital sensor array, weapons platform, and I don’t think the rocks shoot back, Lauten.” Lauten does not respond and Watkins is puzzled. “Lauten?” He looks back toward his colleague. “LAUTEN!” Lauten has collapsed.

Patricia is sitting in her office recording her statements, “Medical log, supplemental. I have found Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, from the 23rd Century. He is unconscious, lying on my bio-bed in my Sick Bay. I am also receiving medical assistance from Admiral Leonard Horatio McCoy, from the 24th Century, thanks to a holo-communicator. There is a Reman, a member of the Romulan race, sitting in the Brig. He is carrying a strange pathogen in his system. That pathogen should have my complete attention, but, seeing my Great-Grandfather, one hundred or so years younger, is pretty hard to ignore!” She gets up and walks over to the bio-bed, hovering over the unconscious form of the younger version of Leonard McCoy and gently touches his face. She looks up at the screen, at the Reman sitting in the Brig, then looks back down at the younger Leonard McCoy. She scans her unconscious patient and checks her readings. The holo-communicator is still operating and Admiral McCoy observes his Great-Granddaughter as she checks the readings from the Reman, then scans the younger version of Leonard McCoy again.

The Admiral shakes his head. “Child, do you remember what you learned in your 12-Step meetings? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results!” Patricia looks up at the holographic form of her Great-Grandfather. “Come on, Gramps! It’s YOU!” The Admiral shows his exasperation, “I can see that!” Patricia scans the younger Leonard McCoy again, “His Cordrazine levels are falling…but still well above the safe dosage. Gramps, how in the hell did you ever survive THIS?!” The Admiral attempts to shift her attention, “Child, maybe your focus should be on the pathogen that Reman is carrying.” She nods, absentmindedly, at her Great-Grandfather’s words. “That’s why I have a staff…” The Admiral starts to growl at her. “Child! Listen to me! You are NOT seeing the forest for the trees! Far be it from me to tell another doctor her or his job, but you really need to focus on the Reman…” Patricia looks up from her scan, clearly irritated. “Gramps! I KNOW my job! I learned from the BEST…YOU! I know the Reman is sick, but he’s not contagious, according to the information my staff have given me. My assistants can handle that!” The Admiral looks back her, frustrated and worried.

Watkins scrambles over to Lauten’s prone form, kneels down, and checks for a pulse. He taps his comm-badge, “Watkins to Time Piece Ops! Medical emergency! Two to beam directly to Sick Bay!” The Communications Officer, Elroy George, and the Chief Engineer, Enrique Castillos, are on duty in OPS. The Communications Officer responds, “OPS to Away Team! Prepare for immediate transport!” He looks toward the Chief Engineer, “Enrique?” The Chief Engineer hits the controls on his console, “I’ve got a lock on them! Energizing!” The Communications Officer continues, “Commander Primmin to Sick Bay, IMMEDIATELY!” The transporter effect surround Watkins and Lauten and they vanish in a shimmer of light.

The two Security officers materialize in Sick Bay and Lauten is immediately placed on a bio-bed by Doctor Vaterhoelter and Nurse Koestler, with assistance from Watkins. All life sign readings are at zero. Patricia rushes over, the nurse hands her a hypo-spray, and she injects Lauten. There is no response and no change in the readings. “Cortical stimulator!”, Patricia shouts. Koestler places the device on Lauten’s forehead and activates it. Again, there is no change. Watkins looks on, helplessly, and is clearly upset. Koestler gives Patricia another hypo-spray and she administers it to Lauten, then checks the bio-readings on the screen again. There is no response. “Give me a neural stimulator, STAT!”, Patricia barks. Doctor Vaterhoelter and Nurse Koestler set a U-shaped machine down over Lauten’s head. Primmin rushes into Sick Bay as the medical staff continue to work on Lauten. Koestler calls out, “Neural stimulator locked in!”

Patricia barks another order, “Interlock current feeds! Set sensitivity factor to four point four!” Doctor Vaterhoelter calls out, “Four point four, ma’am!” The life signs start to respond as Koestler calls out the readings, “Monitoring to one point eight…two point three…” Watkins breathes a sigh of relief. “You did it, Doctor McCoy! You’ve brought him back!” Patricia shakes her head. “We’ve done nothing! Lauten’s on total life support. There is no independent brain function.” Koestler continues to call out the readings, “Current feeds operating…” Lauten’s life signs begin to plummet rapidly. Vaterhoelter calls out, “He’s not responding, Doctor McCoy! His synaptic network is breaking down!” Patricia gives another order, “Another hypo of neur-op!” Koestler hands her the hypo-spray and Patricia injects Lauten. Vaterhoelter calls out the readings, “Neurons are beginning to polarize!” Patricia shouts, “Direct reticular stimulation!”

Vaterhoelter responds, “Direct reticular stimulation, aye!” Vaterhoelter presses a button and there is an audible whine as the voltage charges. Patricia shouts to everyone, “CLEAR!” Everyone steps back at the charge jolts through Lauten’s body. Patricia checks his life signs and barks another order, “Increase to seventy micro-volts! CLEAR!” Vaterhoelter obeys the command and presses the button again. Another charge jolts Lauten’s body up off the bed but he remains limp. Patricia continues, “Increase to eighty micro-volts! CLEAR!” Vaterhoelter responds, “Eighty micro-volts, aye!” He presses the button again, but there is no response from Lauten. Patricia shouts, “AGAIN! CLEAR!” Vaterhoelter presses the button, they hear the whine as the voltage builds then jolts through Lauten’s body. There is still no response. Patricia whispers hoarsely, “Ninety…” Once again, the voltage builds, then jolts through Lauten’s body without results. She barks, “AGAIN! CLEAR!” The voltage charge jolts through Lauten once more…again, no results. Patricia shouts at Lauten’s inanimate form, “Don’t you die on me, Lauten! AGAIN! CLEAR!” Lauten’s body is jolted again without any further response.

Primmin speaks up, “He’s dead…” Patricia rounds on him angrily! “Do YOU have a medical license, COMMANDER?!” She turns to Nurse Koestler, feeling drained. “Nurse…” Koestler sadly responds, “Time of death, 15:30 hours, local time.” Patricia is exhausted as she turns to Watkins, “What happened down there?” Watkins cannot believe that his colleague has just died in front of him. He shakes his head in disbelief. “We…we were searching for any other Remans. He said he felt ill … then he… he… just collapsed!” Patricia looks up at Lauten’s readings and points to something she sees on the screen. Vaterhoelter nods in agreement while Koestler stares, wide-eyed. Patricia grabs a medical tricorder, scans Primmin, others, then herself. Primmin looks at everyone, confused. “What is it?!” Patricia takes in a deep breath, then exhales sharply. That pathogen, the one the Reman has…now we all have it!” Watkins looks at Patricia, agape. “WHAT?!” Primmin shakes his head in denial, “There must be some mistake! I don’t feel ill!”

Patricia looks deep in thought as she answers to no one in particular, “Neither do I. I can understand a viral mutation that crosses species such as the Avian or Swine Flu…but THIS just doesn’t make sense!” She looks at her staff, “I need a scan from ALL Time Piece personnel…STAT!” Watkins is near panic, “What are you saying?! Are we all going to DIE?!” Primmin realizes that he needs to take command of his Security officer…NOW! He shouts at Watkins, “LIEUTENANT!” Watkins snaps out of panic-mode when he faces his commanding officer. “Yes, sir!” Primmin continues, more calmly, “Report to your station.” Watkins nods in response, “Aye-aye, sir!” He turns and leaves Sick Bay.

Primmin looks at Patricia with an apologetic look on his face. “The Reman said we’d all be dead within a day. I should have listened to him.” Patricia whirls to face him, “What?! Run that by me, again, Commander?!” Primmin repeats his statement, “The Reman said that we would all be dead within a day!” Patricia’s temper starts to rise, “And how LONG have you known THIS and WHY wasn’t I informed EARLIER!?” Primmin hangs his head in contrition, “I assumed the Reman was lying so I decided not to say anything about it.” Patricia growls through clenched teeth, “Do you know that old saying about the word ‘ASSUME’ … COMMANDER?! Because YOU… ASSUMED… that the Reman was lying…and decided to keep that vital information from ME…YOUR CAPTAIN…”, she points to Lauten’s body, YOUR OFFFICER IS NOW DEAD and the REST OF US are ALL looking at a DEATH SENTENCE! CONGRATULATIONS, COMMANDER! I should give you the Darwin Award!” Primmin is fighting back tears. “You have no idea how sorry I am! I’ll have everyone report to Sick Bay immediately.” Patricia manages to dial back her temper. “Thank you…Commander.” Primmin leaves Sick Bay and Patricia, along with her medical staff, turn their attention to the medical screen.

Commander Primmin has assembled the remainder of his Security officers in the cargo bay of the base. He looks at each face, Watkins, Beckwith, and the other five officers as they stand at attention in a line. Primmin manages to find his command voice, “I have gathered you all here to pay respects to our fallen comrades. Today, we lost Ensign Ellison and Lieutenant Lauten, two of Star Fleet Security’s finest officers, in the line of duty. Mourn them, salute them…but do not weep for them. They gave the supreme sacrifice … their lives … for their unit and that is the dream of every Security officer in Star Fleet!” He raises his voice, “They gave their lives doing their job…AND WHAT IS THAT JOB?!”

His Security officers respond in unison, “To protect and to serve!” Primmin shouts, “WHAT IS OUR JOB?!” His officers respond again, “TO PROTECT AND SERVE!” Primmin is pumped as he continues, “Who do we protect?” His officers respond, “Our fellow officers!” The Commander yells, “WHO DO WE SERVE?!” His officers shout back, together, “STAR FLEET!” Primmin almost loses control of his emotions but manages to maintain his composure, “And what do we protect them with?!” His officers respond, “Our very lives!” Primmin nods, continuing his command voice, “Now, you may have heard about this pathogen that the Reman has given all of us! It’s true! We are infected! But…we have the BEST Doctors and Scientists that Star Fleet has to offer, working to find us a cure! And they WILL find that cure! All we have to do is to make sure that they stay alive long enough to find that cure! All we have to do…is our jobs! What is our job?!” His officers shout back, “PROTECT AND SERVE!” Primmin shouts, “WHO DO WE PROTECT?!” His officers respond, “OUR FELLOW OFFICERS!” Primmin shouts once more, “WHO DO WE SERVE?!” Once more, the Security officers shout, “STAR FLEET!” Primmin lowers his voice, “Let us observe a moment of silence for our fallen comrades, Ensign Ellison and Lieutenant Lauten…and let our silence speak volumes and reverberate throughout the galaxy and all the quadrants.” They all bow their heads while observing a moment of silence. After a few seconds, Primmin raises his head and looks at all of them. His anger shows in his voice, “Thank you! Now…we have a job to do! Let’s do it! Dismissed!”

Ensign Pindell is lying on a bio-bed, looking scared. Doctor Vaterhoelter is running tests. The younger version of Leonard McCoy is lying on another bio-bed, still unconscious, while Patricia tends to her patient. The young ensign looks up at Vaterhoelter, anxious, and asks him a question, “I’m going to die! Aren’t I?!” Vaterhoelter is so focused on his testing procedures that he doesn’t make any eye-contact. He nonchalantly responds, “We’re all going to die, Ensign. It’s just a matter of time.” Patricia hears the exchange and gets irritated. She walks over to the Ensign’s bio-bed and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “You’re NOT dying on MY watch, Ensign! You can return to Engineering. The moment you start feeling ill…” Ensign Pindell is panicking, “I’ll be dead before I can tap my comm-badge!” Patricia grabs his shoulders and gives him a shake, “NOT! ON! MY! WATCH! ENSIGN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Pindell’s panicky expression slowly changes to a slow smile as Patricia continues her eye-contact with him. The Ensign nods, “Aye-aye, Doctor!” He jumps off the bio-bed and heads back to Engineering. Patricia turns to glare at Vaterhoelter. “One of my greatest tools, DOCTOR, is COMPASSION! Why don’t you go find a dictionary and look it up?!” Vaterhoelter hangs his head in embarrassment. “Yes, Doctor.” He heads out of the area to avoid Patricia’s withering glare. Patricia turns to Nurse Koestler, who turns on the holo-communicator. Admiral McCoy reappears.

The Admiral looks at her sympathetically. “You’re all infected, aren’t you?” Patricia gives a deep sigh, “Gramps, I really don’t need to hear gloating! Not now! Just don’t say it! You were right!” The old Admiral tilts his head at her, “Say what? That I told you so?” Patricia attempts to tamp down her irritation, “Gramps, please!” The Admiral’s tone turns gentle, “Child, sometimes the best of doctors need a kick in the seat of the pants every now and then. That includes me as well. If you had paid more attention to what I was trying to tell you, you would have this pathogen solved by now. Give it to me! What do you have?” Vaterhoelter speaks up, “I first thought that the pathogen might be a form of mucormycosis, a fungal infection…” The Admiral snaps at him, “I KNOW what a mucormycosis is, YOUNG’UN!” Patricia glares at Vaterhoelter, “Need I remind you WHO we are consulting with?!” Vaterhoelter looks chastened and continues, “The vascular network shows no signs of fungal invasion. The maxilla is unaffected as well. There has been no swelling in the optical cavity, no eurthyemic symptoms, no reddening, or edema.” Patricia nods as she looks at her Great-Grandfather’s holographic image and indicates the PADD in her hand, “That rules out Amphotericia B or Posacaviazole.” The Admiral shakes his head, “Your thinking is too Terran. Think outside the box! Expand your horizons beyond the quadrant!” Vaterhoelter pauses then continues, “There is one thing, sir, that I AM certain of! This disease is NOT of natural origin! It was manufactured in a laboratory…a bio-weapon!”

Nurse Koestler is horrified. “Who would develop such a thing?!” Admiral McCoy interjects, “I can think of at least fifty worlds off the top of my head!” Patricia starts pacing, thinking, “This is definitely bacterial, attacking the lymph systems first, killing the anti-bodies and white blood cells in the process and destroying the immune system…a retro-virus without BEING a retro-virus! Remember the AIDS epidemic that began in the 20th Century?” Koestler nods, “With our immune systems destroyed, that would make us susceptible to natural toxins and other opportunistic infections!” Patricia nods as she continues pacing, “Like Rigellian Fever or Synthococcus Novae…but Rietalyn has no effect on this…whatever it is. This pathogen is also designed to speed up the effects of toxins and/or other infections.” The Admiral gestures at her to gain her attention. She turns and makes eye-contact with her Great-Grandfather. The Admiral asks her, “Have you tested everyone?” Patricia nods, “Yes, I’ve tested all personnel assigned here…thirty-eight tested and all thirty-eight came back positive!” The Admiral gives her a pointed look, “Everyone?” Patricia gives him a confused stare, then her face lights up with a revelation. She looks over at the younger version of her Great-Grandfather lying unconscious on the bio-bed then back at her Great-Grandfather’s holo-image and nods. In that instant, the power fails…the holo-communicator shuts down, the holo-image of Admiral McCoy vanishes, and everyone is left in the dark. Patricia lets fly with an expletive about Klingon excrement!

Vkryk is sitting stone-still on the bench in the Brig. Beckwith and another Security officer stands guard outside the stasis field. Primmin enters the area, marching straight to where the stasis field sparkles. Looking straight at the Reman, Primmin speaks up, “The infection you carry was engineered to kill Romulans … but it seems to infect other species as well.” Vkryk snickers, “A most fortunate accident.” The Reman grins, revealing the fangs that Primmin finds so repugnant. Primmin scowls at him, “You had help. There’s another Reman out there … somewhere.” Vkryk smirks as he crosses his arms and lounges back on his bunk, “There is … or … perhaps, there was.” Primmin studies his adversary for a moment, then nods at his Security officers, “Lower the stasis field.” Both officers are startled, “But … sir …”, one of them starts to protest. Primmin looks at his officers, “We’re all infected anyway. Lower the field. He can’t go anywhere. Where is he going to go to, this late in the game?” Beckwith nods to his colleague, who nods back and aims his phaser at Vkryk. Beckwith pushes some buttons and the stasis field vanishes with a snap. Primmin approaches the Reman. “You’re going to tell me how to find your partner, my ‘friend’, aren’t you?” In an instant, the power cuts off, leaving them all in the dark. Someone erupts with colorful language.

Back in Sick Bay, there is general panic at the sudden black-out. Everyone is at a loss as to what has happened. Patricia hits her comm-badge, shouting over the din, “McCoy to OPS!” There is no response. She taps her comm-badge again, “OPS!” The din and panic increases within the darkened Sick Bay. Patricia shouts over the noise, “QUIET! EVERYONE!” They all quiet down just as the Emergency lights flicker on. There are sighs of relief throughout the room. Patricia hears the voice of the Communications Officer respond over her comm-badge, “OPS, George here! The power’s down all over the station, Doctor. Primary generators are down as well.” Patricia responds, “Acknowledged! I have emergency lights, but no other emergency power.” The Communications Officer continues, “The medical emergency lights are on a separate circuit, just in case of a station-wide power failure.” Patricia is annoyed. “A fat lot of good that does me if I don’t have my MEDICAL EQUIPMENT operational! This black-out is NOT at a good time! Castillos! Are you there?!” Castillos responds, “This is not a malfunction, Doctor. This was sabotage!”

Patricia turns toward the door as she hears the sound of movement in the corridor. She grabs for her phaser, checking it’s stun setting and motions for others to take cover, just in case. The door to Sick Bay pops open and Primmin, along with his Security officers, push it open and enter carrying the limp form of the Reman. The medical personnel are shocked, unable to move from their positions. Patricia approaches the Security team, irritated. “What did you DO?!”, she snaps. Primmin looks at her, not certain how to react. “I never touched him! I swear! He just collapsed…like Lauten!” Patricia indicates a vacant, but non-functional, bio-bed. Put him over there!” The Security team hoists the Reman’s body onto the bed. Primmin looks at Patricia, questioningly. How soon can we have an autopsy?” Koestler attempts to interject, “But we have no power…!” Patricia interrupts the nurse, “We still have our tricorders! Go get them!” The nurse hurries off as Primmin waits for Patricia to turn her attention back to him. He continues, “There is another Reman and I’m pretty sure he did this! We need to find him before he does anymore damage!” She shakes her head, “I can’t spare anyone from medical!”

Primmin gesticulates with frustration, “There’s no telling WHAT that Reman us planning to do next!” He pauses, “And that’s not the worst of it! The planetary shields are down too! Have you any idea how many worlds would LOVE to get their hands on the Guardian?!” Patricia nods, “I understand your predicament, Commander, but if we want to get out of this … alive … I’m going to need my entire medical staff working on finding the cure! I have NO idea how much time we really have left!” Primmin nods back, “I understand!” He taps his comm-badge, “Attention all personnel! I want everyone, EXCEPT medical personnel, to meet me in OPS in fifteen minutes! Primmin out!” He taps his comm-badge once more then looks at Patricia. “Good luck, Doctor!” He pauses, “Captain!”, as he gives her a respectful salute. She looks back at him, “Same to you, Commander!” Primmin and his Security team leave Sick Bay, heading to OPS. Patricia hears a familiar voice behind her, “Let me help!” She whirls around to see the younger version of Leonard McCoy sitting up and seemingly coherent.

Primmin has assembled all Science and Engineering personnel in OPS. The room is darkened with the exception of emergency lighting. As Primmin takes note of who has arrived, he is surprised to see Doctor Quon, the Caitian. The head of Security walks over to him. “Doctor Quon! What are you doing here?! I thought you would be back at Sick Bay helping with researching this pathogen and finding the cure! Quon shakes his head. “I’m a temporal mechanic, not a medic. Lately, I’ve been underfoot, which has been really irritating Doctor McCoy. I figured if I stayed out of range, I wouldn’t be getting on her nerves so much.” Primmin nods at him. “Very well.” He turns his attention to everyone in the room, “Okay, people, listen up! I’m told that Medical is close to a cure, so we have jobs to do. One…we restore power because right now our sensors are blind, leaving us vulnerable. This planet is classified for a reason and there are certain hostile forces who would love to take it from us! Pindell, Beckwith, you get the backups online. Castillos, Doctor Quon, you get the mains back up!” Quon shakes his head, “I’m a scientist, not a body-guard!” Primmin fixes him with a glare. If this pathogen gets to Castillos before he can fix the mains, then you’ll be an Engineer!

Quon raises his hand, “I have a theory…” but Primmin shakes his head, “No, Quon! We are NOT going back in time!” The Caitian is dumbfounded and the entire room falls silent. Primmin continues, “I know that you’re a scientist, who specializes in temporal mechanics. It’s pretty obvious what YOU want to do!” He hands Quon a phaser while he continues speaking to the rest of the personnel, “Watkins, you take the rest of the team and protect the Guardian. Elroy, I need to have you remain in OPS, monitoring all communications. Unfortunately, you’ll also be by yourself!” The Communications Officer nods in agreement. “I can live with that.” Quon gives Primmin a curious look, “And where will YOU be?” Primmin double-checks his phaser, then glances over at the Caitian. “I’m going after the Reman!” Watkins raises his hand, “With all due respect, sir, how are you going to find him by yourself?” Primmin smiles grimly, “Oh, finding the Reman is the easy part. Now … all of you … dismissed!” All personnel scatter to their respective assignments.

The younger version of Leonard McCoy is sitting on the side of his bio-bed, lucid, but Patricia approaches him cautiously. He fixes her with a look, “Did I hear you, or someone, say that the entire crew, here, is infected by some kind of pathogen?” Patricia nods at him, “Yes … everyone … but you.” The younger version of Leonard isn’t certain what to make of that. She gives him a half-smile, then turns to everyone else standing about the room. “Everyone, listen up!”, she announces as she holds up four hypo-sprays, “Vaterhoelter, take two hypo-sprays to the Guardian. See that everyone gets a shot. Koestler, go to OPS first…give Officer George a shot. If the power’s up by then, have him beam you over to the power plant and then to the back-ups. Find out where Primmin is.” Vaterhoelter gestures toward the hypo-sprays. “What is that, Doctor?” Patricia grins. “Cordrazine.”

Pindell and Beckwith are in the back-up generator room. Pindell is working as quickly as possible while Beckwith guards him. The officer nods towards the Security officer with satisfaction. “Done! That was easy! All he did was remove the power cells.” He pushes a button and the generator hums to life. Pindell grins, “We now have back-up power!” Beckwith taps his comm-badge. “Beckwith to OPS!” The Communications Officer responds, “OPS, George here!” Beckwith continues, “You now have back-up power.” Pindell chimes in, “It’s not enough for the shields but it should be enough to power the long range sensors.” Officer George responds, “Acknowledged. Activating long range…” Pindell and Beckwith hear him gasp in horror, “Oh my God! OPS to all Away Teams! We’ve got gate crashers coming to our party! Long range sensors show a Romulan fleet heading our way! Enrique! We need main power in ten minutes or we are ALL dead!”

At the main power plant, Castillos is underneath a console with only his feet showing. Quon is scanning the area with his tricorder but his phaser is still in its holster on his side. Quon glances toward Castillos’ direction. “Can you do it, Enrique?” Castillos’ voice is slightly muffled. “No sweat, Quon! This is a piece of cake! Once I recalibrate the field generators, all of our shields will be at full strength. Pass me the spanner!” Quon looks confused. “The what?” Castillos’ hand appears from behind the console and points at the tool that is just out of reach. Quon reaches for it and hands it to him. “Oh, I see! Castillos takes it from him and gets back to work. “Thanks! By the way, Quon, do you think Doctor McCoy will find the cure in time?” Quon continues to scan the area, “I’m not worried. If there is a cure, I’m confident that Patricia will find it!” He hears an ominous clunk from underneath the console. “Enrique?” There is no response. “Enrique! Answer me!” Still no response. He reaches with his foot to tap Enrique’s leg. Castillos still does not respond. Quon bends down to look underneath the console then straightens back up with the spanner in his hand. “Well, Quon, old boy, NOW it’s time to worry because NOW I’m also an Engineer!”

The Communications Officer is monitoring the long-range sensors. At the push of a button, the view-screen shows a Romulan fleet approaching their coordinates at warp speed. He has every reason to be worried! Both Doctors McCoy are at the Guardian of Forever, administering doses of Cordrazine to the Security Team protecting the ancient monolith. Inside the darkened hangar deck, there are two runabouts. The other Reman emerges from the shadows and moves, silently, toward the spacecrafts. He stops, looks around, and seeing no one, proceeds to one of the vessels. As the Reman attempts to work the controls to open the door, there is a shout behind him, “Hey!” The Reman whirls around, reaching for his weapon but his instantly dropped by a phaser blast. Primmin walks out of the shadows, phaser in hand. As he walks over to the Reman’s body, he is sweating profusely. “How else were you going to get to Romulus…’friend’?” Primmin suddenly drops his phaser, falls to his knees, then collapses onto his face, unconscious.

As Patricia works to ensure everyone, at the Guardian, has been inoculated, she suddenly grabs her head and bends double crying, “NO!” Leonard McCoy looks over at her. “You can’t be dying now! You were among the first to get vaccinated! She shakes her head. “It’s not that, Gramps! It’s Quon! My mate! I just felt our connection breaking! He’s dying!” Leonard McCoy walks over to her and grips her shoulders. “You can’t help him now but there are still others that depend on you!” He shakes her as he shouts, “Captain!” She nods in agreement. “You’re right, Gramps!” She straightens up and resumes command. She taps her Comm- badge. “McCoy to OPS! What’s the status?” The Communications Officer responds, “OPS, George here! Doctor, the Romulans are almost on top of us! I haven’t heard back from Pindell or Beckwith and I can’t raise Doctor Quon or Castillos!” Patricia wipes the tears off her face with the back of her hand. “Acknowledged. You know what you have to do!” Officer George sounds apprehensive. “Aye-aye, ma-am! I’ll man the planetary defenses. We need to arm the self-destruct sequence so we’ll be ready if the Romulans break through!” McCoy nods, even though she knows that the Communications Officer cannot see her. “Agreed! Computer, arm self-destruct sequence, McCoy! Alpha-nine-one-one!” The Communications Officer responds, “George Concur! Beta-nine-one-one!” The computer responds, “Self-destruct armed!” George continues, “I’m ready to blow this entire planet, at the push of a button, the moment I spot the first Bird-of-Prey within firing range! George out!”

Patricia takes a deep breath, trying to control her shaking and her grief, then looks around at the rest of the crew. Koestler approaches her with tricorder, showing her the readings. “The response is good. The pathogen levels are dropping rapidly.” Patricia manages to smile, “Good work, nurse!” She raises her voice so that everyone can hear her. “Listen up, everybody! There’s a Romulan fleet on the way to our coordinates. Our priority is to protect the Guardian as best we can! If we can’t…” Watkins finishes her sentence, “We blow up this planet and take them with us!” Security brandishes their phasers and Leonard McCoy realizes that he still has his 23rd Century issue phaser. Both McCoy’s look at each other and Patricia is uncertain if this newest development is a good thing or a bad thing. Out in space, the Romulan fleet continue their approach as the Communications Officer watches the view-screen with increasing apprehension. Back at the Guardian, everyone takes cover to prepare for possible hand-to- hand combat or a firefight, if not both.

The Romulan fleet edges closer and the Communications Officer prepares to hit the button. At the Guardian, Security is at the ready while Leonard McCoy stands behind Patricia, who has her own phaser in her hand, every nerve at Red Alert. Back at OPS, Officer George’s hand is shaking. Everyone, on the planet’s surface, is ready for a fight to the death. Just as the Romulan fleet enter standard orbit, the planet’s shields and weapons platform reactivate, driving them off! Officer George does a victory dance in the OPS control center! “YES!” He taps his comm-badge, “OPS to Doctor McCoy!” Patricia taps her comm-badge, “McCoy here!” Officer George is ecstatic. “Ma’am, I don’t know how but the orbital defenses are back online! The Romulans are leaving!” Patricia breathes a sigh of relief, holsters her phaser, then calls out to the computer, “Computer! Cancel self-destruct! McCoy! Omega-nine-one-one!” Officer George chimes in, “Concur! Cancel self-destruct! George! Omega-nine-one-zero!” Patricia walks over to a nearby flat rock and stands on it, raising her voice, “The orbital defense systems are back online! The Romulans are leaving!” Watkins grins, “I guess they couldn’t stomach the fight we had ready for them!”

Patricia steps down from the rock as everyone lets out a yell of celebration. Leonard McCoy looks about, confused. She approaches Leonard McCoy as she continues her orders, “Okay, people! We still got infected crew-mates out there that need to get vaccinated! Let’s find them!” As she reaches Leonard to put her arm around him, he grabs her from behind and holds his phaser to her head! He barks an order to everyone, “No one moves! Take one false step and she dies!” She is shocked beyond belief! “Gramps?! WHAT?!” Leonard snaps at her, “QUIET!” He turns back to the crowd, “I mean it! One move and I fire!” Patricia holds her hands up to indicate that the crowd needs to stay back. “You heard the man! No one fires! No one moves! That’s an order!” Keeping his arm around Patricia’s waist, he moves both of them toward the Guardian. He calls out to the ancient structure, “Guardian! A question?” The Guardian activates, “A question…” Leonard continues, “Do you know where I need to go in Earth’s history?” The Guardian starts to show scenes from Earth’s past within its ring.
Leonard backs up closer to the monolith as he surveys the Security detail, ready and waiting to protect their Captain. He looks sadly at Patricia. “I wish you could with me, child!” She feels the tears start to stream down her face as she whispers back, “I know, Gramps. Your destiny awaits you, with Captain Kirk and Uncle Spock. I love you!” She quickly kisses the side of his face and he roughly pushes her away, sending her sprawling, face-first, into the dirt. He leaps into the Guardian’s swirling images, disappearing from sight. Security rushes forward as she gets to her feet, brushing the dirt off of her uniform and wiping at her eyes. Watkins offers her a hand but she shakes her head. She turns to look at the Guardian as the images fade and the structure become silent once more.

She reaches up, again, to wipe the tears off her face and smudges dirt there instead. Realizing there is nothing left to do about it, she reminds the crew around her, “Let’s spread out, people! We have crew-mates to find and vaccinate before it’s too late! MOVE!” All personnel scatter hither and yon. Once she is sure she’s alone, she sits down on a nearby boulder and permits herself a good cry. Then she gets up, wipes her face on her sleeve and goes in search of her mate. She finds his body, along with the body of Castillos, beside the console at the main power plant. When the other crew-mates arrive, they find her cradling Quon’s head in her lap, sobbing.

Patricia is granted funeral leave and she accompanies Quon’s body back to his home-world of Cait where he is given a Star Fleet funeral with all the bells, whistles, pomp and circumstance that a hero deserves when dying in the line of duty. She expresses her condolences to his family but they respond to her with coldness, letting her know that they’ve been aware of their relationship since the beginning based on his letters sent home to them. After all she’s not Caitian, they bluntly inform her, and they don’t approve of inter-species relationships. They show her the door. She returns to her Great-Grandfather’s Georgia home and shuts herself in her old room. The old doctor taps at her door. “Come in, Gramps, the door’s open.” The old man comes in and sits down beside her as she continues to lie on the bed, facing the wall. “It hurts bad, doesn’t it, child?” She tries to hide a sniffle, “Yes, it does. I keep wondering if I could have done it all differently. If only I hadn’t gotten annoyed with him. If only I hadn’t yelled at him. If only I hadn’t gotten irritated at him, he would have remained in Sick Bay, with me, and stayed safe. Thanks to my stupidity, he’s dead! My mate, Quon, is dead!”

Her Great-Grandfather gets stern. “Sit up and listen to me, young lady, and you listen to me good! You did nothing wrong so stop blaming yourself!” She sits up and faces him as he continues, “I had the opportunity to read over the logs that you, and everyone else, submitted. What you encountered…a younger version of me…crazed on Cordrazine, could not have been easy for you! You did what you had to do! If I had encountered my younger self, under those circumstance, I’m not sure what I would or could have done. Quon made his choices as a free, sentient being. What does the Serenity Prayer say, child?” She hesitates for a moment, then recites it, “God, Grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference!”

The old doctor’s face softens, “You couldn’t change Quon’s decisions, child. You can’t control the behaviors of others THAT much. You can only change your own behaviors … either for the better or for the worse. Being in command gives some control over others, and, at the same time, those you command usually make a conscious choice to follow the orders of their superior officers. Unfortunately, at times, those in command have to deal with the deaths among their crew no matter how hard they try to avoid catastrophe. I’ve lost count as to how many crew-members, from the U.S.S. Enterprise, died while Captain James T. Kirk was in command. I was the one, the Chief Medical Officer, who had to make the call over a crew-member’s body, pronouncing them dead. The Captain, the one in command, had to take the responsibility to inform the next-of-kin. You’ve dealt with both my role and Captain Kirk’s role … down to losing someone you dearly loved. It’s just ironic that the Guardian of Forever was involved with Kirk losing Edith and you losing Quon. I don’t think Jim Kirk ever got over Edith’s death. He just managed to continue living as he felt that Edith would have wanted him to live. Which leads me to my next question … would Quon want you to shut yourself up in this room … forever?”

She shakes her head, “No, Gramps.” She pauses, thinking, for a few moments. “Gramps, I know you never spoke about what happened with the Guardian of Forever, even though you talked about your other adventures on the U.S.S. Enterprise. Now that I’ve encountered part of your past, with the Guardian, can you tell me more about what happened, with you … and what happened to … Edith?” Her Great-Grandfather considers her question for a few moments, then sighs, looking at her. “After what you went through, child, I think it’s time I talk about it … all of it. Maybe then, it will help you understand. Keep in mind that there are still many blank spots in my memory. I had to depend on the Captain’s logs to fill those in … plus what you experienced.” Patricia nods, “Okay, Gramps.”

The old doctor gets a faraway look in his eyes as he thinks back on that time. “The Enterprise had been sent to investigate temporal disturbances emanating from a nearby planet. While we were in standard orbit, monitoring this phenomena, the panel at Sulu’s station exploded, injuring him. I was called to the Bridge and I treated him with a few drops of Cordrazine. The hypo- spray still had more doses in it. Without warning, the ship was struck by some sort of shock wave, rocking it violently. I was thrown off-balance and I fell onto the hypo, accidentally injecting myself with an overdose. From that moment on, until I woke up in the mission, being nursed by Edith Keeler, everything in between was a huge blank. According to the Captain’s log, I beamed down to the planet’s surface in my crazed state. You knew I had to be out of my mind because I HATE transporters to begin with! The Captain, Spock, Uhura, Scottie, and several others followed me down to try to bring me back. That’s where we encountered the Guardian of Forever. Jim accidentally activated it with a question and, while it was showing images from Earth’s past, I jumped into it … just like you saw my younger self do. Unfortunately, the moment I did that, the Enterprise vanished … as if it had never existed. Because of my actions, my closest friends were marooned on that cursed planet! I think their proximity to the Guardian was what protected them from vanishing too. Don’t ask me exactly how because temporal mechanics has never been my strong suit.”

Patricia comments, “It’s quite a coincidence that you and Captain Kirk encountered this Edith Keeler.” Her Great-Grandfather shakes his head. “Don’t forget your Uncle Spock! He was there too. It was more than a coincidence. It turned out that Edith Keeler was the key to everything! To make a long story short, Jim Kirk had to take responsibility for her death.” Patricia looks perplexed. “You mean like when the Captain has to take responsibility for the deaths among his crew?” “No, child!” the old doctor said as he gently shook his head, “It was worse than that for Jim! He had to make sure that Edith died…even though he had fallen in love with her! If she had lived, the United States would have delayed entering the Second World War, Hitler would have conquered the world, millions more would have died in the Holocaust and…”, he looks at his Great-Grandbaby as he gently touches her face, “You would have never been born, child.” She contemplates this. “I wish I could figure out why you … I mean, your younger you … arrived in our time-line first before going back to the Era of the Great Depression.” The old doctor puts his arm around Patricia and gives her a hug. “I wish I knew how to answer that child!” He kisses the top of her head. “How about having a cup of tea with your old Great-Grandfather?” She nods. “Sure, Gramps.” They both get up and go to the kitchen with their arms around each other.

Upon her return to duty, she attempts to cope with her grief by focusing solely on work. She is sent to various medical settings to add to her skills there. When she returns from her rotation with the geriatric ward, her elders notice a distinct change in her demeanor … for the worse. She is asked what happened while she was assigned to work with elderly patients but Patricia refuses to discuss it. When she’s assigned to accompany the Klingons on their training missions, she throws herself completely into it … learning how to fight with the Bath’leth, the Mek’leth, and to wield the d’ktahg, along with the Klingon version of Kung Fu … occasionally injuring herself. As she trains with the Klingons, her creativity brainstorms ways to add to various challenges, encouraging Martok and others to think outside the box. Her genealogy research leads her to antique weaponry, such as the crossbow, the slingshot, and the paintball gun. Recognizing her difficulties Star Fleet assigns her as Chief Medical Officer to an infirmary on a space station, where she would be on-call for additional Klingon training missions, rather than give her another command over one star-ship. When she’s not on duty, or training, she spends all of her free time, alone, teaching herself fabric arts such as spinning wool, new crochet stitches, weaving, and/or knitting. She also continues training as a forensic specialist, analyzing evidence involved with suspicious deaths among Star Fleet members. Unfortunately, she winds up becoming a “human doing” rather than a “human being” … doing anything to avoid drinking, avoid drugging, and avoid thinking … or feeling … continuous grief … about Quon.

When Ambassador Spock visits her, he is disquieted at how much she has become emotionally withdrawn. He begins to suspect that her accidental injuries, while training with the Klingons, are not so “accidental”. He observes that she is attempting to emulate his Vulcan stoicism, once more, without success. Even though he is not a doctor, Spock can see that Patricia is slowly, but surely, breaking down … mentally, physically, and emotionally as she fights to stuff down her grief. His old friend had told him about some of the recent events that had occurred at the Guardian of Forever but the old doctor wasn’t able to tell him everything because he had not been able to see, let alone, remember it all. Spock found it impossible to persuade Patricia to permit a mind-meld, to help her work through her grief, and her Post-Traumatic Stress. Her overwhelming grief is too much of a barrier. Much to his consternation, she withdrew even more inside that silent shell that he had seen during her childhood. He knew that if something was not done … soon … she would reach a point of no return. What could happen then was anybody’s guess. He had to acknowledge, to himself, the possibility of another suicide attempt, similar to what occurred when she had run away from home as a teenager. Spock came to the conclusion that Patricia was continuing to punish herself for Quon’s death, among other possible, but unknown, issues. He realizes that he has no other choice but to confront her … or she would surely die … either from natural causes or by her own hand. He stated as much when he made an emergency call to Admiral McCoy, that an intervention was required in order to save a Star Fleet officer. Patricia’s Great-Grandfather concurred, contacted Captain Uhura, and they arrived at Patricia’s residence in short order.

Patricia is NOT happy at this turn of events and accuses them of ganging up on her! Admiral McCoy angrily responds, “Damn straight!”, and proceeds to point out fact after fact regarding what she is doing to herself as she continues her downward spiral. “Child”, he finally says, “I’m diagnosing you with severe clinical depression along with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder! As far as I can see, you are attempting to commit slow suicide and I am NOT going to allow that to happen! I love you too much to permit anything to happen to my Great-Grandbaby!” She finally collapses in tears. Admiral McCoy is left with no choice but to relieve his Great-Granddaughter of duty until she deals with these issues in a healthier way. She’s at a total loss about how to do that. Spock gently reminds her that there are still resources on Vulcan that can help in this regard. “Patricia-kam”, he points out, “you must remember that you do not have the physiology that I do. When you were in treatment on Vulcan, you learned that if you attempt to suppress your emotions, your body involuntarily reacts by releasing stress hormones that increase your negative emotions …leading you to attempt to suppress them even more, which releases more stress hormones. You are caught in a vicious cycle that is slowly, but surely, killing you! Please, Patricia-kam, yield to the logic of this situation and permit us to help you. Allow me to accompany you to Vulcan. I am not asking that you undergo Kohlinar as that would be illogical for you. The Healers can assist you with working through your pain.” She takes him up on his offer and travels to his home- world, taking refuge in a monastery, refreshing her meditation skills. She shares some, but not all, of her recent struggles with the Healers who are assigned to work with her. At one point, she is offered the opportunity to have a mind-meld, which she refuses. Spock senses that there is something more going on that Patricia is unwilling to divulge.

As she is sitting in the monastery’s meditation garden, Spock approaches her. “Patricia-kam, may I join you?” She silently nods her assent and he sits down beside her. They sit quietly for several seconds. Finally, Patricia breaks the silence. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Spock.” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “For what, Patricia-kam?” She sighs, “For being an illogical, out-of-control, emotional human. I wish I could be more like you.” Spock gives her a slight smile. “I have no doubt that your Great-Grandfather will, most likely, find humor in that statement to me as he often ribbed me for not being human enough!” He slowly shakes his head. “Patricia-kam, it would be illogical to wish to be something”, he pauses, “or someone, that you were never born to be. I was born and raised as a Vulcan and you were born human. You are as you were meant to be and we, as your family, accept and love you as you are.” She turns to look at him, “Even when I mess up?” He gives her a kind look with affection in his eyes, “Especially when you mess up, Patricia-kam.”

Spock pauses. “Patricia-kam, there is something you are keeping to yourself which is why you have refused the opportunity for a mind-meld. You have not yet learned how to shield thoughts that you wish to keep private and it would be unfair to force you to divulge what you are not yet ready to discuss.” She nods and sighs. “You’re right, Uncle Spock. I’ve … encountered … difficult situations that I don’t feel comfortable talking about … yet. The incident at the Guardian of Forever is the least of my problems.” She takes a deep breath. “Uncle, how did Captain Kirk deal with his grief over Edith Keeler’s death?” The old Vulcan looks somber. “Being the Captain, he did not have the luxury to indulge in his grief. He had a ship and a crew that he was responsible for. I’m almost certain, within the privacy of his quarters, he grieved deeply for her. He kept his grief private … even from his closest friends.” He looks at his adopted niece. “I grieve with thee, Patricia-kam, over the death of your mate, Quon. There will never be another like him.” She hangs her head and he sees her tears fall into her lap. “You have the right and permission to cry. Let the tears come. There is no shame.” She sobs until she is exhausted. When she raises her head, she feels calmer. “Thanks, Uncle.” He gives her a slight smile. “One does not thank logic.”

His statement makes her giggle, then her smile fades. “Uncle, there has been a question, among many, that both Gramps and I have wrestled with for years. I’m not sure if I should pursue it because of the possible fallout if my suspicions are confirmed.” Spock looks thoughtful. “Look at all facets of the question, Patricia-kam. Analyze what you see. Determine if the Pro’s will outweigh the Con’s. That will help you decide if you wish to seek the answer … for your own peace of mind.”

The question kept bothering her and, when she returned to Earth, she sought out a colleague who specializes in neurology. She lays out a hypothetical case, describing various behaviors and possible evidence of a potential Spectrum Disorder. “Well, what do you think?”, Patricia asks. Doctor Hans nods, “The evidence, and the symptoms, you describe are strong indicators of Asperger’s Syndrome.” “I concur with your diagnosis, Doctor.”, Patricia comments, then asks, “Is it possible to conduct a neurological assessment to confirm this diagnosis, even if the subject is an older adult? This individual was unable to be assessed in childhood due to numerous misdiagnoses plus other issues. Other medical professionals refused to consider the possibility that their diagnoses could be wrong.” The Neurologist nods enthusiastically, “Of course! It’s not the first time this type of situation has occurred. Asperger’s can be hard to spot, especially in females. How soon can this person come in for an appointment?” Patricia sits back in her chair. “The person, in question, is here now.” The other doctor gets up and checks around his office’s waiting room but sees no one else. He looks back at her, confused. “Where is the patient?” She sits up and looks her colleague square in the face. “The patient, in question, is sitting …”, she indicates herself, “… here. It’s me!” Doctor Hans stares at her agape.

Once he gets over the shock of this revelation, Doctor Hans conducts a neurological assessment on Patricia. When the results come back, the answer is clear … she has been living with Asperger’s her entire life! Realizing that she has an Autism Spectrum Disorder triggers a new wave of grief along with the fear that she will now be thrown out of Star Fleet for being “defective”. She realizes that her current fear is eerily similar to her childhood fear of being thrown away again. She returns home to her Great-Grandfather and shows him the results of her assessment. He nods as he reads the report. “Child, tell me something I don’t already know! I’ve suspected this for years even though I was unable to get anyone to listen to me!” Patricia looks fearful as she indicates the report in her Great-Grandfather’s hands, “Now that we know for certain, won’t I be drummed out of Star Fleet because of this?” The old doctor looks up at her, puzzled. “What for? You’ve proven yourself time and time again by working alongside and training Klingons and facing down the Romulans on the Guardian’s planet! You’ve handled command quite well in the face of bad situations. As for the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, there have been higher-ranked officers who struggle with the same thing and they are still serving! Remember Jean-Luc Picard and what he went through when he was assimilated by the Borg and became Locutus? He’s still in Star Fleet as an Admiral! There’s no basis to throw you out!”

She looks at the old doctor, uncertain. “Even so”, she asks, “Now what?” He sets the PADD down on a nearby table. “Regarding your ability to remain in Star Fleet, it’s a no-brainer! You have repeatedly proven your qualifications. As I’ve already said, there is no basis to throw you out of the service. If we tossed out every single officer based on physical or neurological challenges or differences, we wouldn’t have anyone left in the Fleet! Besides Jean-Luc Picard, do you remember Melora Pazlar, the Elaysian?” Patricia nods and Doctor Leonard continues, “She was the first of her species to enter Star Fleet. She has had special needs, requiring braces and a motorized chair, since she first entered the Academy due to gravitational differences. That hasn’t stopped her. You were born with your special challenges and achieved your goals of graduating from Star Fleet Medical Academy in spite of them. Don’t put yourself down simply because you consider yourself ‘different’, child!”

Patricia takes a deep breath, pauses for a few seconds, then resumes. “Gramps, given that I was born ‘different’, I strongly suspect that is why I was thrown away when I was only a baby … sold to the child-slavers. I was too defective to be worth keeping by … her.” Her Great-Grandfather looks at her, thunder-struck. “Why in God’s Holy Name would you think THAT, child?!” He begins to sense that she knows something that she’s not going to tell him. He watches her fidget with her hands, avoiding eye-contact, as he awaits her answer. She attempts to give a nonchalant shrug. “Oh … just a hunch … I suppose.” She looks as if she’s about to cry but doesn’t. He looks at her and nods. “I get the feeling that there’s more to this but you’re not ready to talk about it. I’ll respect that … for now. We will talk about this issue … later … when you feel ready. But know this, child, you are my flesh-and-blood, my family, and I will never throw away my Great-Grandbaby simply because she’s quote ‘different’ unquote. You got that?” She looks up at him and smiles, holding back unshed tears. “Got it, Gramps!”

The elder Doctor McCoy nods with satisfaction. “Now that we have THAT out of the way, child! I’m going to recommend that you take an extended leave of absence … give you time to sort out what you are thinking and feeling as well as give you time to physically recover from all the stress and strain. You’ve had a LOT happen to you within a short period of time and I wouldn’t be surprised that your nervous system is stretched past all limits!” Patricia gives him a puzzled look. I’ve just got back from Vulcan, from working with the Healers. I’m not sure what to do or where to go during this extended leave of absence … other than returning to my quarters on the station.”

Her Great-Grandfather bristles. “Absolutely NOT! You will do no such thing! I know you all too well, child! If you return to your assigned quarters on the station, then you’re going to simply bury yourself in work … AGAIN! You’ll either go into the office and busy yourself, against medical advice, or you’ll isolate yourself again, in your quarters, against medical advice! Martok is aware of what’s happened and is willing to wait until you are strong enough to resume training missions. Deep Space Nine is preparing to celebrate the Anniversary of the Defeat of the Dominion. I’m strongly recommending that you go and visit your friends, the Sisko’s. It’s been awhile since you’ve had the chance to see them. It will also give you a chance to go play! That’s a skill you still need to learn!”
Patricia nods in agreement. “You’re right, the last time I saw Kassidy Yates-Sisko was about a couple of years ago, while she was still pregnant. In fact, she was getting close to her due date. She had some complications but she managed to pull through.” Her Great-Grandfather adds, “With YOUR help, DOCTOR! And don’t forget how you helped Grand Nagus Zek when he had his ear infection!” She responds, “You mean the RETIRED Grand Nagus Zek. Rom is Grand Nagus now.” He waves his hand dismissively, “Whatever! You know what I mean, child!” “Yes, Gramps.” He heads for the kitchen. “Now, I think we both need a spot of tea, then you need to start making arrangements, and packing, to head out to Deep Space Nine.”

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NOBODY’S CHILD: The Saga of Doctor Leonard McCoy and Family-Chapter Three

NOBODY’S CHILD
by Pat McCoy

CHAPTER THREE – Academy Challenges

After obtaining her high school diploma, Patricia wanted to begin her Academy studies immediately. Doctor McCoy insisted that she put on the brakes and allow some breathing room between completing high school and preparing to enter medical school. “Child!”, he fussed at her while they were hanging out in his kitchen, “At least give me time to adjust to having an empty nest before you fledge and test your wings!” Patricia looks at him confused. “Your house doesn’t look like a bird’s nest to me, Gramps!” The old doctor growls back, “Cute! Very cute!” She giggles and kisses the side of his face. She gives him a wistful look. “Gramps, I’m looking forward to going to Star Fleet Medical Academy and, at the same time, I’m feeling homesick now. I wish I didn’t have to leave you alone, here, in Georgia. Who’s going to look after you?” Doctor McCoy shakes his head. “Child, I’m not THAT helpless! I’m still Star Fleet myself, I would have you know! I can pop in for a visit anytime I want to! Besides, I want to make sure the young men treat my Great-Grandbaby with respect!” “Yes, Gramps!”, she sighs, “Just be careful how you swing that baseball bat! You smack ’em, I stitch ’em up!” Doctor McCoy snickers. “I’m not THAT evil, child!” She giggles again then pulls out her class schedule. “Gramps, you actually did all THIS when you were in medical school?!” He nods. “Of course, child! And that was BEFORE I went to Star Fleet Medical! At first, I started out at ‘Ole Miss’. I was able to give you a head start with biology, chemistry, physics, and any other required pre-med courses. Now you’ll be looking forward to pre-clinical coursework plus rotations through various wards at the teaching hospital and beyond. All I ask is don’t pull a ‘McCoy’ on anyone!”, as he wags a finger at her. Patricia looks at him, genuinely confused. “Pull a ‘McCoy’? What does that mean?” The old doctor gives her a stern look. “It means, child, don’t drop my name in an attempt to get special privileges. I will NOT be a happy camper if you do THAT!” She nods. “I understand, Gramps. Besides, I want to earn my own merits and not be accused of riding on your coattails!” He places an arm around her shoulders. “That’s my girl!” “Thanks, Gramps!” She grins. “Can I start borrowing your medical books again? I need to get busy!” Doctor McCoy sighs, shakes his head at her, and smiles.

The first semester at Star Fleet Medical Academy feels overwhelming. Trying to adjust to a new schedule, a new environment, learning her way around campus, getting lost, and struggling with her Asperger’s, even though she still had not been officially diagnosed with the Syndrome. Her Great-Grandfather set up another home, nearby, so she could have a quiet place to study, away from all the sensory overload. Some of her classmates reacted with disapproval and accused her of being a stuck-up snob. Others looked down on her and pronounced her “Weird” and/or called her a “Stupid Freak” among other names. None of this rejection was new to her. She had encountered the same behaviors from her school-mates when she was a younger teenager the short time she attempted to attend public school. But this time, she knew that their opinions did not define her. One classmate seemed to treat her differently and acted as if he was genuinely interested in her as a person.
When she came home from class, and was practicing self-defense techniques with Captain Uhura, she described this young man who seemed to like her. “I just don’t know what to make of his attention”, Patricia commented, in between practice bouts. I’ve never had a boy really interested in me before. Uhura looked thoughtful. “Patricia”, she advised, “Just take it slow. He’s young and you’re young. This might be his first time away from home, too.” Patricia nods in agreement and resumes self-defense practice.

Weeks went by, and the young man intensified his attentions toward Patricia, so much so that she started feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She had initially trusted him. Now, he was starting to really creep her out as he became more controlling. The more he attempted to aggressively seduce her, the more she backed away. He was reminding her, too much, of what she had endured when she had been a child-slave. Finally, he cornered her, when she was studying in an empty room, and made the mistake of trying to force himself on her. When she responded with “NO!”, he became enraged and started punching her. When he pulled a knife and started slashing at her, her self-defense training kicked in. When she was done, he was lying on the floor, bleeding and she ran from the room, wanting to get as far away as possible from the nightmares that were resurrected in her memory. Unfortunately, the incident did not end there.

The following morning, as she was having breakfast with her Great-Grandfather, and was telling him some of the details of the incident with her aggressive classmate, Star Fleet Security showed up at the door announcing she was under arrest. Patricia was stunned into silence and Doctor McCoy erupted in fury! He accompanied his Great-Granddaughter to Star Fleet’s Security Office where he learned that she was being charged with an unprovoked assault with a deadly weapon. As a result, she was now facing expulsion and jail time. Doctor McCoy was so angry he was literally seeing red! He posted bail, took her home, and immediately contacted Spock and Uhura. As for Patricia, she did the only thing she knew how to do, withdraw into a silent shell. Uhura was unable to respond right away as she was dealing with another situation. Spock arrived within minutes, conferred with Doctor McCoy, then attempted to encourage Patricia to tell what had occurred. All she could do was give him an anguished look and remain mute.

“Are you having difficulties finding your words, Patricia-kam?”, Spock asked. She nodded yes. “Would it be easier to have a mind-meld?” Again, she nodded yes. When he touched her Psi-Points, he instantly saw images of the young man attacking her, punching her, attempting to force himself on her, then pulling the knife on her, slashing. Her reactions to his attack was the real cause for his injuries…a clear case of self-defense. “Patricia-kam, have you shown anyone your injuries from his attack?” She shook her head, then looked fearful. “Patricia-kam, you need to have your injuries documented for your defense.” She uttered one word: “Uhura”. Once she knew the full extent of what had occurred, Captain Uhura wasted no time getting to the McCoy home. When she walked in the door, Patricia was ready to show what had been done to her during the attack. When she removed her tunic, her Great-Grandfather was appalled to see the contusions, cuts, and abrasions from where her assailant had punched and slashed at her. He understood all too well why she had been reluctant to show her body to anyone as she had been unable to allow treatment of her external childhood injuries and scars. “Child, where is the uniform you were wearing at the time of the attack? Go get it!” She did as she was told and Spock examined the uniform, finding the slash marks, along with her blood, in the material. “Leonard, I believe we have enough evidence to begin mounting a defense.” He turned to Patricia. “We must make images of your injuries, Patricia-kam, if you wish to defend yourself against these false charges. I fear you were not his first victim.” She reluctantly nods in response.

Back at Star Fleet Medical Academy, the assailant was bragging to his friends about how he had managed to get rid of the “freak’, laughing about how he had fooled the administrators into believing that HE was the victim! As he brags further about how he had done this to other women and gotten away with it, a tall figure walks into the room behind him. He turns to see the imposing figure of Ambassador Spock, who is also accompanied by a school administrator and Star Fleet Security. The assailant realizes, too late, that these new arrivals have heard everything that he had just said. He immediately attempts to claim he was simply joking and really meant nothing by it…just locker room bragging. “In that case, Folsom” barks the school administrator, “You would have absolutely no objection to taking a polygraph test!”

Folsom knew there was nothing else he could do. He was also aware that this imposing Vulcan, standing before him, could easily force the truth out of him with a single touch. Seeing the controlled fury in Spock’s eyes told Folsom that if he wanted to keep his own hide intact, he better cooperate! When he was marched back to Star Fleet’s Security Office, he finally confesses to what he had done…naming his prior victims…who had been forced out of school because of his actions. He made the mistake of assuming that Patricia would not press charges or would agree to having him plea to lesser charges to make it easier on herself. By this point, however, Patricia had recovered enough that her own McCoy fury came to the fore.

After being an abuse victim during her childhood enslavement, something in her spirit said, “No More!” and she came out swinging! When all was said and done, there was more than enough physical evidence to convict him of the criminal assault that he had committed on Patricia. His previous victims had been located and were more than ready to testify against him, once they learned that his last victim was seeking justice. Patricia had the satisfaction of seeing her assailant led away, to jail, in handcuffs and also learned that he had been expelled. She was subsequently reinstated and was able to resume her medical studies. From that point onward, however, she rejected any male who attempted to come anywhere near her. She decided she would NOT make that mistake again given that it could have cost her her life if not her academic career! She had also given up on making friends. No matter how hard she tried, the result was the same. Because she was “different”, she was labeled the “weird one”, “the freak”, and shunned. For the remainder of her medical studies, she decided, she would focus on work and give up on socializing. When she returned home at the end of a school day, and Doctor McCoy asked her how her day had gone, she commented to her Great-Grandfather, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. No one ever realized that maybe Jack had no choice because no one wanted to be friends with him! It’s just as well. I’ve got more studying to do.” Doctor McCoy sadly watches her withdraw into her bedroom and her books. He also heard her listening to the same ancient song being played repeatedly, Simon and Garfunkel’s “I Am a Rock” as she studied.

“Spock, she’s isolating herself again, just like she barricaded herself as a child! What can we do to counteract that?”, McCoy asked, frustrated. Spock sat at the kitchen table, in his friend’s home, looking somber. “Has Patricia-kam discussed with you about this latest turn of events?” McCoy shook his head. “No, she mumbled that old saying ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’, denies she has a problem, and retreats into her room to study. She is as tight-lipped as an Aldebaran Shell-Mouth! I have a sneaking suspicion what’s happening and she’s attempting to keep a Vulcan stiff upper lip about it. She’s trying to emulate you, you old Hobgoblin.” Spock nods. “What time will she come home from the Academy for the day?” The old doctor squints at the chronometer nearby. “She should be walking in the door any time now.”

At that moment, the front door slides open and Patricia enters, heading straight to her room as she had been doing for several days ever since she was able to resume her studies. McCoy and Spock observe this silently until they hear her bedroom door slide closed and her favorite song begins to play once more, starting with the lyrics: “A winter’s day – In a deep and dark December; I am alone, Gazing from my window to the streets below – On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. I am a rock, I am an island…” Spock turns to his old friend. “With your permission, Leonard, I would like to try and talk with her. I do not wish to usurp your position as her parental figure.” The old doctor scowls at him. “Spock, ever since she ‘adopted’ you as her Uncle while we were on Vulcan, you are still considered as much family as I am! When we tag-teamed her years ago, it worked in helping her to start healing. It helped then. I strongly feel that tag-teaming will help now.”

Spock nods, gets up and approaches Patricia’s door. “Patricia-kam, may I speak with you a moment?” The door slides open and Spock sees a sad face looking up at him as she sings along with the music: “…I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island.” She pauses in her singing as the song continues. “Come in, Uncle. I was just studying and completing my homework.” She turns and walks back to her bed, picking up her singing along with the music: “I have my books – And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain; And an island never cries.” There is silence for a few moments as she clears away the PADDs and writing implements scattered about. She sits back down with a sigh and slumps dejectedly.

Spock pulls out her desk chair and sits down. “Studying at the Academy has become quite difficult for you, Patricia-kam.” She shrugs her shoulders as she looks down at her hands, fidgeting. “I’ll be fine, Uncle. No problem.” Spock gives her a stern look. “That was an observation, Patricia-kam, not a question. Talk to me.” She sits up and gives the old Vulcan a quizzical look. He continues, “If I must resume my role as a Star Fleet Captain and give you a direct order, I will do so, cadet!” She looks down again and sighs. “Yes, sir.” “Talk to me”, Spock repeats. She sighs again as her shoulders slump further, looking at the floor and shaking her head. “So much STILL doesn’t make sense. I thought that once people, here, at Star Fleet, became adults, they would stop acting like children…they would stop bullying others. Adults bullying adults is illogical! When I attempted to attend public school, the other kids either picked on me or shunned me. I thought that once I started attending Star Fleet Medical Academy, my peers would be more mature. Unfortunately, they are not! I’m still being picked on and/or shunned, because either I can’t join in the activities they want to do or because I’m too different to be tolerated.” She pauses.

Spock nods. “Go on, Patricia-kam.” Patricia looks up and continues, “Some of my classmates are drinking, even though it might be Synthehol. Many of them are legally underage for that. I AM UNDERAGE for that! With my history of addictions, I cannot be around that because it triggers cravings that I don’t need. I KNOW what will happen if I pick up that first drink! I may be still a kid, in many ways, but I’m not THAT stupid! If I revive my addictions, I will lose everything! I’ve worked too hard and too long to risk throwing away my future with Star Fleet! I’ve tried to find an AA group on campus, as well as nearby, without any luck.” Spock looks thoughtful. “Perhaps, Patricia-kam, you can start one of your own.” She tilts her head and peers back at him. “How, Uncle? I’m the only one, like me, on campus.” Spock leans forward and gives Patricia a slight smile. “I would suggest speaking with your instructor, Captain Smith. He might enlighten you concerning this issue.” She remembers him from the private interview during her application process. “I’ll try that, Uncle. It can’t hurt.”

When Patricia returns to campus, she approaches the door to Captain Smith’s office and pushes the door chime. She hears his response, “Come in”, and the door slides open. The Captain looks up from his desk. “Ah! Cadet McCoy! Come in and sit down!” “Yes, sir.”, she replies as she walks in, the door sliding closed behind her. The Captain looks at her as she takes a seat. “What can I do for you, Cadet?” Patricia takes a deep breath, lets it out, and looks the Captain full in the face. “I need to start an Alcoholics Anonymous group. Uncle Spock suggested I talk to you about it.” The Captain nods, looking thoughtful. “I see. What brought this about?” Patricia reaches into her book bag and pulls out her copy of the Big Book, setting it on the Captain’s desk. I’ve been reading the story of Bill W. and Doctor Bob…how they started Alcoholics Anonymous. Bill W. was alone, in a strange city, facing a choice between picking up a drink or finding another alcoholic to help. That’s when he met Doctor Bob and made his first Twelve Step Call, before there were even any AA Steps written down. By helping Doctor Bob, Bill W. was able to avoid picking up that first drink, on June 10, 1935, the day Alcoholics Anonymous began. I can relate to that story because…here I am…in a strange city, facing a choice between picking up a drink or finding another alcoholic to help.” Captain Smith nods at her. “And Ambassador Spock thinks I will be able to assist you.” “Yes, sir.” Patricia continues, “I’ve been corresponding with the AA main office, through their Loners Interplanetary program because I’ve been unable to find a group, during my travels. Now that I’m enrolled in Star Fleet Medical Academy, I’m encountering situations that is taxing my resolve to remain clean and sober. I feel it’s time to become involved in a support group with others…like me.” Captain Smith nods approvingly. “Very good, Cadet! Give me your PADD.” She hands it over to him and he writes on it: “Report to Room 10, in the Zefram Cochrane building, in one hour and bring your Big Book with you. You will need it! Dismissed!” She looks at the PADD and gives him a curious look. “Yes, sir.” She gets up, puts her PADD and her Big Book back into her book bag and heads out the door.

At the appointed time, Cadet McCoy arrives at Room 10 in the Zefram Cochrane building and looks around. She is the only one there at the moment. A few moments later, she hears the door open and shut behind her. When she turns around, Captain Smith is standing there, holding a Big Book of his own! She stares at him wide-eyed. Suddenly, the comments he made during the application’s private interviews made sense! He gives her a stern look, “Who you see here, what you say here, when you leave here, it will stay here!” She nods back at her commanding officer. “Y-y-yes, sir!” Captain Smith walks over to the nearby table and sets his Big Book on it. “Very good, Cadet! Would you like some coffee?” She shakes her head. “Not right now, sir, thank you, sir.” The Captain looks at her. “At ease, Patricia! We are here for an AA meeting. For this time period, I’m Bob. Once this meeting is over, then it will revert back to Captain! Understood?” “Yes, sir…Bob. Perhaps it would be better to call me ‘Pat’ as ‘Patricia’ is so formal.” The Captain nods, “Very good! ‘Pat’ it will be in every AA meeting. Welcome aboard! Shall we begin?” Pat walks over to the table and sits down, opening up her Big Book to the chapter on “How It Works”. The Captain pulls out a small card, introduces himself as “Bob, a grateful recovering alcoholic”, and begins to read from it:

“Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for AA membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for AA membership; we are self supporting through our own contributions. AA is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy, neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and to help other alcoholics achieve sobriety.”

He puts the card away and continues, “Again, my name is Bob and I’m a grateful, recovering alcoholic. I am glad to welcome you, Pat, to your first AA meeting on Star Fleet’s campus. Keep coming back!” “Thank you, Bob”, she responds. Bob continues, “Would you like to read ‘How It Works’?” “Yes, sir. By the way, my name is Pat and I’m a recovering alcoholic and a recovering drug addict.” Pat picks up her Big Book and begins, “Rarely have we seen a person fail…”

Bob tells his drunkalogue of when and how he picked up his first drink, what happened, and what it is like now…his experiences, strength, and hope. He shares, that until the moment Pat requested his assistance in setting up an AA meeting, he had also been in the Loners Interplanetary Program. Then it came Pat’s turn to tell her story. She takes a deep breath and, for the first time, shares her story aloud to someone other than Gramps, Uncle Spock, or Captain Uhura. At times, she finds herself breaking down in tears but she continues speaking. She pauses and looks at the chronometer, “Sir, our time is almost up.” He shakes his head, “Just for today, I’m extending this meeting. You need to get your story out…ALL of it!” Pat nods and continues her story, finishing with her arrival at the AA meeting they are both sitting at. Then she falls silent, wiping the tears off her face, and the silence stretches for several minutes. Bob clears his throat. “Pat, you have a lot of intestinal fortitude and I admire you for that. Not many young people have gone through what you have…and survived, let alone thrive. The fact that you are willing to go to any length to stay clean and sober speaks volumes. I’m hoping that, eventually, other young people will come to know what a good person you are.” “Thank you, sir.” Pat responds. Bob nods. “With that said, let’s close this meeting in the usual way.” They hold hands, pray the Serenity Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, then shake hands stating together: “Keep coming back! It works if you work it!” Then Captain Smith resumes command and orders Cadet McCoy to return to her classes.

Each day, at the same time, Patricia reports to Room 10 of the Zefram Cochrane building for one hour. Other classmates notice and attempt to taunt her about “sneaking off” and threaten to report her to Captain Smith for going AWOL. Patricia ignores them. Finally, a group of her tormenters decide to follow her. Once they see which room she has gone into, they decide to “play a joke” on her. One of the group gets a hold of a firecracker and the group positions themselves outside the door. One punches the door open, another throws the lit firecracker into the room, then the door is punched closed. They burst out laughing as soon as they hear the firecracker explode. Their laughter is cut short, however, when the door reopens and they discover Captain Smith glaring at all of them! Patricia is standing behind him, arms folded, and looking annoyed. They all head back to Captain Smith’s office.

Captain Smith has all the cadets standing at attention, Patricia included, as he walks up and down the line, looking at each one. The Captain asks the first “prankster” what did he think he was doing. He responds with, “I don’t know, sir.” The Captain goes down the line, asking each cadet the same question and getting the same answer. When he finally reaches Patricia, he asks her what are her thoughts. She looks at her tormenters then back at the Captain. “Sir, with all due respect, they might benefit from attending an open AA meeting. They just might learn something new.” The Captain thinks this over and nods. “You’re right, Cadet! They just might learn something!” He looks at the group of pranksters. “When you are not in class, or on rotation, you are confined to quarters until further notice! Is THAT clear?!” “Yes, SIR!”, they respond in unison. “Dismissed!” The pranksters file out the door and Patricia starts to follow. The Captain calls out, “Not you, Cadet McCoy. I have a few more questions for you!”

She stops. “Yes, sir.” Once the door closes and the Captain is certain that the pranksters are out of earshot, he looks at Cadet McCoy. “How do you propose to set up an Open AA meeting when it’s just the two of us at the moment? I don’t think it’s a good idea to break our anonymity.” Patricia looks at the Captain. “I’m not suggesting that, sir. I’m thinking along the lines of contacting the AA office and asking if they can refer any Loners over our way for a Speaker’s meeting. The Loners get to share their Experience, Strength, and Hope, which helps their sobriety…the pranksters just might hear something they can identify with, your and my anonymity remains intact. Who knows, we just might get some new members to join our AA meeting.” The Captain smiles. “I like the way you think, Cadet.” His smile fades. “I get the feeling that you know something that you are not telling me.” Patricia chews her lip. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” The Captain folds his arms. “Go ahead, Cadet. I have the feeling I’m going to hear this, sooner or later, either inside or outside of an AA meeting.” Patricia nods. “That’s just it, sir. I’m imagining…if I were in your shoes, with your rank, and I became aware of someone, in Star Fleet under my command, needing a 12-Step Call. Which takes priority … Star Fleet regulations or working the 12th Step and getting that person into treatment?” The Captain looks stunned. “As Captain, my responsibility is to enforce Star Fleet regulations.” Patricia presses her questions, “What if … enforcing those same Star Fleet regulations leads to someone’s death from addictions when getting that person into treatment, instead, could have made a difference … saving a life? I’m not saying these things have to be mutually exclusive, sir. I’m suggesting using the ‘carrot or stick’ approach.”

The Captain looks intrigued. “Go on, Cadet. Explain your thinking behind the ‘carrot or stick’ approach.” Patricia takes a deep breath. “Well, sir, to make a long story short, I’m thinking along the lines of offering this person a choice when conducting an intervention … either go into addictions treatment or have Star Fleet regulations enforced and possibly be expelled, if not court-martialed if they are already a member of Star Fleet. I would suggest going ahead with this Speaker’s meeting, with all of these Cadets attending as part of their consequences for today’s actions, then meeting with each one privately to discuss what each of them has learned. Even if they don’t admit to anything, at least they will be informed that if they choose to disregard the help that is being offered, and if they are caught drinking illegally, while underage, or indulging in alcohol and/or drugs while on duty, regulations will require they be expelled, or court-martialed. The knowledge, choice, and responsibility, will be theirs. Hopefully, we will be able to retain good officers.” The Captain nods. “For a young person, you have an ‘old’ head on your shoulders.” “Yes, sir”, Patricia replies. “Cadet, I will go ahead and contact the AA office regarding Loners being referred here. Due to security issues, they will need to go through a background check, which is part of my responsibility as a commanding officer. Dismissed!” “Yes, sir!”, Patricia replies again, then heads out the door. When she returns home, after classes, she gives both her Great-Grandfather and Uncle Spock the latest updates.

During one of her scheduled rotations, one of her tormenters, Cadet Daniel, approaches her. “What are you up to, McCoy, about this so-called Open AA meeting?” Patricia looks at him and quirks one of her eyebrows. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, freak!”, he snaps. “What is this Open AA meeting?” Patricia replies matter-of- factly, “It’s an Open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. Anyone can attend.” He is taken aback. “Are YOU calling ME a DRUNK?!” Patricia puts down her PADD and faces her tormenter squarely. “Fact, I know you are drinking alcohol and Synthehol even though you are legally underage. Fact, you are drinking daily. Fact, every single time you have picked up a drink, you end up doing something STUPID, for example, that firecracker incident! I don’t believe you can get through 24 hours without a drink!” The other cadet bristles. “I’m NOT a lush! Only lower class people do that and I’m BETTER than those kind of people! I’ll PROVE it to you that I can go for a WEEK without drinking ANY alcohol or Synthehol! I’m in complete control of what I drink, when I drink, and how much I drink! Bet me on that!” Patricia nods back at him. “You’re on!” He didn’t last twelve hours before he got caught by Star Fleet Security, several sheets to the wind, mooning passersby and demanding they salute him. The intoxicated cadet was summarily frog-marched to Captain Smith’s office.
Patricia has just gotten home and was about to sit down to dinner with Doctor McCoy when her comm-badge sounds. “Captain Smith to Cadet McCoy!” She taps her badge. “McCoy here, sir!” “Report to my office, immediately. I have a candidate for you!” Patricia looks at her Great-Grandfather while replying, “Yes, sir! Right away, sir! McCoy out!” She gets up from the dinner table. “Sorry, Gramps! Duty calls!” He waves off her apology. “No problem, child! I’ll keep dinner warm for you until you get back home!” She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Gramps!” She heads back out the door.

Upon arriving at Captain Smith’s office, she smells the tell-tale stench of an alcoholic in digestive distress. Sure enough, she spots Cadet Daniel, in the “head”, kneeling before the porcelain altar, giving up his offerings. The Captain gives her a look and shakes his head. “Cadet, I’m hoping he’s ready to hear you. Otherwise, I won’t have any choice.” “Yes, sir!”, Patricia replies, while she patiently waits for the other cadet to finish. Eventually, her tormenter emerges, looking as terrible as he feels. He’s not happy as soon as he sees Patricia. “What the HELL are YOU doing HERE?!”, he snarls. “Trying to save YOUR lead butt, if not your career, you idiot!”, she snaps back, “Not TWELVE hours ago, you bragged to me that you could go a WEEK without drinking! What happened!?” The drunken cadet looks from her to Captain Smith and back, uncertain what to say. The Captain gets up, “I’ll go bring back some coffee while you two have a chance to talk.” He glares at the drunken cadet. “You will be given a decision to make upon my return and I hope it will be the right one! I would strongly suggest that you listen to what she has to say!” He leaves his office to give the two cadets privacy.

Patricia folds her arms as she glares back at her tormenter. “Well? I’m still waiting to hear what happened that resulted in what I’ve just seen!” He snarls back at her. “What business is it of yours!? You’re only a cadet, not my commanding officer!” She shrugs her shoulders. “If you want to be expelled, be my guest. You have the freedom to choose that…if that is what you want.” That stops him in his tracks. He attempts to continue his bravado while eying her suspiciously. “Did you snitch on me?” She shakes her head. “Nope! I had finished my classes and rotation for the day and was about to sit down to dinner with Gramps when I got the call to return to campus. If anyone snitched on anyone…you snitched on yourself. Now, I’m going to ask…one last time…what…did…you…do!?”
He sits back, sullen. “I had a drink with my buddies!” Patricia looks at him skeptically. “You just had ONE drink?” His bravado starts to lessen. “Maybe a couple of drinks with my buddies…” She continues to look at him with skepticism. “A COUPLE of drinks? What happened to being able to go without ONE drink for a week?” He starts to say something, then realizes there is nothing he CAN say to justify what had occurred. “The Captain says I have a decision I have to make while talking with you. Why are you involved?” She leans forward. “Before I answer that, Daniel, I need to know, up front, do you wish to remain a student at Star Fleet Medical Academy? Because if you’re not interested in finishing medical school, then I’m not going to waste my time!” She can see that he is realizing he is in SERIOUS trouble! “If I get thrown out of school, my Dad will KILL me! Star Fleet is a family tradition!” Patricia thinks about that for a few moments. “So…do you want to stay in school for yourself…or for your Dad?” He shrugs his shoulders. “I-I-don’t know! He wants me to become a doctor, just like his grandfather. He couldn’t become one, himself. Long story.” Patricia’s irritation starts to lessen. “What do YOU want, Daniel? What are YOU interested in? Don’t think about pleasing others…what do YOU REALLY want for YOURSELF as a career?” The other cadet looks uncertain. “Promise you won’t laugh?” Patricia nods. “I promise!” Daniel sighs, “I want to major in theater but my Dad says there is no future in that!”

Patricia nods. “But if you keep drinking the way you’re drinking, you’re not going to have any future at all! That rot-gut is tearing up your insides!” The other cadet looks back at her. “Which brings me back to MY question…why are YOU involved, McCoy?” She looks him full in the face. “Because alcohol…and drugs…nearly killed me. I’ve been where you are now. The Captain will be returning soon and he’s going to demand that you put on your Big Boy pants and make a decision regarding your future! What decision will that be? Do you want to live or do you want to die? As I see it, you are slowly killing yourself because you don’t like yourself very much! You’re trying hard to be what your father wants you to be instead of being who you ARE!” They hear a tap at the door. The door slides open, revealing Captain Smith carrying a tray with three steaming cups of coffee. He sets the tray down on the desk and turns to the drunken cadet. “I believe you have a decision for me, cadet?”

The cadet hangs his head. “I want to live…but I don’t know how. I-I-I don’t know what to do!” Patricia reaches over and taps his knee. He looks up. “Let me ask you a question, Daniel. Right now, is your life manageable or is it a mess?” He squeezes his eyes shut, then rubs his face with both hands. “Everything is a BIG MESS!” Patricia nods again. “If I may make an observation…you cannot control alcohol. Alcohol is controlling you, and you have NO control over where alcohol takes you or what you do while under the influence! Would that be a fair statement?” The other cadet nods his head. “That describes it exactly!” Patricia continues, “You’re admitting that you are powerless over alcohol?” The cadet nods his head again. “Yes, I’m powerless over alcohol and my life is a mess! I need help! Help me! Please!” Captain Smith walks over and places his hand on the cadet’s shoulder. “You’ll get the help you need, Cadet. That is a promise! I’ve arranged for you to go to Detox. Once we get the alcohol out of your system, then we can talk about your future with Star Fleet.” “Yes, sir.”, the cadet mutters.

After Cadet Daniel is transported to Detox and admitted, Captain Smith returns to his office where Patricia was ordered to remain. The Captain sits down behind his desk, looks at the now-cold cups of coffee, then at Cadet McCoy. “Well, what do you think about working your 12th Step this evening?” Patricia sighs. “I tried to carry the message, sir. It remains to be seen if I really got through to him once the alcohol clears out of his system. There might also be another complication. He’s admitted that the real reason he’s enrolled here is to please his father and carry on the quote, Family Tradition, unquote. His heart is in the theater but his father has put the kibosh on THAT! He’s been using alcohol to numb out his feelings and we both know where that leads!” Captain Smith considers this new information. “He wants to be in the theater, huh? Maybe there’s a way he can achieve what he wants while remaining in Star Fleet.”

Patricia impulsively blurts, “Role-playing, recruiting, and/or training holo-vids?”, she says hopefully. The Captain gives her a stern look and she realizes her mistake, “Oops! Sorry…sir!” The Captain half smiles. “Apology concerning your impulsiveness accepted. Keep working on that. As for your question regarding the holo-vids…looks like you’ve read my mind. It all comes down to what this young man wants to do with his life…once he gets the alcohol out of his system and can begin to think clearly…for himself.” Patricia tentatively raises her hand and the Captain nods at her. “What if his father refuses to agree?” The Captain looks thoughtful. “I’ll have to wait and see what develops and base my decision on those factors.” She gives him a puzzled look. “Sir?” He looks up at her and continues. “His father is an admiral.” She blurts out again. “Uh-oh!” Then catches herself. “Sir!” She shakes her head. “I wonder what Bill W. and Doctor Bob would say about all of this?” The Captain smiles. “I think my ancestor would remind me to ‘Keep It Simple’, among other sayings he was famous for.” Patricia looks back at him, curiosity written all over her features. “Sir?” The Captain continues while smiling, “I usually avoid name-dropping as you are not the only one with a famous relative. My five times Great-Grandfather was Doctor Bob.”

When she returns home, Doctor McCoy was waiting up for her. She sits down in the living and slumps, exhausted, in her chair. “Tough case?”, the old doctor asks. She nods, “And complicated on top of it all.” She looks at her Great-Grandfather. “Gramps, what would you do, if you were doing the right thing, for a patient, and the patient’s next-of-kin, a high ranking official in Star Fleet, countermands your instructions…and you know that countermand would, or could, cause the death of your patient?” Doctor McCoy leans forward. “If it were me, my medical decisions would out-rank this high ranking official.” Patricia scratches her head. “You’re an admiral, Gramps! But what if…I were the doctor…a medical student, intern, a cadet, on rotation and a high-ranking admiral, who is NOT a doctor, countermands my medical decision because he’s the Admiral and I’m only a cadet. What then?” Doctor McCoy looks straight at her. “The medical decision…YOUR medical decision would still stand! The admiral, who is NOT a doctor, will just have to lump it!” Patricia continues to think about this while rubbing her chin.

With Captain Smith’s permission, Patricia visits her classmate while he is in the Detox Unit of the teaching hospital. She’s under strict orders not to work this unit as part of her rotation due to a perceived conflict of interest per the Medical Code of Ethics. During the visit, Daniel’s father, the admiral, shows up and he is NOT happy about the fact that his son is a patient in Detox! Patricia involuntarily cringes the moment she hears him yelling in the hall. She looks over at Daniel and realizes he is feeling the same way. She quickly taps her comm-badge. “McCoy to Captain Smith. Please report to the Detox Unit STAT! You are needed! Emergency! McCoy out!” She then braces herself for what is to come. She’s hoping she can stall the admiral until Captain Smith’s arrival. A few moments later, the admiral bursts through the door, his face beet-red! “WHAT IS THIS?! MY SON IN A DRUNK TANK?! HOW DARE YOU EMBARRASS ME, YOU IDIOT!” He attempts to stomp over to his son with his fist raised.

Daniel is cowering on the bed, when Patricia steps between him and the Admiral. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.” He glares down at her and brings his fist close to her face. “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY, CADET, BEFORE I GIVE YOU A TASTE OF WHAT HE IS GOING TO GET!” She looks at his raised fist, squares her shoulders and looks back at him, determined to stay where she is. “With all due respect, sir, NO! I will NOT permit you to physically…or verbally…assault a patient, or anyone else…myself included!” She sees his blood pressure rise several millimeters of Mercury just by observing the coloration of his face. Before she could react, he hauls off and back-hands her across the face. The next second, the Admiral is pinned, face-down, on the floor! Daniel is cringing, wide-eyed, on his bed when Captain Smith rushes into the room. The Captain barks at her. “That’s ENOUGH, Cadet!” She releases the Admiral and steps back. The Captain notices the redness, along with her eye swelling shut, on Patricia’s face and quickly realizes what has occurred. He turns to the Admiral as he gets to his feet.

The Admiral stabs a finger in Patricia’s direction. “I want that insubordinate little whelp thrown in the Brig, IMMEDIATELY! She DARED put her hands on ME!” The Captain looks back at him, the calmness in his voice belying the anger he feels. “With all due respect, sir, you are twice her size and weight. Judging from the injury on her face, I can deduce that you just slapped her a few moments ago because she was obeying MY orders to PROTECT MY PATIENT!” The Admiral is enraged. “HOW! DARE! YOU! DEFY! ME! I’LL HAVE YOU LOCKED UP FOR INSUBORDINATION!” The Captain stands toe-to-toe with the Admiral. “As the Doctor in charge here, I’m telling you to GET OUT! You have one of two choices…leave voluntarily or I call in Security and you will leave INVOLUNTARILY! What is it going to be?” The Admiral angrily works his jaw for a few moments, turns on his heel, and stomps toward the door. He looks back at the Captain. “You’ll PAY for THIS! I PROMISE YOU! YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF ME!” The Admiral storms off down the hall.

Patricia tentatively touches her injured face and winces. “Damn! That is one HELL of a badge-heavy bully!” She looks over at Daniel with sympathy. “Now I understand what you are drinking AT! He’s enough to make a SAINT want to get drunk!” Captain Smith snaps at her. “That’s ENOUGH, Cadet!” She hangs her head. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Captain Smith turns to face her and sees that her eye has swelled shut. He calms down. “No, Cadet. I’m the one who should be making amends to you. I’ve known, for years, what that man is capable of doing and didn’t do enough to protect the both of you! Report to my office, McCoy. I’ll be there shortly.” “Yes, sir”, she replies. She leaves the room while the Captain turns to speak to the other cadet. Daniel looks up at his commanding officer. “What do I do now, sir?” Captain Smith stands quietly for a few moments before responding. “For now, Cadet, you are under my orders to continue treatment. You will have another physical evaluation to determine if the level of alcohol in your system has dropped to zero and if there is any permanent damage. I will review those results and make my decision based on what I see. Until then, I will see to it that your father will not be permitted to harass you. Now get some rest!” The Captain turns and leaves the Cadet’s hospital room.

Captain Smith enters his office and Patricia immediately stands to attention. “At ease, Cadet, and let me take a look at what the Admiral did to your face.” The Captain examines her injuries as she winces. He steps back and looks her full in the face. “Why did you put yourself in harm’s way, Cadet? Why didn’t you wait until I got there?” Patricia looks back at the Captain. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch that bully beat on Daniel. No one deserves that! There was no time to wait, as his rage was just out of control, and I couldn’t see how Daniel could possibly defend himself against his own father given the state that man was in. I thought that if the Admiral was hell-bent on beating on someone, then it might as well be me so the patient would be safe until you got there, sir.” The Captain nods. “I understand. You acted on the limited options you had. Let me treat that facial injury.” Patricia holds up her hand. “With all due respect, sir, I think you better document it instead. I have a strong gut feeling that Admiral is going to cause more trouble and we need the evidence to defend ourselves. I can wait until I get home and put some ice on it.” The Captain nods, walks over and picks up an imager. “Very well, Cadet.”

When Patricia arrives home, and Doctor McCoy sees the red hand print on her face, as well as her eye swollen shut, he demands to know what happened. Spock and Uhura, who are visiting, are appalled when Patricia describes her conflict with the Admiral over a patient’s treatment. The old doctor’s temper hits the roof! He demands to know the name of the Admiral who had assaulted her. Patricia shakes her head. “I can’t tell you that, Gramps! Once you know the Admiral’s name, you’ll know who his son, the patient is. It won’t require rocket science for confidentiality to be breached! The patient has a right to privacy.” Doctor McCoy calms down a little. “You’re right, child! I’m still NOT happy about the fact that ANYONE, including an Admiral, slapped you!” Patricia proceeds to apply ice to her facial injuries. “I understand, Gramps, I hear you. At the same time, this is MY battle! You can’t fight it for me!” Spock replies, “She is correct, Leonard.”

Uhura chuckles and everyone turns to look at her. “I would have LOVED to have been a fly on the wall, watching you as you pinned that Admiral to the floor! I have a sneaking idea who he is as he has a reputation for having one hell of a NASTY temper!” Patricia walks over to Uhura and bends down. “Whisper the name to me, Captain.”, she asks. Uhura whispers in her ear and Patricia nods. “I can neither confirm nor deny it.” Spock, who has overheard the whisper, nods. “But it confirms my suspicions. He is trouble!” Patricia looks at the three elders, confused. “If he is trouble, and that violent, how did he manage to become an Admiral?” Spock looks at her with a somber expression. “Unfortunately, Patricia-kam, there have been some individuals who managed to rise through the ranks in spite of their abusive tendencies. If the Admiral, who assaulted you, is the same one that I suspect…most likely, he has been abusing his family behind closed doors for years. You inadvertently brought it out into the open.” She sits down with a thump. “Yikes!” Doctor McCoy stands up. “Except, THIS time, he assaulted the WRONG person! He’s been used to getting away with pulling rank and abusing weaker individuals all this time. Now he has to deal with us McCoy’s!” Patricia shakes her head emphatically. “Gramps! No! As I’ve said before, this is NOT your battle! I have to wait and see what happens next. My injuries have already been documented for my defense. My commanding officer is dealing with his part of it as we are sure that this Admiral is going to be coming after both me and the Captain.”

Sure enough, within the week, charges were brought against Cadet McCoy for physically assaulting an Admiral, and against Captain Smith for insubordination. Once again, she found herself facing expulsion. When the hearing was convened, she saw the Admiral sitting there, smirking at her. He was sure that he would get his own way, once again, and she would be sent packing. She saw his facial expression change as she heard others enter the room behind her. When she turned to look, Ambassador Spock, Doctor McCoy, Captain Uhura, Cadet Daniel, and a huge crowd of other cadets along with other officers were filing into the room. Captain Smith walks up to her and sits down beside her. He places his hand on her shoulder. “I refuse to leave you twisting in the wind, Cadet. This situation was never your fault from the beginning!” He glares at the Admiral. She notices that the Admiral is looking elsewhere and she turns to see who he is looking at. She realizes that her loved ones are glaring back at the Admiral. She can see that, in spite of Spock’s calm demeanor, there is anger in his eyes. To her recollection, this is the first time she has ever seen her Uncle Spock showing any emotion, however slight, in public.

The hearing gets underway and the Admiral spins a tale about how he was attacked, by this cadet, without provocation and how she was insubordinate to his rank, refusing to obey his orders. Evidence is produced of Patricia’s facial injuries at the time of the incident, which the Admiral explains away. Because Captain Smith was not there to witness the Admiral slapping Patricia, the Board stated that it was simply Patricia’s word against the Admiral and the Admiral’s rank must take precedence. Just as the Chair was about to pronounce expulsion, Daniel stands up and shouts, “NO! Oh … HELL … NO! This has gone far enough!” The Admiral shouts, “Daniel, shut up and sit down!” The Board Chair also orders Daniel to be silent. Daniel walks forward. “Throw ME out for being insubordinate but I’m NOT going to sit by and watch my friend being punished for protecting ME! I WAS THERE AND SAW THE WHOLE THING!” The Admiral growls, “Boy! If you don’t shut up and sit down, you know what will be waiting for you when you get home!” Daniel faces down his father. “I don’t care what you do to me! You’ve beaten on Mom, you’ve beaten on me, and NOW you’ve started beating on my friends because they dared say NO to you! That STOPS! NOW! HERE! TODAY!”

The Board Chair asks Daniel to describe what actually occurred and Daniel happily obliges. He turns to Patricia. “I used to pick on you because I thought you were a weird freak, because you’re different and you still defended me when you didn’t have to. Now I understand what friendship really means.” He turns back to the Board. “If anyone deserves to be thrown out of Star Fleet Medical Academy, it should be me! I was the one who broke the rules. Cadet McCoy stepped up to help me and help save my life. The only reason I enrolled is because my Dad ordered me to become a doctor like his Grandfather. HE knows WHY he can NEVER become a doctor on his own! He thought he could live his dreams through me!” He looks at his father defiantly. “Well, guess what, Dad! I’m going to work toward my own goals, NOT YOURS!”

Daniel went on to describe the years of abuse that he and his mother had endured at the hands of the Admiral. How he was forced to abandon his own aspirations in order to march to his father’s orders. His mother eventually died under mysterious circumstances. He quietly added, “The only way I knew how to cope with everything was to get drunk. Cadet McCoy helped me understand that I don’t have to live that way anymore. She helped me see that I was slowly killing myself. I don’t know what I’m good for but I know that I don’t have to be my father’s puppet nor do I have to live in fear of being beaten by him again.” He returns to his seat and there is silence in the room.

The Board Chair considers this turn of events. He looks at Cadet McCoy. “The charges against you are dismissed.” The Admiral starts to splutter his outrage and the Chair turns on him. “As for you, ADMIRAL, I’ve heard enough! There has been too many suspicious incidents, involving you over the years. It ends today! Security, take the Admiral into custody! The Board will deal with him at a later time!” Security surround the Admiral and escort him from the room while he splutters in outrage. Patricia starts to shake uncontrollably. Captain Smith places his hand on her shoulder again and nods at her reassuringly. “See you at the meeting!” He gets up and leaves the room. Doctor McCoy approaches his Great-Granddaughter and she gets up to hug him. “Gramps, I feel the need to go hide from everyone. I’ve had enough for today!” The old doctor looks at her. “What are you going to say to your new friends?” She looks confused. “Huh?” He indicates a crowd of cadets standing behind him…all of them smiling at her. “Child, I think you’ve just earned yourself some respect. Not everyone, like you, are willing to take on a bully the size, weight, and rank of that Admiral!” Daniel approaches the two McCoy’s and holds out his hand. She shakes his hand. “Thanks, McCoy, for coming to my defense. I’ll never forget it.”

Patricia gives him a quizzical look. “You talk as if you are leaving. Where are you going?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I doubt I can stay here and continue studying to be a doctor.” “Don’t you like Star Fleet at all?”, she asks. “Sure!”, he responds, “But how am I going to study theater and be in Star Fleet?” Patricia thinks for a few minutes. “Would you like to act in holo-vids?” “WOULD I?”, he shouts, “I would LOVE to be able to do THAT!” “What about Star Fleet holo-vids, for training and/or recruiting? Would that fill the bill?”, she asks. “Would they let me?”, Daniel inquires. “Go ask Captain Smith. I think he might be able to find something for you to do.”, she responds. Daniel nods. “Thanks, again, McCoy! I owe you one!” His friends come forward and shake Patricia’s hand as well. The whole group invites her to dine with them in the future and she agrees. He heads out the room with his friends. She looks at the three elders standing with her. “I think I did a good deed for today. What do you think?” Doctor McCoy ruffles her hair and grins.

She enters Room 10 of the Zefram Cochrane building, carrying her Big Book. Captain Smith is waiting, with his Big Book, and two cups of coffee. Just as she sits down, the door opens and Daniel enters the room. “Am I late?”, he asks. Patricia grins at him. “Nope! You’re right on time, Dan!” Captain Smith gets up. “Do you want a cup of coffee, Dan?” “Yes, sir, don’t mind if I do, sir!” The Captain brings over another cup of coffee and hands it to Daniel, then he sits back down at the table. He hands a small card to the newest member and asks would he like to read from it at the beginning of the meeting. Daniel looks confused. “I-I-I’m not sure what to do.” Patricia takes the card. “Tell you what, Dan, I’ll read the Preamble and you read How It Works. Just follow our lead!”

She turns to the Captain who introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Bob and I’m a grateful recovering alcoholic. Welcome to your first AA meeting, Dan!” Patricia holds out her hand to Daniel. “Hi, I’m Pat and I’m a recovering alcoholic and recovering drug addict! Welcome to your first AA meeting, Dan, and keep coming back!” Daniel looks at both the Captain and at Patricia. “Hi, I’m Dan and I’m a SCARED recovering alcoholic! I’m glad to be here where it feels safe!” Patricia claps him on the back. “You’re in the right place, Dan! Let’s start the meeting as we only have an hour!” She reintroduces herself then reads the Preamble. Then she turns back to Daniel. “Okay, Dan, you want to go ahead and read ‘How It Works’? Daniel nods. “Hi, I’m Dan and I’m still a SCARED recovering alcoholic!” He picks up Patricia’s Big Book and begins to read, “Rarely have we seen a person fail…”

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NOBODY’S CHILD: The Saga of Doctor Leonard McCoy-Chapter Two

NOBODY’S CHILD
by Pat McCoy

CHAPTER TWO – Fasten Your Seat Belts!

It wasn’t always smooth sailing as the years passed. Oh, there were the usual bumps, bruises, scraped knees and elbows of a regular childhood that Gramps could heal with a kiss. But before McCoy could blink, the child became a sullen teenager. He remembered his own adolescence but nothing prepared him for the firestorm that hit. To make matters worse, during one of her medical follow-ups at the hospital, the old doctor was informed of something he had long suspected. As a direct result of the repeated abuse she had suffered in early childhood, Patricia would never be able to have children of her own. Her internal injuries were too extensive to be repaired completely. At first the staff doctor attempted to avoid her direct questions until Patricia finally cornered her, demanding an honest answer. There was no way to soften the blow. Realizing that she had been robbed of what other girls have, to never be like other girls her age, she retreated back into her silent shell when she was around adults, angry at everyone.

Doctor McCoy tried everything he knew to try to encourage her to talk about what she was feeling, only to watch her withdraw further. Spock and Uhura also tried, only to watch helplessly as she retreated into her room and lock her door. During the past few years, McCoy had gradually attempted to socialize his Great-Granddaughter with other girls her age in a nearby public school with limited success. Now those children were gone, replaced by different teenagers whose behaviors made him uncomfortable. The old doctor also smelled the tell-tale signs of alcohol and marijuana use. Attempts to discuss his concerns were met with more sullenness and angry silence.

Things finally came to a head when Doctor McCoy found alcohol, along with marijuana and other drugs, hidden in her room and he had no choice but to confront her. Patricia stormed out of the house and did not come home. Doctor McCoy was frantic as he searched for her. The local police told him he had to wait 24 hours before filing a missing juvenile report when he had to acknowledge that his Great-Granddaughter had left the premises under her own volition, after an argument, and that she was having emotional issues. They told him that teenagers often did that and, eventually, she would cool off and come home on her own. McCoy found small comfort in their “advice” and enlisted the assistance of Spock and Uhura in searching for the teenager, who was clearly troubled. Uhura was able to trace Patricia’s steps to an abandoned building, where she was joined by Spock and McCoy. Entering the dilapidated structure, they find Patricia, along with several other teenagers, under the influence of intoxicants. She recognizes none of the elders and reacts, in a rage, by throwing an empty whiskey bottle at them, screaming curses. When they do not retreat, she picks up another bottle, smashes the bottom off and brandishes it as a weapon, slashing in their direction. The trio still do not leave and only approach closer, attempting to reason with her. Spock sees a flicker of recognition in her eyes when she focuses on him, Uhura, and then her Great-Grandfather. He sees devastation in her face when she realizes who she has just threatened. She starts to turn the broken bottle on herself, ready to stab, when Spock quickly intervenes with a nerve pinch, tossing the broken bottle aside. He lifts the unconscious teenager in his arms and turns to look at the old doctor as he examines the other young people, who are lying on the ground nearby, unconscious.

The remaining teenagers are too heavily intoxicated to react to anything. McCoy quickly scans them with his medical tricorder and realizes that several are on the point of death. He summons emergency medical responders to the scene and all the teenagers are transported to a nearby trauma center. At least one of the other teenagers is dead on arrival and two others die a short time later. One is determined to have permanent brain damage and is in a persistent vegetative state. Patricia and one other teenager are the only two who are determined to have a viable chance of surviving without permanent brain damage from the overdoses they ingested though both remain unconscious.

Once Doctor McCoy was reassured that his Great-Granddaughter would survive her overdose he walks into an empty room and breaks down. Uhura comes in and hugs him. “She’ll be all right, Len. We found her just in time.” Spock enters the room, looking somber. McCoy looks up at his two old friends. “She’s safe THIS time! What about the next time? Or the next? We don’t know for certain how long she has been doing this to herself! I’ve caught her drinking and drugging at home and tried to intervene. That’s why she ran away. I have NO idea how often and how much she has been doing this outside of the house with this group she had been hanging out with! Then there is the suicide attempt that Spock was able to stop. How can we help her? This may be the first suicidal gesture we know about! There’s a very good chance she has made other attempts we DON’T KNOW about! She’s been seeing therapists for years and their only approach has been to toss more pills in her direction and to suggest that since her ordeal is in the past, she should just get over it and forget about it! I wish they could see her when she wakes up in the night, screaming in terror, because she’s reliving everything in her nightmares! I’m terrified that I’m going to lose her!”

Uhura sits down beside him. “Len, you are doing everything you can humanly, possibly do.” Doctor McCoy gestures helplessly. “But it’s not enough! I fear that the next time, I will be too late to save my Great-Grandbaby!” Spock also sits down with his friends. “Have you had the opportunity to speak with Patricia-kam since she was brought into the hospital?” Doctor McCoy shakes his head. “They tell me she’s going to be out of it for several more hours. I won’t be able to see her until tomorrow.” Spock nods. “Under the circumstances, Leonard, I would suggest that you go on home and try to get some sleep. There is nothing more that any of us can do for the time being.” McCoy looks haggard. “What then? What do I do next?” Spock gives him a gentle look. “As I have previously mentioned, we shall cross that bridge when we come to it, my friend.”

Patricia wakes up with a raging headache and feels nauseous. She remembers some of what occurred the night before, including her threatening her loved ones with a broken bottle. She turns to face the wall and starts to cry, knowing that she will now be discarded for sure. She wishes that garbage can was nearby to crawl back into. She hears motion as one or more people enter the room but she doesn’t dare turn her head to look at anyone. She curls herself into a fetal position, wishing that she could just simply go to sleep and never wake up. “That would solve everyone else’s problem”, she thinks to herself, “I’m nothing but worthless garbage anyway.” She senses that these people are still in the room with her but no one says a word. “Why are they bothering with a piece of garbage like me?”, she wonders silently, “Why couldn’t I have been left, with the rest of the garbage, in that abandoned building? I’m nothing but a defect that deserves to be thrown away, just like I was thrown away, like trash, when I was little!” She continues to cry, then attempts to wipe at her eyes. A handkerchief is held out for her even though she is unable to see who is offering it. She takes the handkerchief, wipes her eyes, then blows her nose. Finally she takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Feel better, child?” She turns her head and sees her Great-Grandfather standing beside her hospital bed, looking sad and tired. “You came to see me?”, she asks with confusion. Doctor McCoy smiles at her. “Of course, child!” She sits up and realizes that Spock and Uhura are sitting nearby. She looks from one to the other, completely confused. “You WANTED to see me?” They nod in response. “But…why?” McCoy sits on the side of her bed. “Because, child, we love you and care about you…and you are family. That is what family members do, they love and take care of each other, no matter what.”

Patricia looks down at her hands, at the handkerchief that she still holds. “But I threatened you! I deserve to die for that!” Spock shakes his head. “No, Patricia-kam, you do not deserve to die.” She continues to look confused. Spock continues, “Patricia-kam, I learned from our mind-melds that other children had been killed because they attempted to fight back against their abusers. You were taught, ever since you were a baby and during your captivity, that they deserved to die and that you deserved the abuse that you received. You survived in spite of them. Your abusers lied then and they continue to lie…in your mind. No child deserved what happened to them. You never deserve abuse and you certainly do NOT deserve death!” Patricia continues to look down as she twists the handkerchief in her hands. “But I did the wrong thing.” “Patricia-kam”, Spock quietly replies, “You made a mistake. You can learn from mistakes so you can do better and do what is right.” She looks the elderly Vulcan in the face. “But what if the right thing to do is to kill myself? That would solve everything. That would solve the problem that all of you must deal with! I won’t be a defective burden to you anymore.”

Spock stands up and walks over to her hospital bed to stand beside McCoy; Uhura joins him. “Patricia-kam”, he replies sternly, “You are NEVER a burden to us.” She attempts her logic once more. “But I AM DEFECTIVE! I will NEVER be like the other kids. I’ll NEVER be able to have friends, or a family of my own IF I grow up! I can’t keep up with the other kids. I can’t understand things the same way as other kids. I keep having these…seizures. They make fun of me and call me names…” She starts to cry again. When she is able to catch her breath, she resumes. “Drinking and drugging made things hurt less! Why can’t they give me more of that stuff to make the hurting stop? Why can’t they just give me enough so I’ll never wake up again?”

The old doctor feels a lump in his own throat as he listens to his Great-Granddaughter. He feels helpless. He looks over at Spock, then Uhura, and mouths the words: “Now what?” Spock reaches over and brushes the hair away from Patricia’s face. “Patricia-kam, do you trust me? Do you trust your Gramps? Do you trust Captain Uhura?” She nods. “Do you remember what I often told you about Vulcans?” She nods again as she repeats the words back to the elderly Vulcan: “Vulcans never lie!” Spock nods. “That is correct, Patricia-kam, Vulcans never lie. Your Gramps and I, along with Uhura, are here…for you…we will not abandon you, no matter how difficult any situation may become. Now, are you ready to come home?” She nods then pauses. “By the way”, she asks her elders, “What about my friends, Billy, John, T’gai, Szhen, and their other two friends, Lily and Muri…are they okay?” Doctor McCoy gives her a somber look. “Child, only one of your other friends, Muri, has survived well enough to go home. Her parents have already taken her out of the hospital and have left the planet for their home-world. They don’t plan to return. One other, T’gai, is in a coma and it appears that he will remain in a persistent vegetative state due to brain damage, and the others…”, his voice trails off. “Are dead.”, Patricia finishes for him. She falls silent.

Her recovery continues to be slow. Doctor McCoy and Ambassador Spock take turns spending time with her, talking with her, attempting to draw her back out of the shell she has retreated into. Uhura offers to help but the elderly doctor suggests that it might be best, at this point, to avoid sensory overload and to wait until Patricia feels ready to include additional people in her social circle. For now, Uhura is to remain on standby and she agrees to this strategy. At one point, Spock suggests that the two of them go for a walk through the shopping district just to pass the time. In his opinion, a change of place, as well as some fresh air, might be helpful. As they walk, Patricia would occasionally glance at a shop window, or two, then silently continue down the sidewalk. One shop window catches her attention and she stops abruptly, pointing to it. “That looks strange. What are those things?” Spock looks where she is pointing. “Those things, Patricia-kam, are antiques. Would you like to take a closer look at them?” She nods yes and they proceed into the shop.

She picks up one item after another, peering closely at them, and asks Spock if he knows what each item is. He is able to answer some questions. Other items puzzle him as much as they puzzle her. The shopkeeper would then step up and explain the item and its history. She picks up an object and inspects it with curiosity. “What’s this?” Spock looks at it, indicating its components. “That, Patricia-kam, is a whistling tea kettle. It is used to boil water for making tea. When the water is hot enough, the resulting steam is ejected through that valve, making it whistle. Your human ancestors used items, such as this, before replicators were invented.” She looks up from the tea kettle. “Can I have it? Can you teach me how to make tea with it?” “Of course, Patricia-kam.”, the old Vulcan nods. The shopkeeper wraps it up and gives it to Patricia. As they leave the antique shop, she looks up at Spock. “Can we find tea somewhere?” Spock nods and indicates another shop nearby.

When they walk in she stops, closes her eyes, and breathes in the fragrances of the various teas and sighs with contentment. Spock is pleased to see her change in mood. She proceeds to wander up one aisle and down another looking at all the varieties. Spock patiently lets her take the lead in exploring. She picks up a container of blossoming tea and holds it up to him. “This looks interesting. Can we try this?” Spock takes the container and looks it over. “Fascinating. Yes, Patricia-kam.” The container is wrapped up and placed in the bag with the antique tea kettle. They return home and they are greeted by Doctor McCoy, who notices that Patricia is carrying some shopping bags.

“Any interesting discoveries while you were out?”, the old doctor asks from his recliner. Spock gives him a slight smile. “Wait and see.” Patricia takes her parcels into the kitchen and Spock follows her. Doctor McCoy is napping in his recliner when he hears an unfamiliar sound. He gets up to go and investigate. In the kitchen, he discovers that Spock has set up a hot plate which the antique kettle is on. Steam is pouring through a valve in its spout, making it whistle. Patricia is watching and listening with fascination. McCoy grins. “Well, I’ll be! I’ve heard about this and read about this but never thought I would actually see a whistling tea kettle in action in my own kitchen! Where did you find this?” “Patricia-kam actually found it”, Spock replies, “She wanted to learn how to make tea with it.” McCoy nods. “Good! Let me get the tea cups.” The old doctor sets up three tea cups and saucers. Patricia picks up the container of blossoming tea and starts searching for the instructions. As she looks the container over, she continues to chatter about the antique shop and how much she would like to go back there again. She describes, in detail, the various antiques and their histories, along with how their ancestors needed to use them before replicators became available.

She opens the container, pulls out three small packets, opens them, and looks at the tightly wrapped buds within. “These look really WEIRD!”, she exclaims. Spock patiently takes the three packets of tea and places a tightly wrapped bud within each tea cup. “Patricia-kam, there is a pot holder nearby. That will protect your hand from getting burned when you pick up the tea kettle.” She picks up the pot holder and grasps the tea kettle’s handle. Spock explains how to carefully pour the boiling water into each tea cup so she won’t accidentally splash and scald herself. When she sets the tea kettle aside, she gasps in amazement as she watches the tea buds blossom into flowers. “Wow!”, she exclaims, “What looked really weird turned into something really pretty!” She sniffs at one of the tea cups. “And it smells nice too!” She looked thoughtful then turns to Spock and McCoy. “I could be like that…all shriveled up and weird-looking then blossom into something better?” The two elders nod approvingly at the analogy. Spock looks at McCoy then back at Patricia. “This leads me to ask you to consider something, Patricia-kam, regarding therapy.” She tenses up and angrily snaps back, “I’m tired of dealing with those idiots who keep trying to tell me to forget about what happened to me then give me more pills that don’t do anything except make me feel worse!”

Spock nods in understanding. “I was going to suggest a different approach, Patricia-kam. I believe it is time to consult, again, with the Healers on Vulcan…to help teach you meditation techniques along with exploring different paths regarding how to address your nightmares.” Patricia looks at him with curiosity. “Why can’t you teach me that?” Spock folds his hands on the kitchen table. “Because, Patricia-kam, there are many things that I am not qualified to help you with. Meditation is just one approach in dealing with the nightmares that continue to trouble you. I am not trained, nor am I qualified, to address the cause of those nightmares. The Healers can assist you by teaching you how to fight back against those night terrors.” She looks pensive. “I understand. When can we consult with the Healers?” “As soon as you wish, Patricia-kam.”

Patricia is still uncertain if the Healers, on Vulcan, will be able to accomplish what the human therapists could not. She had come to realize, the hard way, that she could not safely drink alcohol nor continue drugging. Once she started, with any addictive chemical, she couldn’t stop and those mood-changing chemicals had nearly killed her just as it had killed some of her friends. She realizes that the only way to stop alcohol’s, and drugs’, deadly effects was to not pick up that first drink, pop that first pill, or smoke that first joint. She had contacted the organization, Alcoholics Anonymous, and they were more than happy to send her literature and a copy of the latest edition of their Big Book. She was able to tie in with Alcoholics Anonymous Loners Interplanetary, as there were no groups readily available where she was, as well as where she was traveling to, on Vulcan, as she prepared to enter their treatment facility. When she arrived at the Vulcan Academy of Sciences Hospital, she didn’t know what to expect.

Spock and Doctor McCoy accompanied her as she was checked in and examined, given that she was still, legally, a minor. Then Patricia encountered a “glitch”. Hospital rules dictated that only family members would be permitted to visit with her and participate in her treatment plan. This placed a huge burden on Doctor McCoy, who was also looking into finding a professional that was willing to conduct an assessment for the possibility of Autism Spectrum Disorder, back on Earth, as well as attending support and therapy groups himself as part of the family treatment protocol. There were no other blood relatives to help relieve her Great-Grandfather when he needed to take a break. Patricia found this unacceptable and insisted that Spock be permitted to visit, and participate, as well.

The hospital administrators attempted to deny her request, stating that it was illogical for non-family to be allowed in, and the McCoy Stubbornness manifested itself. Spock was aware that getting Patricia into treatment was crucial to her recovery and a meeting between the McCoy’s, Spock, and the hospital administrators was convened. When the administrators realized how adamant their patient was, regarding the elderly Vulcan, she was asked how could she possibly view Spock as a family member. The administrators demanded that she explain her logic about this issue. She looked over at her Great-Grandfather, at Spock, then back at the hospital administrators. “Gramps and Spock are like brothers. They’ve served together aboard the star ship Enterprise. I’ve heard them tease each other, even verbally spar with each other, like brothers. Based on that, as far as I’m concerned, Spock is my Uncle! If my Uncle can’t visit me from time to time, then I want to go back home!” Spock looks over at the administrators. “Healers, it is imperative that Patricia-kam get the help she needs that we have been unable to find on Earth. Her life depends on it. Even though she is legally a child, unless she is able to cooperate with her treatment, denying her request would be to her detriment. Stubbornness runs in her family, even though I concede that it is illogical. My concern is that her stubbornness could result in relapse and death.” The administrators confer with each other. “It is agreed. For this instance, we will make an exception and permit you to visit her, as her ‘Uncle’. Are you prepared to participate in her treatment plan?” Spock nods. “I am prepared.” “Very well”, replies one of the administrators, “Let us proceed.”

Each day, Patricia would attend classes that discussed a variety of topics relevant to her situation. She found many of them boring as the counselors often talked over her head. She struggled with the meditation techniques as depressing thoughts often repeated themselves in her mind and she felt irritable. Some of the Healers and counselors would perform a mind-meld to help her organize her thoughts and to counteract the depression. To make matters worse, she was the only teenager there, human or otherwise. She wondered, aloud, how could she possibly relate to anything given that everyone is so “old” and had no understanding of what she thought or felt. She pushed back against everything, challenged everything, questioned everything. She found it maddening that the counselors and Healers would simply nod back at her in approval, encouraging her to speak more, to express what she thought and felt. She was often reminded that she was born a Human and that it is illogical to try to be a Vulcan, which she is not. During one of Spock’s visits, she blurts, “Why don’t they just throw me out?! Why don’t they just throw me away?! Why are they wasting their time with something like THIS?!” as she points to herself.

Spock gives her a gentle smile. “Because, Patricia-kam, you are some ONE WORTHWHILE. We are going to keep reminding you of that fact until you are able to accept it for yourself. Have you been able to read your Big Book from Alcoholics Anonymous?” She nods. “Yes, Uncle. I’m reading the chapter on ‘How It Works’ where the 12 Steps are listed. The First Step I can easily understand: ‘We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.’ I know that I am powerless over all mood-changing chemicals and my life is a complete and total MESS!” Spock nods with approval. “For many others, who also struggle with addictions, that First Step is often the most difficult. There have been others who continued to deny they had a problem…to the point of death!” Patricia nods sadly, “Like my school-mate, Billy. He was the one who gave me my first joint. Now he’s dead…alcohol and drug overdose, along with my other friends that you found with me in that abandoned building. I learned, not too long ago, that Muri committed suicide shortly after she arrived on her home world.” Spock looked at her sadly. “I grieve with thee, Patricia-kam. Muri was only a child herself.”

She pauses then looks at the elderly Vulcan with confusion. “I’m struggling to understand the rest of the 12 Steps…Step Two – Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity, Step Three – Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God, Step Four – Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves, Step Five – Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another sentient being the exact nature of our wrongs, Step Six – Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character, Step Seven – Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings, Step Eight – Made a list of all sentient beings we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all, Step Nine – Made direct amends to such sentient beings wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others, Step Ten – Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it, Step Eleven – Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for us and the power to carry that out and, finally, Step Twelve – Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.’ There’s even a sentence in this book that states: ‘What an order! I can’t go through with it!’ That’s how I feel, Uncle, I feel overwhelmed and inadequate!”

Spock looks at the Big Book that Patricia is holding in her hands, then looks up at her. “Patricia-kam, consider this…how do you walk?” She looks at him, confused. “Huh?” Spock repeats the question, “How do you walk?” She puts down her book and slowly stands up, limping across the room looking at her feet. She stops and looks back at him, still puzzled. He continues, “Do you remember learning the Waltz?” “Yes, Uncle.” “Do you remember counting as you practiced, Patricia-kam, when you were learning your numbers?” “Yes, Uncle.” “When you were counting as you were Waltzing, how many numbers did you count to?” “Twelve, Uncle.” “And what were you counting, as you were waltzing, Patricia-kam?” “My steps.” “How do you walk, and Waltz, Patricia-kam?” She looks down at her feet then back at Spock. “I walk, and Waltz, with steps, Uncle.” Spock gives her a slight smile as he folds his arms. “Do you walk two or three steps at a time?” She shakes her head, still looking confused. “No, Uncle. I move my feet one at a time so I don’t fall.” He nods approvingly, “Yes, Patricia-kam, one step at a time.” The light of understanding suddenly glows on her face. “Twelve steps in the Waltz for my physical therapy, my physical recovery. Twelve Steps in the Big Book for recovering from my addictions. I need to work, one step at a time just like I walk or Waltz, one step at a time!” Spock gives her a rare smile. “Precisely, Patricia-kam, one step at a time!”

Patricia continued working on studying the Big Book as well as attending individual and family therapy sessions according to her Individualized Treatment Plan. She also continued to study Vulcan meditation techniques in an effort to combat the night terrors that still plagued her sleep. Doctor McCoy attempted to learn as well, with limited success. “It’s all right, Gramps”, Patricia reassures him, “It’s more important for me that I learn this. I’m the one with the nightmares, not you, remember?” Before she knew it, Graduation Day arrived and it was time to leave the treatment facility. To celebrate, her elders took her to a nearby restaurant that offers a variety of food to off-worlders, much to Doctor McCoy’s delight. As they ate, Patricia commented, “I don’t know why, but this food tastes a LOT better than hospital food even though I was allowed to eat meat and other food geared to human metabolism! Illogical, isn’t it? Why is that?” Doctor McCoy chews, then swallows. “Child, hospital food NEVER tastes as good as this or home-cooking. I can’t explain it…it just happens to be that way.”

Patricia nods. “By the way, Gramps, I thought I should share with you and Uncle Spock what I learned with the Healers. Here I was, trying to be as Vulcan as Vulcan and the Healers pointed out that my human physiology is not designed that way. Vulcan physiology can deal with suppressing emotions. With humans, it’s destructive because the human body reacts by secreting stress hormones that wreak havoc with all of the internal organs.” She turned to Spock. “Before we left Earth, I had a chance to read some of the Enterprise’s logs where you commented to a crew member about having his adrenal glands removed because of his emotional reaction to a crisis. Illogical for a human to do that. It would destroy homeostasis and cause death. Did you know that, Uncle?” Spock raises an eyebrow at her while he continues chewing on the mouthful of food he has just taken. She turns back to her Great-Grandfather. “One curious thing they noted…my body temperature is very similar to a Vulcan even though all my organs are in the usual places for a human. They couldn’t find any infection anywhere that would account for the high body temperature. That could explain why I feel so cold, all the time, when you have the room temperature set for your comfort. So strange!” Doctor Leonard McCoy looks at her, stunned. “WHY didn’t you say something before about being cold all the time, child? All this time, I thought you were running a constant fever from an infection I couldn’t find. No matter what I did, I couldn’t bring your temperature down to what I thought it should have been…98.6 degrees Fahrenheit.” He looks over at his old friend. “Even Spock was stumped about the cause of your high temperature when everything else appeared healthy. He scanned you several times to see if I missed anything only to confirm my findings. We finally decided to just leave it be and continue to observe for any possible problems.” Patricia shakes her head ruefully. “Sorry, Gramps. I was so used to keeping my suffering to myself that it never occurred to me that I COULD have told you. Old survival habits are hard to break.” She looks down, sadly, not certain what else to say.

Spock finishes his last bite on his plate. “Patricia-kam, it would be illogical to blame yourself for something that none of us understood at the time. As for your comment about what I said to a young crewman years ago, your point is well taken. To change the subject, once you return home, have you thought of what you will do? What is your aftercare plan?” She shrugs, “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I CAN do! Of course, I need to continue working my Recovery Program to stay clean and sober. I have more schooling that I need to complete, but I don’t want to go back to classes with the other kids. I just don’t fit in. I’m tired of being taunted and called names. I’m just TOO different!” Spock nods, “I understand, Patricia-kam. I have been in a similar situation.” Patricia gives him a puzzled look. He continues, “Do you recall seeing an image of my parents during our mind-meld?” “Yes, Uncle. I remember you telling me that your father’s name was Sarek and your mother’s name was Amanda. I found it interesting that my middle name is the same as your Mom’s given name. That would be neat if it turns out we are related!” Spock gives her a slight smile. “Yes, Patricia-kam, you are correct about my parents. Did you notice anything, unique, about them?” She shook her head. “I guess I wasn’t really paying enough close attention, Uncle.” Spock nods again. “That is perfectly acceptable, Patricia-kam. To help your understanding, the marriage of my parents was considered an Interracial marriage. I am only half-Vulcan. My mother, Amanda, was human. The fact that my parents married each other was considered quite controversial on my home-world at the time. There were also humans, on Earth, who objected to this marriage. Not everyone accepted their relationship on either planet nor did they approve when my mother gave birth to me. I was shielded from this for a time after I was born. When I started attending school, then it became quite a different matter. I was…bullied because I was not like the other children…and my mother was also called names that were not flattering.”

Patricia frowns at this. “Didn’t the other parents, other teachers, other ADULTS, teach these kids that behaving that way is illogical?” Spock shakes his head. “Unfortunately, the other children were simply repeating what they heard their parents say at home.” Patricia shakes her head angrily and slams the table with her fist. “THAT is so UNFAIR!” Doctor McCoy reaches over and covers her hand. “Yes, child, it WAS unfair! I can only wish that people were more enlightened whenever they meet someone who is special in her or his own way instead of reacting with bigotry and hatred. I know you feel compelled to change the universe to an ideal place and, maybe, in the future, you will accomplish that. For now, it’s time for us to go home and deal with life on life’s terms.”

Upon their return home, Doctor McCoy arranges a “Welcome Home” party for his Great-Granddaughter. With her permission, he invites his former crew mates from the U.S.S. Enterprise and they have a cook-out in the backyard. Captain Uhura and several others attend and Patricia listens, fascinated, as each guest shares her or his story of adventure during an away mission or on board the Enterprise. She envisions what it must have been like to meet Klingons, Andorians, Orions, Gorn, Romulans, Tribbles, Harry Mudd, etc. Spock and McCoy describe camping trips they used to take with Captain Kirk. Her favorite story was about when the crew traveled back to the 20th Century to obtain two hump-backed whales…named George and Gracie. When the old doctor gleefully described Spock’s swim in the whale tank, Patricia stared at her Uncle, wide-eyed, with her jaw on the floor! Spock attempted, unsuccessfully, to be nonchalant about that detail in the story. Leonard McCoy was clearly having fun with him! At one point, during the party, Spock brings out his harp and entertains his friends. The guest of honor could not get enough of this! When the party ended, Patricia began dreaming of the possibility of entering Star Fleet as she wanted to see these worlds for herself.

Home-schooling resumed while Doctor McCoy continued his efforts to locate a professional willing to conduct a neurological assessment on his Great-Granddaughter, to no avail. Now that she had become a teenager, a recovering alcoholic and a recovering drug addict, any problems were quickly attributed to those issues and dismissed. The old doctor finally gave up, but Patricia did not. Once she overheard her Uncle Spock and her Great-Grandfather discussing Autism Spectrum Disorder, she began studying, on her own, what that is and soon realized that Asperger’s Syndrome was an apt description for her being so… “different” in regards to her perceptions and emotional melt-downs. She showed this information to her Great-Grandfather and Spock. “That’s EXACTLY what I have been trying to tell these so-called ‘experts’ for YEARS, child, but they simply do NOT want to hear it! If it doesn’t fit THEIR TEXTBOOK, it doesn’t exist! You would think, that after all these centuries of research, they would be more enlightened! I’ve come to understand that if you meet one person with Asperger’s Syndrome, you have only met ONE person with Asperger’s Syndrome. No two people will have the identical symptoms. The concept of Spectrum should tell these so-called ‘experts’ SOMETHING!” “Unfortunately, Leonard”, Spock replies, “Not everyone is open to new ideas. Experience has taught us that.” Doctor McCoy growls, “Yep! Just like the Capellans were, when I first visited that planet! Thankfully, things started to change when the Te-er’s widow gave birth to the royal heir and she became regent.”

Patricia shakes her head sadly. “According to what I’ve read, there is a limited amount of time for therapeutic interventions with Asperger’s. That window is now closed. I’m too old to be worth the bother. They only focus on little kids.” Doctor McCoy growls, “As far as I’m concerned, child, you are NOT too old to be worth the bother! Those so-called ‘experts’ are nothing but idiots!” Patricia is frustrated. “But that doesn’t help me at all, Gramps! I need to look ahead to becoming a productive adult and I have no clue where I can fit in or what I could be qualified to do. I’ll be finishing school…soon. I would like to go to Star Fleet Medical Academy but…”, she sighs. Doctor McCoy peers at her intently, “But what, child?” She sighs again as her shoulders slump. “Because I’m … different … defective … wouldn’t that disqualify me from everything?”

Spock shakes his head. “That would not disqualify you, Patricia-kam. In fact, because you have never been officially diagnosed could work in your favor when you apply to Star Fleet Medical. Have you considered which specialty interests you?” She looks from Spock, to her Great-Grandfather, and back at Spock. “I’m fascinated by Interplanetary medicine, like you, Gramps, and forensic research, analyzing evidence from crime scenes. Would that…could that…be a possibility for somebody like me?” “I don’t see why not, child!”, McCoy interjects, “Besides, Star Fleet can also teach you how to defend yourself if anyone is stupid enough to attempt to bully you again!” Patricia squares her shoulders with determination. “Okay, then I’ll try. That’s the best I can do!” Doctor McCoy grins at her. “That’s my girl!”

“Gramps, I have another question”, Patricia continues. “And what is that, child?”, replies the old doctor. She looks at the two elders. “You two went camping with Captain Kirk. What is it like…to go camping? What do you do?” McCoy looks over at the elderly Vulcan. “I think she’s old enough to experience that. Wouldn’t you agree, Spock?” Spock nods. “I would concur. I would recommend that Captain Uhura accompany us so that Patricia-kam will not be the only female on the trip. This should be an interesting Away Mission.” McCoy nods in agreement. When Uhura is contacted and informed of the planned camping trip, she agrees under certain conditions given her age…that the campgrounds can also provide the facilities for older folks who can no longer sleep on the ground as well as a separate area for the women. McCoy heartily agrees and the group arrives at the campgrounds within a few weeks.

Patricia starts to wander around. “Child!”, Doctor McCoy calls out, “Don’t wander too far given that you’ve never been here before! I don’t want you getting lost!” “Yes…Gramps!”, Patricia huffs as she rolls her eyes. Spock walks over to the cooking area, carrying various items, and begins pulling out the equipment. “Patricia-kam, may I request your assistance in setting up the outdoor kitchen?” “Sure, Uncle!” She goes over to where Spock is working and follows his instructions. In short order, they have a campfire going and cooking utensils are set up with various foods sizzling over the fire. Uhura has entered the cabin that she set aside for the womenfolk and has begun checking everything within. It passes inspection. When Uhura steps back outside, she sniffs the air. “That food smells DELICIOUS!” Doctor McCoy has joined Spock and his Great-Granddaughter, bringing the remainder of the groceries for that evening’s dinner. The old doctor proceeds to teach Patricia what he knows about campfire cooking and she is a quick study. Before long, Patricia takes over the cooking and shoos the men away. When McCoy walks over to Uhura, he comments, “I hope she doesn’t wind up having anything overcooked or underdone.”

Spock looks at his old friend, eyes dancing. “Leonard, I’ve lost count as to how many times you’ve burned dinner during other camping trips!” McCoy scowls at him. “Hmph!” Uhura chuckles. After awhile, they hear Patricia call out: “Soup’s on!” McCoy, Spock, and Uhura walk over to the cooking area as Patricia dishes out their dinner onto the metal dishes set out for that purpose. She anxiously awaits the verdict of the three elders regarding her first outdoor cooking attempt. McCoy chews thoughtfully, then looks at his Great-Granddaughter. “You pass…with flying colors! Good job!” Uhura and Spock concur. Satisfied with the results, Patricia serves herself and sits down to eat. She also helps herself to the local water source, from the pump nearby. Before the evening is through, unfortunately, the local water backfires on her.

As a precaution, McCoy has brought his medical tricorder with him and he immediately scans his Great-Granddaughter with it. The scan shows that her digestive tract cannot handle the local water. He gives her a hypo-spray to counteract her discomfort. “Who knew I would have THIS problem!?”, she groans, “And I was having so much FUN too!” McCoy scans her again. “Don’t worry about it, child! It’s best we find this out now, and know what to do to address it, then to get surprised with it while you’re in the middle of attending various training scenarios at the Academy!” “Has my application been processed already?”, she asks. Doctor McCoy shakes his head. “Bureaucracy doesn’t work that fast, child! But I see that quite a few things will need to be adapted to accommodate your unique challenges.” Patricia looks up from her cot. “Can Star Fleet do that?” Uhura leans over her cot. “Of course they can. They have to accommodate all needs of sentient beings from every world in the Federation who are members of Star Fleet. Look at the Horta and Tellarites, not to mention other sentient beings who are unable to breathe the same type of air or eat the same nutrition as we do. They can’t deny you accommodations when you are otherwise qualified.”

McCoy nods as he closes his medical tricorder and puts it away. “I’ve had a few challenges of my own over the years and Star Fleet accommodated them without a lot of complaining. Right now, my challenge is getting you rehydrated but using the local water is out of the question.” Spock approaches with a small container. “Perhaps I may assist with this.” Patricia cautiously sniffs at it. “What is that?” Spock gives the container to her. “Homemade Plomeek soup. I brought fresh ingredients from my last trip home to Vulcan. I prepared a batch, before we left, in case I had any digestive upsets during the camping trip. It should help you.” Patricia tentatively tastes it. “I like this! This soup is GOOD!” She pauses. “But I’m taking away YOUR supply of soup, Uncle Spock!” He shakes his head. “I anticipated you might have some difficulties during your first camping trip so I doubled the batch.”

Once Patricia had sufficiently recovered from her intestinal challenges, she resumes her cooking duties for the remainder of the camping trip. As it turns out, Spock has brought along ingredients for a fresh batch of Plomeek soup along with enough bottled water to maintain both her and himself. With Spock’s assistance, she adds Plomeek soup to her cooking repertoire. While in the midst of cooking dinner, Doctor McCoy notices that she is just sitting by the campfire, brooding silently. He sits down beside her. “A penny for your thoughts, child!” Patricia picks up a stick and begins to make idle doodles in the dirt with it. “I was just thinking about Star Fleet Medical Academy, Gramps. I understand there is an Entrance Examination I have to pass before I can be considered for candidacy as a student. I’m afraid that because my brain is wired differently, I perceive things differently from other people, and, as a result, I’m going to mess it up. Look how I still struggle with various mathematical concepts, equations, and visual-spatial stuff. The application process scares me. If I don’t pass, I have no idea what I’m good for.”

The old doctor looks at his Great-Granddaughter with affection. “Child, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I remember, shortly after you first learned how to read, you grabbed one of my old medical school textbooks because the kids’ books bored you silly. You taught yourself the difference between a pre-ganglionic nerve and a post-ganglionic fiber! You also taught yourself how to use my medical scanner and the items in my Medikit. I had to take the hypo-sprays away from you because you wanted to play with them and inoculate Winnie-the-Pooh! I couldn’t have you using up my supplies treating that old teddy bear! Then there was my old collection of original Kroeker bio-gel packs that you decided to experiment with!” Patricia cringes at that memory but the old doctor just chuckles. “I’ve known some adults who FAIL the portions you taught yourself, on their final exams, before they became licensed physicians!” He chuckles again. “You even taught yourself Vulcan physiology so that when your Uncle Spock accidentally cut himself while slicing vegetables, you knew what to do, which instrument to use from my Medikit, and how to give him First Aid! You have the makings of a good doctor, young lady!” She looks up at him. “You think so, Gramps?” “I KNOW so, child! And Spock would agree with me on THAT score!” Patricia tosses down the stick and turns to look at her Great-Grandfather. “Gramps, how did you get into Star Fleet Medical?”

Doctor McCoy pauses, then sighs. “I wasn’t a young and eager kid like you, on the cusp of graduating with a high school diploma. I was older, already had an established medical practice waiting for me because my father and grandfather were doctors in Georgia. I followed the Old McCoy Family tradition by studying medicine at Ole Miss University. I was also married and had a daughter…your grandmother, Joanna.” Patricia gives him a curious look. “Did Great-Gramma support your decision about Star Fleet?” The old doctor realizes that his Great-Granddaughter’s questions were going to become more difficult, given that she had not been told much of anything, if at all, about her grandmother, Joanna, or her Great-Grandmother, Jocelyn.

He shakes his head. “It was a bit more complicated than that, child. You see, your Great-Grandmother and I were having problems. A doctor’s hours are not always predictable, like working at a 9-to-5 desk job. When a maternity patient goes into labor, which could happen in the middle of the night, and your medical skills are needed…you answer the call…especially if you are a medical student, an intern, and it’s your turn to be on-call during your rotation. You work all kinds of crazy hours while you are studying medicine. I was looking forward to passing all of my exams, becoming licensed, then join my father’s practice…becoming an old country doctor in our little old town in the lovely old state of Georgia! I planned that once I had officially become a doctor, then my wife would be happier because we could be a little more settled.” He pauses again and sighs. “So much for my plans.”

Patricia touches his arm. “What happened, Gramps?” He turns to look his Great-Grandbaby full in the face, wondering how to phrase the answer. Knowing how much this child, correction, this near-adult, often demanded truth, he knew there was no way to avoid responding to her direct question. He sadly hangs his head and states, in a low voice, “Your Great-Gramma decided she didn’t want to stay married to a doctor anymore. She left…and took our daughter with her. She got everything she wanted in the divorce. I couldn’t stay in our little town, near Milledgeville, where everyone knew each other…knew us…knew what happened to our marriage. I just couldn’t face them. When I saw an ad for practicing medicine in space, with Star Fleet Medical, I grabbed the opportunity and ran with it. In reality, I was running away from home to join the circus…or, more accurately, the French Foreign Legion…anything to run away from my pain.” Patricia nods. “Just like I ran away from home and tried to overdose on alcohol and drugs, Gramps, because I couldn’t deal with my pain.”
She looks in her Great-Grandfather’s eyes. “We were both running away from our own pain in our own way…you ran away to Star Fleet and I ran away to addiction to mood-changing chemicals!” Doctor McCoy places his hand over his Great-Granddaughter’s fingers. “Child, if I had not run away to Star Fleet, I would not have had the opportunity to find you and bring you home.” Patricia rests her head on her Great-Grandfather’s shoulder and closes her eyes. “I’m so glad you found me, Gramps, I really am. I want to make you proud of me.” The old doctor kisses the top of her head. “Child, I am ALWAYS proud of you and will always love you!” They smell the beginning of “kitchen bouquet” and Patricia jumps up in time to rescue the evening meal.

Upon their return from the camping trip, Doctor McCoy and Patricia decide that in addition to her high school studies, she would also shadow him as he resumes his medical practice. Being formerly a Chief Medical Officer on the U.S.S. Enterprise, as well as being an Admiral, opened doors for him and he made sure that his Great-Granddaughter was at his side as he lectured upcoming medical students or attended medical consults. She took copious notes and was encouraged to ask questions of all medical personnel. She did not disappoint! One doctor snapped back at her because she DARED to question anything, insulting her intelligence, not realizing that Doctor McCoy was within earshot, and was quickly taken down a peg or two.

At dinner she would study his medical textbooks while eating, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. From time to time, Doctor McCoy would give her a pop quiz to see how much she understood what she was reading and clarify for her if she misunderstood information. In between her studying for her Star Fleet Medical Academy Entrance Exams, he also encouraged her to find something enjoyable to focus on given the old adage of: “All work and no play makes Jack and/or Jill a dull child!” She then switched her focus to studying the McCoy Family History, tracing the family lineage all the way back to when North America was first being colonized by Europeans from Jolly Olde England. Both she and her Great-Grandfather were amazed to discover several ancestors, and distant cousins, who were either veterans of the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Civil War, famous or very politically active during their lifetimes, including royalty, various Presidents, the author of “The Great Gatsby”, and the composer of the “Star Spangled Banner”! The old doctor knew about some of his lineage, in Georgia, but had no idea about these other branches of the McCoy Family Tree! When the letter finally arrived, inviting her to sit for the Star Fleet Medical Academy Entrance Examination, she felt as ready as she ever would be.

Patricia felt terrified as she and her Great-Grandfather approached the Medical Academy building, in San Francisco where the first step in the Admissions process, the written exams and aptitude tests, would be given. Without realizing it she started to stim, twirling her hands, just as she did during childhood, in an attempt to lower her anxiety. Doctor McCoy takes hold of her hands and encourages her to look him in the eyes. “You are going to be fine, child!” He taps her forehead with two of his fingers. “You have the knowledge you need between those two wonderful ears of yours! You just go in there and knock ’em dead! I believe in you!” Patricia nods, then takes a deep breath. “I’ll keep telling myself that I can do this.” She grabs her Great-Grandfather’s hands and gives them a squeeze. “I’ll do the best I can, Gramps!” She enters the testing room, turns and blows a kiss to the old doctor, then takes a seat. Doctor McCoy blows a kiss back at her, gives her a little wave, then walks outdoors to sit on one of the benches nearby. Spock and Uhura are waiting there for him.

Doctor McCoy takes a deep breath then exhales sharply. “I know she can do this! She has the knowledge and the ability. I think I’m more nervous than she is!” Uhura reaches over and pats his hand. “You’ve taught her everything about medicine that you know, Len, along with sharing your experiences on various worlds. She just might have more knowledge than any other applicant in there!” Spock nods. “I concur with Nyota. Since Patricia-kam has been in your life, from the age of six, she has learned many things that will be an asset within Star Fleet Medical!” Doctor McCoy looks at his two old friends. “We know what she is capable of…her abilities as a medical student. I can only hope that the Medical Brass will recognize those abilities and give her a chance to prove herself.”

At the end of the written exams and aptitude tests, Patricia and the other applicants are directed to wait in the student lounge as each hopeful is called into another room for Step Two of the application process: the private interviews. When it is Patricia’s turn, she struggles with the urge to stim and grips her hands tightly together to stop them from shaking. Various officers and instructors ask her a variety of pertinent questions to determine her character and her attitude. One of them, a Captain Robert Smith, challenges her about her history of addictions. She looks him square in the face and provides him with an honest answer, talking about how the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous has helped to save her life, keep her clean and sober, and that she is open to the opportunity to help others as the Twelfth Step suggests. Captain Smith gives her a stern look. “What if the alcoholic or addict doesn’t get clean and sober? Wouldn’t that be a failure on your part?”

Somehow, Patricia feels her fears subside. “No, sir. It won’t be a failure on my part because I will STILL be clean and sober myself. Helping those who are still struggling with their addictions keeps my memories green. Their suffering reminds me of what is still, patiently, waiting for me should I ever pick up a drink or a drug again. Addiction is a patient disease, waiting for a relapse. If I ever pick up again, the disease simply picks up from where it left off. If the addictions do not stay stopped, then it leads to jail, insanity, or death. The best I can do is offer the Tools of Recovery to others. Just like I had to take that First Step on my own, admitting that I’m powerless over alcohol and drugs, my life becoming unmanageable, so do others have to take that First Step themselves. I cannot walk the walk for them…just like I can’t walk for you, sir. I can help them if they WANT the help. NEEDING to get clean and sober and WANTING to get clean and sober are two different things. Until that person WANTS what I have, and is willing to go to any length to get clean and sober, all I can do is wait, with the Tools of Recovery, until they are ready to accept what I have to offer.” The other officers murmur and glance at the Captain while Patricia is speaking. Captain Smith looks thoughtful after she finishes her response. The officers and instructors have no further questions and she is excused from the room. The final hurdle in the application process is Step Three: Advanced Aptitude, Practical & Stress Tests.

Patricia is uncertain how well she will be able to handle this portion of the Admissions process. She is barely able to tolerate the physical checks even though her Great-Grandfather explained what would be done, how and why. It didn’t make it any easier. The Advanced Aptitude and Practical tests helped her calm down as she recognized what needed to be done and knew how to do it. Doctor McCoy had taught her well. In the middle of a test, she heard an explosion nearby. All the applicants were ordered to vacate the room. Some took one look toward the disaster area and ran in the opposite direction. Patricia instinctively ran toward the source of the explosion, fearing that her loved ones might be caught up in it. She was grateful that Gramps had provided her with a Medikit of her own, in case of any emergencies if he wasn’t available.

Upon reaching the disaster site, she quickly began assessing and making triage decisions. She barked orders at passersby to provide assistance, or go get more help, as she also helped carry victims out of the danger zone to the triage/treatment areas. Once she was certain that the disaster area had been cleared of all living victims, she started going from one victim to the next, providing what help she was qualified to give and reassuring others that more help was on the way. One victim began to cry and she sat with him, holding his hand, reassuring him that he was going to be just fine. Another victim became combative and attacked her from behind. She instinctively responded to the attack and was able to subdue him without aggravating his injuries. As she continued to check, and re-check each victim, she discovered one person had accidentally aspirated food into his trachea, blocking his breathing. She quickly performed the Heimlich Maneuver and cleared his airway. She continued to monitor his condition until another doctor arrived on the scene. She explained what happened to this victim and the other doctor took over his care.

Once she was certain that enough professionals were on the scene taking charge, and that her loved ones were not among the victims, she walks over to the side, sits down, shaking uncontrollably. She feels a hand on her shoulder and she looks up into the face of Captain Smith, one of the instructors from the private interview. He smiles down at her. “Good job!” She blinks in amazement as all the “victims” get up and brush themselves off. “Huh?!” The instructor responds, “This was the Stress Reaction Test, to see how applicants would respond to medical emergencies or disasters. You ran toward the disaster scene while some of the others ran away. Why?” She swallows hard. “To be honest with you, sir, I was afraid Gramps, or Uncle Spock, or my friend, Captain Uhura were caught in the blast and were hurt. Once I realized they were safe, I knew anyone else who was hurt would need First Aid until the Emergency Responders could arrive. Gramps had taught me what to do and it was my responsibility to do what I could until someone with more experience could take over.”

The instructor nods approvingly. “Your Gramps taught you well. Normally, applicants are not admitted to Star Fleet Medical Academy on the first try. I was about to recommend that you apply again next year, but after seeing you in action, I believe you will be an asset in spite of the challenges you live with. Welcome aboard!” He holds out his hand and she shakes it, feeling shocked and surprised. The instructor helps her to her feet. “Now go find your Gramps and give him the good news! He has every reason to be proud of you!” He slaps her on the shoulder and walks away. She stands there, stunned, not certain what to do or say. Other officers and instructors, passing by, congratulate and welcome her. She walks away in a daze, looking about for her loved ones.

She finds her Great-Grandfather, Spock, and Uhura seated on benches near the Neil Armstrong building. Doctor McCoy sees the dazed look on her face and fears the worse. He starts to get up and Spock places a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Let her speak first, Leonard. She needs to be able to verbalize in spite of her emotions.” Patricia stands before the three elders who had been helping her since the day she was rescued from the slavers, looking from one to the other as they wait with bated breath. Then she triumphantly punches the air and screams with joy: “WOO-HOOOOOOOOO! YESSSSSSSS!” She starts jumping up and down, dancing in circles. She pauses in her celebration to look at her loved ones, seeing heartfelt grins in return…even Spock cannot contain a grin of his own. She dances between Doctor McCoy, Spock, and Captain Uhura, wrapping each in a bear hug, laughing and crying.

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NOBODY’S CHILD: A Saga of Doctor Leonard McCoy and Family-Chapter One

NOBODY’S CHILD
by Pat McCoy

CHAPTER ONE – The Lost One

It had been awhile since Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy had become semi-retired. His age had caught up with him to the point that he was no longer able to keep up with the younger crew members in Star Fleet. His attempt at a desk job bored him and the bureaucracy frustrated him. He would consult, from time to time, whenever someone wanted to pick his brain for his knowledge and experience. At other times, he would be invited to give lectures regarding his medical experiences while serving aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise with Captain James Tiberius Kirk and Captain, now Ambassador, S’chn T’gai Spock. Once in a while, he would be invited to an awards ceremony where he would be given yet another honor…that usually ended up gathering dust on a shelf. He felt like those objects…set aside on a shelf, gathering dust…useless.

He had lost touch with his daughter, his only child, Joanna, long ago. The last time he saw her, when he attempted to rebuild his relationship with her and get to know her son…his grandson, George Dudley William McCoy, Junior…she made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. Then she moved, leaving no forwarding address. He blamed himself for creating that situation. He felt remorse for not being there, when she needed him, while she was growing up. Daughters need their fathers. He knows that now. He berated himself for not paying attention to that, then, instead of running away to Star Fleet in the wake of the divorce. Now, in his old age, he was left without a family to speak of…not blood-related relatives, anyway.

Once in a great while, he would hear from his former crew mates…Captain Sulu, Captain Uhura…even Ambassador Spock, in spite of the hard time he had given that stubborn old Green-blooded Vulcan S.O.B. in the past. But they all had lives of their own and there was no way he could fit in. He sighed as he got up out of his recliner and made his way to the kitchen to fix himself a snack and a cup of tea. He wondered to himself if this was the way he would spend the remainder of his days…puttering around…alone, with no one to care for or who cared a whit about him. Modern medicine made it possible for him to be active and live productively for several more decades for … what? He was old, outdated, irrelevant…useless. He felt the cloud of depression crush down on him harder when he heard a gentle tap at his door. “Probably another autograph seeker…”, he mumbled irritably. He put on his “public face” and went to greet whoever was standing on his porch…and found, to his pleasant surprise, his old friend, Spock, patiently waiting.

Leonard opened the screen door, that he had installed for nostalgia’s sake, even though such antiques were not really needed. “Come in! Come in! Take a load off your ancient feet, you old hobgoblin!” Spock quirks an eyebrow at him, then enters Doctor McCoy’s home. The old doctor clears off a nearby easy chair and invites the Ambassador to make himself comfortable. The old Vulcan takes a seat. “I was in the process of fixing myself something to eat. I’ll fix you something too as it would be rude of me to eat in front of you.” Spock shakes his head. “Thank you, Doctor, but no. This is not exactly a social visit.” Leonard McCoy stops, on his way to the kitchen, and gives his old friend a puzzled look. “Spock! What’s wrong? Did we lose one of our old friends recently? Who died?” Spock again shakes his head. “Not lose someone, Doctor. Someone new has been found.” Doctor McCoy comes back into the room and sits down in his recliner, facing his old friend. “Well?! Spit it out instead of being an Aldebaran Shell-mouth! What does this new-found person have to do with me? Otherwise, you would not have made this special trip to see me about it!”

Spock gives his old friend a somber look. “Do you recall George Dudley William McCoy, Junior and Kalinda Yuri?” The expression on Doctor McCoy’s face darkens. “I remember the death of my only grandson! Then that woman disappeared with my great-grandchildren! All I have left is a stack of certificates…birth certificates, marriage certificate, death certificate that the authorities gave me after they completed their investigation and handed his personal effects to me! What’s happened now?” Spock continues. “A child has been found…a little girl. Federation Child Protective Services has custody of her at the moment. The authorities believe she might be your missing great-granddaughter but they need DNA tests to verify that possibility.”

Doctor McCoy looks stunned. “After all this time? What about her brother? They should have been found together.” Spock shakes his head. “Under the circumstances she was found in, he was not among the children who were rescued from the slave trade.” Doctor McCoy felt sickened. “The slave trade?!” He had heard about Orion slave girls, as well as the Remans. The thought of young children being used, traded, and/or sold like chattel horrified him. “Well, what are we waiting for?!” Spock raises his hand. “I cannot accompany you at this time, as I have another diplomatic matter I need to attend to which is urgent and I am not at liberty to discuss it. The staff at Federation Child Protective Services await your arrival. They will explain everything.” Spock gets to his feet and heads to the door. “I will be on standby as I am certain you will need my assistance in the near future.” He lets himself out the door, leaving the doctor in shock and fumbling for words.

Doctor Leonard McCoy arrives at the door of the Federation Child Protective Services and is greeted by one of the staff members. There was something about this place that always increased his anxiety. In years past, he had been called on to treat the injuries of innocent children who had been subjected to abuse…and it had never become easier. It was one thing to treat the battle wounds of Star Fleet personnel…including Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. It was a completely different ballgame to look in the battered face of an innocent child and wonder how in all of the Universe could someone, anyone, do such a thing. What could the child have done to deserve such brutality? It never made sense. Now there was a new child, here, who might be related to him. That possibility made it all the more difficult to remain objective. The Executive Director comes out to greet him. “Doctor McCoy! How kind of you to come so quickly! This may be a false alarm, regarding the family connection, but we didn’t want to take any chances. I’m hoping you can assist us this time.”

Doctor McCoy shakes hands with her. “Doctor Wagner, I’m happy to assist any way I can! These kids didn’t ask for what has happened to them. What can you tell me about this latest child?” Doctor Wagner motions for him to come into her office and make himself comfortable. After she shuts the door, she sits down at her desk and picks up a PADD, punching several buttons on its screen. “According to the reports that have been submitted to me, this child had been enslaved since she was barely a toddler, about two years old. It’s possible she could have been younger when she was sold into slavery.” Doctor McCoy is horrified. “What?! She was just a baby! How could ANYONE do that?! WHY?!” Doctor Wagner nods. “I know and I agree. This case has challenged my ability to be objective, especially given what she endured.” Doctor McCoy leans forward in his chair. “How bad?” Doctor Wagner hands the PADD over to him. “I think it would be better for you to read this as it is difficult for me to…say this aloud.” Doctor McCoy accepts the PADD and starts to read the report about this recently-rescued child. The more he read, the more he felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. He finally lowers the PADD, with a sigh, and rubs his eyes. “Good God! It’s a miracle this child has survived!”

Doctor Wagner nods sympathetically. “To make matters worse, her trauma has rendered her mute and combative. As much as we hated to do it, we had to lock her in a room with padded walls so she won’t hurt herself or others. We didn’t know what else to do. According to our tests, she’s only about six years old even though she is small for her age, but she fights everyone like a tiger! I think she’s convinced that everyone is out to hurt her…and I can understand why. She’s known nothing else.”

Doctor McCoy felt like he wanted to weep. Even if this child was not related to him, he grieved for her and her lost childhood. Doctor Wagner continues her narrative. “The authorities were able to obtain DNA from her so they could attempt to locate her next of kin. Given her combativeness, it wasn’t easy. Petting a badger would have been a cake-walk!” Doctor McCoy looks at her, confused. “If you’re not certain about her next of kin, what makes you think she’s related to me?” Doctor Wagner looks at him sadly. “That was one of the schemes the slave owners used to make her more…attractive…to their ‘clientele’. She was ‘advertised’ as your Great-Granddaughter.” Doctor McCoy slumps back in his chair. “Oh my Lord!” Doctor Wagner nods sympathetically. “I’m hoping, between the two of us, we will be able to help her. Are you willing to try?” Doctor McCoy nods. “It’s the best I can do.” Doctor Wagner gets up from behind her desk. “Would you like to take a look at her? We can observe her from behind a two-way mirror to minimize her agitation.” Doctor McCoy gets up. “Of course.” He follows her out the door and down a hallway.

The two doctors enter a room and sit down before a large window. Before them, in the next room which is devoid of any furniture, a young girl is curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the room. Doctor McCoy is stunned at how filthy, malnourished, and ragged the child is. As if sensing his thoughts, Doctor Wagner explains. “She wouldn’t allow anyone to attempt to remove her rags or bathe her. She bit and scratched anyone who came anywhere near her. Ironically, that is how we learned that she has minimal use of her legs due to the abuse she suffered. Her back is badly scarred, as you will see, from the frequent beatings she received. I can only speculate on the extent of the damage that was done to her spine. When I was able to get close enough to her, I could see the terror in her eyes. Now do you understand my dilemma?”

Doctor McCoy looks back at her. “Has anyone been able to feed her?” Doctor Wagner nods. “We attempted to feed her, like a normal child, when she first arrived and she stabbed the staff with the utensils within reach. She doesn’t know how to drink from a cup like any other child her age nor does she know how to eat with a spoon, let alone know how to properly use a knife and a fork. As I’ve mentioned, she uses eating utensils as weapons to fight off anyone who comes near her. It appears her captors fed her as if she were a dog. I’ve known dogs that were treated better than she was! We’ve supplied her with sippy cups and baby bottles to try and encourage her to keep up her fluid intake. I’m not sure how successful that has been. I don’t want to resort to using a dog bowl full of water! We’ve had to resort to unbreakable plates and finger foods. As I’ve mentioned before, she’s like a wild little tiger! Doctor McCoy looks thoughtful. “I remember, from medical school, reading studies about wild or feral children. I never expected to ever meet one…and thinking that this child might be related to me leaves me speechless! Is there any hope for her?” Doctor Wagner shrugs helplessly. “I wish I could say that but I really don’t know. Doctor, are you willing to try and get through to her?” Doctor McCoy looks back at the waif lying on the floor in the next room. “I’ve got to try!”

He looks at Doctor Wagner and indicates the next room. “Let me in there! No one else!” Doctor Wagner looks back with concern. “Are you sure that is wise, going in there alone? She could seriously injure you or worse!” Doctor McCoy stubbornly sets his jaw. “I’m willing to take that chance! If it’s my time to go, I rather go trying to help someone else! Now let me in there!” Doctor Wagner nods and gets up. They go back out into the hallway and walk over to the next door. She quietly opens the door and Doctor McCoy silently slips in and eases himself down to the floor in a far corner…close enough for the child to notice him but still be out of reach. He sees that she is sleeping and decides to wait, patiently, until she awakens. Noticing the bruising and other injuries, on her battered face and body, make his heart ache. “Poor child”, he murmurs.

Her eyes instantly snap open and she looks back at him in terror. She desperately crawls to the opposite corner and huddles into it, looking back over her shoulder at him. He makes no move to approach her. All he could do, in response to her terror, is weep. Seeing his tears, she tilts her head as she gazes at him with curiosity and puzzlement. He still makes no move to come near her. As he continues to weep, he starts searching his pockets for a handkerchief to wipe his eyes and realizes he has none. “Of all the days to forget my handkerchief, and now I need one!” He attempts to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve while the mute child continues to watch him with curiosity. She looks down at the rags she is wearing, rips off one of the dirty tatters, and cautiously crawls out of her corner, pushing the tatter towards him. At the halfway point across the room, she flicks the tatter towards him, points to it, then crawls back to her corner…watching intently without looking at his eyes. Doctor McCoy is uncertain whether to laugh or cry. He cautiously crawls toward the tatter, picks it up, and crawls back to his own corner. He holds it up. “Thank you, child.” Bringing the tatter close to his face, he quickly realizes how badly this child needs a bath! He manages to conceal his revulsion as he dabs at his face with the tatter. The child mutely nods at him then resumes her fetal position. Several long, silent, minutes ensue when he hears her stomach give the telltale rumble of hunger. He speaks barely above a whisper. “Child, are you hungry? Would you like to eat something?” She raises her head and looks back in his direction without making eye contact. “What would you like to do, child?” She gives a listless shrug and lays her head back down. “Good Lord!” He thinks to himself, “She’s given up on life too!”

He cautiously gets to his feet and eases himself out of the room. He finds Doctor Wagner nearby. “How frequently IS she eating, Doctor?” Doctor Wagner sadly shakes her head. “She’s recently stopped eating or taking in fluids. It’s as if she has given up and is waiting to die. She has just enough strength to fight us off when we attempt to help her. Even if we manage to get nourishment into her and build up her strength, then the cycle repeats itself. We are simply at a loss as to how to break that cycle. Do you have any ideas or suggestions?”

Doctor McCoy thinks for a few minutes. “For now, you can answer a few questions for me. Why is there no furniture in the room? She clearly doesn’t have the strength, nor the ability, to throw that!” Doctor Wagner pauses. “Because of barricades.” Doctor McCoy does a double-take. “Run that by me again?!” Doctor Wagner sighs. “She takes whatever furniture is available, builds a barricade, and then hides behind it. We’re trying to convince her that barricades are unacceptable.” Doctor McCoy starts fuming. “Dammit, Doctor! Look at this from her perspective! If you were in her situation, what would YOU have done?!” Doctor Wagner pauses, then nods. “You’re right, Doctor. She’s using whatever coping mechanisms she has available, to her, in an attempt to feel safe! God knows, she wasn’t safe anywhere else! What do you suggest we do to try and get past that shell she is in?”

Doctor McCoy thinks for a bit. “For starters, let her begin feeling that she is in a safe place and not treat her as if she’s a zoo specimen or a psychology experiment! If she resumes building barricades, then let her! We have to start where SHE is at for the present! I plan to see her, every day, until she is able to feel safe around me! In the meantime, I’ll submit my DNA so the comparison can be done! Now do it!” Doctor Wagner nods. “Yes, Doctor! Right away!” Several days go by as Doctor McCoy visits the silent child, spending hours on end just sitting in opposite corners of the room. Furniture has been replaced in the room and she had quickly built a barricade to hide behind. He quietly talks to her about whatever he thinks might interest her, only to see her nod off to sleep. He quietly chuckles. “Bored you, didn’t I, child?” She opens one eye and looks blankly in his direction. “Okay, how about I tell you about my travels to other worlds practicing medicine?” He is surprised to see her head pop up, her body language showing interest. “That grabs your attention? Good! Let me tell you about when I went to Omicron Ceti III…”

When the DNA tests came in, and the subsequent report has been handed to Doctor McCoy, the results leave no doubt that the silent child hiding behind barricades in the other room is, indeed, his long-lost Great-Granddaughter. He taps the PADD on his chin as he thinks to himself. “Okay, now what? What do I do? She still is unable to trust anyone.” He puts down the PADD and goes back to the room where the child continues to hide. He eases himself back down to the floor and attempts to sit closer to the barricade than previously. He sees her shrink back further. “It’s okay, child. I understand. It’s scary for anyone to come near you for any reason. I’ve got some news that you might find interesting. Turns out…you and me…we are related. You have a family that you belong to. Now what do you think of that?” She gives him a blank stare without making any eye contact. He continues to quietly speak about their family connections when Doctor Wagner eases herself into the room.

Doctor Wagner nods toward the child. “Any progress?” Doctor McCoy scratches his head. “I’m not really certain. It almost feels like we are waltzing…one step forward, two steps back, then we go in circles.” Doctor Wagner looks sad. “Maybe the best thing we can do is simply find an institution that could deal with her. It would be the kindest thing. She can’t stay here forever.” Doctor McCoy struggles to contain his temper in front of the child and hisses. “I am NOT giving up on her! She’s MY flesh and blood! MY family! She grew up in a disreputable quote ‘institution’ unquote after she was abandoned. She DESERVES better than THAT! If I have to fight for HER…I WILL! SHE DESERVES TO BE LOVED!” Doctor Wagner is taken aback. “What can you do…at your age? I’m sure that, by now, your home is not geared for children, especially children her age, children like … her.”

Doctor McCoy sets his jaw. “For starters, I’m going to child-proof my home so she can’t hurt herself! Then she is coming home with ME!” Doctor Wagner starts to shake her head. “I don’t think that will be wise, Doctor. If her mother is still alive, she could turn up, at any time, and take her back if the courts are unable to find evidence that she is an unfit parent. You will need to formally adopt her, if her mother relinquishes her parental rights and if the courts will permit you to take custody, given your age. Besides, at your age, you will need to name god-parents in case you are no longer able to care for her and that is a BIG IF the courts will permit you to obtain any form of custody. They may accept my recommendation to place her in an institution for damaged sentient beings. They might be able to help her. If not, she can be comfortable there.” Doctor McCoy is emphatic as well as angry. “My Great-Grandbaby is NOT going to be sent to an institution and THAT is FINAL! She deserves to be with her family…not be warehoused with strangers! I’ll make arrangements to name a couple of friends of mine as god-parents! One of them can live as long as 200 years! THAT should meet someone’s criteria!” He continues to glare angrily. Doctor Wagner looks at him silently as there is no point in continuing her arguments.

Doctor McCoy files a petition, in the Federation Family Court, to have himself named Legal Guardian/Adoptive Parent and to have Ambassador Spock, along with Captain Uhura, named as god-parents if he becomes too incapacitated to care for the child. Much to his relief, the child’s mother, and he used that term loosely to describe her, never turned up so the court granted his petition to have her parental rights terminated permanently. After the old doctor has prepared his home to receive his new family member, he barely manages to tolerate the transporter effect when he and the silent child arrive at his residence. He had asked his old friend, Captain Sulu, for the use of a runabout’s transporter as he was uncertain how the child would react to crowds at the public transporter facility or any other form of public transportation for that matter. As it turned out, as soon as the child spotted Sulu, she reacted with terror. It took everything that McCoy could think of to try and calm her down until they could get home. Sulu was empathetic and told McCoy that whenever he needed anything, he would be more than happy to help. The minute the two McCoy’s arrived inside the house she immediately headed for a corner, crawling as quickly as she possibly could, and began building her barricade once more.

The old doctor sighs. “It’s okay, child. Do what you need to do. We’ll work on this one step at a time.” He begins to prepare a snack for her, making sure the plate is unbreakable, and fills a sippy cup with cranberry juice. He had managed to get her to cooperate, days earlier, while he scanned her with a medical tricorder and discovered she was suffering from a severe urinary tract infection which was bordering on potential kidney failure. She seemed fascinated with the scanner and attempted to take it out of his hands to explore it during the scan. He noticed that her body temperature was unusually high and presumed it must stem from the infection. When the scan was complete, he permitted her to hold the device and look it over. But then he made the mistake of giving her a hypo-spray of antibiotic and got bitten for his efforts.

He knew, from his own experiences, that the hypo-spray is painless. At first he thought that she had been startled by the noise and reacted accordingly. Then he bitterly realized that she was reacting to the memory of being drugged to force her compliance with the abuse and torture she endured as a slave. He had been informed, by law enforcement, that they had found evidence, where she had been forcibly drugged then imaged for child pornography purposes, and that the ring of perpetrators were in the process of being tracked down, arrested and prosecuted for their crimes. That was small comfort, knowing those images were still being circulated somewhere in any quadrant. How he wished he could get his hands on those monsters and mete out his own form of justice! Then he could guarantee that they would NEVER hurt another innocent child! Rather than risk another bite, or fight, regarding the antibiotic, he knew that the next best thing he could do for her UTI was give her cranberry juice via the sippy cup and hope it works. He wasn’t certain if it would be as effective as the antibiotic. The least he could do was try. Either way, it was encouraging to see her taking in nourishment, even if it was not age-appropriate yet. “Yes siree, baby steps, one step at a time”, he commented to himself within her hearing.

He often kept up a running commentary about whatever he was doing, attempting to include her with whatever was going on around the house. He didn’t go far from her line of sight, to reassure her that she was safe no matter what. When he had to go behind a closed door, to take care of his own needs, he reassured her, before and after, regarding her safety. Unfortunately, she still remained behind the barricade, wearing the same clothes, or more accurately, rags, on her back that she had been found in. He hadn’t been able to persuade her that it was safe to come out from her hiding place for long, let alone take a bath or change clothes. The continuing silence was also unnerving. Healthy children, once they are old enough to start speaking, are usually chatty and playful. This one remained behind a wall of silence, focusing on some far away place in her mind…stimming by twirling her hands, the same way as he had observed other troubled young children.

He also recognized the symptoms of possible Autism Spectrum Disorder and attempted to consult with other professionals about his observations, requesting that she be tested, only to be summarily dismissed because he was too emotionally involved. She was labeled with: developmental delay, traumatized child disorder, cognitive impairment, anxiety, depression, selective mutism, emotionally disturbed, among other diagnoses…a variety of labels EXCEPT the possibility of Autism Spectrum Disorder based on the reports from the Federation Child Protective Services. One so-called professional, a non-human who came to perform a home observation of the child, callously commented that she was mentally retarded and should be better off in a kennel if the child was on his own home-world…ignoring the fact that the child could HEAR him! Doctor McCoy threw him out on his non-humanoid butt! After several weeks of trying to break through her self-imposed isolation, without success, he was stymied.

He was sitting in his recliner, that he had positioned near her barricade, wracking his brain on what he could do to help this child when he heard a gentle tap at his screen door. He looked up to see his old friend, Spock, and motioned for him to come on in. “Hi, Spock, welcome to our humble abode! Don’t say anything about the chaos that you see. We’re still working on that!” Spock quietly approaches his old friend, noting the silent child hiding behind the barricade. “Any progress, Leonard?”, he inquired. Doctor McCoy looks over at his Great-Granddaughter and sighs. “We are both stuck at an impasse. She trusts me just enough to feed her and I’ve managed to persuade her to come out long enough to use the facilities in the other room to relieve herself, given that she’s still battling an infection, then she goes straight back into hiding! I don’t know how to communicate that she is safe…here…and that I will never hurt her! I’ve tried everything and I’ve run out of ideas.”

Spock nods then looks at his old friend. “May I be permitted to approach her?” Doctor McCoy looks up at him and gestures helplessly. “You’re welcome to try, Spock. I should give you fair warning that she may lash out at you if she perceives you as a threat. She’s already bitten me, once, when I had to give her an antibiotic for her infections.” Spock nods again. “I understand and I consider myself warned.” He approaches the barricade, in the corner, and eases himself to the floor. The silent six-year-old glances up then does a double-take, looking at him wide-eyed. Spock sees both fear and curiosity in her face as she gazes back at him. He hears Doctor McCoy’s voice catch. “That’s the first time she’s made eye-contact, with anyone, since she was found! How did you manage to do that, Spock?” Spock looks back at the child and they gaze silently at each other for a few minutes.

He breaks the silence. “I presume that you have never seen the likes of me before, have you not?” To the amazement of both Spock and McCoy, she shakes her head “No” as she continues gazing at this strange looking individual seated before her. He turns his head, from side to side, so she can see his ears and watches her face as she reacts with amazement on top of her curiosity and fear. “I come from a planet where all of my people have ears just like mine.” She starts to reach up towards him, then quickly snatches her hand back, the fear strong in her face. Spock nods. “You wish to reach out but you’re still afraid.” She nods in response. “That is acceptable under these circumstances. You are curious.” She nods again. Spock continues. “On my world, we have another way we communicate with each other. It is called a mind-meld. You can meld with me by touching my face.” The child stares at him with fear. “I will not harm you. I promise and Vulcans never lie! You can remain where you are. I will bring my face within your reach and you can stop whenever you wish. Just say ‘when’ and I will retreat.” Spock shifts to his knees and leans his face towards the child so she can touch. Clumsily, she touches his face, then his ears. Without warning, she grabs one ear…HARD! Doctor McCoy winces for his friend. “Ouch, Spock! That has GOT to HURT!” Spock quietly permits the child to continue. “Leonard, my pain is nothing compared to what she has endured. I can take it. After all, she is only six years old.”

The child continues her exploration of his face and ears until she finally rests her hand on his cheek, touching some of his Psi Points. He briefly touches her thoughts with scenes from his home-world and his parents, Sarek and Amanda. She gasps and jumps back. “That startled you. I beg forgiveness.” She tilts her head, gazing back with curiosity, then reaches out, once more, for his Psi Points. “May I be permitted to assist?” She nods and Spock reaches up and positions her fingertips to the proper positions for a meld. He observes her face as she experiences a gamut of emotions, reacting to what she sees in her mind from the meld. He reaches back to an old memory of playing with his childhood pet and, much to everyone’s amazement, she giggles. Spock explains, “My pet is known as a Sehlat…he was called I-Chaya.” She nods in understanding as the awe shows on her face.

Spock sends her a thought, asking for permission to touch her face and she momentarily freezes in fear. “If you prefer that I not touch you, I will understand. I will not force you to accept unwanted touching and I will never hurt you. I promise and Vulcans never lie!” She stares back at Spock for several long minutes, contemplating this new possibility, then hesitantly nods. Spock nods in return. “You can stop any time you wish. I will not be offended.” She nods again and he reaches for the Psi Points on her face. Doctor McCoy continues to watch, fascinated, as this plays out. Then he sees Spock’s face suddenly turn ashen. “Spock! Are you all right?!” Spock shushes him as they both see that the child is starting to show fear again. “I am fine. It is just my old age catching up with me. It is not the child’s fault.” They both see the child starting to relax a little. Finally, the meld ceases and they remove their hands from each other’s faces. Spock maintains eye-contact with her. “You are still safe…with both of us.”

As Spock sits back, both he and McCoy are surprised as the child silently starts to dismantle her barricade. Once it’s down, she points at Doctor McCoy with an inquisitive expression on her face. Spock explains, “That is your Great-Grandfather, Doctor Leonard McCoy.” She then points to him. “I am called…Spock. I am his friend and will always be his friend.” She attempts to work her lips and tongue, struggling for a word. Finally, she whispers hoarsely: “Gramps”. She looks at her Great-Grandfather, in the eye, for the first time and repeats, while pointing to him: “Gramps”. She then looks over at her new friend, who is still seated on the floor and points to him: “Spock…friend.” Doctor McCoy starts to openly cry and he looks over at his old friend, and sees a single tear trickle down his face. The child looks at both of them with curiosity and starts to rip more tatters from her rags to hold out to them.

At that point, both Spock and Doctor McCoy realize they have another dilemma on their hands. This child desperately needs a bath but neither one feels qualified to assist, given her traumatic history. They know this requires a maternal touch. Spock leans forward and invites the child to touch his face once more. He lets her know that there is another friend, who she can trust, to come and help if she wishes. He asks if this new friend can be invited over and she nods. Doctor McCoy immediately goes over to his comm-system. Within the hour, Captain Uhura arrives and is slowly introduced to Doctor McCoy’s Great-Granddaughter. Once the child is assured that this new person will not hurt her, Uhura proceeds to assist her in getting cleaned up.

Uhura had been forewarned about the extent of damage and neglect that had been done to this child so she was halfway prepared to see the worst. Seeing the scars from abuse, covering the child’s body, was heartbreaking for Uhura but she managed to keep a smile on her face while assisting and reassuring the child. Cleaning up the various infestations was difficult but not unexpected knowing the extent of neglect that had occurred. Finally, the child has been bathed, dressed in pajamas, and put to bed for the first time since she was discovered. Snuggling underneath the covers, she quickly falls asleep. What had been her rags are taken outside and quickly disposed of with the blast of a phaser. Doctor McCoy breathes a sigh of gratitude. “Thanks, both of you! I don’t know what else I could have done without your help!” Uhura demurs. “No problem at all! I’m glad to assist! Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be on standby! I won’t be far away.” She heads out toward home.

Spock looks somberly at his old friend. “Leonard, this is only the beginning. What you have seen in the reports…the reports you have previously shared with me…is nothing compared to what she has actually lived through. What I saw…in her mind…during the meld was…horrendous. She experienced more than you and I experienced during battles. No child should have endured that, witnessed that. No child deserved THAT! She’s going to need a LOT of help and support while she recovers, mentally, physically, and emotionally! It may not be logical but it’s true.” Doctor McCoy shakes his head angrily. “I would love to get my hands on those responsible for what they did to her!” Spock nods. “I understand your emotions and I would tend to agree. For now, it’s more important to focus on your Great-granddaughter’s needs than on revenge.” He pauses. “Leonard, would you permit me to stay here and remain near her? The type of trauma she has endured has been known to cause night terrors. We know this from our own experiences while serving in Star Fleet. You have treated crew members for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. She will need to see some reassuring faces should that occur, given that she is only a child. She trusts me, as well as you, but you need to catch up on your rest. I can see that you are tired. In truth, you are exhausted, my friend.” He pauses again. “Do you know that she does not know her own name?” Doctor McCoy does a double-take. “What?!” Spock nods. “She now knows you as ‘Gramps’ and she knows my name. During our meld, when I asked her what her name is, she called herself several obscenities. She has no idea what her name really is.” Doctor McCoy sits heavily in his recliner. “I think I’m going to be sick!” Spock nods. “I understand, my friend.” He pauses. “For now, should she awake, during the night, I will need to know what to call her…to help her recover her own identity. Do you have that information somewhere?”

Doctor McCoy looks around, gets up, and walks toward a stack of documents on his desk. “I should have been thinking of that, plus remembered from the Family Court case! I’ve been relying on nick-names, trying to help her understand she has nothing to fear anymore and that she has a loving family. Where are my brains?!” Spock approaches him as he searches through the stack. “Your brains were preoccupied in trying to break through that barricade your little Great-Granddaughter had built around herself for self-preservation. You had no time to think about anything else.” Doctor McCoy continues thumbing through the stack then stops. “Here it is! Her birth certificate!” He pulls it out, looks at it and falls silent. Spock looks at him curiously. “Leonard, what is it?” Doctor McCoy looks up at him. “Her given name is ‘Patricia’. You’ll never guess what her middle name is.” Spock quirks an eyebrow. “Her middle name?” Doctor McCoy holds up the birth certificate for Spock to see. “Her middle name is…Amanda. The same as your mother!”

Both of Spock’s eyebrows shoot up in astonishment. “Indeed?!” Doctor McCoy continues to look through the documents and finds one that is folded up. He opens it, reads it, and pauses again, too emotional to speak. Spock looks on, waiting patiently. Finally, the old doctor finds his voice. “This…” as he indicates the document in his hand, “Is a note written by my late grandson, addressed to his little girl. Apparently, he was the family historian at the time and wanted his daughter to know how she got her name. He chose ‘Patricia’ because his little girl was a ‘princess’ to him and he loved her very much. The name means ‘noble’ or ‘regal’. He also referred to her as ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’. The middle name of ‘Amanda’ was suggested by the woman he married because it was the name of her mother…Patricia’s maternal grandmother. The family history stops there. He was killed… more accurately … murdered shortly after this was written. These documents were found among his effects and turned over to me shortly after the death investigation was completed. I couldn’t really look at them until now. My grandson…” He starts to choke up again.

Spock nods sympathetically. “I understand your reasons to not look at these things before, my friend. I grieve with thee. I also can see that you are physically exhausted and I would recommend that you get some rest. Patricia-kam will need you in the morning.” Doctor McCoy looks up at Spock with a quizzical look. “Patricia-kam?” Spock gives him a slight smile. “Doctor, contrary to what you may think, Vulcan parents do use terms of endearment with babies and very young children. When I have the opportunity to speak with your Great-Granddaughter, would it not be logical to use a term of endearment to a six-year-old, given that she has never really experienced any form of affection before?” McCoy gives his old friend a sentimental grin. “Who knew, under all that Vulcan stubbornness, that you are actually a softie?” He looks away and adds in a gruff whisper. “Thanks, Spock, for understanding. Until today, I felt as if I was the only one fighting to save her. The Child Protection Services had been pressuring me to place her in an institution and I cannot permit that.” Spock nods. “And the continuing struggle is exhausting you. Get some rest, my friend. You have earned it.”

The day’s events finally catch up with Doctor McCoy and he acquiesces to Spock’s suggestion that he go to bed. Spock moves the recliner away from where the barricade formerly had been and closer to the door of the bedroom where little Patricia is now sleeping. In spite of attempting to be as quiet as possible, he realizes that he has accidentally awakened the child. He hears her bed being ripped apart, her muffled crying, and goes in to check on her. He finds her huddled in a corner of the room, attempting to hide under the blankets that she has pulled off the bed. He sits on the floor near her. “Patricia-kam, you are safe.” She holds her breath for a few minutes, then sniffles. He repeats his statement. “Patricia-kam, you are safe.” She pulls the blankets away from her face and looks at him, confused. Spock smiles at her. “Hearing your name confuses you, does it not, Patricia-kam?” She nods, looking more confused than ever. “Do not worry. Your Gramps and I will keep you safe. It is acceptable to be confused while you learn new things. One of those new things is sleeping on a bed instead of sleeping on the floor. Which do you find more comfortable?” She silently points to the bed that has been pulled apart in her frantic attempt to escape.

Spock nods. “I will assist you in reassembling your bed and then tuck you back in, if you will permit me.” She silently nods at him and starts to crawl toward the bed. Spock gestures for her to stay where she is. “It will be easier if I take care of the heavy lifting.” He proceeds to place the mattress and box-spring back in the bed- frame and secures them. Then he covers the mattress with the sheets and blankets. Little Patricia holds up the pillow for him to take. “Thank you, Patricia-kam, that is most helpful.” He places the pillow back on the bed. The child starts to resume crawling when Spock approaches her. “May I have your permission to assist you, Patricia-kam?” She looks back at him with a combination of fear, confusion, curiosity, and relief. Finally, she takes a deep breath and nods her permission. Spock smiles at her again. “You are very brave, Patricia-kam.” He carefully lifts her up, carries her to the bed, and tucks her in. He places his hand on her Psi Points. “Good night, Patricia-kam. Have pleasant dreams. I will remain on watch to protect you. You are safe here! I promise and Vulcans never lie!” She solemnly nods at Spock, places her thumb in her mouth, then turns on her side facing the wall. For all of his Vulcan training, nothing prepared him for anything such as this. He knew he must meditate to bring his emotions under control.

In the morning, the real work began. Both Spock and McCoy knew they both had to proceed in “baby steps” given how fragile this child was, physically and psychologically. Assisting her in recovering her own identity was a challenge. Each time she was called by her given name, she reacted either with confusion or didn’t respond at all. To avoid a PTSD reaction, each took turns sitting down in front of her, encouraging eye-contact, speaking calmly. When she did respond, it was usually by pointing at objects that she wanted … food or drink. Her legs still could not function properly due to damage from abuse so she could only crawl. Captain Uhura often stopped by to assist with needs that the men felt unqualified to do.

Doctor McCoy felt exasperated. “Spock, she’s going to need surgery…soon…if she’s going to have ANY hope of being able to walk again. Otherwise, she’s going to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, the way your former captain, Christopher Pike, was before you took him back to Talos IV. She’s terrified of strangers, which is going to make it all the more difficult to provide her with the medical treatment she desperately needs. If she is approached by anyone she does not know, she will become combative and/or scream in terror.” Spock nodded in agreement. “As you have stated, Leonard, we have needed to work in ‘baby steps’ but her medical needs now require that she must take a giant leap forward if she is going to have any hope of leading the kind of life she wants. Let me attempt to confer with her and see what she thinks. After all, given what she has endured, it’s about time she be permitted to have some input into some of the decisions regarding herself.” Doctor McCoy looks worried. “I’m afraid she may not make the decisions that are right, Spock. She’s only a six-year-old kid, not an adult. She can’t reason like an adult because she has not had enough appropriate experiences, nor the neurological development, to think and reason like an adult. Vulcan children may have that ability. Human children are developmentally different. What development she’s had has been stunted by what she’s been through. All she has known how to do is fight for survival. Based on my training, what I’ve been attempting to do, in helping her, stems from Maslow’s Theory of Hierarchy of Needs.” Spock quirks an eyebrow. “I am not familiar with this theory. Could you explain, please?”

McCoy sighs. “I’ll try my best. Keep in mind that this was developed by a human for humans.” He walks over to his computer and pulls up an illustration of a pyramid. “Here’s a depiction of the theory…as you can see, the foundation is Physiological…food, water, warmth, and shelter. Once those needs are met, then the next level is Safety…security, stability, freedom from fear. She is still struggling with that level, as you have seen for yourself last night. We know she is safe. She needs to BELIEVE that she is safe! Once that goal is achieved, then the next level will probably be a challenge for you, Spock, because it involves an emotion that she desperately needs to understand … Love … being able to belong to a family, being loved and accepted by a family, having friends, being able to reciprocate that love as she grows up and, hopefully, find a mate who accepts and loves her as she is. It may be illogical, but this is a fact for humans, especially human children. The remainder will probably be a struggle … for her…Self-Esteem and Self-Actualization, understanding and knowing that she is a worthwhile human being who deserves to be loved. She’s been treated as garbage for so long that she can’t understand anything else. She probably can’t see those possibilities at this time.” Spock slowly nods with understanding then looks around the room, realizing that the area is TOO quiet for the presence of a child. “Leonard, where has she gone to? She was just here a moment ago.”

Doctor McCoy looks around the house, and all the possible hiding places where she could be. “Patricia! Where are you, child?” Both Spock and McCoy search the house without success. Finally, they go outside and discover a garbage can turned on its side, with grass clippings and other yard debris spilling out. They find the child huddled within and crying silently. For an instant, Doctor McCoy is irritated, then relieved. “Oh, child! WHAT are you doing in THERE?!” Her response was to attempt to shrink further inside the garbage can. Spock stoops down beside Doctor McCoy and peers inside. He sees how frightened and miserable she is feeling and, in spite of his Vulcan training, he empathizes. “Patricia-kam, what is wrong? Have we hurt you without meaning to?” All she can do is mutely shake her head and hide her face. Knowing that the child still has no words to express anything, Spock tries again. “Patricia-kam, can you permit me to touch your mind? Help me understand?” She raises a tear-stained face, looks silently at him, then nods. She crawls closer so that he can touch her face.

When he touches her Psi-Points, he sees multiple images of violence…various people attacking her, screaming obscenities, her being shoved, repeatedly inside a garbage can filled with filth, being forced to sleep there, having scraps of food thrown at her as if she were a dog, finding hiding places in a futile attempt to avoid these attacks. Spock gently shakes his head. “No, Patricia-kam. You do not have to live in a garbage can. The others who called you those names are wrong and always were wrong! You deserve to be safe and loved. What I am telling you is true and Vulcans never lie! Do you believe me?” She looks at him with uncertainty and Spock nods. “It will take time to learn how to trust. Do you trust your Gramps to keep you safe?” She nods. “Do you trust me and Captain Uhura to keep you safe?” She nods again. “Given that you trust us to keep you safe, and that you ARE safe, please come out of this garbage can. It is difficult for us to help keep you safe as there is not enough space in this garbage can for all of us.” She nods silently and crawls out. Spock lifts her off the ground while McCoy places the garbage can back where it belongs. The old doctor shakes his head. “Let me give Uhura a call. This child is going to need another bath!”

Uhura is sitting with Spock and McCoy after little Patricia has been bathed and put to bed to rest. She looks at both of them nearly in tears. “She’s been through HELL, hasn’t she? She still only a baby in many ways! I can’t understand how any adult could do THAT to a child!” McCoy sighs. “HELL is an understatement! Isn’t that right, Spock?” Spock nods. “That is a close description of what she lived through. She is fearful of anything and anyone unfamiliar as a result.” McCoy looks back at Uhura. “Which leaves me with a dilemma. She needs surgery, and soon, to repair the physical damage that was done to her. Otherwise, she will permanently lose the ability to walk! The window of opportunity will close shortly. At the same time, I worry about how much of a setback, psychologically, this hospitalization and surgery will trigger. I need to do what is best for her! I just don’t know if she has enough resiliency to come back from another trauma.” Spock looks over at his old friend. “Perhaps we can…how is it said in the human vernacular?… ‘tag-team’ with her.” McCoy looks at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Spock continues. “Leonard, in spite of what others have labeled her, she is not a stupid child. We all know that she is highly intelligent. She just tends to misinterpret situations based on her own experiences. She has no other point of reference unless we are able to teach her that there are other perspectives. You are still a doctor, so you can remain at her side before, during, and after the surgeries. I can help her prepare mentally, for the ordeal to come, with your assistance.” McCoy is both puzzled and curious. “What are you proposing?” Spock looks over at Uhura, then back at McCoy. “There is a possibility of having a three-way mind-meld, between you and your Great-Granddaughter with me as the mediator. It would be somewhat similar to the Fal-Tor-Pan that you and I experienced. Through this mind-meld she will be able to see, in your mind, what you know and what she will experience. She will also be able to see that she won’t be abandoned again. That knowledge may help soothe her fears. Having her see these images, in her mind, might be easier than trying to explain in words that she is still struggling to understand. We have to remember that while she was enslaved, no one really communicated WITH her. They only forced her, used her, abused her, to gratify themselves! She was treated as if she were less than human, more as an object. She’s had no opportunity to increase her vocabulary, in an age-appropriate way, since she was an infant. At age six, she is just now being taught her own name. Later on, once she has recovered sufficiently, we will need to focus on teaching her how to read and write as well as other age-appropriate and educational skills. Patricia-kam has a lot of work ahead of her, just to catch up to her age-group. What I propose is just a small step.”

Uhura leans forward in her chair. “Spock, do you think it will work?” Spock looks uncertain. “I do not know. I have never attempted this before. There is the possibility of encountering other psychological minefields that we do not yet know exist. There is also the other possibility, Leonard, that you would be unable to control your revulsion at the images you will see in her mind. It took every bit of my Vulcan discipline to not reveal my reaction to what I saw so that Patricia-kam would not be alarmed. We must take extreme caution not to traumatize her any more than she already is. There is a risk that this attempt may fail. At the same time, I don’t see any other alternatives besides permitting the paralysis to progress to the point of no return. As illogical and emotional as this may sound … Patricia-kam does not deserve to become paralyzed for the rest of her life. She should not be forced to pay the price for what other adults have done to her. She deserves to be a healthy child.” Uhura nods in agreement. “What you said, my dear friend, may be illogical…and it may be emotional…it is still true! That child, who is sleeping in the other room, deserves to be loved and is entitled to become healthy and whole, as any child should be.” Doctor McCoy nods with determination. “Then it’s decided. As soon as she wakes up from her nap all of us, here, need to have a family conference with her!” Spock looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “But I am not biologically related, as Patricia-kam and you are!”

McCoy grins back at him. “As of right now, I am adopting you, you old green-blooded Hobgoblin, as part of our family!” Uhura looks over at McCoy, smiling. “Does that include me as well, Len?” McCoy nods back at her. “Of course, dear! Isn’t it obvious by now? As far as my Great-Grandbaby and I are concerned, the two of you are not only her legal god-parents…Patricia needs all the family she can collect! Before she was found, she had no one! She was nobody’s child! Now, she can know that there are adults who will go to any length to protect her, love her, and do what is right! She needs to understand that she has a family who loves her and won’t abandon her, no matter what!” Uhura holds out her hand. “Then I’m there!” McCoy and Spock place their hands on top of hers. “Agreed!”

Little Patricia wakes up, with a start, from her nap and looks around. Hearing low voices murmuring in the other room, her curiosity overrides her fears and she eases herself to the floor from her bed. Spock’s sensitive ears hear motion as she crawls to the door and he turns toward her direction. “Patricia-kam, did you sleep well?” She solemnly nods then looks at the three adults, halfway fearful. Spock gets up from his chair and slowly approaches her. “It is all right, Patricia-kam. We were waiting for you to wake up so we could discuss some important questions with you. Permit me to assist you to a chair.” She tilts her head at him questioningly as he lifts her from the floor and carries her to where the others are seated. Doctor McCoy vacates his recliner and indicates that he is relinquishing it to her. The child looks at her Great-Grandfather with a confused expression on her face as Spock eases her into the chair.

Doctor McCoy smiles at her. “It’s all right, child. You are permitted to sit in any chair instead of being on the floor. This is your home, too.” Hearing her Great-Grandfather’s permission, she sighs contentedly and settles into the recliner. He approaches her. “Child, would you like to see what this chair can do?” She gives him a puzzled stare as he pushes a button and the chair starts to slowly recline. Instantly, she starts screaming in terror and Doctor McCoy stops the chair from moving any further. Spock quickly lifts her up and cradles her as she sobs in fear. Doctor McCoy face- palms. “What was I thinking? I thought she might like it! Instead I frightened her out of her wits!” Uhura pats his arm. “Leonard, you didn’t mean any harm.” Spock looks at the child’s face and sees terror in her eyes. “Leonard, Nyota, if I correctly remember the images I saw in her mind, from the meld, she has encountered a similar device when she was being tortured. If I recall your explanations about psychology, Doctor, a Post- Traumatic flashback was inadvertently triggered.” The child looks up at Spock with a puzzled expression.

Spock explains to her. “When your Gramps attempted to help you become more comfortable in his chair, he accidentally reminded you of what happened to you before. We beg forgiveness.” She looks at all three adults who gaze sadly back at her, then she sighs deeply, sticks her thumb in her mouth, and cuddles against Spock. Doctor McCoy quirks an eyebrow. “Spock, I think she likes you better than me! I might get jealous!” Spock shakes his head. “Really, Doctor. She is YOUR family.” Uhura looks at all of them, hands on her hips, and irritation on her face. “How long are you two boys going to stand there and debate this?” The two men look at each other then back at Uhura. “You have a point”, Doctor McCoy comments. The seating is rearranged and little Patricia is settled comfortably in an easy chair, facing the three adults who take their remaining seats. Doctor McCoy resumes speaking. “I am so sorry, Patricia, for frightening you. That was not my intention, child. I made a mistake. Can you forgive me?” She stares silently back at him for several seconds, uncertainty in her eyes. Uhura gets up from her chair and motions for Doctor McCoy to follow her outside to her vehicle. He follows her with a quizzical look on his face.

Uhura has several packages in the backseat and starts rummaging through them. Doctor McCoy places his fists on his hips, shaking his head. “Uhura, what are you doing?” She straightens up, smiling and holding a toy in her hands…Winnie the Pooh. She grins at McCoy. “I bet she’s never had a toy to play with! Do you think she will like this?” McCoy looks at the toy and smiles. “It’s worth a try.” Uhura hands the toy bear to McCoy. “You can give this to her as a peace offering. Later on, you can tell her that I found it for her.” They both go back in the house. Little Patricia looks from Spock, to the two adults who have just re-entered the house and spots the toy in McCoy’s hands. She’s unsure what to think. Doctor McCoy kneels down on the floor, in front of her chair, and holds the toy bear out for her to see. “This is yours, if you want him. His name is Winnie the Pooh. There are several stories about him that I can tell you, if you like.” She hesitates for a few moments, then snatches the bear out of McCoy’s hands, inspecting it more closely. Doctor McCoy nods, then looks over at Spock and Uhura. “I don’t think she knows what to do with it. Makes me think of that old saying of ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’.” After solemnly inspecting the teddy bear, Patricia finally looks back at her Great-Grandfather. “Gramps,” she whispers. McCoy is uncertain whether to laugh or cry. He does a little of both. His Great-Granddaughter then surprises everyone by reaching out and wiping the tears off his face. Doctor McCoy holds out his hand and waits to see what she will do next. She takes his hand in her own. “Gramps!”, she repeats, louder than before. Doctor McCoy nods. “That’s right, Patricia”, pointing to himself, “I’m Gramps and I love you! Do you know what your name is?” She then points to herself and wrestles with a new word she is attempting to form with her lips and tongue. Finally, she partially succeeds… “Pat!” Spock is unable to suppress a grin. “That is correct! You can call yourself ‘Pat’ as that is a version of your name, Patricia-kam!” She nods thoughtfully… “Pat!” Uhura whispers to Doctor McCoy, “I think we are making progress.” Spock leans forward towards her. “Patricia-kam, we need to discuss some things with you.”

Little Patricia gazes back at him, then holds out her hand in an attempt to perform a meld on Spock’s face. He nods, “All right, Patricia-kam, this might make it easier to explain.” He places his fingertips on her Psi-Points and she closes her eyes, as if listening. When she reopens her eyes, she looks at all three of them, nodding with determination and courage in her face. “She understands and agrees”, Spock interprets. “That’s my girl!”, McCoy responds with pride, “When can we do our version of the Fal-Tor-Pan?” Little Patricia reaches out, grabs McCoy’s hand and places her other hand on his face, attempting to locate his Psi-Points. Spock gives her a slight smile. “Patricia-kam is ready now! She doesn’t quite understand that two humans are unable to mind-meld with each other.” The child frowns at Spock and sticks out her lower lip in a pout, causing him to give a rare chuckle. “That’s all right, Patricia-kam, I will assist.” Uhura also chuckles.

Two chairs are placed near each other with enough space in between for Spock to stand. Doctor McCoy is in his recliner while little Patricia is seated in the easy chair. Uhura sits nearby to monitor all three should there be any unexpected developments. Spock looks at the two McCoy’s, elder and child. “Are you prepared?” Both nod, silently, in response. “Let us proceed.” Spock places his fingertips on the Psi-Points on both of their faces and closes his eyes. Both McCoy’s close their eyes as well. Several minutes tick by as Uhura continues to observe the three of them. Finally, all three open their eyes. Doctor McCoy’s face has lost all color and he rubs his eyes, attempting to control his emotions. Little Patricia looks thoughtful in spite of her young years. Spock remains calm, waiting for one of them to respond to what has just occurred.

The child reaches out and tugs at his ambassadorial robes. Spock bends down to listen to her. She points to her Great-Grandfather. “Gramps.” Spock glances over at McCoy, looks back at the child and nods. “He needs attention, yes.” She attempts to get out of her chair and Spock assists by lifting her. “Tell me what you wish to do.” She points to her Great-Grandfather again. “Do you wish to sit in his lap?” She nods. Spock gently places the child in her Great-Grandfather’s lap and she proceeds to hug him. Doctor McCoy hugs her back. “Yes, child, you’re going to be just fine!”

The surgeries proceeded better than anyone could have hoped. When she awoke from the anesthesia, Doctor McCoy made sure that she had Winnie-the-Pooh beside her, sharing with her that it was Uhura who had found the teddy bear for her. Both Spock and Uhura visited with her, frequently, while she was in the hospital. Little Patricia saw other children in the Pediatric Ward but made no move to attempt to approach or communicate with them. A few of the hospital staff attempted to force her to socialize until Doctor McCoy sternly reminded them to let her proceed at a pace that was comfortable for her. Unfortunately, the other children didn’t know what to make of this silent, awkward newcomer and shied away from her. “That’s all right, child”, Doctor McCoy reassured the six-year-old, you’ll know when you’re ready to approach and interact with the other kids. Just give yourself time.” Little Patricia simply stared solemnly then turned her attention back to Winnie-the-Pooh, retreating inside her own silent little world.

The subsequent physical therapies proved to be more of a challenge. No matter how many times the physical therapists attempted to do their jobs, the child reacted to their presence with teeth and fingernails. Physical therapy causes pain and she just was NOT having THAT! Doctor McCoy felt as if he was at another impasse. Spock attempts to intercede on behalf of all of the medical personnel, Doctor McCoy included, and encounters something quite familiar…McCoy Stubbornness! Normally, Spock would find McCoy obstinacy as an irritant. In this case, he welcomed it as a positive sign. Until this point, she had been passive, withdrawn, depressed. Now, she was fighting back against any perceived encroachments on her physical boundaries! During one of their recent mind-melds, he inquired why she would not permit the physical therapists to assist in her recovery. In her mind, she had shouted back: “NO! STRANGERS! HURT!” Spock could understand her logic…she equated these kind strangers with those who had abused her in the past and, in her child’s understanding, could not see there was a difference. She did not trust the physical therapists…could not trust their intentions under any circumstance. “Patricia-kam”, he attempted once again, “You need to learn how to walk. I understand it is painful. How can we help you make it easier to achieve your goal?” Her response was to shrug back at him and he sighs. Spock looks around the therapy room, observing other patients being put through their paces. It did look tedious.

No wonder this six-year-old hated physical therapy! She was the only child there. Everyone else were adults…some elderly…all strangers. How could she possibly relate to any of this? In spite of being Vulcan, he understood the concept of play for children. This wasn’t even remotely close to play. It was all work. What was that old saying he heard Doctor McCoy say? “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”? The issues he could see were: (1) identifying the goals of physical therapy, (2) how to accomplish those goals, AND (3) how to make it FUN for this six-year-old who had never had a childhood and didn’t know how to play? He decided that a consult with Doctor McCoy was in order.
Doctor McCoy was found in one of the rehab facility’s offices, reading over his Great-Granddaughter’s latest medical reports. He looks up when he hears Spock approach. “Any luck in convincing her to cooperate?” The elderly Vulcan shakes his head but gives his old friend a slight smile. “She has definitely inherited one of your most prominent traits, Leonard. She is as stubborn as you are!” McCoy quirks an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.” He sighs and puts down the medical report he had been reading. “Spock, I’m stumped again. I know what she needs to do. SHE knows what she needs to do. How can WE convince her to DO what she needs to do, of her own free will? All of her life, she had been forced to do what others want and I’m sure she’s had a belly- full! I don’t blame her for resisting that.” Spock pauses to think. “Leonard, this may seem like an obvious question. What is the goal of physical therapy?” Doctor McCoy turns to face him. “Well, in Patricia’s case, physical therapy is to help her improve her balance and propioception. Her leg and back muscles are weak from damage and disuse, which makes it harder for her to maintain her balance when attempting to walk.” Spock nods. “I have been observing Patricia-kam in the therapy room and have communicated with her. Based on the information gathered, along with my observations, I have come to the conclusion that, in addition to not trusting these strangers, because of the pain caused by physical therapy, she also feels out of place.” Doctor McCoy gives him a confused look. “Explain.”

Spock continues: “Leonard, have you really noticed the age ranges of the patients who are in physical therapy here? There is no one, close to her age, that she can relate to. All of the other patients are elderly and are too ill to be able to communicate with a six-year-old. The physical therapists are genuinely too busy to play with her as a child needs to enjoy play. In addition, she does not know how to play. She finds this situation painful, tedious, and boring. Why should she be motivated to continue trying, given these current conditions…especially given that whatever the physical therapists attempt to do causes more pain…reminding her of her trauma?” McCoy looks at his old friend. “Spock, what are you suggesting?” Spock looks thoughtful. “I am suggesting that we find a way to make physical therapy more age-appropriate…for her. Find a way to incorporate something she can relate to and help her learn how to play that a six-year-old understands. I am suggesting that we brainstorm ideas that would be most helpful for Patricia-kam.” Doctor McCoy scratches his chin thoughtfully. “We could make it a form of play therapy. Let me see if I can find something about that on this computer.” He turns to the machine and commences a computer search. He finds something and shows it to Spock, who nods in agreement. “Leonard, I think that might work. Do you know how to implement such a technique as I am unfamiliar with this approach?” McCoy sadly shakes his head. “I would if I could. My arthritis has progressed to the point that making such an attempt will land ME in physical therapy alongside those other elderly patients!” Spock looks thoughtful. “Then it appears there will be two of us learning this technique. It should be interesting.”

The Ambassador suggested to Patricia that he thought it might be a nice change, for the child, to see other places besides the rehab facility, the hospital, or her Great-Grandfather’s home. She agreed so he brought her to the Vulcan Embassy. The staff has been prepared for her visit and had been forewarned that she would, very likely, openly stare at them given she had only met one Vulcan…himself. He had also explained there was the risk of emotional outbursts or meltdowns because she had been a victim of child abuse. If such outbursts occurred, he explained, the staff were not to become alarmed or show disapproval towards the child. Armed with the information that Doctor McCoy had provided him, he was able to explain to his staff about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. His staff indicated that they all understood.

When he pushes her wheelchair through the door, she is greeted by various staff members who welcome her. She silently stares back, wide-eyed, then turns around to look at Spock, who nods back at her. “Yes, Patricia-kam, there are others who are similar to me. They will not hurt you. You know what I say to you is true.” He turns back to his staff members. “Patricia-kam and I will be in the Embassy ballroom for awhile. I trust that our instructor awaits us?” Various staff members nod affirmatively. Spock proceeds to push little Patricia’s wheelchair down the hallway and enters the ballroom. An elegantly dressed lady awaits them within the room.

Little Patricia spots this new stranger and turns around to face Spock, fear in her eyes.” Spock places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “She is not here to hurt you, Patricia-kam. She is our teacher. You and I are going to learn a new skill…together.” The child gives him a confused look. The elegant lady approaches them. “Ambassador Spock! I am honored to meet you!” She bends down toward the child in the wheelchair. “And I am honored to meet you as well, Patricia. I am Lady Bradshaw! Your dance instructor.” The child gives her a blank stare. Spock explains. “Patricia-kam has never encountered the concept of dance before. I am familiar, only in theory. You may find teaching us…challenging.” Lady Bradshaw nods with confidence and smiles. “I understand and I enjoy a challenge!” As they prepare to begin their first lesson, Spock hears a door open and turns to see Doctor McCoy enter the room. McCoy gives him a grin. “Couldn’t miss my Great-Grandbaby’s first dance lesson for all the tea in China!” Spock quirks an eyebrow. “Knowing you, Leonard, you also have an ulterior motive of having a little fun at my expense!” McCoy’s grin grows wider, leaving Spock without any doubt.

Spock requests that the dance instructor give him and little Patricia a few moments to communicate. She walks over to Doctor McCoy, to converse with him, giving Spock and the child some privacy. He touches the Psi-Points on her face. “Patricia-kam, I will need to lift you out of your wheelchair and help you stand. It may be uncomfortable, possibly painful, but it is necessary to help you walk. I will be mindful if it becomes too painful. You can tell me that you wish to stop at any time. Shall we begin?” She gives him a solemn nod and he eases her to her feet. She sways uncertainly and winces as muscle spasms slam through her back and legs causing her to whimper in pain. Spock nods sympathetically. “I felt those spasms in your back. I can assist you with that and make the pain stop.” He touches her Psi-Points once more and the spasms cease. She breathes a sigh of relief. Spock nods. “Good. Are you ready for your first lesson, Patricia-kam?” She solemnly nods once more. Spock beckons to the dance instructor and she walks over to join them.

Lady Bradshaw shows Spock how to hold his dance partner, in spite of her short stature, and step before any music begins. Little Patricia responds by standing on his feet. The dance instructor attempts to correct her and Spock shakes his head. “It is quite all right. The child’s weight is not heavy. I can tolerate this. May we begin?” The instructor nods her understanding. “Computer, play Strauss’ “The Blue Danube”. When she hears the first notes, the child tenses up…looking around frantically for the source of the sound. Spock brings her attention back to his face. “Patricia-kam, what you are hearing is music. We are going to learn how to waltz. You have nothing to fear. You are safe. Just listen to the music.” He starts to step in time to the tempo while the child continues standing on his feet, watching his face. She listens, wide-eyed, then glances over at her Great-Grandfather, who is grinning from ear to ear! Spock feels her relax as she starts to bob her head keeping time. He smiles down at her and nods approvingly. She rewards him with a huge grin, showing her missing baby front teeth! She continues to grin throughout the remainder of the Waltz, bobbing her head to and fro in ¾ time.

Spock realizes this is the first time she has been able to show such a positive expression, for any sustained period, since she had been rescued, and feels his own emotions start to bubble to the surface. He manages to bring his emotion under control and continue waltzing. Lady Bradshaw watches approvingly, then walks over to Doctor McCoy, who is grinning from ear to ear. “Doctor, won’t you join in?” The old doctor shakes his head and demurs, “At my age, it might not be a good idea.” Lady Bradshaw smiles and shakes a finger at him. “I’ve had dance partners way older than you, Doctor, who could barely stand. If they could do it, so can you!” McCoy blushes. “To tell you the truth, my Lady, I have two left feet and don’t want to embarrass myself!” She quirks an eyebrow at him and he realizes she is not going to accept “No” for an answer. He sighs in resignation. “Okay, I’ll give it a whirl.” She grins at him as she shows him how to hold his waltzing partner and they begin to step in time to the music. When Spock notices McCoy on the dance floor, one eyebrow nearly disappears into his hairline and McCoy scowls back at him. Then both men look down at Patricia, who is looking from one to the other, grinning. Suddenly, McCoy understands that, in spite of his embarrassment, seeing his Great-Grandbaby smiling makes it all worthwhile.

At the end of the Waltz, she steps off his feet and Spock bows to her while continuing to hold her hands, assisting her balance. “Thank you, Patricia-kam, you are a wonderful dancer!” She responds by giggling. This is music to his ears. Doctor McCoy applauds from his vantage point and she turns in his direction. “Child, THAT was WONDERFUL!” She nods to him in acknowledgment then looks back up at Spock with an inquisitive expression. He sees that she is beginning to tire. “That was very good for a first lesson, Patricia-kam. Now it is time for a rest period. I am not as young as I used to be.” She nods with understanding and he helps her back to her wheelchair. They return to Doctor McCoy’s home and she goes to bed to rest. A few minutes after her head is on the pillow, holding Winnie-the-Pooh, she is sound asleep. Spock eases himself into a nearby chair so he can watch the child as she sleeps. McCoy pats him on the shoulder approvingly. “I’m proud of both of you. I couldn’t have hoped for better! You managed to get her to giggle, twice! The first time when you shared your childhood memory of I-Chaya and a little while ago after the two of you had your first Waltz. Who knew that a Vulcan could make a little girl laugh?” Spock looks up at his old friend. “She’s a McCoy. What else do I need to know?” The old doctor shakes his head, grinning, as he heads to the kitchen to make tea for both of them.

Time goes by and the physical damage from the abuse and neglect slowly heals. At every opportunity, whenever Spock visits, little Patricia follows him almost everywhere he goes. The old Vulcan doesn’t mind. The emotional damage is still an ongoing struggle and she remains mute. Both Spock and McCoy continue to “tag-team” in their efforts to help her catch up educationally by home-schooling her. Instead of pointing at objects, little Patricia now grabs a writing instrument, scribbles her thoughts, and leaves them everywhere. Uhura would also visit, from time to time, in a grandmotherly role. During one of her visits, she taught Patricia how to crochet. The result was multiple single-crochet stitch scarves, granny square shawls, and ripple-stitch afghans in a riotous combination of colors scattered all over the house, much to Doctor McCoy’s amused chagrin. Learning mathematical concepts, however, often led to frustration and meltdowns.

Given that she thought only in pictures, trying to learn mathematics was similar to trying to teach Romulan while speaking Andorian to a sentient being who spoke none of the above. No matter how patiently Spock attempted to explain the concept of mathematics, via words, mind-melds, as well as using her crocheting skills, she would give him a confused stare then start hitting herself in the face and crying, which would force him to grasp her hands to make her stop. He got the sense that, during her enslavement, being struck in the face had been one of her punishments when she was unable to understand something quickly enough. After one particularly stressful session, he told her that they were going to take a break from mathematics and do something else. Besides, it was time for another physical therapy session as her walking still needed improvement.

When they returned to the Embassy ballroom and Spock requested that the computer play another waltz, this one a Vulcan version, he turned to see Patricia performing, or more accurately, limping through the dance pattern as she listened intently, flicking her hands and bobbing her head in time to the music. He also noticed that she was staring at nothing in particular…lost in her own silent world. She often withdrew into such a shell each time she became emotionally overwhelmed or stressed out. How he wished she could find the words and tell him whenever anything upset her. There were times when she became so emotionally stressed that she would permit no one to come near her so a mind-meld would be out of the question.

Spock walks over to where Patricia is dancing and begins matching her step for step, counting aloud: “1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10… 11… 12” and repeats the count. This continues for several minutes. When Spock pauses to take a breath, he hears a child-whisper: “1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10… 11… 12… 1… 2…” Spock nods. “Yes, Patricia-kam, that is correct!” She pauses and looks up at him as she takes a step, then repeats: “One!” Spock nods again. “Yes, Patricia-kam!” She pauses, thinking, then takes another step. “One!” Pauses then counts as she steps again. “One and One! TWO!” Spock nods once more. “Yes, Patricia-kam, that is correct! One plus One equals Two!” She walks over to him and holds up her hands, indicating she wants to waltz with him and he takes hold of her hands, stepping in time to the music as she counts aloud in her child-whisper: “1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12! One and one is TWO! Two and one is THREE! Three and one is FOUR!” Each time she speaks about numbers, Spock nods. “Yes, Patricia-kam!”

She stops waltzing and starts clapping her hands, grinning. Suddenly, she looks at her fingers and holds each one up: “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10!” She follows this by kicking off her shoes, pulling off her socks and pointing to her toes. “11-12…” then gives him a confused look. Spock nods. “What comes after 12 is 13, then 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20.” Little Patricia repeats the count, using her fingers and toes, from one to twenty. Then using her digits, starts adding and subtracting. Spock nods proudly. “You did it, Patricia-kam! You have begun to understand the mathematical concepts of adding and subtracting.” He hopes she would speak more but she withdraws back into her world of silence as she continues counting her fingers and toes. Unfortunately, shortly afterward, she becomes violently ill from a potentially deadly childhood disease.

She should have been vaccinated while she was an infant, but wasn’t due to the neglect she had been subjected to. Doctor McCoy had no idea any of these diseases still existed as he had been led to believe that such diseases had been eradicated centuries ago. That assumption nearly cost the child her life when complications and a high fever set in. All lessons had to cease while Doctor McCoy fought to keep her alive. Spock stayed by McCoy’s side, taking turns with the child so that the old doctor could get the rest he needed. In an attempt to help take McCoy’s mind away from his worries, the elderly Vulcan talked about his upcoming trip to his home-world as he was due for a meeting with T’Pau. When little Patricia recovered, it quickly became apparent that additional neurological damage had set in and she now had to contend with mini-seizures. She also had to re-learn almost everything. Fortunately, she was able to retain her reading and writing skills so she could communicate. This indicated that the language centers on the left side of her brain were intact. Other possible residual damage was still a huge question mark. A few weeks later, Spock received an official summons to return to Vulcan for a meeting with T’Pau.

Doctor McCoy had resumed his attempts to teach his Great-Granddaughter what she needed to know for her age given that she had regressed to a previous state and he was feeling overwhelmed. Spock had to make a decision that was not going to be easy for any of them. When Spock entered Doctor McCoy’s home, he noticed that the old doctor was not looking happy at all. “What is it, Leonard? What’s happened?” McCoy sighs. “It’s Patricia. She’s been having another meltdown and has locked herself in her room. This has been worse than any of her previous meltdowns. I don’t know what set her off. She had been looking around, as if she was looking for you, and I casually mentioned that you were heading back to your home-world. That’s when all hell broke loose! I don’t understand why that would upset her.” Spock looks perturbed. “Perhaps I could assist in discovering the cause of her current distress.” McCoy gets up. “I’ll go with you.” Spock taps on the door. “Patricia-kam, we need to speak. Open the door.” The only response is silence. “Patricia-kam?” He places his fingers on the door, sensing her presence within as well as a high level of distress that she is unable to verbalize. “Patricia-kam. You are experiencing emotional pain. Permit us to assist you. It is not logical to wrestle with this alone. Open the door.” The door finally slides open and Patricia hands him a PADD. Her face is streaked with tears. He looks from her face to what she has written: “NO go!”

Spock is puzzled as he looks up from the PADD. “Patricia-kam…?” Then he recalls the conversation he had with Doctor McCoy when they thought she was still unconscious from her illness…that he would have to go home to Vulcan, soon, for a scheduled meeting and possibly be assigned elsewhere for an extended period of time. Somehow, that conversation had registered with her and she was reacting to that knowledge. Spock sighs. “Patricia-kam, I beg forgiveness for not explaining what I do sooner. When you were ill, and afterward, you needed time to regain your strength. Being an ambassador sometimes require that I travel to other worlds.” She scribbles on the PADD: “Omicron Ceti III?” Spock is astonished. “How did you learn about Omicron Ceti III? I’ve never mentioned which worlds I have been to.” Doctor McCoy clears his throat. “I told her, Spock, when she and I first met at the Child Protective Services Facility. I had no idea she had retained that information all this time. I wasn’t even certain she was hearing anything I was saying back then. Now I understand that old saying of ‘Little Pitchers have BIG ears!’ I need to be more careful regarding what I say around her.” “As do I, Leonard.” Spock answered.

Patricia scribbles again, in rapid succession, on the PADD: “Where is Vulcan? What is it like? When can I visit? What is there? Is it a nice place?” McCoy looks at all of her notes then looks at his old friend. “Good questions, Spock! It’s been awhile since I’ve been invited back to visit your home-world! I recall the last time wasn’t much fun for either one of us!” Patricia gives both of her elders a puzzled look and her Great-Grandfather responds. “It’s a long story, child! You’re not old enough to hear it yet! Ask me again in about ten years!” Spock looks at the two McCoy’s then nods. “Very well, Doctor. If there are no medical impediments to traveling, then you are both invited to accompany me to my home-world. It might be helpful for Patricia-kam to visit.” Patricia starts to jump up and down in excitement. McCoy smiles at her and nods. “I agree, Spock. Besides, I would like to consult with the Vulcan Healers to see if there is anything else I could be doing to help my Great-Granddaughter.” Patricia scribbles another note on the PADD: “Healers?”

The old doctor looks at his Great-Grandchild. “You know that I am a doctor. I treat people who become sick or injured. Spock’s home-world also has doctors. They are just called by a different name. From time to time, doctors or healers meet to compare notes and help each other with new information so we can better help our patients.” Patricia looks thoughtful and then scribbles another note: “Patient or family?” Spock looks at McCoy with raised eyebrows. “Doctor?” Doctor McCoy quirks an eyebrow at his old friend. “Spock, you…” He quickly stops himself before he insults his old friend out of habit, remembering there is a child in the room. He looks at Patricia. “Since we first met, you have been both because you wouldn’t permit anyone else to come near you or treat you unless I was right there with you. Are you ready to meet these Healers on Vulcan?” She thinks some more then scribbles another question: “Hurt?” McCoy shrugs his shoulders. “I can’t be certain, child. I don’t want to make a promise that it won’t hurt and then be wrong! I’m not that familiar with Vulcan medicine as the Healers practice it.” Patricia nods, satisfied with the answers that she has been given.

Arrangements are made to travel from Earth to Vulcan aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise’s latest version. Ambassador Spock and Admiral McCoy are treated as honored guests during the voyage. At first, little Patricia is too fearful to go near anyone but, eventually, her curiosity gets the better of her and she manages to slip out of the guest quarters to go exploring. Being unable to speak limits her access to other parts of the ship that requires the spoken word to operate, such as the turbolift. Whenever she accidentally encounters a crew member, she would attempt to find a hiding place or simply press herself against the wall, staring silently. The crew members weren’t certain what to make of this behavior. Her Great-Grandfather has quite a time trying to keep up with her, let alone keep track of her wanderings. Ambassador Spock manages to steer her to Ten-Forward to see how well she could handle any interactions among those patronizing the forward deck while under his supervision. At first she attempts to hide behind the Vulcan until she sees the window, and the star-field beyond, streaking by in the warp-effect.

Fascinated, she presses against the window then looks back at Spock, wide-eyed. Spock walks up and stands beside her. She looks up at him, then points to the stars streaking past the window, then attempts to gesture given that she had not brought along a PADD to write with. Spock nods, then looks about for a PADD that could be borrowed for a short time but sees none. He looks back at Patricia. “Apologies, Patricia-kam. I neglected to bring a PADD with me and there are none available here. What do you wish to say?” Frustrated, she gestures by touching the Psi-Points on her face, then gestures toward him. “You wish to mind-meld?”, the Vulcan asks and she nods. He touches the Psi-Points on her face and can see, in her mind, that she is excited beyond words about what she is seeing among the stars. He attempts to give her the words that she is searching for. “Yes, Patricia-kam, the star-field is aesthetically pleasing.” She gives him a puzzled look, responds mentally with ‘Huh?’, and he realizes that his description has gone over her young head.

He tries again to find a way to give her the words she needs, that are age-appropriate for her. “You think the stars are…pretty?” She nods emphatically, jumping up and down. “She’s quite excited, isn’t she?”, a voice behind them asks. Patricia immediately hides behind Spock as the Ambassador turns toward the source of the voice, a young crew member. “Yes, this is her first trip aboard the Enterprise. She’s been told quite a bit about previous versions on which her Great-Grandfather and I served together.” The crew member looks at the child who attempts to avoid his gaze. “She’s also quite shy. I notice she has not spoken. Is there anything wrong?” Spock pauses as he places a reassuring hand on Patricia’s shoulder. “I am not at liberty to discuss anything at this time, Ensign. Any questions will need to be referred to Admiral McCoy, per his orders.” “I understand”, the crew member replies and he leaves. Patricia peeks out from behind Spock to make sure the crew member is gone. “It is all right, Patricia-kam”, the old Vulcan tells her, “It is safe to resume star-gazing until it is time for your rest period.” She looks up at him, solemnly, then turns back to the window with fascination.

Upon arriving on Vulcan, Doctor McCoy quickly realizes that his young Great-Granddaughter has an additional medical issue…asthma. The thin atmosphere triggers an attack, requiring an immediate emergency beam-out. As a result, the first stop is to an Emergency Medical Center within minutes of disembarking from their shuttlecraft. Fortunately, the Healers were able to provide treatment with a nebulizer and bring the asthma under control. A nebulizer mask is provided, to carry with them, in the event of any future asthmatic events. The Healers note that their young patient does not speak and inquire about it. Patricia listens intently to the conversation between the Healers and her Great-Grandfather, as he explains the reasons for her being mute, then she points to a writing instrument. When the PADD is handed to her, she scribbles: “Medical specimen?” then points to herself. Doctor McCoy explains, apologetically, “She has a mind like a mousetrap. Some concepts she grasps immediately, when I don’t want her to, while she struggles to learn other things. Please don’t take offense if she’s inadvertently rude.” The Healer nods. “No offense taken, Doctor McCoy. We can learn much from each other.” She nods at the child. “You are not a medical specimen, but a teacher. There are some things that I do not know…yet. Today, I learned something new, with your assistance.” Patricia stares back at her for a few moments, then scribbles on the PADD: “Waltz teacher?” The Healer gives Doctor McCoy a quizzical look and he explains her physical therapy. The Healer nods appreciatively. “Understood, Doctor.” After a final medical exam, the child, Patricia, is released from the Emergency Medical Center to accompany her Great-Grandfather to their lodgings.

After they unpack, the old doctor encourages the child to lay down and rest for awhile. She picks up the PADD and writes another note. “Mutant?” as she points to herself again. The doctor looks at her, astonished. “Child, what makes you think THAT?!” She writes back: “Because…strange.”, as she points to herself again. Doctor McCoy shakes his head in response. “You are not strange. There just happens to be challenges that you are wrestling with, that’s all.” She writes back: “But mute. Mutant.” Doctor McCoy chuckles sadly, while shaking his head, and kisses her forehead. “Give yourself time, child. Eventually, you will feel safe enough to speak aloud anytime you want to. Now get some rest. Doctor’s orders!” She grabs her Winnie-the-Pooh bear, lays down and attempts to relax, looking about the room. There are so many different and strange art objects that she has never seen before. The old doctor realizes it’s going to be a long while before she will be able to take a nap.

Ambassador Spock has met with T’Pau, bringing her up to date on the latest diplomatic developments, explaining the visit of the McCoy family, who have accompanied him, and is now meeting with junior Ambassadors regarding their first assignments. There is a question-answer period where he shares his knowledge from his own experiences as well as that of his late father, Sarek. The meeting then adjourns and he travels to the lodging where the McCoy’s are staying. “Is Patricia-kam recovered from her pulmonary difficulties?” Doctor McCoy nods, “As best as can be expected. I’ve been trying to get her to rest and she’s been trying to take in all these new sights. She looks as if she’s ready to burst with questions! She seems to swing between withdrawing totally into a shell, out of terror, and exploring every new object she sees. One minute, she’s screaming in fear, the next she’s absorbed in something new! I don’t know what to make of that!” Spock nods. “And you have been frustrated in trying to locate a professional who is willing to listen to you regarding your observations.”

McCoy scowls. “You’ve got that right! I’ve been consulting with the Healers but they are not familiar with what they have been observing in Patricia. They are more accustomed to classic textbook cases of severe Autism in young Vulcan children. They are not familiar with human children. I’ve tried to explain that my Great-Grandchild is not a textbook and there are other complicating factors, from her past history of abuse, to add to the mix!” He pauses. “I also recently received new information regarding what might have actually happened to my late Grandson and the persons who were involved in his death, but I’m in no position to pursue that, much as I would love to hunt down whoever was responsible!” Spock sits down and faces his old friend. “It begs the question…which family member has the higher priority at this time?” Doctor McCoy promptly responds, “My Great-Grandbaby, of course! What kind of question is that, Spock!?” Spock silently peruses his friend. “I understand the reasons behind your emotions, Leonard. Let us not lose sight of who is most in need of help at the present.” The old doctor calms down. “You’re right. My Grandson is dead and gone. My Great-Granddaughter is very much alive and needs all the help she can get to rebuild her life.” They hear a small voice from the other room, “Spock?” McCoy and Spock look at each other in astonishment, then get up and walk to the source of the voice. Little Patricia is sitting on the side of the bed. As soon as she sees her Great-Grandfather and Spock, she struggles to stand up and repeats with a stronger voice: “Spock! Gramps!” Doctor McCoy walks over to her. “What is it, child?” She points out the window and looks back at both of them, grinning. “Vulcan!”, she shouts excitedly. Spock nods as he walks over to her. “You wish to see more of my home-world?” She makes eye-contact with him and nods, “Yes! Vulcan!”, as she starts to jump enthusiastically and nearly falls. Spock quickly catches her. Her Great-Grandfather is hesitant. “Spock, she has difficulties regarding human etiquette. What are we going to do if something unforeseen occurs, she has a meltdown, or she accidentally insults or offends someone of your planet given that Vulcan custom and culture is quite strict?” Spock looks up at McCoy. “Then we will cross that bridge when we come to it!”

As they walk about the city, Patricia swivels her head from side to side, attempting to take in every sight that she can. Each time she spots something new…or different…she would eagerly point to it and ask: “What’s that?!” If she was permitted to approach and touch, she would explore every centimeter of the object’s surface with her fingers as well as her eyes. Occasionally, she would rub her face against it, experiencing its texture. Passersby would raise their eyebrows at this “unseemly” display, then walk on. A few would look questioningly at Doctor McCoy, who would simply smile back. He mutters an aside to Spock, “If they only knew what she was like a short time ago! Then they would understand and appreciate her progress!” Spock responds with a low voice, “Very few of my people have encountered situations such as what Patricia-kam has lived through. Child abuse and neglect, such as that, is unheard of on Vulcan.” “Hmph!”, growls McCoy, “You were also the victim of bullying when you were a kid. If that’s not a form of child abuse, I don’t know what is!” Spock calmly nods. “Your point is well taken, Doctor. I had a support system I could rely on…my mother and father. Who did Patricia-kam have before you entered her life and began advocating for her?” Doctor McCoy nods back, “Point well taken, Spock.”

They turn their attention back to Patricia who is openly staring at an elderly, elegant lady being carried on a litter in a regal procession. Before they can stop her, she limps over to the procession to take a closer look. Doctor McCoy instantly recognizes the regal person seated in the litter and apprehensively grabs Spock’s arm. “Uh-oh, Spock! If I’m not mistaken, that is T’Pau and we are about to have our first diplomatic incident!” The procession stops as T’Pau and the child stare at each other. Then the child looks up at her, smiles, and exclaims, “PRETTY!” One of T’Pau’s eyebrows goes up. Spock and McCoy approach the scene. “I beg forgiveness, T’Pau,” says Spock, “All of this is new to this child. She is still learning.” T’Pau sternly looks at the child, who now looks confused. “Is this the child you spoke of, Spock? The one of Doctor McCoy’s family?” Spock bows his head in respect as does McCoy. “Yes, she is. I beg forgiveness on her behalf,” the elderly Ambassador beseeches. T’Pau’s face softens. “It is understood. Continue teaching her what she needs to know. I take no offense.” She motions to her entourage and the procession moves on. The child looks up at Spock, then at Doctor McCoy, still confused. Doctor McCoy puts his arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right, child! T’Pau is a very busy lady. She is in charge of the Vulcan government here. She has a lot of responsibilities. She doesn’t have time to play.” Patricia looks back, sadly, toward the procession receding into the distance. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” McCoy and Spock look astonished at each other. How often had they said that quote, not realizing she was listening? McCoy kisses the top of his Great-Grandbaby’s head. “That’s right, child!” Spock nods approvingly. “Come, Patricia-kam, it is time for our rest period. Your Gramps and I are starting to feel tired.” Patricia nods back at them, “Okay!”

Back at the lodging, Patricia is peppering Spock with question after question regarding Vulcan art, Vulcan architecture, Vulcan custom, Vulcan culture, Vulcan dress, Vulcan music, Vulcan language…Vulcan anything! McCoy looks at Spock and grins. “I don’t know about you, Spock, but hearing her now is music to MY ears!” Spock permits himself to smile to the child, who responds with a grin as she limps around the room, examining the artwork that is displayed. “Yes, Leonard, I have to agree.” Patricia suddenly stops speaking, looks sad, and hesitantly approaches Spock where he is seated. She gently reaches out and touches one of his ears, then looks at him somberly. “Sorry.” Spock looks at her, puzzled. “Sorry for what, Patricia-kam?” She points to his ear. “I hurt you. Sorry.” Spock realizes that she is remembering their first meeting when she grabbed his ear without understanding. He takes her hand and gently pats it. “It is all right, Patricia-kam. I am not damaged. It wasn’t deliberate. We all make mistakes. You are still learning.” Before he can react, the child wraps him in a bear hug and kisses his cheek while exclaiming: “Love you!” Doctor McCoy grins at his old friend while Spock awkwardly returns the hug. “It appears she is teaching me as I am teaching her, Doctor.”

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Close Encounters

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FOREWORD

All three books present in this novel deal with the theme of the Federation’s Prime Directive. For those of you not terribly familiar with the Star Trek universe (all rights owned by Paramount) or its Prime Directive, allow me to provide a brief background.

The United Federation of Planets (abbreviated as UFP and commonly referred to as the Federation) was an interstellar federal republic, composed of planetary governments that agreed to exist semi-autonomously under a single central government based on the principles of universal liberty, rights, and equality, and to share their knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation and space exploration. One of the most powerful interstellar states in known space, it encompassed 8,000 light years and at least a thousand planets. The total number of formal members worlds was over one hundred and fifty.

Unlike its imperial rivals, who derived power from a single species subjugating other races, the Federation’s various member worlds joined willingly and were equals in the Federation’s democratic society. The Federation Starfleet was incorporated to maintain exploratory, scientific, diplomatic, and defense functions.” (Source: https://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/United_Federation_of_Planets)

One of their foundational ethical principles was a directive of non-interference known as The Prime Directive. “The Prime Directive had 47 sub-orders by the latter part of the 24th century. However, a high-level summary was “no identification of self or mission; no interference with the social development of said planet; no references to space, other worlds, or advanced civilizations.” The directive provided guidance on what constituted prohibited “interference” with a society, covering such matters as:

  • Providing knowledge of other inhabited worlds (even if individuals or governments in the society were already aware of such)
  • Providing knowledge of technologies or science
  • Taking actions to generally affect a society’s overall development
  • Taking actions which support one faction within a society over another
  • Helping a society escape the negative consequences of its own actions
  • Helping a society escape a natural disaster known to the society, even if inaction would result in a society’s extinction.
  • Subverting or avoiding the application of a society’s laws
  • Interfering in the internal affairs of a society “

(Source: https://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Prime_Directive)

For clarity, units and numbers are converted to more human-friendly terms. Dosadi use base-8 numbering and most space-faring nations base distance calculations on the wavelength of the hydrogen absorption line – a universal constant – rather than Earth-centric light-years or parsecs.

This novel is a sequel to The Dosadi Suite, but can be read as a stand-alone as well.

Book 1: Prime

This story follows the career of Corin’s adopted daughter Rileeta (See The Dosadi Suite: Cycle 5 – Finale) as she is brought into conflict with the Federation’s Prime Directive and Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise.

Book 2: Shard

This story deals with the life of Sharden, a Dosadi male who has been an outcast his entire life, but who believes he has found a home in Starfleet. However, he also must struggle with the Prime Directive when the choice is to obey the code and allow over a billion sentient beings to die, or to commit a heinous crime in the Federation’s eyes.

Book 3: Divergence

An early information-age planet is struck by a near ELE asteroid that devastates their civilization. The Prime Directive forbids the provision of aid to the desperate remnants of a once-proud people. As surviving factions battle it out, one young Starfleet Commander decides that he will act and accept the personal consequences.

STAR TREK: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS

BOOK 1: PRIME

CHAPTER 1

History is a symphony of echoes heard and unheard. It is a poem with events as verses.”

-Charles Angoff

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Captain Jean-Luc Picard was sitting in his ready room aboard the Enterprise, reviewing the prior shift’s logs. He thought to himself, “I’ll be glad when Will is back aboard and back at his post. I’ve never liked all the paperwork that goes along with the First Officer position.” A few moments later his work was interrupted by the bosun’s pipe, followed by Data’s voice:

“Captain Picard to the Bridge.”

Standing up and straightening his uniform shirt, he quickly walked onto the adjacent Bridge. “Ah, Data. Is Commander Riker ready to beam up?”

Data stood up from the Captain’s chair and made his report. “No sir. Commander Riker is missing.”

“Missing? What happened?”

“We have few details, Captain. We are attempting to ascertain his whereabouts with the ship’s scanners, but it appears that his comm-badge has been destroyed.”

Taking his seat, Picard looked at the image of Malcor III turning slowly beneath the Enterprise. “Who’s in command down there, Data? Of the First Contact Team?”

“A Captain Rileeta, sir. I am puzzled though, sir. The mission records indicate that she is a serving member of the Dosadi Imperial Marines, yet her service records show that she has been part of Starfleet for many years…Sir?”

Deanna Troi blinked at the sudden wash of emotion from Picard and watched him carefully.

Picard had sat back heavily in his chair, surprise evident on his face. After a few moments under Data’s puzzled scrutiny he finally answered, “Rileeta. Now there’s a name I have not heard in some time.”

“I noted that she apparently served aboard several different vessels at the same time that…”

“Yes, yes, Data. Ancient history. Let’s focus on finding Commander Riker.”

Mentally shifting gears Data continued, “Yes, sir. Apparently, Commander Riker was caught in a riot in the capital city. The team was separated from him when the police moved in to break up the rioters and he never returned to the safe house. They are making inquiries through local channels but have so far been unable to discover anything useful.”

Picard studied the main viewer, lost in thought. Data waited patiently. “Data, I have little confidence in the ability of the First Contact Team to locate Commander Riker. We may need to take steps. Copy the records from the team into my Ready Room.” He stood up and turned towards his ready room. “And Data? Request Captain Rileeta beam aboard. I want a real briefing on just how badly this has been mishandled.”

“Yes, sir.” Data answered as Picard left the bridge.

Counselor Troi looked at Data and said, “This should be interesting.” There was definitely some history here – a mix of emotions both positive and negative, but very strong. With any luck, it would help distract her from worrying about Will’s safety.

Sitting down at his desk, Picard held his hand over his face for a few moments. Finally, he sighed, and said, “Computer, display service record and personal history for Captain Rileeta, Dosadi Imperial Marines, currently assigned Starfleet, First Contact Division, Malcor III.” A few seconds later, he began to review the information streaming across his console.

 

* * *

T’ELESH DISTRICT, DOSAD

MAY 2319

The narak, a large male, raised his head and sniffed the wind again. The light breeze was ruffling his fur as he stood atop the ridge line. There was snow only a little higher up; he was hoping to find lunch down here. There was the hint of something, but he was having a difficult time locking it down. He opened his mouth, tasting the air, his ears swiveling as he looked around.

Rileeta froze. The narak was only a few feet away; another step or two and she could make her jump. If he saw her, this was not going to work out well at all. She was starting to wish she had made a spear after all. She said a silent prayer to the gods that the tores-plant juice she had smeared all over was really masking her scent and that the damn thing didn’t look over his shoulder. Her father, a Raider, had taught her everything there was to know about stealth and close-combat and today she would put those skills to the test. Barely fifteen, she hadn’t even taken the ritual tests for adulthood, but she was having a go for her Warrior’s Pendant anyway.

The narak turned his head further away and she took another graceful, silent step forward. Gauging the distance, she crouched down onto all fours, carefully placing her hands so that there would be no sound. The twisted length of vines she had made was gripped tightly in her left hand – it was now or never.

Sensing danger, the big male turned his head just as Rileeta leapt. When she landed on his back, her hands going around the thick neck, he went absolutely berserk. The sabertooth-like narak jumped into the air with a scream of rage while she groped for the flailing end of her garrote. He landed, rolled, and his hind legs began to kick at the air, trying to get at whatever was on his back. She finally got the garrote around her right hand and pulled back hard. Spitting in fury, the narak rolled on his back, his legs occasionally raking claws across her arms.

The cat weighed in at over a thousand pounds – his weight was crushing the life out of her and his claws were tearing big bloody gouges across her arms. She pulled harder on the garrote, desperate to finish this before he finished her. He finally made a last frantic attempt to run away from whatever was choking him but collapsed onto his front instead.

Gasping in pain, she held the garrote in place for a few more seconds, making sure that she had a good air and blood choke so that the damn thing wouldn’t wake up as soon as she got off his back. When she was satisfied, she released her weapon from around his neck and got shakily to her feet. With an exaggerated swagger, she leaned down and kissed the unconscious predator on the nose and ruffled the fur between his ears. In Standard she said, “Good kitty.”

With a big smile, she looked at where Lorac was hiding with his PADD and said, “I think that should be enough, don’t you?” and hurried away from the narak before it regained consciousness. Wearing camouflaged fatigues, Lorac was nearly invisible. She was looking forward to getting her own clothes back when they finally got down to where she had left her gear. It was cold up here!

While they were making their way down the ridge, Lorac shook his head, “You are completely insane, Ri. But if they turn you down for a pendant after that, they’re crazier than you are.”

Staunching the bleeding gashes on her arms with puffballs harvested as they walked she answered him, “Well, you’re supposed to do it alone, but I couldn’t record myself. And it’s not like you had any weapons – we showed that at the start. And you swore not to help me at all! They’ve got to take that into account.”

“Yeah, but Ri, you’re not even an adult. That’s what’s got me worried. Old Paral’s gonna growl and say ‘We don’t give Warrior Pendants to children!’” he finished, imitating the elder’s voice.

She giggled. “He’s not the only vote. Who cares if I’ve taken that silly test anyway? I could pass anything they want me to do any time.”

“Your dad’s not gonna be happy with you, you know. And your mom is going to skin you alive and put it up on the door as a warning to your brother.”

She shrugged. “Dad didn’t exactly always follow all the rules either you know. He’s always said you have to know when to break the rules. And Mom says you should always listen to your own counsel about what is right…hey, you can stop recording everything now you know.”

“No, I want to make sure that they know I didn’t do anything to help. Besides, everyone’s going to want to see this.”

She leaned into her friend and rubbed her black-furred shoulder against his fatigue-covered arm, giving him a big smile. “Thank you for helping me, Lorac. Relan’s going to be mad at you too.”

He smiled back, “You know I can talk my way out of anything.”

She giggled, “And thank the gods for it. You’ve gotten us out of trouble more times than I can count.”

“Well, that seems to be my lot in life, Ri; keeping you from getting in trouble. Guess we’ll just have to stick together, huh? Even if you do have dirty fur.”

Another big smile and she said, “That sounds about right. And your ears still look funny.” She nuzzled his arm.

Two days later, the pair of them were standing in front the council of elders for T’Elesh. As Lorac’s PADD was replaying her fight with the narak, Rileeta was watching the elders. Her grandmother Sooth was shaking hear head but seemed more amused than angry. Paral, the eldest, had an even more sour expression on his face than usual, his ears backwards and his whiskers forward. The rest looked somewhere between surprised and irritated. When the playback had finished, Paral looked at her and asked, “And why do you bother us with this nonsense, Rileeta? We do not give Warrior Pendants to children.”

She managed to stifle a giggle. Lorac opened his mouth to speak and Paral continued, “And you. You have no business before this council. Either take a seat with the assembly or leave, but you have no place to speak here.”

Lorac bowed his head, but as he turned to leave the ring, he brushed his tail along her calves. She was grateful for the unspoken support. She took a deep breath and addressed the council. “What has my status to do with my courage? I have fulfilled the conditions to be judged a Warrior.”

Paral glowered. “No, you have not. You have brought back no trophy. Even if you did, you still have no status here. The only reason you should appear before us is to go through your ritual testing. After that, if you wish to go out and prove your courage, we’ll be happy to hear your tale.”

Sooth spoke, “Paral, I’d call that PADD recording trophy enough. It is certainly proof that she did what she claims.”

“That’s another thing!” he said. “She was not alone. The conditions require that she be alone. And you have no vote on this matter, Sooth. She is your grand-daughter.”

“That does not prevent me from speaking, Paral.”

Another elder spoke, “And while not physically alone, the other child was there only as chronicler. He had no weapons and swore an oath to lend no aid under any conditions.”

Paral spat out, “That’s not the point. She didn’t follow the rules.”

The other man continued, “Are honor and courage about rules, Paral? It appears as though you are seeking a reason to deny her rather than judging her tale on its merits.”

A woman spoke this time, “I agree with Paral. This child has no status here and while her story certainly demonstrates courage, why didn’t she bring back a true trophy?”

Rileeta dared to interrupt. “Elder, I chose not to kill the narak as a sign of strength and courage. Surely you admit that I could have killed him. The fact that I chose not to means that I will have the chance to face that animal again – and next time it will be more wary and more dangerous because of our encounter.”

Glaring her into silence, Paral said, “In any case, were we to grant her status to be judged it would set a dangerous precedent. Rules exist for a reason and that is evidently a lesson this child has not yet learned.”

Ri interrupted again. “Then Eldest, I choose to undergo testing for adulthood now.”

There was silence around the ring. Now, Sooth was concerned. Very few Dosadi underwent the testing before they were 16 and Rileeta had barely turned 15. Paral scowled. “You’re too young.”

There was some murmuring from the audience. Rileeta scowled back. “Eldest, there is no age limit, young or old. I will pass any test you give me.”

Paral smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “You think it’s that easy, do you? Very well. Your testing begins now. If you fail, you will have to wait half a year before you try again. Clear the children from the assembly.”

Rileeta stood silent, and confident, waiting for the other youngsters to leave the ring.

“I think we’ll begin with the combat test. M’aal. You’ll do nicely, I think.” There were more murmurs from the crowd. Traditionally, someone from the same age group was chosen. M’aal was 10 years older than Rileeta, half a foot taller and 30 kilos heavier. He stood up from the assembly and walked into the ring, stripping his clothes off as he went.

The two of them faced off. Rileeta took her stance, watching the bigger man close in on her.

It took less than twenty seconds. Rileeta unwrapped her legs from around M’aal’s waist and her arms from around his throat. She shook herself and said, “I’m thinking that’s a pass.”

Paral scowled again. “No, it is not. I will tell you when you have passed each phase. That was not a realistic assessment of your skills.” More murmurs. “Shree, T’ango, please give the youngster a true test.”

Tradition allowed the eldest to set the conditions of the test, but Paral was pushing the limits. The combat test was supposed to be about how you fought, not about whether you won or lost. The two warriors moved to opposite sides of Rileeta, but she didn’t wait. She dove at Shree’s ankles, knocking the man flat, but both he and his mate T’ango were experienced fighters and used to matching as a team.

However, they didn’t have the array of dirty tricks Corin had taught Rileeta over the years. Finally, Ri stood alone; Shree was unconscious and T’ango’s leg was broken. Panting for breath, bleeding from several deep cuts from Shree’s claws and with her own right forearm broken she said, “What’s next, Eldest? Four?”

There were some chuckles from the assembly. “Don’t be impertinent, youngster.” He glared at the other elders, several of whom were trying to conceal grins. “Very well, while we await your teacher’s report on your academics, we’ll move on to the next phase. Every adult must be a disciplined member of our society, able to control themselves and most importantly, follow the rules. That seems to be something you struggle with, so I’ll give you just one rule. You will stand there, silent and immobile, until I release you.”

That settled the crowd down a bit. Paral had been taking liberties; now he was back to what was expected. Normally, the youngster would be made to stand still for an hour or so while their teacher provided their assessment. This was the phase that most youngsters who tried for adulthood early failed.

Today, Lorac and Rileeta’s teacher gave a glowing assessment of her academic prowess while she stood there, blood dripping slowly off her fingertips. Her combat test had re-opened several of the wounds she had suffered fighting the narak two days ago. When their teacher finished, Paral said, “Very well. It sounds as though she is academically ready for adulthood. We’ll move on to other business while we see if she possesses the discipline that is needed.”

Four hours later, the murmurs from the crowd were starting again. Rileeta was still standing motionless as the evening shadows were crawling across the ring, but she was starting to sway slightly and her legs were trembling with exhaustion. By now Corin and Yun had arrived and Corin finally yelled out, “This is shit! How long are you going to make her stand there?”

Paral yelled back, “SILENCE! It is not your place to determine the conditions of the test!”

Sooth argued with him, “Paral, you can set anyone up to fail. She’s gone beyond proving she’s ready for adulthood. I think she’s too young too, but she’s proven herself here today.”

Paral glared left and right, but was finding no supporters on the council. “Very well. But, there is one more test that she must pass.”

Another elder began to speak, “Paral, that’s not…”

“Silence!” he interrupted, getting ear and whisker twitches from pretty much everyone in the assembly. “As eldest, I will determine what is and is not a condition of this test.” He glared around the other elders, getting more than a few glares back. “Rileeta, follow me for the last phase of your testing.” He stood and walked down a ramp at the rear of the ring.

Rileeta took a deep breath, thankful for all the hours Corin had made her practice meditation and Tai Chi. Her legs were still shaky but it felt so good to move after so long being still. She followed the old grump into the basement of the assembly ring.

Finally he opened a very narrow little door and said, “Wait in here. In fact, wait right there. If you move, for any reason whatsoever, I don’t care if you are on fire, you will fail your test and you will wait another half-year – or more if you have any sense. I will be right back and we will begin the last phase. Do you understand?”

Rileeta glanced up and saw that he had led her to the far side of the basement – this was a ramp that lead up and out behind the structure. It was very dim. ‘What the hell was old cranky-pants up to?’ she wondered. Aloud, she only said, “Yes.”

“Good.” He was about to turn and leave when another elder came rushing up. “Paral, a narak is in the city. We need to go help track it down.”

With an evil grin he said, “Perfect. Rileeta, you can wait right there. Do not move. You are being recorded.” He shut the door behind him.

‘What a teeg.‘ she thought. Oh well. Standing still was something she could do, tired or not. Corin had taught her that her mind controlled her body, not the other way around. She had been standing there for no more than ten minutes when a small child came running down the ramp, clearly terrified.

Ri fought with the impulse to ask what was wrong, to pick him up and soothe his fears, but if she did that she would fail. That was probably what Paral wanted her to do. Pluck at the old heartstr…Ice ran down her spine. Not five seconds behind the child was the narak the other elder had said was in the city. They did that sometimes, but usually they’d get caught and killed before they hurt anyone.

There was no way the kit could make it to the door before the narak was on him. Rileeta could escape easily, however. Or if she just stood still, it almost certainly wouldn’t even see her with her black fur.

It took less than a tenth of a second for Rileeta to throw away her hopes at adulthood or a Warrior’s Pendant. She whipped the door open – the child could fit through but the narak probably couldn’t. An instant later, she charged the narak, screaming a curse to distract it and launching herself at the beast, trying to get her fingers in its eyes…

With a loud *OOF* she crashed to the floor, partway up the ramp. Confused, she rolled back to her feet, wondering what had happened – the ramp was empty. What the hell?!

Paral stepped through the door. He sighed. “Knowing your father, I thought that would be your choice.”

Angry, she realized that she had been suckered. It had been a hologram. Dejected, furious, and nearly in tears, she remained silent. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Follow me.”

Squaring her shoulders, but with ears, whiskers and tail all drooping she followed him back to the ring, thinking dark thoughts the entire miserable way.

“Return to the center of the ring, Rileeta.”

She did as she was told, struggling to remain defiant, to keep her head up in the face of her failure. Lorac would yell at her for falling for that. It was so obvious. If only she hadn’t been so damn tired…but Paral was speaking again.

“The testing is complete. What is the council’s decision?”

All of the elders (except Sooth, who was not allowed to vote), including Paral, stood up. Ri was confused. “Decision? She had failed! What was there to decide?!”

Paral glanced left and right and sighed. “Then I present to the assembly, our newest adult, Rileeta. Congratulations, Rileeta – may you live your life with honor, love, and pride.”

Stunned she asked, “But…you said if I moved, I failed. You tricked me into…”

He smiled at her. “The final phase is not a pass or fail test, Rileeta. And it is one reason why we do not allow adults to discuss the testing with children. Your actions were displayed for all the assembly to see. It is a test of character, to see how you will react. Will you flee through the door? Will you stand still in the hopes of salvaging your test? Or will you attempt to save the child somehow? There are many ways to try to save the child, if you think it through. But you elected to attack a narak, bare-handed.

“How you react to that test tells us much about what sort of an adult you will be in our community. I still think you are too young and too inexperienced, but it is your right and as much as I would like to deny you, you have proven yourself.”

“And my Warrior’s test?”

He lowered his head, shaking it back and forth. “You are your father’s child, blood or no.” He sat down again, the rest of the council following his lead. “I suppose we should consider the question or the next time you’re likely to bring a live one back to the assembly.”

Even Sooth snorted at that one.

He spoke again. “My position is that she did not follow the rules. She was not yet an adult and she was not alone. I say no.” The discussion began among the elders…

“But the chronicler had no weapons and swore not to help her.”

“But he provides moral support just be being there! He’s her close-friend!”

“That means nothing – she didn’t even have a weapon, she snuck up on it and took it out with her bare hands. That is impressive!”

“She had a weapon – the garrote!”

“That doesn’t count.”

“And she chose not to kill – I’m impressed by that choice. Honor, courage and compassion. I say yes!”

“Tradition says she is supposed to bring back a trophy, she has nothing, I say no!”

“A Warrior should follow the rules – she didn’t!”

“A true Warrior knows when to break the rules! Is the test about honor and courage or a petty devotion to rules?”

Some time later, Paral finally said, “Enough. What is the council’s decision?”

Paral remained seated, as did nearly half the council of elders. It took a moment for Rileeta to realize what that meant. Her heart began to beat faster. She had done it!

Paral shook his head again. He stood again, reaching into a small box next to him. Rileeta’s heart was racing as he approached. He looked down at her and began to fasten the pendant around her throat, adjusting the fit so that it was snug. He whispered so that only she could hear, “You are moving too quickly, little one. Don’t burn out, take your time and enjoy your life instead of rushing from one phase to the next.”

She looked up at him. “Yes, Paral.”

He stepped back and addressed her more formally. “What will you do now, Rileeta? What role will you fill in our society?”

Her head held high she said, “I will join the Imperial Marines, sir. I will be a Raider.”

Corin and Yun were both horrified.

CHAPTER 2

Maybe it was a storybook beginning.”

Daniel Nayeri

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Picard looked up from his review of Rileeta’s records. He knew her story anyway, but it didn’t hurt to review it while he was waiting for her to beam up and give him a briefing of the situation down there. She had always been too impetuous, too fast and loose with regulations and rules.

He looked down at the display again, continuing his review of her career. There was the caninoid species they had brought into the Imperium, stealing them right out from under the Federation’s noses in clear violation of the Prime Directive…

 

* * *

DOSADI IMPERIAL MARINE ACADEMY, T’CROM’VEER, DOSAD

JUNE 2321

Rileeta was standing at attention, her jet-black fur a stark contrast to the white linen of her shirt, her eyes locked forward. Her cloak had the single broken silver stripe of an Ensign across the shoulder. The next lowest officer rank in her graduating class of 12 was two grades above her. Corin limped down the line of graduates with Yun at his side.

Corin, his own uniform carrying the three solid silver stripes of a Captain, stood to attention in front of her. The missing ear and black eye-patch over his vacant right eye making him look even more like a pirate than most Raiders. He looked down at his seventeen year-old daughter and smiled. “Ri.” He swallowed and blinked hard a couple times. “I have never been so proud in my life.” He reached onto his own uniform and removed the starburst-and-dagger Raider insignia and placed it on the right breast of her uniform.

Yun wiped her eyes. “Ri, you have to promise me…” She looked at her mate and her eldest child and changed her mind. “Honor above all, Ensign Rileeta.” She held her chin up, her eyes shining.

Corin stepped back one pace and his daughter saluted him, crossing her arms on her chest, palms flat to her body. He returned the salute, pivoted on his heels and marched back to the assembly, his mate at his side. He did his best to pay attention to the other graduates’ pinnings, but he had a hard time not just staring at the young woman who had become so much the focus of his life these last 10 years and more.

He and Yun had a blood-son, T’errel, who was now 9 and he was an absolute joy to them both. But Ri had stolen his heart away from the moment he had first looked into her bright green eyes back on Eletha. And now she would be going out into the stars, facing the same dangers he had once saved her from.

A few hours later, Corin was sitting in the Academy Master’s office, waiting for his daughter to report.

“She has never done anything that was expected, Master G’Aarth. Well, unless you consider constantly surprising everyone around her to be expected.”

The taller woman laughed. “Captain, that would be a very good description of her entire Marine career to date. Has she explained to you what she has in mind?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “Her mother has always viewed Soldiers as…contributing to the problem of violence rather than solving it.”

“Really? That’s a little…unusual.”

Smiling broadly he continued, “I think that’s one of the things that really attracted me to her. Everything about her is a little unusual. She’s amazing.” Lost in thought for a moment he apologized, “Sorry. Lost my train of thought. Anyway, Ri’s told me that her intent is to create a new sort of unit, one designed to specialize in first contacts. She feels that such a unit would need both Raider-style training in order to be able to go in, assess the contact, and then determine what action to take as well as the xenological training to try to bring them into the Imperium as allies instead of risking conflict.”

“That’s pretty much what she had proposed to me two years ago as a brand new recruit. I think that is the first time in my entire career a recruit has come to me asking to design her own training regimen.” he laughed. “She was stunned that I refused.”

“How long did it take?”

G’Aarth laughed. “I was ordered to add to her class load during her Raider training and to begin assembling a team from unassigned Raiders a week after she began that phase of her training. They worked on the academics as a team, in fact.”

“Lorac.”

“Who?”

Corin shook his head. “They’re th’mew. (ED: Close-friends). If they don’t end up mated, I’ll be absolutely astonished. By themselves, they’re bad enough. Together the two of them qualify as a natural disaster. He’s absolutely brilliant. At everything. Well, he’s not much of a fighter, and he can’t hold his whiskey very well, but anything else? Scary. I have my suspicions about where a lot of his training is coming from.”

“What do you mean? Has he taken his ritual tests yet?”

“He’s a year older than Ri and he just took them a month ago. He could have passed them any time he wanted to, but he waited. The stories I could tell you about those two.” He shook his head again. “Can I guess where the orders came from?”

G’Aarth’s ears flicked back slightly and Corin continued. “The Korat, right?”

Her ears flicked forward again. “Yes. They appear to have followed her career rather closely.”

Corin nodded. “I think Lorac has been working with them since he was about 10. And since they follow each other everywhere, I’m betting she has been too.”

Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Ensign Rileeta. She knocked and upon being admitted stood to attention and said loudly, “Ensign Rileeta, reporting as ordered!”

G’Aarth spoke quietly, “Relax, Ensign. As of this afternoon, you’re officially a Fleet Marine. I have your assignment here, but after speaking with your father, I have a feeling you know what it is already.”

Her eyes flicked quickly down to Corin and then back forward. “Ma’am?”

G’Aarth said, a trifle disgustedly, “Ensign, don’t be too impressed with your own cleverness. Or that of your friends. And never, ever think your opponents are stupid. So tell me. What did you and your friend put together?”

She started to protest, then thought the better of it. “I and my team are to be posted to the ISS Delos-B, ma’am.” There was a long pause and she continued. “We’re to undertake her maiden voyage to Anoria, Conduct an initial study and then make contact with them, liaise with the Royal Family and convince them to join the Imperium. This will be a test of the new Supercarrier concept as well as of the First Contact Team.”

Corin spoke, “How is this a First Contact if you already know so much about them?”

Rileeta turned to her father, “Sir, they haven’t even completed their first warp-jump yet. The Korat have been monitoring their communications for several years. Anoria is very rich in a number of strategic materials and their people are fierce and proud warriors. But the Imperium has yet to make any contact with them. Our goal is to do so before the Federation or any other regional power does so.”

“We’re sending the Supercarrier to a race that hasn’t even figured out how to break the warp barrier? Isn’t that a bit of overkill?”

“No sir. The Anorians respect strength. This allows us to give the Delos a shakedown cruise and show the rest of the galaxy they were wrong about her, impress the Anorians, and use her as a tool to encourage the Anorians to join the Imperium. This will also prove the First Contact Team concept.”

Corin asked “So how long has Lorac been putting this mission together?”

“Dad! He…” she straightened up. “Sir. I don’t believe he was even aware of the Anorians until a year ago.”

“So a year.” He held his hand up. “Ri, don’t even try to deny it. That boy is way too plugged in to things to not be what I think he is.” She glared at him. “Let me guess, he’ll be aboard?”

Stiffly, she said, “Sir. He will be assisting in the analysis of both the Delos’ maiden voyage and the trial run of the First Contact Team.”

G’Aarth asked her, “And how do you think the Federation will react? They will claim we’re violating their Prime Directive.”

“Ma’am, we are not part of the United Federation of Planets. We usually respect their Prime Directive but no treaty nor Imperial Law requires us to do so.”

“And how do you think this will affect relations with the Federation? Is it worth throwing away our most important alliance for the gain of a single pre-warp species?”

“Ma’am, Lorac’s analysis is that since this species is close to breaking the warp barrier that it is only a minor violation of the Prime Directive. He feels that the Federation will not make a major incident out of it and in fact is likely to do no more than lodge a formal protest.”

“And what is the Korat’s analysis of the Federation response?”

Rileeta hesitated for just a moment too long. “Their analysis mirrors his, ma’am.”

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Captain Picard leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. He glanced down at Captain Rileeta’s history again. The ISS Delos-B. The Supercarrier. That damn thing had caused a major destabilization in galactic military balance. The standard heavy cruisers that made up the various fleets became obsolete in a stroke. Nothing out there could handle 120 fighters plus the damn thing’s own firepower, especially when coupled with her escorts. All of a sudden, the major powers of the galaxy began crash ship-building programs to try to counter what they feared everyone else was building.

He sipped at his Earl Gray tea and returned to his reading.

 

* * *

DOSADI IMPERIAL HEAVY CARRIER ISS DELOS-B, UNDER WAY, ALPHA-QUADRANT

JULY 2321

Rileeta yawned and stretched. She snuggled back down into the comfortable pillow of Lorac’s arm for a few moments. She felt him lick the back of her neck and then lay his chin on her shoulder.

“Hey, dirty fur. You need to get up.”

“mmurph Don’ wanna.” She curled more tightly into a ball.

He nipped at her shoulder. “Ensign Rileeta. Duty calls. We’re almost there. You need to be on the bridge when we arrive and you know it. Captain De’Vax is expecting you.” He pushed her forward, away from his warmth.

“Meanie.” She stood up from their sleeping spot in the Delos’ Northeastern Living Pod and looked down at him and then stuck her tongue out.

He laughed, “I need to get up too. I’m supposed to be down in Flight Ops for an eval this morning. They’re doing a full strike package evolution at the same time you’re team is inserting.”

She was pulling her active camouflage uniform on. “Do you think it’ll work?”

Lorac stretched and sat up. “It better. Hell, she wasn’t even supposed to be able to fly, remember? Every other power out there thought we were crazy to try to build something this size. The structural integrity fields will never hold! You can’t maintain a hull form that big in warp! Yada yada.”

Sitting down and pulling her boots on over her long, feline-type feet, she said, “I don’t know who’s idea it was to include the space dock in the hull but that was incredibly brilliant. Multiple auxiliary power reactors, heavy structural strength…Then plating over it for a double-hull?” She laughed “Well, she at least flies. Now we just have to prove she can operate.”

Lorac started pulling on his own clothes. “What better place for testing than an isolated system with no space flight? And you have to prove that you can operate undetected, and then make contact peacefully, AND bring them into the Imperium.”

“That’s going to take us both. Not just my team.”

He stood up and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her around and into him. “Be safe, Rileeta. Come back to me.”

She nuzzled his chest. “Always. I need you to keep me out of trouble.”

 

* * *

A few minutes later, Rileeta was standing on the bridge of the Delos, looking at the main view screen, showing the curve of an alien planet. The planet was mostly the reddish-brown and tans of open desert, but there were two green caps on either pole, descending to about 50 degrees of longitude north and south. She was starting to get nervous, watching as their orbit took them around to the night side of the planet and their landing zone.

Captain De’Vax was sitting in the center chair. The Delos‘ bridge was considerably larger than the old Assault Carrier that had borne the same name, but had a similar design. There were more stations and more staff, of course. He scanned around him, noting that the three men staffing the Engineering stations seemed to be a little stressed. He would wait to see if it was something that they brought to his attention or not. He preferred to take a hands-off approach to command and let his staff deal with issues themselves.

He looked out the corner of his eye at the young Ensign in her battle dress. The active-camo was de-energized so the cloth was a uniform dusty-grey. De’Vax thought that for someone with her rank, she was entirely too well known and she and her young friend seemed to wield entirely too much influence. They had managed to arrange it so that most of his ship’s testing would be done within this star system, outside of the Imperium’s actual borders instead of on a test range where she belonged. He remembered the fate of the first Assault Carrier, the ISS Thorin, destroyed in a Romulan ambush the day she left the docks. “Ensign.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Your team is ready?”

“Yes, sir. Would you care to inspect the team?”

“I believe I would, Ensign. Are you still planning on inserting at your primary site?”

“Yes, sir. The desert location is close enough to the outlying settlements of the Northern Kingdom that we can easily conduct surveillance and have an isolated hide to return to; Risk of detection should be quite low. And if we decide to go ahead with first contact, we’re not that far from the capital.”

He stood up and turned to his first officer, “You have the bridge, Commander.” Walking towards Ri he continued, “Lead on, Ensign. Let’s go see how the rest of your team looks.” He thought to himself, “As if there’s any chance you won’t go ahead with first-contact. The entire existence of your concept depends upon it.”

An hour later, he had to admit to himself they did look ready. He had never worked with a Raider team before, but he had spoken with captains who had. They looked supremely confident and their equipment was flawless. He studied the three men and three women lined up in the transporter room for a few moments longer. It really made little difference to him personally if they succeed or failed in their mission, but it was important that the Delos as a whole succeed. “All right Ensign. You may go when ready. Your insertion point should be in range any moment. Remember, we will be moving off to the far side of the system for our testing until you are ready for us – but that means in an emergency, we’re at least a half an hour away. Be cautious, and honor above all.”

“Yes, sir!” She turned to her team, her tail and ears twitching with a mix of excitement and nervousness. “On the pads. Energize your battle dress and verify all communications are on discriminator.” She followed them up, gave them a quick once-over, and turned to face the transporter operator and her captain. “Contact Team One is ready to transport.”

The female crewman at the controls was watching her instruments. “Energizing in 10. Good luck, everyone. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Energizing.” A moment later, the room was empty except for her and the Captain. He glanced at his watch and puffed air out of his cheeks. Nodding to the young woman he left the room and returned to his bridge.

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, NORTHERN DESERT OUTSIDE OF TOWN OF BADAR

AUGUST 2321

Force Leader Storch slowly opened his eyes. The stars were crisp in the fathomless black of Anoria’s sky and shone through the netting covering their hide. It was mid-winter here and still warm, even at night. His ears swiveled slowly, listening to the desert sounds around him. Young Rileeta was curled up in between himself and Group Leader Ralex. Somehow their team leader always wormed her way into the warmest spot while she was asleep.

Satisfied that all was well, he turned his head and looked out of their hide towards where the team NCO, Strike Leader K’Reen was keeping watch with Group Leader T’Inau. K’Reen was the old man of their team and at 35 had already spent 5 years with a Raider Team before getting his chance at a Team NCO slot. Their monitoring equipment was purring quietly along, tucked against the dug-out wall.

Watching K’Reen talking quietly with T’Inau, Storch was starting to think those two might end up as more than th’mew’t despite the pretty Group Leader being ten years K’Reen’s junior. He poked Rileeta with his nose. “Ri.” he whispered.

“Meh” She tried to burrow deeper in between Storch and Ralex.

He poked her again. “I do not know how that spy puts up with sleeping with you. Get up!”

She turned over and faced him. “He’s _not_ a spy, Storch.”

“Ri, everyone knows you both work with the Korat. You can call it whatever you will, but when you get right down to it, you’re spies.” He winked at her. “Wasn’t your grandfather a spy too?”

“He was _NOT!_” She bit him.

K’Reen turned his head. “Well, I’m thinking you can’t be spies because you’re too damn’d noisy.” he hissed.

Rileeta sat up and stuck her tongue out at Storch. Standing up she stepped away from her comrades and shook out her battle dress. After a month in the hide they were all getting a bit frowsty. Leaning on the parapet with K’Reen and T’Inau she asked, “Anything new?”

T’Inau answered “Nope. Usual entertainments, news, and sports. Normal traffic in town. Some increased military traffic though, particularly on their air defense networks. I think they’ve picked up some of the Delos‘ test flights somehow, but we haven’t cracked their military encryption yet. We’re still a go, Ensign.”

“You can access his comm system? You’re sure?”

“Yup. Whenever you’re ready. UT Implants are completely online, right down to reading any font we’ve seen them use. Give the word and you can wake the ‘Pharaoh’ of the Twin Kingdoms.” she grinned.

Rileeta watched the sky and the distant lights of Badar for a little while. “Wake ’em up, Force. We’re not exactly dressed for meeting royalty, but I guess it’ll have to do. Strike, once everyone’s up and awake, let’s make the call.”

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, TICON, PALACE OF THE KINGS, ROYAL BEDCHAMBER

AUGUST 2321

Pharaoh Wallon, 7th of his line pawed at the bedside table, reaching for his communications handset. Very few of his subjects had the ability to reach him via that device so when it signaled, it was important. Holding the device up he squinted his eyes in the dark. The contact information was displaying nearly random garbage. Stupid thing was malfunctioning. He opened the connection. “Yes? Who is this?”

“You do not know me, sir. My name is Rileeta.”

He scrunched his ears up. It sounded very strange. The accent was… flat. The name nonsensical. He interrupted, “If I do not know you, you should not be contacting me. If you play your little game again, I will have you executed.” And he closed the connection again.

Moments later, the thing signaled again. With even more nearly random garbage displaying on the screen. Tomorrow he would have the thing wiped and repaired. He clicked it on. “You are a fool and your life is forfeit.”

“I don’t think so, sir. And that would be unwise in any case – Your species would benefit greatly from meeting mine.”

He opened his eyes wider. “My species?? Who are you? What game are you playing?”

“Sir, I think we should meet.”

“You are telling me that you are a space alien? Who is this really? I am not amused.”

“Sir, if you meet me, I think it will become very apparent that this is not a joke. I would like to propose that we meet each other tonight. Just you and I. No guards, no publicity, no leaks to frighten your people.”

“Whoever you are, you are insane.”

“Are you afraid?” There was a barking laugh from the Pharaoh. “Then come to the fountain in the Badar Royal Park in three hours. I know your transport can make that time.”

“The middle of the night? Are you an assassin? Is that your game? That park is off limits to all but the Royal Family. If you are trying to get me there, you are up to something.”

Rileeta laughed. She thought to herself “they respect strength and courage.” “Sir, if my people wanted you, or your entire species dead, we could do it with ease. We aren’t here to make threats or to harm anyone. We are here because we think you’ll make worthy allies.” Whoever it was was speaking crudely, almost gutter-speak.

There was a pause of a few moments. “Allies?”

“Yes, sir. If you doubt me, send a drone to fly over the park in thirty minutes and you will see I am not Anorian or anything even close. And then we can meet in person and see about more formal relations between our peoples. Are you afraid of a simple meeting?”

There was a loud snort. “I am far from afraid. But I am no fool either. Even the bravest can be slain by a well-laid trap. Why are you contacting me in this fashion and in the middle of the night?”

“Sir, were we to just drop out of the skies it would cause a panic and your military would see it as an attack. You are followed by media wherever you go during the daytime – by meeting at night you will likely avoid them and avoid having to cause questions by ordering them away. Send a drone sir so you can see I speak the truth. Then come and meet me. Doing it like this keeps the press and your subjects from noticing anything amiss.”

He sighed. “Very well. I will send a drone. If you are playing some sort of game, your execution will be a public event and very drawn out.” He snapped the connection closed and began bellowing for his aides.

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, NORTHERN DESERT OUTSIDE OF TOWN OF BADAR

AUGUST 2321

Rileeta looked at T’Inau.

Storch laughed from behind them. “That could have gone better.” he said.

Rileeta turned her head and said, “GODS he’s pig-headed!”

The other five members of her team all looked at each other for a long second and then burst out laughing.

Her ears flicked back, she twitched her tail derisively and she sniffed loudly. “I am not pig-headed. I’m determined.” She turned to K’Reen, ignoring the guffaws. “Come on, let’s get me to the fountain before the drone flies over.”

Ten minutes later, the team had made it through the outskirts of Badar, their battle dress making them essentially invisible. Rileeta looked up at the high wall surrounding the Royal Garden while Storch and Group Leader P’Asch crouched down and made a stirrup of their hands. Moments later she landed gracefully and was perched on the top of the wall. She leaned down and whispered “Okay, back to the hide – I’ll keep the comms on. We’ll establish some trust and then I’ll bring the rest of you in, just like we planned.”

Five minutes after that, Rileeta de-energized the active camouflage and sat down on the edge of the ornate fountain that was splashing merrily in the darkness. She took her floppy bush-hat off and set it down beside her and looked up in the sky. She let her eyepiece scan for the drone she knew had to be up there somewhere. She wanted to be sure it got a good look at her. “Hmph” she thought. “wonder where it is? Down on the horizon maybe?” She gave up looking after ten minutes or so and let her fingers trail through the water in the fountain.

If the Pharaoh were coming, his security forces would continue to monitor her and the garden. So she waited, patiently; watching the stars, dabbling her hands in the water, listening to the night. She sang softly to help pass the time.

Two hours later she was listening to the increasing whine of a transport with the throttles absolutely fire-walled. She looked up as the green and gold ship came screaming over the wall at low altitude, the four ducted fans rotating down and forward as it came slamming in to a combat landing. The transport settled onto its landing gear, hissing jets of steam and looking like a giant, sleek insect.

Rileeta sat patiently. She whispered “Everyone just relax. I know you guys are stressed.” Back in the hide, K’Reen wondered if she were talking to them, or more to herself. He had considerable field experience with Team 12 before his promotion to Strike Leader; Rileeta was on her first real mission.

The ramp smoothly dropped to the ground and four Anorians in full combat gear came down. They quickly spread out and established a security perimeter. Rileeta watched them without giving any sign that she was concerned at all. These were definitely elite Soldiers; They were bigger, stronger, and smoother-moving than the Anorians she and her team had observed in Badar. She thought they looked like some of the stars from their action entertainments.

Finally, one of the palace guards came striding down the ramp, his glittering ceremonial gear a sharp contrast to the dull utilitarian equipment of the first four, then stood at attention. Rileeta smiled; Out of the corners of her eyes she could seeing the combat troops endlessly scanning for danger. Pharaoh Wallon came down the ramp and stopped, looking at her in the darkness, studying her.

She looked back. She was familiar with his image, of course. It was ubiquitous in Anorian culture. A hominid-type body with an almost canine head. Upright, large and mobile ears on top of the head with an elongated snout-like nose. Teeth not unlike her own and expressive violet-colored eyes that seemed more hominid than canine. The body was free of hair or fur, which was present only on the top of the head and was a lustrous honey-blond. Bare down to his waist, he wore a sort of pale green kilt with a weapons harness around his hips and sandals that looked positively Greek. His skin was a deep, dusty red.

He walked towards her, stopping a meter or two away, showing he had no fear of whatever she was. Rileeta stood and said “Good morning, Great One. I had hoped you would come alone.”

Wallon looked her up and down, his face a mixture of puzzlement and fascination. “What are you? How is it that you speak Anorian?”

She smiled, “I am a Dosadi, we are from a star quite some distance from yours. I do not know your language; There is a translating device implanted in my body that can change how my brain interprets language and changes how my mouth works when I speak. It feels rather strange, actually.” she laughed.

“Why are you here? Has our space-curving program become a threat to you? You said something about an alliance? If you have such technology, what can we possibly offer you?”

Rileeta looked up at the much taller Pharaoh, “No, you are, despite all of your advancements, no threat to us. You are where my people were a few centuries ago, when another space-faring race met us. If you look up there, you can see where my…”she raised her left arm and pointed to the low horizon, where Dosad would be rising if the star were bright enough to be visible. But she got no further in her explanation.

One of the combat troops yelled “GUN!”, there was a coughing-bark of a sound and Rileeta felt something slam into her left side just under her armpit. She staggered and sank quickly to the ground, her face frozen in shock as the troopers came sprinting in. A second round came blazing in and shot through her left ear, taking her ear-piece with it.

In moments, two of them were slamming onto her and two others were covering the Pharaoh as they dragged him back towards the ship. She rolled free of one of the two troopers and attempted to get a wrist-lock on the other, blood coming from her mouth and side.

Wallon shouted “STOP! I ORDER YOU TO STOP!” Everyone froze at the commanding voice. The two on Rileeta didn’t release their holds, however. He shook off the two who were trying to drag him into his ship and walked quickly to Rileeta. “Release it! Immediately!”

They quickly obeyed, and got back to their feet, keeping her covered with their weapons.

She sat back on her legs and said, “Fuck. Why does everyone always shoot me in the left side?” and sagged onto her right arm, coughing up blood. She was getting dizzy and her vision was going hazy much faster than it should have from such a wound. She focused blearily on the Pharaoh. “Poison?” She knew that the Anorian’s weapons fired a sort of broad-headed dart and that they were often coated with toxins. She was hoping it wasn’t as effective on Dosadi as it was on Anorians.

He squatted down. “Yes, of course. I am sorry. I did not mean for this to happen.” He pointed at his guards “Get it in my ship immediately. We will take it to Badar Hospital. Waste no time!”

She coughed blood again and fumbled for her IFAK. It was getting very hard to talk “S..s…seeealler” she tried to get him to understand that the wound sealer in her kit would fix the bleeders in her lungs but she could no longer make her mind work well enough for the Universal Translator implant to function and all the Anorians heard was gibberish. The world started spinning. There was an endless loud whining sound and a lot of pain and she struggled to breathe. She was drowning.

 

* * *

Back in the Team’s hide, K’Reen already had the team running towards the Royal Garden. “Chak! Chak! Chak! I knew we shouldn’t have left her there!” They had heard the cry of ‘GUN!’, the first shot and the thudding impact in their team leader, but lost contact at the second shot.

By the time they reached the Garden and had crossed the wall, the Pharaoh’s ship was long gone. There was a patch of blood on the grass and some fragments of Rileeta’s ear-piece. P’Asch walked over to the fountain and picked up her hat. “She’s going to want this back.” he said.

K’Reen was grim. “Let’s go. She’s still indicating on the tracker. Overlay puts her at the medical center. Time for some pay-back. I knew these bastards were treacherous.”

Storch cocked his head. “Strike, she’s not going to want us causing casualties. If it was an accident we’re going to need to be able to recover from this.”

“An accident? She was alone and unarmed and they shot her. He was supposed to come alone!”

“He never agreed to that. She suggested it. He didn’t say he would. And think about it – the guards are supposed to keep him safe and they’re looking at some weird alien. Who knows what they’d consider a threat? You’ve seen some of their entertainments. All about aliens sucking out their brains or using mental powers to make them do horrible things.”

K’Reen’s jaw was clenching, as were his fists. “Fine. Phasers then, on stun. Heavy stun. She’d better be OK or I’m going to re-evaluate that order. Clear?”

“Clear.”

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, BADAR HOSPITAL, SURGICAL SECTION

AUGUST 2321

Surgeon Heran was sweating. He had no idea even what it was that he was working on. There were two of the Pharaoh’s Elite Guard in the surgical space with him, keeping the thing covered. He felt that was a bit silly as at the moment it was more likely they’d be burying whatever it was than they were to be attacked.

The dart had lost a lot of energy getting between the thorax-struts but had still penetrated deep into the left respiratory sponge. Thank the ancestors, it hadn’t damaged the primary – the only he corrected his thought – pump or the main-branch duct-work. The internal arrangement was quite different from Anorians, but most of the organs seemed similar, at least. But he couldn’t chance giving it metabolic fluids or drugs; Who knew how it would react to those?

But his very life was on the line too. If he failed to save this…thing, Pharaoh was very likely to have him put to death.

He deftly removed the dart – as a surgeon, they horrified him. They weren’t designed to come out at all, their bladed heads deforming as they entered a body and causing even worse damage. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience from his days as a combat surgeon. Closing leaking duct-work was also easy. But what to do about the toran poison now ravaging it? If it had been Anorian, the toxin so close to the primary pump would have shut it down. He thought that the cyclic-rate was too low though – barely 30 cycles a minute. But what could he do? He knew nothing about how it worked!

So he fell back on the ABC’s – Keep the airway open. Keep it breathing. And keep the metabolic fluids circulating inside it. And pray to the ancestors for aid.

His assistant was doing her usual excellent job. The suction tube was keeping the metabolic fluid out of its airway and it seemed to respond well to the pure oxygen. Although it’s vital signs were nothing that he would consider good for an Anorian, they were not changing much. That, at least, he took as a good sign. If it were Anorian, it would be considered young, and supremely fit; That should help.

Only twenty minutes after he began, he finished stitching up the hole in the thorax and began running his hands further over it’s body, feeling the stiff, odd-smelling dusty grey fabric it was wearing. They had cut an opening in the shoulder, but were afraid to do much to the clothing – it had sparked when they cut it. He felt a thickening in the garment along the upper thorax near the neck and manipulated it to see what it might be. He suddenly let go of it and cried out as the creature nearly vanished except for the bloodstained portions now seeming to hover above the table.

After a moment he realized it was still there, but it appeared to be nearly transparent. He also noticed both of the Guardsmen had dropped into a crouch and had their weapons trained on it – and him! “Fools! Pharaoh has said to save this thing at all costs! How do you think he will react if you shoot it again?! We will be watching your deaths for a month!”

Their weapons wavered slightly, but they didn’t seem inclined to treat it with any less suspicion. There was a coughing sound from the table and a deep breath. He leaned close, ignoring the two Guardsmen for the moment. From under the oxygen cup covering it’s mouth and nose, there was a muffled “Oh shit that hurts.” in a very flat accent.

“You can speak?” It had regained consciousness much more rapidly than he expected.

A hollow laugh. “Yes.” her eyes took in the weapons pointed at her. “I am no threat to you. I have a medical kit on my left side. Please open it and take out the blue tube.”

“What is it? A weapon?”

“No. I am no threat. We seek friends, not conquest. It is an injector. Medicine.”

He reached over the creature, finding the pouch more by feel than anything else. He fumbled it open and saw several colored tubes and other devices. He pulled out the blue tube, the guards hackles going up. Studying it, he thought he could see how it worked – it appeared to be just what the thing said it was. Holding it up before its eyes he asked “This?”

“Yes. There’s a small round capsule that will fit on the end. It’s red and has a green triangle on it. Please put that on the end that doesn’t have the flanges on it and press it against my shoulder. That will administer the medicine.”

He quickly found the item and easily attached it. Hesitating he asked, “What is it?”

“It is called Tri-Ox compound. Another space-faring race gave it to us. It will make my blood carry more oxygen. It will help make up for the blood I lost and speed healing. It will fight the effects of shock.”

His eyes opened. Such a drug would be a miracle for trauma surgeons. He pressed the device against the fur on her left shoulder. There was a quiet hissing sound and her breathing slowed down some.

“Thank you.”

“What are you?”

Another choking laugh. “I am a Dosadi. Our planet is about 250 light-years from yours. Your people are close to being able to travel the stars. Rather than meeting by accident in space, we wanted to meet you here, at your home.”

“Aliens! You are real!”

Her eyes rolled. If she were an Anorian, he would take that to mean she was amused. “Yes. There are hundreds of species in the galaxy we…” She stopped as the doors opened and Pharaoh Wallon came in.

“Surgeon. Is it…Ah.” He exhaled loudly. “Thank the ancestors.” He dipped his head slightly and pushed his open palms away from himself. “Bring it to the room we have prepared. Make it comfortable. You and your staff are forbidden to leave this floor or to communicate with anyone about what you have seen here.”

Rileeta was getting annoyed. The Tri-Ox and the pure oxygen she was breathing was working wonders. “I’m a girl. I’m not an it.”
The Pharaoh’s ears flicked forward and his eyebrows went up. He turned and left, clearly expecting the medical staff to be moving right along behind him. And they didn’t disappoint. Heran and his assistant rapidly unlocked the surgical table and pushed it quickly out of the space.

Rileeta shook her head slowly. This was not going according to plan. She wondered how long she had been out and raised her arm to check her chrono. Her eyepiece was missing. K’Reen and the rest of the team were probably racing here right now; she had to stop them before they made this worse. She felt at her throat and ear – the mic was still there, but the earpiece was gone and her ear hurt like hell.

When they centered the table in the room with the Pharaoh, she tried to tell them time was short – “Great One, I need to be able to…”

He waved his arms at the staff. “Leave us. All of you.” The guards were not happy about that. “Especially you trigger-happy fools.” They bowed their heads deeply and backed out of the room. He turned to Rileeta. “I am sorry they shot you, but I am impressed. That would have killed an Anorian.” He was squinting at her. Her face and left shoulder and chest were visible, but the rest of her seemed translucent.

“I’ve been shot before.” she smiled “I don’t like it much. The Tri-Ox will help. Once my team gets here, they can finish fixing me with our medical kit. But we need to reach them before they get here or they will attack and there is not a thing your guards can do to stop them.” She reached up and deactivated her battle dress.

“How does the cloth do that?”

“It is a meta-material that can bend light around and through it rather than absorbing or reflecting it. Do you have the piece of equipment that was in my left ear? I urgently need to contact my team.”

“Your team? How many of you are on my world? What are they doing?”

She sighed heavily. “We were studying you before we met you. The idea was to get to know you so that stupid shit like this wouldn’t happen. What they are doing right now is responding to your guards shooting me and it is very possible that they will kill an awful lot of Anorians to rescue me. I need to tell them not to do that.”

“How long have you been here? How many? What weapons?”

 

* * *

Outside the medical center, Contact Team One had already made it to just below the roof. Ralex was using her tricorder and whispered “Strike, two guards, one near side, one far.”

“Take them both.” he ordered. Moments later, T’Inau and P’Asch climbed side-by-side up the access ladder and poked their hooded heads over the edge of the roof. There was the familiar whine of phaser fire and a faint sound of two sacks falling onto a floor. The team swarmed onto the roof of the medical center.

K’Reen looked around, his eyes checking for any dangers. One guard was slumped over the far parapet, the other was sprawled out on her back. Without aid, they would remain unconscious for at least an hour. “Storch, Ralex, P’Asch, drop the lines over the side by her window. Four floors down, right Ralex?”

“Right, Strike. Far side, two in from that corner.” The commandos pulled fast-ropes from their rucks and down the side of the building. They quickly dumped their excess equipment by the parapet and got ready to rappel down with P’Asch and T’Inau waiting to go down after them.

K’Reen hooked in and leaned back. “I’ve got the first shot to take out the window. I go through, then Storch, then Ralex. Everyone else, heavy stun. You see anything that looks even remotely hostile, take it out instantly. On three.” He flexed his knees and kicked off the building, dropping like a spider down silk.

 

* * *

Rileeta was getting frantic. “You do not understand – we can go over all that later but I have got…” The window to her room exploded into a rain of crystalline shards followed a moment later by a blurry object on a dark-grey rope and a heavy thud. She tried to shout an order, but had difficulty getting her lungs to produce much volume “No!”

There were two more lines and two more thuds, the Pharaoh turning in surprise. The lines, suddenly free, snaked back out of the window. She heard K’Reen yell “DON’T MOVE!” and the crunching sounds of boots on glass as two other Dosadi moved for better positions, their blurry forms making them indistinct even in the brightly lit room.

“NO! Stop!” she tried again, but the door was opening and two of the Elite Guards were charging through in response to the sounds of the window breaking. They had no chance at all. Storch and Ralex fired without hesitation, dropping both men before they had gone even a pace into the room. Ralex charged forward and slammed the door closed, bracing it with a table while T’Inau and P’Asch came sailing through the broken window frame.

K’Reen switched his phaser back to heavy stun. Aiming it at Wallon he ordered “You. Put your hands on top of your head you treacherous bastard.”

Rileeta, coughing, said, “Strike, put it down. This is just a fuck-up. An accident. Don’t make it worse.”

Pharaoh Wallon looked at the blurry thing in front of him. Proud and defiant he said, “I will do no such thing, worm. I would rather die than submit to cowards like you.”

Rileeta again ordered with as much volume as she could muster, “God damn it, all of you! Shut the fuck up and put the phasers down.” There was a thumping sound as the guards outside attempted to force the door. “Great One, please! Tell your men to stand down as I do mine. Strike, damn it that’s an order. NOW! And turn off your camo.”

For a second, no one moved. Finally, hesitatingly, K’Reen reached up and deactivated his camo followed moments later by the rest of the team. Looking at his officer for another moment, he holstered his phaser.

Wallon turned his head and bellowed at the door “Guards! Stop that this INSTANT or I will have you all flayed! All is well. I am not to be disturbed. I so command it!” There was silence outside, then the sound of men sorting themselves out beyond the door. There were horns in the distance.

Coughing, Rileeta asked “Ralex, I need you – my lung’s a mess and there’s some kind of poison that is making me feel like I’m on fire.” The medic, with suspicious glances at Wallon, moved to her side and opened her medic’s kit and began working, the various devices whining as she checked Rileeta over.

While she worked, Rileeta tried again. “This has totally gone according to plan.” she said sarcastically.

Both K’Reen and Wallon laughed, then cut it off and stared at each other. Wallon cocked his head to one side. “Perhaps we have something in common after all.” he admitted grudgingly.

“I wanted to do this with minimal personnel involved to protect your people. And to prevent misunderstandings like this.” Rileeta explained. “Your entertainments are full of stories of hostile aliens. Almost all of them portray aliens as conquerors or predators or evil. Ow!” she looked down at where Ralex was sliding a wire-thin probe into her upper left chest, following the path of the dart.

The medic said, “You’re going to have a heck of a scar here. And the ear too.”

“Fine. I can try to match Dad’s collection.” She looked back at Wallon. “Great One, there are races in the galaxy that match those portrayals. Many. But there are many more who are honorable, courageous and free. Respectful of differences. My people comprise an Imperium of three different intelligent species. Our greatest friends in the galaxy are a Federation of over 100. We are here to begin your introduction to these peoples.”

Wallon looked at the six aliens facing him. Then he looked down at his two fallen guards. “How many have you killed to facilitate this introduction?”

K’Reen spoke first. “They’re not dead. They’re stunned. The weapon used can be set to kill, knock unconscious, or stun for a few seconds. Ralex can wake them immediately, or they’ll wake up in about an hour on their own, more or less.”

The Pharaoh squinted at him and ordered “Wake them.”

K’Reen looked at Rileeta. “Ma’am?”

“As soon as you’re done, Ralex.”

Wallon asked, “You are in command? And you are female?”

Flinching as Ralex began withdrawing the probe, “Yes to both. Most of the species we have contact with have two genders, much like yours. The differences are not always as obvious as they are in yours. We are mammals, much like you. It is one of the oddities of the galaxy that there are so many similarities in how life has developed in so many places.”

“What are you called?”

“My name is Rileeta. My rank is Ensign. It is the lowest rank in the upper levels.”

His eyebrows went up. “Lowest rank?” He considered this for a moment then turned to K’Reen. “You, at least, are not a low rank and you are male. Why do you not command?”

He didn’t answer, letting his Team Leader speak instead. “He’s the second highest of our lower level ranks. His name is K’Reen. In our system, the lower level ranks are the ones responsible for getting things done where the upper level ranks do the planning. His position is one that carries great respect. Even though I outrank him and my position is that of Leader, I will almost always listen to his counsel and advice. His skill, experience and wisdom are the foundation of our team.”

She paused for a moment. “Great One, your people must be getting worried for your safety, despite your command. They do not know. Perhaps we should allow them to see you are safe? If it can be done without everyone starting to shoot again?” Ralex was starting to revive the two guardsmen, sliding their guns away. “Ralex, leave their weapons.”

The woman looked at Rileeta and shrugged. “Yes, ma’am.” She returned them to their holsters.

As they came awake, the first thing they heard was their Pharaoh commanding them: “You are not to touch your weapons under any circumstance, on pain of death. Is that clear?” Groggily, both men indicated their understanding and got back to their feet.

He yelled out the doorway. “Guards! Cancel any alerts now. You may open the door but the first man who touches his weapons will have his hands removed immediately thereafter! I so command it!”

Rileeta’s team shifted their weight nervously. The room was cluttered with people and the situation was very tense. Finally the door opened slowly, two more troopers looking in and sucking their breath in loudly in surprise.

Wallon said, “You see? All is well as I said. Close your mouths and stop staring.” The two men clamped their jaws closed and stiffened to attention. “Which one of you was it that shot this…woman?”

The first man that Ralex had revived snapped his spine even more erect and answered, “It was I, Great One!”

“Your life is…”

Rileeta interrupted. “Please, Pharaoh. As a favor, and as the one wronged, I ask that you take no action against this man. He was doing his duty to protect you.”

Wallon looked at her. People did not interrupt him. But if this alien’s people were as dangerous as he suspected…“Am I correct in thinking that your people possess many warships that can travel the stars?”

“Yes.”

“Am I correct in thinking that these warships could obliterate my planet in nuclear fire?”

“Or many other weapons systems, yes.”

“Am I also correct in thinking that at least one of these warships is now near my world?”

“Yes.”

“And had you died, that your people would wreak such vengeance upon us that stories would be told of our fate for centuries to come?”

“No. We knew there was great risk in this sort of mission. Terrible interstellar wars have started over these sorts of contacts that have gone wrong. My primary mission is to try to work out ways that we can prevent exactly what just happened.” She looked at the alien leader wryly. “Sometimes we learn much more from our failures than from our successes. Had I died, K’Reen would have continued my mission. Isn’t that right?”

The Strike Leader cleared his throat. “There was…some…discussion as to how to proceed.”

Wallon looked at him. “Your preference was?”

K’Reen sighed. “I wanted to come and make you all pay. She is very young by our people’s standards and your shooting her made me furious. Force Leader Storch corrected me.”

“He is of higher rank than you?”

“No, one grade lower. But among our people, such discussions are how we prevent mistakes. Many minds are better than one. The final decision was mine, however. And that decision was to recover my Team Leader with no casualties, if possible.” He decided not to mention what he would likely have done had Rileeta died…Besides, Storch would’ve talked him down.

Wallon turned back to Rileeta. He indicated the Guardsman who had shot her. “This man’s actions could have led to the end of my people.” He held his hand up to forestall her interruption “If there was discussion, it was far from certain what would have happened. Why should I spare him?”

Rileeta looked at the man. He was standing at rigid attention, showing not the slightest sign of fear as his fate was discussed. “Because I don’t want anyone else to pay a price for my mistakes. Because, like me, he can learn from this and become better for it. And because I hate waste.”

Wallon looked around the room. It was very cramped now. Four fully armed and armored Elite Guardsmen with the alien surgeon standing among them. Rileeta in the bed, himself, and four other aliens on the other side of the bed. He turned back to K’Reen. “And you. What would you have me do with this fool? You are a Soldier with experience. I can see it in your eyes, if aliens are at all like my people.”

K’Reen’s ear twitched back. “You are a good judge of people. I have a lot of combat experience fighting on many worlds.” He studied the troop who had shot Rileeta. He looked fairly young. Brave. And with all the confidence of youth. K’Reen thought that the man’s fate depended upon his answer. If he were his troop, how would he react? “Will you take my advice?”

Rileeta said, “K’Reen!”

The Pharoah answered, “Yes. Your leader is young and idealistic. You are not.” He smiled; a not very nice smile at all. “His fate is yours to decide.”

The young trooper’s eyes quickly flicked over to the alien facing him and then back forward again. There was a bead of sweat running down his temple now.

K’Reen walked slowly over to the man, the other Guardsmen subtly shifting to a more alert posture. Wallon ordered “None of you so much as move. This man acts with my arm.”

Looking up at the taller, broader Anorian, K’Reen got almost chest to chest and put his hand on his combat knife. “What the hell is wrong with you, troop?”

Swallowing the man answered, “Nothing!”

“You will address me as Strike Leader.”

His eyes glanced at his Pharaoh. “Strike Leader, nothing is wrong with me.”

“Then why are you so god-damn stupid as to shoot an unarmed girl?!”

“I…” he caught himself as K’Reen started to swell up “Strike Leader, I thought that…”

Think?! You didn’t think at all you idiot. You reacted to your fear. “ K’Reen smiled. Military was military, no matter what species you were. He briefly thought that basic training was probably the same for every intelligent species – the mammals at least – they needed to accomplish the same thing. “And now you are mine.

The young Anorian said nothing. What could he say?

“Do you know what I am going to do to you, boy?”

“Strike Leader, no.”

“I am going to PT you until the snot runs out your nose. I am going to work you until you are so tired that you will wish I had killed you. So that you, and everyone around you, will never, ever react without thinking again. Do pushups. Now.” He hoped that the UT implant could convey the concepts. Fortunately, as he suspected, the training to create a Soldier was broadly similar from one species to the next.

The Dosadi all chuckled as the Anorian dropped to the floor and, in full equipment, began going up and down. K’Reen turned back to Pharaoh. “I have spent some time training my people’s Soldiers.” he paused, “Great One.” and he smiled.

The Pharaoh looked down at the Guardsman grunting out pushups. “He is yours until you release him back to my service. I will trust that you can train him to be useful again.”

With a smug grin, K’Reen responded, “Oh, yes, I can promise that. This will be a significant emotional experience for him. And a good chance for me to see how much your people can do before they drop from exhaustion.”

Wallon sat back down on the edge of Rileeta’s bed. “Your people show mercy as well. But earlier, you spoke of an alliance? And you have spoken of many other groups in the galaxy. What could we offer you, or any of these groups? And why are your people the ones contacting mine?” He paused. “But I have many questions and this hardly seems like the place for discussing matters of state. Will you and your men be my guests at the Royal Palace at Ticon?”

“Yes, thank you. But, after this mess, word will be getting out, Great One. My plan to meet with you quietly is pretty much wrecked.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “That can be dealt with.”

CHAPTER 3

The only difference between man and man all the world over is one of degree, and not of kind, even as there is between trees of the same species. Where in is the cause for anger, envy or discrimination?”

Mahatma Ghandi

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Captain Picard glanced at the chronometer on his wall. Data was certainly taking his time getting Captain Rileeta aboard. Or perhaps she was unavailable for some reason. Or, more likely, she was simply trying to irritate him. He shook his head and resumed his review.

 

* * *

MALCOR III – CAPITAL CITY

JANUARY 2367

Commander William Riker struggled to remain conscious. He had been returning to the Federation safe-house with three of the First Contact team when the riot had broken out. The team had been making good progress out of the mess when he had seen a young woman being set upon by several thugs.

His escort had grabbed his arm, trying to keep him with them, but there was no way he was going to walk – or run – away and leave her to her fate. So, he had waded into the fight. He remembered seeing her break free and run and then someone had clocked him across the back of the head.

He had vague memories of the team trying to reach him, but another group of rioters had run into them and he lost sight of them in the fight. He wrapped his arm around his chest and groaned. It felt like he got slugged with a bat. Was that when the police had showed up? Someone had kicked him a few times while he was on the ground and he was still tasting blood.

He reached up for his comm-badge and felt torn cloth. “Great. I need to find my way back to the safe house. At least out of this alley.” he thought. He struggled back to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall and started making his way towards the main street.

Raising his head he saw three young men blocking his exit and laughing.

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, TICON, PALACE OF THE KINGS

AUGUST 2321

The six Dosadi in their somewhat musty battle dress were following a palace functionary through the echoing hallways of the Royal Palace in the capital city of Ticon. The young guardsman jogged past, his kit rattling and his breath loud. K’Reen commented as he ran past, “Keep going, troop. I’m a long way from tired yet.”

Rileeta looked around as they walked, taking it in, her left arm in a sling of stiff canvas-like material. The images in the broadcasts didn’t do the place justice. It was immense. Primarily low to the ground and constructed of some sort of cool jade-green stone, the building was accented with a number of soaring towers and sky-bridges. Panels and trim of a blonde wood were inlaid throughout the interior walls and there were many hangings of a silky fabric in many colors. As they walked, their soft boots made only a faint whispering sound on the oddly-soft floors. It looked like dark stone, but there was a slight give to the material.

The man they were following stopped in front of four other people. Two men, two women. All four were dressed in the traditional sandals and kilt, except in a dark blue color. The women’s chests were covered with a loop of the white silky fabric draped across their neck and crossing mid-chest and then wrapping around their waists. All four had a black metal bands around their upper arms as well.

Their guide spoke to them. “I am called Jarol. I am the Steward for this building. It is my task to prepare you for breakfast.”

All six pairs of feline ears flicked backwards and their eyes dilated. Rileeta said, “Uh, I’m hoping our translation devices made a mistake.” The team was making subtle shifting movements to gain some space between each other and hands were slowly adjusting on their weapons. The Anorians were definitely carnivorous.

Jarol caught the increase in tension, even with the differences in species. “I do not understand? You are to be honored!”

Rileeta thought that she knew of species where being served up as a banquet was considered an honor. She smiled, “There are many definitions of honor. Our devices took your wording to mean that you were going to cook us.”

Jarol was horrified. “No! No! I mean to make you more presentable! To relax you and bathe you in sweet waters and provide you with soothing dress! The Pharaoh has been most emphatic in his demand that you be afforded every comfort.”

Rileeta thought wryly that ‘presentable’ was probably the man’s first goal. They had been living in a hole in the desert for a month. Dosadi are normally fastidious about their hygiene but there is only so much one can do on a mission. She smiled. “That sounds truly wonderful, Jarol. Lead on.” She needed to set the example for her team. This was not a combat mission. This was a mission to avoid combat.

Every one of them was dedicated to that ideal; they had studied together, they had designed protocols together, they had worked together for a year. But all of them except Rileeta were experienced combat soldiers and their reactions and instincts were those of battle-hardened warriors, not diplomats. She needed to lead by example, to set the tone with her every action, her every mood.

Jarol paused, looking uncomfortable, his scent, body posture, and the expression on his dog-like face indicating that he was struggling with some thought. He finally looked at Rileeta and said, “Forgive me for the rudeness of my question, but I understand that you are a woman?”

Rileeta forced herself not to sigh. “I am. Our people’s bodies are not as…emphatic about the difference in gender as yours.” She eyed the two young women standing in front of them. Both of them were, to her eyes, equipped like cows on her uncle’s farm on Earth, with very pronounced hips. The English word for it was ‘curvaceous’ she remembered.

Jarol looked over her five teammates. His red skin darkened even more. This was totally outside his experience. He had served the House of Wallon, the greatest of the Great Houses, for his entire life. He knew every nuance of protocol for dealing with any difference in social standing from minute to minute. But these…creatures totally confounded him. He thought that two of the five others might be female, but how could one be sure without being insulting? “If the ladies in your party would follow Seren and Halane, they will see to your needs, and if the gentlemen will go with Xander and Roka?”

No one moved. Rileeta asked, “Why are we being separated?”

She realized she had shocked the poor man. “You are to be bathed!”

Another stifled sigh. “Your people have a nudity taboo?” That wasn’t very apparent from their entertainment broadcasts!

“Of course. Don’t yours?”

Smiling she answered, “Nope. A lot of the cultures across the galaxy have none. A lot have strong ones. Every culture has different taboos – meeting new peoples is always an exercise in tolerance and patience and having a belief that the other people are not trying to offend you.”

Jarol bowed his head slightly and pushed his hands away from himself. Rileeta thought that was some sort of obeisance; She’d have to ask sometime soon. Instead she said, “Lead on then, please.”

K’Reen was looking unhappy about them splitting up. “Ensign…”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Whenever he used her rank he was irritated with her. “I know, it’s tactically unsound. Strike, we’re here to take risks. To earn trust, you have to show trust. Right?”

He scowled, but nodded curtly and the two groups followed their respective guides. After seeing them off, Jarol turned and hurried off on some other errand.

When she walked into the bathing room, Rileeta tried not to look around like a tourist. The place was…opulent. Richly colored tiles, bronze fixtures and everything gleamed. A huge pool set in the center of the floor dominated the room. There was steam curling off the smooth surface of the water and several young girls with towels, bottles, and other objects in their hands, looking at the three Raiders with obvious curiosity. The air was heavy with sweet scents and all three Dosadi were trying not to wrinkle their noses at the intensity of the smells.

The young attendants hesitatingly approached them, two to a person. Seren, the taller of their two escorts, with a very long braided pony-tail of white-blonde hair stated, “These girls will see to your every need.“ She paused for a half-second, looking at the weapons festooning the aliens. “You are safe here. We are responsible for your safety. Any harm that comes to you will be visited upon us all three-fold.”

Following Rileeta’s lead, T’Inau, and Ralex started to remove their plasma rifles and the girls quickly reached to help them. T’Inau said, “Wait, these are very dangerous. We need to keep these by us.”

Seren tried again, “You have no need of weapons here. They will be kept safe and returned to you upon request, though I caution you; asking for weapons while a guest is a great insult to your host. It implies you do not trust him.”

Rileeta nodded and let the youngster take her plasma rifle. She started getting uncomfortable as the girls began removing her harness and gear, and then started on her battle dress. “Ah, um, I don’t think anyone’s undressed me like this since I was about two…” the other Dosadi women were similarly uncomfortable. Especially as they were very aware now that they, and their gear, were rather ripe.

They were also aware that as their clothing was removed, their hosts were studying them with more and more curiosity. Dosadi are not terribly body-conscious, but being stared at will make anyone twitchy. Halane noticed and spoke sharply to her comrades, “Girls! You insult our guests with your stares!”

Ralex, usually one of the most taciturn of Rileeta’s team answered her, surprising both her friends. “No, it’s no insult. We are strange to you – We understand. I remember the first time I saw an alien, I ran and hid behind my mother. And I’ll admit, the first time I bathed with a human, I stared too.”

The girl who was undressing her asked, “What is a human?”

“They are a very powerful people who make up the core races of our greatest allies. Their bodies look much like yours, but their heads and faces are very different than yours or ours. Your body style is called, in their language, ‘hominid’ and is very common throughout the galaxy.” The other women in the chamber quickly removed their own garments and led their guests into the water.

T’Inau sighed happily “Oh that feels so nice.” She closed her eyes and leaned back only to sit straight up again a moment later as one of the girls began to wash her. “Hey! What are you…” she cut herself off at the girl’s shocked expression, a sort of soft sponge in one hand.

Seren laughed, “I am thinking that your people are very different than ours. Do honored guests on your world not enjoy being cared for?”

T’Inau said, “Not like this. Grooming someone else is a sign of a close friendship. Bathing someone else would be done between very close-friends or mates.” She glanced at her team leader. “I didn’t mean to reject your hospitality or the honor you offer. I was surprised is all.” She leaned back again and tried to relax while letting the two girls do their job.

Rileeta laughed and then said, “Oh gods. K’Reen.”

Ralex covered her mouth and T’Inau said, “If they…I hope he doesn’t start a war!”

 

* * *

Indeed at that moment, the naked, dripping wet Team NCO was standing against the back wall, his ears flat back on his head, the attendants in the men’s bathing chamber staring at him as though he had gone insane. P’Asch had backed to the far side of the pool with a very similar expression. Storch laughed after a few moments and said, “Relax guys. Different cultures is all. They are offering us honor. Come on, we knew parts of this wouldn’t be easy.”

K’Reen growled back at him, “I can bloody well wash my own damn self! I don’t…” seeing Storch just looking at him with an amused expression he cut himself off.

Storch chuckled, “Strike, you want to tell Ri that we blew the mission because you got all sensitive about getting a bath?” He kicked back and stretched his arms over his head. “It’s kinda nice! I was tired of smelling like you guys. Especially you, P’Asch.” He winked at the younger Soldier.

K’Reen glared. Xander said, “We meant no offense high born. It is our duty to see to your every comfort…”

K’Reen finally lowered his head. “Duty. Yes. We all have our duties. And I’m not ‘high born’ – I’m the same as everyone else. If you want to give me a title, call me Strike Leader.” Stiffly, he walked back down into the pool and glowered at P’Asch. “If I’m getting a bath, you are too. Have a seat.”

 

* * *

Rileeta shook her head. “He’ll be OK. He’s got more experience than any of us. I trust him…” she trailed off as another Anorian woman walked in. This one was wearing the same pale-green type of kilt that Wallon had worn, although she was stripping it off as she came in. Tall, with several earrings, jeweled, golden arm bands and a long braid of red hair down her back, she moved with the confidence of one used to being in charge.

The newcomer commanded Seren, “I will bathe now.”

All of the Anorians bowed their heads deeply and pushed their open palms away. Seren spoke “Forgive me Princess, but your father has set aside this chamber for these…guests’ comfort. He does not wish them to be disturbed.”

The woman stared at the Dosadi. A quick glance around the room took in three piles of weapons and obvious combat equipment, but not like any she had seen before. Looking back at the aliens she demanded “What are you? Where did you come from? Why are you in the womens’ bathing chambers?” Rileeta thought she was putting on a poor act of being surprised by their presence.

Seren tried to explain, “They are your father’s guests, Princess, they are women from another world.”

She looked Rileeta up and down, her black fur a sharp contrast to her teammates. “They are no more than girls. Why do you have weapons here? Why are you in my bathing chamber?”

Halane spoke, “Princess, we have not yet put their weapons in the armory. We wanted them to feel at their ease first. The fault is ours.”

Rileeta tried not to grit her teeth. This one was obviously spoiled rotten. If the Anorians judged female attractiveness like other hominids she would be considered ‘stacked’ and just as clearly knew it. “We are adult women and highly trained combat Soldiers. Our species is not so…obvious about our gender differences.”

Her ears flicked back. “You are insolent. Address me as Princess or Princess Nefer. How can you be Soldiers if you are women? Are you so uncultured then?” She settled into the bath next to Ralex where she could watch Rileeta. Halene gave up and began bathing the Princess.

Rileeta counted to 8. Then again in Standard. She took a deep breath. “I am not one of your subjects. I could as well demand that you address me as Ensign.” The Anorian attendants were stunned. “I am a guest of the Pharaoh and you appear to be going against his wishes by being here.” She decided some diplomacy was in order and added “Princess.”

“Are all aliens as insolent as you are?” She leaned her head back for one of the girls to begin washing her hair. T’Inau noticed that she was watching them out of the corner of her eye while pretending to take no notice of them.

“Often much more so. A Klingon woman would have attacked you by now. A Romulan woman would be planning your assassination and an Orion woman would insult you with such skill that you would wish for the Klingon.”

Nefer sat up. “Are there truly so many aliens? I have always dreamed that there were other peoples, I see all the fictions about them.”

Rileeta smiled, “There are hundreds, even thousands of intelligent races in the galaxy, Princess. Hundreds of them have the ability to sail the stars. My people are called Dosadi and we are renowned warriors.”

She looked at them. “You have come to conquer us then! Just like the fictions say!” she looked fierce, “We will beat you.”

T’Inau tried not to giggle. She failed. Nefer turned her head. “You think that is funny? You think we have no chance? You think…”

T’Inau interrupted, causing Nefer’s mouth to fall open. “No, no – what I found funny was that you think we are here to conquer. It seems like everyone we’ve met here so far thinks we’re here to invade. We’re here to make friends, not war.”

“You…interrupted me!”

T’Inau cocked her head to one side. The attendants were very carefully focusing on their jobs. “So?”

“I am a Princess of the Great House of Wallon! No one interrupts me! Ever!”

“I guess you can’t say that any more, Princess.”

Rileeta thought that perhaps a change of subject was in order. “You seemed surprised that we are Soldiers. Aren’t women Soldiers on your world?”

After a moment, Nefer looked back at her. “Very rarely. Usually only those who are…unsuited to being women…” she glared at T’Inau, “are allowed to do such things.”

T’Inau said, “One of the guards we shot on the medical center roof was a woman.”

“You…shot? You said you were here to make friends! Have you lied?!”

Rileeta jumped in again, “No. Princess, the weapon used knocks the target unconscious, it did not kill. Your father’s Guardsmen shot me and my team came to rescue me. It was a misunderstanding, long since resolved. No one died and I was the worst injured of all.”

There was a quiet giggle and a little girl of perhaps six came running into the bathing chamber. She yelled “Nefer!” as she came through the door and then she skidded to a halt, her eyes wide, looking at the three alien women in the pool. Her mouth opened and she said, softly, “monsters!”

Before she could scream, Nefer quickly got to her feet, speaking soothingly, “No, no, Dorea, they’re just funny looking people.” She walked to the little girl and picked her up. “See? We’re all having a bath is all!” She walked back towards the giant tub, slowly settling herself and the child down next to Ralex again.

Dorea was trying to look at all three Dosadi at once. “What are you? Did something happen to you?”

Nefer spoke first, “No, no – they’re people. They’re real space aliens! But friendly ones! Not like in the fictions.” her look at Rileeta said they damned well better be friendly.

The girl gasped in shock, turning her head and burying her face in her big sister’s shoulder.

Rileeta, remembering a time not so very distant, when she had been a terrified child facing un-friendly aliens couldn’t stand seeing the girl so frightened. “Hey there, little one.” she spoke softly.

When Dorea peeked one violet eye out from her hiding place, Rileeta leaned very slowly forward and began to sing a soft lullaby.

Naow ja’mewr

Ul th la r’inaw

Ka r’fan gaal wesh het junt

Barl pitt la blasen”

When Dorea cocked her head at her with a very puzzled expression, Rileeta realized that her UT implant hadn’t quite picked up on her singing as language and that her words were coming out in Dosadi. She mentally kicked it a couple of times and started again. At least the sense of music didn’t need translation:

 

Curl up little kitten

Cuddle close and be warm

You’re safe here from all harm

The breeze fresh and blowin’

 

Sleep deep now and grow strong

Your friends are all napping

In your dreams they do sing

For you to come along

 

The longships are sailing

Racing the wind and the kaal

The moon’s face is passing

She watches over all.

 

Sleep deep now and grow strong

Your friends are all napping

In your dreams they do sing

For you to come along.”

 

While she sang, she slowly brought her tail around so that the child could reach it. The little girl cautiously put her hand out and stroked the black fur, and as her confidence grew, finally smiled. When Ri finished her song, Dorea asked “Why is there blood all over you?”

“There was a misunderstanding when your…” she shot a questioning look at Nefer “father’s?” getting a quick nod she continued, “guards were frightened of me and shot me. Then they found out we were friends and took me to the medical center and made me better.”

Nefer leaned forward, reached out and lifted Rileeta’s left arm, causing her to wince. There was an angry red mark, bare of fur where Ralex had sealed up the wound. Then Nefer moved her hand up to her ear and examined the hole there. There was still blood in the fur on the left side of Rileeta’s head, face, and neck that the girls had yet to scrub away.

“Why aren’t you dead?” Nefer asked as she and her baby sister examined the alien.

Patiently enduring their inspection Rileeta said, “Our medical technology is far advanced from yours and the poison used has much less effect on my biology than yours. And fortunately for me, your medic at the medical center who worked on me was very, very skilled.”

Nefer lifted up a pair of oblong hexagonal discs on a fine, braided necklace. “What are these?”

“Identity discs. All Soldiers across the Imperium wear these. They’re imprinted with my name, rank, ID number, and branch of service. If you scan them, all my medical records are inside it so any medic treating me knows what they need to know.”

“How old are you?” She continued poking, prodding, and touching Rileeta much to the barely-concealed amusement of her friends.

“I’m 17 of our years old. That makes me about 16 of your years. I am an adult in our society.”

Nefer smiled brightly, “We are the same age!” And you two?

“25.” said T’Inau.

“I’m 23.” Ralex offered.

“And your fathers and husbands have allowed you to…to…go out on this adventure?”

Rileeta grinned, “My father wasn’t very happy about it, no, but in our culture, once you’re an adult, no one has any say over what you do unless you join the military, as we have. Then your superior officers have quite a bit of say over what you do and where you go. But we volunteered for this mission.”

“Have you done many…missions?”

Rileeta said, “Well, this is my first real one. The rest of my team has rather more experience. Strike has been on many missions for about 15 years, 5 of them with our Raider teams.”

Dorea asked “There are more of you? Where are they? Are they girls too?”

“No, there are three more on my team. Men. They are being taken care of somewhere else.”

Nefer concluded, “So you fight a lot of wars. My people do as well; there is often conflict between the Great Houses, especially between those of the Northern and Southern Kingdoms.”

Rileeta shook her head, “Not so many wars. But the galaxy is a big place with many thousands of planets and hundreds of races so there is always some sort of conflict going on. Usually minor fights or small battles, squabbles over resources or planets.”

“Planets. Like my planet?” Nefer asked.

Rileeta thought quickly. One reason the Imperium wanted to move fast was that Anoria was in an area of space claimed by the Imperium, the Federation, the Klingon Empire, and even occasionally, the Romulan Star Empire. An Imperial Survey Team had identified a number of highly valuable strategic materials in their system – were they to join the Imperium, it would be quite a coup. “Well, yes.”

Nefer let go of Rileeta’s hand. “You are here for conquest. Have you brought one of the great star killers to force us to do what you wish?”

Rileeta had seen the fiction she was referring to – improbably giant space cruisers that went around blowing up stars and enslaving whole races – “No. Definitely no. My mission is to ask if you wish to join with my people in alliance. If you refuse, we leave and my mission is a failure. But you are free to choose as you wish. I only ask that you listen to what we have to say before you choose.”

“What sort of ship brought you here?”

Oh shit. Rileeta thought. “Her name is the Imperial Star Ship Delos. She is our newest vessel and unique in the galaxy. We are very proud of her.”

“She?”

“In our faith, every ship has a guiding spirit. The spirit of the Delos is female. Other ships have male spirits.”

“Is she a warship? What sort? She is a star killer, isn’t she?”

Rileeta sighed. “Yes, she is a warship. She is called a Heavy Carrier because she carries many smaller fighter craft. No, she is not a star killer. There are two other ships with her, smaller escorts called corvettes.”

“You will show me your ship.” she stated flatly.

“I hope to show your father and his counselors, yes.”

“Then I will go with them.” She picked up Rileeta’s tail and examined it while the bath girls continued their ministrations. “You truly get to go where you wish? You travel the stars having adventures?”

“Well, when we’re not on duty, yes, we can go wherever we please. And I don’t know if I’d call them adventures. If you listen to Strike talk, it’s a lot of miserable hiding in swamps and hiding in holes and then being constantly terrified.”

T’Inau chimed in, “It’s a lot of sitting around, then going where other people tell you to go and sitting around more. Then you first make contact with the enemy and…” her eyes had a faraway look, almost haunted. “There’s a lot of noise and shouting and running. It’s terrifying and exciting. It’s even fun a lot of the time. And then your friend dies and it’s horrible and…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not like what you see in your fictions here.”

Nefer picked up Rileeta’s foot, looking at the very different structure she had from Nefer’s own; Dosadi were digitigrade while Anorians, like humans, were plantigrade. “Who is the leader?”

Rileeta, beginning to feel like a lab animal said, “I lead our team of six. My commander is Captain De’Vax, who leads all the crew on the Delos.”

You lead? But you said you were only 17! Ah! You are of a Great House?”

Grinning, Rileeta answered, “No, we don’t structure our society like yours. Anyone can rise to leadership positions based upon merit. I chose a path that leads to making decisions and leading while my teammates chose a path that leads to more doing things and executing those decisions.”

“You can choose your own path?” She looked at Ralex and T’Inau “Are your husbands the other team members?”

Since one of the girls was gently sponging the dried blood off of Rileeta’s face, T’Inau offered, “Rileeta and I don’t have mates yet. Two of the men do, but their mates are not in the military. “

Ralex spoke again, “My mate is a shipwright on Dosad. He builds sea-going ships. But he doesn’t command me like you think. We decide things as a team.”

“We have very few large bodies of water on our world. But our sandships are perhaps similar.”

“Dosad is over half water. His ships are beautiful; People on other planets value them highly. I think the sandships of your people will prove popular as well. There are many desert worlds and your people’s designs are unique and clever.”

T’Inau watched as three more young girls came in and began gathering up their equipment. “Ri?” she asked.

Glancing over her shoulder she answered, “It’s OK. Um, Princess, can you order that our equipment only be stored? If someone tries to clean it, they may very well injure themselves or many others or damage our gear through accident. We’ll also need those small pins and Ralex will need that large pouch there. It is medical equipment.”

Nefer stood up, water dripping off of her and walked over to the new girls. She began examining the gear; Looking at vests, clothing, weapons, and commo gear. Rileeta looked at her teammates and shrugged.

Drawing T’Inau’s boot knife the Princess said, “This, at least, is not much different than ours. But this other equipment is, I think, better than ours.” She sounded both interested and unhappy about it. “You, girl. Place their equipment in bins. No one is to touch it without my permission.”

Rileeta said, “Thank you, Princess.”

When Nefer turned, she was holding each of their boot knives. “It is normal for women of certain rank in our culture to carry a knife.” She laid them down on a shelf. “Dress us, or we will be late for breakfast.”

 

* * *

Breakfast was considerably more substantial than the Dosadi were used to. Normally browsers throughout the day with a single large-meal in the evening, they were faced with a table positively groaning with food; none of which they truly recognized. Rileeta and the other Dosadi women were wearing the same kilt and draping top they were used to seeing while the men on her team had only the kilt. The men’s clothing was dark red, while the women wore pale pink with their boot knives slung from slim, golden belts. Unable to make the Anorian sandals fit Dosadi feet, they were all bare-foot, which bothered the Dosadi not at all. Rileeta suspected their lack of footwear horrified Joral, however.

Ralex discreetly scanned the foods before pronouncing them safe for Dosadi digestion, much to the interest of several of the guests, although they tried to conceal it.

As Rileeta looked around the other guests, she started seeing the variations in style that she had expected. Materials, cut, color, and decoration varied wildly on the same basic theme. She decided that what they had on was a sort of normal daily attire and that the Pharaoh was trying to make them comfortable. All of her team were much happier to be clean, although the scent the bath had left on them was slightly cloying to their highly sensitive noses. The women smelled like a desert-blooming flower they had found early on, while the men were giving off a strong odor of spice.

All six of the Dosadi were trying to duplicate their hosts’ actions – fortunately, silverware is silverware for pretty much any mammalian species. All of the Anorians but Wallon and Nefer were showing varying degrees of shock, fear, confusion, and wonder. Little Dorea, the only child present, was about to explode with the need to tell someone all about the space aliens, but her sister was keeping her restrained.

A few minutes after everyone had started to tuck into their meals, the Pharaoh spoke to Rileeta. “It is customary for our people to conduct business over meals.” he smiled at the other Anorians I will admit to enjoying my advocates’ shock and confusion over my little surprise, but it is time to begin the work for the day. Not quite what we thought it would be yesterday, is it, my friends?”

There were a number of noises of agreement and many open stares at the visitors.

“As I am sure you have guessed by now, there is other life in the universe. And that life has come to us – in friendship they say. Though they have chosen to send us Soldiers in a warship as emissaries of that friendship…”

Little Dorea finally couldn’t stand it any longer, “And those are girls and they sing and…” Nefer quickly hushed her sister.

There were indulgent chuckles around the table and Wallon continued with a smile, “I think that choice bespeaks of a respect for our strength. And their words were put to a severe test. Their leader, “ he indicated Rileeta, “meeting me alone and unarmed, was shot by one of my guards who mistook a gesture of friendship as an attack. Yet her Soldiers did not kill in revenge.” He cast a wry smile at K’Reen, “Although there was some discussion on that point, of course.”

There were some nervous glances around the table and Wallon kept talking, “But again, I see that as evidence that these people are strong, and understand strength – well enough to know when to apply it and how. I ask you to note that their weapons – far superior to our own – are in the House Armory, out of respect and trust.” There were some murmurs at that.

“Let me first ask my advocates to introduce themselves, and then our guests. To avoid confusion, I will ask you to state your name, your gender, your age, and your position.” He indicated himself, “I am Wallon, male, 52, and I am Pharaoh of the Twin Kingdoms of Anoria.”

Nefer spoke next, “I am Nefer, female, 17, Princess of Anoria.”

“Dorea, I am a girl, I am 6 and I am a Princess!!”

A scarred man, eying them suspiciously said, “Baldon, male, 46, I am the advocate for all matters relating to war.” He was followed by the advocates for Medicine, Finances, Education, Housing, Transportation, Energy, Science, and Industry.

As the Anorians finished, Rileeta stood and said, “Rileeta, female, 17, I am ranked Ensign and I command First Contact Team One for the Dosadi Imperium.” and then her team followed her lead.

Wallon spoke again, “I had not intended my daughters to be present – Rileeta had thought to minimize our people’s exposure to hers, but as you all are no doubt aware, trying to keep a secret from the Princesses is as futile as carrying ice to Tandoon in summer. And lasts about as long.” More chuckles.

As he was about to continue, the young troop that K’Reen had been ‘training’ for the last four hours came double-timing back in, panting heavily. Wallon raised his hand at the surprised looks on the Anorian’s faces, “Our new friends have taken over training this young Soldier. He is the one who shot the ali…Rileeta and I have given him to her chief advocate to train so that he will not make such a mistake again.”

K’Reen grinned at Wallon then turned to the young man. “Ready to quit yet, troop?”

Panting, “No.” hesitating a moment he said, “Strike Leader, No.”

“You’re tougher than I thought. Good! I’m sure having fun. Tell you what. You go get cleaned up, get some chow and catch some sleep, and then come back for more training after lunch. I will find your breaking point. Understood?”

Defiant, he said, “Strike Leader, I understand and will obey.” He walked out of the room, exhausted but unbowed, and K’Reen spoke to Wallon, “He’s tough. I like that. I hope the interruption was not rude? It would be normal among our people.”

Wallon shook his head, “Not rude at all.” He turned to his advisors, “The Strike Leader is not as young or as idealistic as his commander, a contrast I find valuable as I learn whether or not these people can be trusted, and how far.”

Baldon decided this was his chance. “How many ships did you bring? How many Soldiers? Where are they?”

Rileeta sighed. Everything they knew about these people indicated that they respected strength – and that honesty would be the only sensible path here. “We brought our newest vessel – we call her a Heavy Carrier because she carries many small fighter craft. She also carries a full battleforce – about a thousand – of Imperial Marines. She is escorted by two small ships called corvettes who’s job is to help defend her from attacks.”

“A thousand troops to conquer a world? Are your weapons truly that powerful?”

She shook her head, “Not to conquer no. But yes, our weapons are that powerful. We are…”

Pentar, the Science Advocate jumped in, “How do you have enough energy to travel the stars? Is that the source of your weapons’ power? Can you…” the old man was interrupted in turn by Junga, an only slightly younger man advocating for Education.

“Are there many other people’s in the galaxy? Is that why you need such weapons? How…”

The next to interrupt was the middle-aged woman representing Medicine, “What about diseases? How do we know that you will not infect us…”

Wallon banged his knife on the table. “I insist that you conduct yourselves with more restraint. Rileeta, perhaps if you speak for a few moments you can answer many questions at once.”

Grinning she said, “I’ll try. I doubt we’ll hit everything at one meal.” She thought for a moment. All of the times she had imagined this mission, it had been nothing like this. “There are hundreds of space-faring races in the galaxy. In this part of space, there are a few powerful alliances of peoples that are sometimes in conflict. Usually low-intensity, but sometimes the wars are awful beyond imagining with titanic forces destroying whole worlds.

“The most powerful – but only slightly – is the United Federation of Planets, a free association of over a hundred space faring peoples and many thousands of stars. These people are our people’s greatest friends and the ones who contacted us about two centuries ago when we first broke the light-speed barrier. They value organization and structure and celebrate people’s individuality within a greater society. They are a massive bureaucracy that produces thousands of regulations a year.

“In contrast, my people are a small Imperium with three sentient species and a dozen planets. We value courage, valor, and freedom and are a fairly loose association of peoples.

“The next most powerful is the Klingon Empire. They are a fierce people who enjoy combat above all else and live by a warrior ethos. They are nearly as large as the Federation but rule their peoples with an iron fist and seek to expand their space aggressively.” She smiled at Wallon. “My people and theirs get along well, actually. We enjoy testing each other in combat – more as a matter of sport than true warfare. There is great honor and respect between us despite our conflicts. They, however, often fight our friends in the Federation and those two do not get along very well.

“Then there is the Romulan Star Empire. These are a proud folk who are ruled by a Praetor and a Senate of statesmen and live their lives by a strict code of laws and rules. Basically a political oligarchy. They’re fairly isolationist, but do maintain relationships with other species. They guard their territory very fiercely and they often fight with both the Federation and the Klingons – and our people as well. They can be extremely devious and they are highly intelligent and clever and very long-lived. If you become part of their Empire, you will essentially be subjects, rather than citizens.”

She looked down at her team and then back up the table. “Your planet is in space claimed by all four of our peoples. My mission is to ask you to join with us in alliance – to join the Dosadi Imperium as a free people.”

Baldon spoke again, “Why wouldn’t we join this Federation if they are the most powerful?”

Rileeta smiled, “Because they have a rule called the Prime Directive. They are not allowed to share their technology – or to interfere in a more primitive society’s normal development – in any way. Once you achieve warp flight, they will begin to slowly share that technology with you, but it is glacially slow and always bound by endless meetings, treaties, negotiations, and rules. My people were fortunate – we met them before they had quite so many rules and benefited greatly from such sharing.”

Pentar chimed in, “And you would share all that knowledge with us?”

“Not all at once, no. No society can survive such a rapid transition. Histories of many worlds are replete with what happens to a primitive society when it meets an advanced one. It’s never pretty for the more primitive society unless both are very cautious. What we will do is work with you to determine what to share and how so that we accelerate your advancement at a pace that works for you. Our Imperium is much smaller than the Federation and decisions are faster and less constrained and since we are smaller, the stronger each of our members is, the stronger we all are.

“For example Pentar, the scholar who leads your warp program, uh, the space-bending program; The term used throughout the galaxy is warp. I will have the Chief Engineer of the Delos – the Heavy Carrier ship – meet with him so that he can make sure that your test is successful, that your project races to completion and advance your people’s understanding of the true nature of the universe.”

The old man’s jaw just sagged open.

Lotya, the woman who was the Medical Advocate asked, “And will you do the same for my surgeons?”

“I will have the Chief Healer aboard the Delos share with you a medicine that was among the first things that the Federation gave my people. It is called Tri-Ox compound. It rapidly oxygenates tissues and speeds healing. For trauma cases it is a miracle drug. It is, in fact, partially responsible for saving my life this morning.” At the woman’s questioning glance she raised her left arm as much as she could from it’s sling. “Go ahead.”

The doctor stood up and began examining Rileeta’s chest wound, and then her ear. When Storch nodded his assent, she compared his uninjured chest and ear to hers. “This should have killed you. But it is as closed as though it had been stitched two weeks ago!”

“Your healers are very skilled and Pharaoh was very fast getting me to them. There are other technologies as well that help to seal wounds.” The doctor continued to prod, running her hands along Rileeta, feeling muscles and bones. “I can have some of our Marines of both genders volunteer for you to examine, if you wish?”

She brightened up, “Yes! That would be marvelous!”

Baldon spoke again, “How do we know your weapons are as powerful as you say? And we have yet to see this ship, or its weapons. How easy a thing would it be to visit a planet and simply talk them into doing what you wish?”

Rileeta turned to face him. “As our peoples come to know each other you will see that we value honesty greatly. Honor to us, is more important than our lives. A saying in my family is that honor means always doing what is right, even if it costs you everything you had, or ever dreamed of having. My people live that code. But I believe the Pharaoh himself can tell you of our weapons. And with his permission, after the meal, I will have us all taken on a tour of the Delos.”

Wallon verified her story. “Baldon, they blew through my Elite Guards without a second thought and without injuring a one. They are nearly invisible when they fight and their weapons can destroy, or merely incapacitate at the flick of a switch. I believe the six of them could probably kill an entire legion of our best troops without much difficulty.”

Rileeta was a little surprised – but pleased – at the praise. Baldon was evidently horrified. “I still wish to see these ships she claims to have here. Why haven’t we detected them?”

She said, “They are on the far side of your sun to avoid detection while they test their systems. We did not wish to cause alarm.”

Pentar coughed. “That would explain a number of anomalous observations we have recorded.”

“What?” she asked, surprised, “What did you record?”

“Lights where there should be none. And our radio-telescopes have picked up strange readings that we have been unable to localize. But the direction is always opposite to Anoria in orbit. There has been quite a lively discussion about what has been seen for this last month, but nothing conclusive.” He glanced at Wallon, “I have a draft report I’ve been preparing, Great One, but was not yet ready to bring it to your attention.”

Wallon looked at his science advocate. “It would appear that you waited too long.” The man looked down at the table in shame.

Dorea had worked her way over to Storch and tugged on his kilt. He looked down at the girl, just slightly younger than his own kit. “Yes? What’s up, small one?”

She held up a doll. Storch glanced at the people yakking away at the table. He turned his chair and got down on one knee. “Who’s this?” He studied the doll. Pretty much every intelligent species had a similar sort of toy for their children. This one was slightly the worse for wear, showing stains on it’s dress and the white hair had turned grey.

“Her name is Ganda.”

Storch reached up and gripped the doll’s shoulder. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Ganda. My name is Storch. My little girl has a friend just like you named Olyn.”

Rileeta was listening to Junga explaining some of what she hoped to gain and noticed Storch was sitting on the floor playing with Dorea and a doll. She thought that she should probably get his attention back to the job at hand. Then she decided that this was the job at hand. Building relationships with these people. Turning her attention back to Junga, she saw that Wallon had been watching her; and Storch. He raised one eyebrow and smiled at her.

Breakfast definitely ran long. But Wallon finally indicated that it was time for the dishes and foods to be removed. “Rileeta. You had said that we would be able to see these warships. When can that be done?”

“I can signal my Captain and make the arrangements right now, if you wish? They are about half an hour from orbit where they are conducting their drills on the far side of your solar system.”

“Arrange it for this afternoon then. I would like my Advocates to attend as well.”

“Certainly. One moment, please.” She tapped her Raider insignia and it chirped. “Ensign Rileeta to Delos.”

“Delos, Lieutenant Careen.”

Pentar gasped, “No delay!”

Rileeta smiled at him and nodded. “Good morning Lieutenant. Would you please ask the Captain if he can accept a dozen visitors this afternoon? The leader of Anoria and his advisors would like to see our ship.”

“Wait one.”

Speaking softly to Pentar Rileeta explained “We aren’t using radio. It’s a form of communication that takes place in something called sub-space…”

“Rileeta, Captain says guests would be very welcome. We’ll send a pair of shuttlecraft at 1800 hrs your time. How do we coordinate with their air defenses?”

Baldon frowned. “Can you use radio?”

“Yes.”

“Have them contact our aerospace forces on a frequency of 8.2 Ghz. Use frequency modulation.”

Rileeta relayed that information and closed the communications off. Smiling, she said, “Just that easy, sir.”

“Why wait so long then?” the old Soldier asked.

“My Captain is conducting a large number of tests and drills. This is a new vessel – a new type of vessel for the galaxy, in fact. No doubt that is the first time in their schedule that they can return to orbit.”

He nodded. He understood better than most at this table how difficult it was to juggle schedules involving military units.

As servants began to clear the table, Rileeta, moving close to Wallon asked, “If we can get our uniforms and access to cleaning facilities, we’d be much more presentable for the next meal.”

Wallon looked at her. “You…ah, of course you wouldn’t understand. You honor me by wearing the livery of my house.” He smiled. “Hmmm.” He considered his next statement for a few moments. “I am being selfish. At lunch, the heads of other Great Houses will be here; if you visitors are in my livery, it will be seen as a de facto alliance and it will make my position even stronger.” Seeing her puzzled look he continued, “You have been honest and open with me about your intentions. I am returning the favor, although that is not normally the way of our people. We love all the hidden maneuvering of politics.”

Nefer spoke up, “Daddy, I will take her shopping! We can make it obvious that she’s the leader and I can show her Ticon and people can see them and they can see how the people live!”

Rileeta tried to speak, “That’s probably not a goo…”

Wallon raised his hand, “I am about to address my people on this issue. Rumors will be spreading after what happened at the medical center, no matter what orders I issued. I would like you to appear with me. If you are dressed as you are, in familiar clothing, you will seem less frightening.

“However, afterwards, I think my daughter has the right idea. I will provide you with an escort.”

Rileeta was more than a little shocked, “You want us all to…go…shopping?”

Nefer begged, “Pleassse? It will be fun! And you will be doing something normal!”

Wallon continued, “I think just you. A single alien would be much less frightening than six. There will be media, of course, but your escort will keep them at a respectful distance.”

Her teammates were trying to keep their mirth under control. And failing. K’Reen finally chipped in with “Seems like a good idea to me, Rileeta. Building relationships and showing the people here that we’re just people like them, right? And what’s more normal than shopping?”

She shot him a look that would freeze mercury solid.

CHAPTER 4

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.”
― William Blake

MALCOR III – CAPITAL CITY

JANUARY 2367

Riker rolled onto his back and managed to get his eyes open. There were rainbow halos around everything and he was fairly certain that this planet didn’t have doubles of everything in sight. He tried to run his hands over his body for a self-assessment but didn’t get far. It hurt too much. His phaser made an uncomfortable lump in the small of his back. At least those last three punks hadn’t found that.

Maybe if he crawled back to the street he could find help. It sounded like the riots were breaking up.

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, TICON, PALACE OF THE KINGS

AUGUST 2321

Rileeta was distinctly nervous. She had known that at some point, any species they made contact with would spread the news about that contact: There was life in the galaxy other than their own. They had talked about it often, excited. They spent hours discussing what should be said during their introduction. What would be just the right tone to strike? What facial expression for what sort of species? Knowing that the Anorians would be their first test, they had gamed out everything relating to their mission.

However, so far, nothing had gone to plan; and this broadcast was no different. Despite her training, her high intelligence, and her excitement, Rileeta was still a seventeen year-old girl and there were broadcast cameras pointing at her, sending her image out to literally millions of people who were staring solely at her. Every single thing she had gone over with her team, every one of a hundred practice runs fled from her mind like a rabbit from a hound. The more she realized that she had forgotten everything, the more desperately she tried to recall something and the more panicked she became when her mind returned with nothing.

Wallon was talking. As long as he was talking, she was fine – all she had to do was stand there and look impressive. The highly-advanced alien species making first contact! Except, she wasn’t in her uniform like she had imagined. Instead, she was wearing some ridiculous kilt and top. Did she look silly? She swallowed again in a dry throat. ‘Gods, please don’t let me screw this up!’ she prayed silently.

And then, Wallon was stepping aside from the center spot. All she could see were bright lights, and lenses. Pointing at her. After a long moment, she stepped forward to where Wallon had been standing and forced herself to smile. Taking a deep breath she said the first thing that came to mind: “People of Anoria, greetings! My people, called Dosadi, have come to you in friendship and in hopes of joining your strength with our own.” She swallowed again, trying to get some moisture in her mouth. “There are many peoples in the galaxy, and we have come to begin your introduction to a wider universe, to help you find your rightful place among the sentient beings of the galaxy.” She half-turned and pointed her arm at her team. “We are explorers, and we are Soldiers both. In the coming days, we hope to meet many of you.” She introduced her teammates. Then she brought T’Inau and Ralex a pace forward and she paused a moment.

“As you can see my people are quite different than yours on the outside. T’Inau, Ralex, and myself are women, though to your eyes we may look alike despite our distinct clothing. To our people the difference is obvious.”

K’Reen mumbled “Damn straight.” Unfortunately for him, the directional microphones picked up his comment quite clearly. ‘Viva la difference’ translates easily into almost any culture and there were laughs throughout the gathered media personnel. Despite his embarrassment, it was just the right tone to take for these people. Every Anorian male watching the broadcast could identify with his sentiment.

Rileeta grinned and winked at the discomforted senior NCO. “We will find many things in common, and many differences. I ask that you please remember our ignorance of your culture when we meet. We will not deliberately offend anyone, but we may do so by accident through that ignorance. Be patient with us.

“We are not the evil beings so often portrayed in your entertainments, nor are we here for conquest, nor are we super-beings. Our technology is just more advanced than yours.” She smiled. “At the moment. But like you, we love each other, we love our children, we fight, we have good days and bad, and we make mistakes, just like you.”

Turning back to Wallon, she tried to come up with some intelligent way to wrap up her address. “I hope that our peoples will become friends. The choice is yours. We respect you, we respect your right to be unique, and we will respect whatever choice you make. Thank you.” As she stepped back for Wallon to return to the center spot, she thought ‘Oh gods, that was pathetic! The entire planet has to be laughing at me!

The Pharaoh gestured and the lights finally clicked off. Rileeta hung her head, appalled at her failure. P’Ash chimed in with “That wasn’t any of the speeches we ran through!”

Storch said, “Nice job though, Ri. I think that was better. Nice dramatic pauses there at the intro!”

K’Reen apologized, “I’m sorry, Ensign. I didn’t think they’d pick that up!”

Wallon finally took pity on them. “I’m guessing you do not do a lot of speaking before crowds.”

Rileeta answered, “No. We had practiced many times, but I froze! My mind went blank!”

He smiled. “That was not a bad speech. It was not polished, but I think that is a good thing.”

“Huh? Why would that be a good thing?”

“Because now you are seen as a person. Among my people, speaking before a crowd is considered more frightening than combat. It takes much practice to become good at it. My people saw someone they can identify with. Not terrifying creatures from outer space, but people; Nervous at being on-camera and with a sense of humor that seems to match our own.

He smiled again, “And from a strictly personal point of view, that I was not out-shone by powerful aliens adds to my prestige and my people’s confidence in my leadership.”

The group of them began walking towards the Pharaoh’s personal quarters. He continued, “Will you indulge my daughter’s request?”

Rileeta resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “To go shopping? I just don’t see it as a good idea.”

“Why not? As your advocate put it, what is more normal than shopping?” He sighed. “I spoil my daughters, I realize this. Their exposure to people outside the Great Houses is, by necessity, limited. I am unlike my predecessors in that I favor a more open social structure. I am called a reformer and other things not quite so nice.

“My wife died giving birth to Dorea. My daughters are the most important thing in my world and one day, Nefer will be Pharaoh in my place. I would like her to see those around her as something more than tools or objects. Sadly, I have failed to accomplish this.”

They walked a few more paces, the Dosadis’ bare feet making absolutely no sound at all. “I am hoping that you will open her eyes and also to show her that following one’s duty is not a bad thing. She dreams of adventures and feels suffocated.” He chuckled. “The ignorance of youth.”

Rileeta cocked an ear at him and he smiled, “No offense intended. But you are close in age, and you are quite a bit more…focused than she is.”

She sighed. “Okay. After all, how bad can a little shopping be?”

 

* * *

Two hours later, Rileeta was starting to regret that statement. They had gone through three clothing stores already, with Nefer trying on a variety of garments and trying to get Rileeta to do so. Throughout the entire ordeal, cameras had followed them endlessly. True to his word, Wallon had provided them with half a dozen Palace Guards in their bright uniforms who had done a good job of keeping curious on-lookers at a distance. That was something, at least, Rileeta decided.

But wherever they went, people clustered rapidly, hoping to get a glimpse of the space alien.

In this latest shop, there were people staring in the windows, but the Guard had prevented anyone else from entering once Rileeta and Nefer had gone in. The staff were doing their very best to pretend to be uninterested – and failing spectacularly.

Nefer was wheedling. “Come on, just try on one outfit. Father is going to expect you to look great at lunch! To really make an impact! To stand out as the leader of your…your…Soldiers.”

“My team.”

“Yes, whatever. Please? Just this one? Everyone’s watching us – they want to see you being normal!”

“Fine. I’ll try one on.” And so it began. The first outfit was some sort of sporting clothing and quite snug – had she been built more like an Anorian it would have been quite revealing for all that it covered. That led to -after more whining- some sort of gown with an enhanced bosom. After Rileeta’s emphatic refusal to wear that anywhere, Nefer brought out a short skirt and banded top that she assured her was perfect for dancing.

Finally settling on a deep forest-green wrap-around kilt with a loose, white, filmy blouse, Nefer began accessorizing. The House symbol was quickly affixed to the kilt, arm bands went on and off, earrings, necklaces, waist-chains, anklets and more…

Rileeta, loaded with bits and pieces and her ears drooping, looked at Nefer who had spritzed her with perfume and was putting yet more jewelry on her and said, sadly, “I think I hate you.”

Holding Rileeta’s shoulders and leaning back to examine her handiwork, Nefer said, “No you don’t. Everybody loves me.”

“I am not wearing all this crap.”

Nefer looked sad. “But, Daddy wants you to stand out!”

“I’ll stand out, Nefer. I’m a space alien, remember?”

She laughed, “I meant from your friends.” She interrupted before Rileeta could correct her, “Your team. I know.”

Rileeta looked past Nefer and saw the many cameras pointed through the windows of the shop. There was no way she was ever going to live this down. This had never, ever, entered any of their minds when they imagined their first, first-contact. “Look, Nefer…”

Princess Nefer.”

She continued firmly, “Nefer. I’ll wear the clothes. But my people don’t wear all this jewelry and perfume and…we just don’t.”

“But you have that necklace and the tattoo, and the earring, and the little pin and…”

“The necklace is a Warrior’s Pendant – it’s very hard to earn. The pin is a badge that indicates I am a trained Raider and is also a communications device. The earring is a symbol that shows I am an expert Soldier. The tattoo is something awarded for doing things that earn you high honor. They’re not just for decoration.”

She pouted. “Can I pick one piece? Please?”

Ri’s head sagged down onto her chest. “Fine. One.”

Nefer clapped. “The waist chain! It’s just so perfect and the silver goes with the earring and your eyes!”

 

* * *

They returned to the Palace shortly before lunch. Rileeta was trying not to stalk, her hand resting on her boot knife that was hung from her waist chain, her tail lashing. Nefer looked positively smug. When she pushed open the door to the Royal Family’s quarters, Rileeta’s team burst out in applause and cheers.

Nefer took a bow and with a sweep of her arm indicated her masterwork.

Rileeta glared at the Dosadi, “What?”

K’Reen was nearly in tears. “I wanted the one with the … um…chest!”

“Oh, very funny.”

Laughing, P’Asch chimed in with “No, no – the skin tight job was the best! I hope the Delos was monitoring!”

Rileeta’s teeth were grinding. “Get it out of your systems.” There was more laughter.

Nefer, annoyed, asked, “What is the matter with you all? This is a gorgeous outfit!”

Ralex surprised her friends again, “Nefer, we’re not laughing at the outfit – it’s how out of place Rileeta looked. Our people wear clothing for it’s utility. We often don’t bother with it when we’re at home or we have no need. We know many species who look at fashion the way that you do – humans especially spend an amazing amount of time on clothing – but for us, it’s just so different and it’s so very out of character for Ensign Rileeta. She looked so uncomfortable we found it funny.

“But that is a very pretty outfit. She really does look good. And despite everyone’s teasing, I think that it worked out very much like your father hoped. Anoria saw two young people out doing what young folks here do.”

Mollified, Nefer said, “Well, she really wasn’t very cooperative at all.”

Storch, with a twinkle in his eye supplied, “Pig-headed?” hoping the concept translated.

Nefer agreed wholeheartedly, “Yes! Exactly!”

Rileeta just said, “I’ll get you for that, Storch.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the Advocates for Industry, Atker, and Finances, Banto. Banto smiled at the six Dosadi and said, “Ah, good I was hoping to find you all here. I have a question for you – perhaps you can clarify something I still don’t really understand.”

Rileeta answered him, “Sure. We can try.”

“You have yet to mention how finances work among all these different peoples.”

“Oh, money. Most cultures don’t bother with that any more.” Seeing their shocked expressions she tried to explain, “There is a technology called ‘replicators’ that allows us to convert matter from one form to another, even building fairly complicated structures. Many cultures in the galaxy use systems of barter. My people use energy credits when needed to trade between cultures, since with replicators, the energy can be turned into most anything you need. We tend to share anything larger than personal items anyway.”

Banto was stunned. “No…money?”

“Not in the Federation. The Klingons use it. So do the Ferengi – they use a material called gold-pressed latinum. It’s something that can’t be replicated. See, energy is really the only thing in the universe that can’t be created or destroyed, so it makes sense to use that as the primary medium of exchange.”

Atker asked, “What about power? Usually wealth translates to personal power. Surely there are still great houses and great men?”

Rileeta thought for a moment but it was K’Reen who answered, “I guess it depends upon what you mean by power. Leaders of the great cultures command a tremendous amount of power. Individuals who have strong reputations do so as well. For the Klingons, great Warriors are able to command many followers. Is that what you mean?”

The two advocates looked at each other. Atker said, “Well yes. Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “You will all be joining us for our lunch today?”

“I believe so.” Rileeta answered.

“Good! I’m hoping we can conduct some real business then.” Atker looked eager to do just that. Glancing at his watch he said “Excuse us, please.” He continued on to the inner apartments where Wallon was working. The six Dosadi watched them go and returned to teasing Rileeta and Nefer.

 

* * *

At lunch, less than half an hour later, Rileeta was trying to work up some sort of an appetite, which was challenging as they’d just had a huge meal only a few hours earlier. And here was another table filled to overflowing with rich foods. She hoped that she could get by with just a few nibbles here and there without offending anyone. Sneaking looks at her teammates she thought they all felt exactly the same way.

The Anorians, on the other hand, seemed to relish the chance to tuck into another large meal. “How in the hell did a desert people evolve to need so damn much food?!” she thought to herself. There were the various advocates and another ten leaders of assorted Great Houses crowding the table.

Dorea again got bored with her meal and with all the talking and took her doll and started around the table for Storch. Rileeta watched her quick little steps with a smile. Despite the difference in species, there was something about the Anorian child that reminded her of herself at that age.

P’Asch was bored. That was not an emotion he had ever expected to feel on a first-contact mission, but there you had it. At the moment, the conversation was all about Anorian politics, manufacturing, and public opinion. Evidently it wasn’t anything that Banto and Atker cared for either as they both smelled…Different. He subtly sniffed the air a few more times. An odd mix of excitement and fear he thought.

The back entrance to the room opened up and K’Reen’s young trainee came jogging in, his equipment jingling. K’Reen smiled and said, “All right. Ready for some more corrective training, are we troop?”

P’Asch’s whiskers twitched forward and he shifted his eyes across the table towards Banto and Atker. When the young Guardsman had come in, their scent shifted heavily to one of near terror. “What the hell?” He thought to himself.

Atker was fumbling at the front of his tunic for something. Wallon had turned his head to the far side of the table, scolding Nefer about something and Atker’s hand finally came free.

P’Asch saw the little pistol come clear as the pudgy little man was leaning back in his chair. P’Asch, adrenaline surging, threw himself across the table, stretched fully upon it and scattering the many dishes and glasses. Atker’s eyes flew wide, and he jerked the trigger as 180 pounds of screaming Dosadi skidded across the table into him.

Wallon ducked as the dart whined past and ricocheted off the wall behind him. Momentarily confused, he tried to sort out what was happening as P’Asch had slid into both Atker and Banto, driving them to the floor. Another shot went off, and then there was an explosion in the hallway.

The moment Atker fired, all five Dosadi were out of their chairs and moving. The Guardsman, shocked, hesitated and tried to evaluate what was happening. One of the aliens was tangled up with two of the Advocates – it looked like they both had guns! The other aliens were moving fast while the other Advocates were sitting still, frozen in surprise. Something blew up in the hallway and he finally understood there was a coordinated assassination attempt going on – and that Atker and Banto were part of it. They should not have weapons in here.

He brought his rifle up and kept the door covered as he sprinted towards Wallon and Nefer. He was trying to keep an eye on the space aliens as well.

K’Reen yelled at him “Cover Wallon!! Ri! Table!” And he and Rileeta grabbed the big banquet table and flipped it on it’s side, then leaning into it like rugby forwards and sliding it towards Wallon as fast as they could push it. Dishes, glasses and food scattered everywhere, the heavy table slamming into Nefer and knocking her over while the other Advocates began screaming and running for cover.

P’Ash finished pounding the two Advocates into unconsciousness and picked up their small pistols. Of all the team, he was by far the best pistol shot. “Strike! Catch!” He threw him the one that Atker had fired and noticed that he had apparently taken a dart through his own right arm.

There was more gunfire outside the room, Anorians screaming and running in circles, and K’Reen yelled at the Guardsman again, “Troop, what the hell is your name?!” K’Reen and Ralex were covering Wallon along with the man, and the other three Dosadi were moving quickly to positions by the doorway.

“Guardsman Gareen!”

“Toss your pistol to T’Inau. Keep covering…” The man threw his pistol to T’Inau just as the door blew inwards. Rileeta ducked from the shower of splinters blowing past her. T’Inau was just far enough past the frame to avoid them all while she frantically grabbed for the weapon Gareen had thrown. Storch was knocked backwards, skidding across the floor and shaking his head.

Four Soldiers in combat gear came charging through the opening. One of them saw little Dorea running for Storch – the only shelter she could see. The lead man shouted “Royal!” and brought his weapon around.

Storch screamed “NO!!” and tried to get back to his feet – too late. As he sprang at the man the alien’s rifle barked twice and Storch saw the rounds tear through the little girl; that was the last thing he knew for some time.

Four more invaders came charging through the doorway. Rileeta jumped on one’s back, her claws sinking deeply into the arteries on the sides of his neck while T’Inau calmly began shooting them in the backs of their heads at point-blank range. P’Asch was kneeling in the middle of the floor, looking like an illustration from a training manual. Banto’s pistol was resting on his off-hand, his elbows making a perfect triangle of stability on his raised knee, the weapon spitting fire again and again. Darts were sparking off the floor near him and ricocheting around the room in a screaming whine.

Ralex had vaulted the table and slid across the slick floor towards Dorea, tearing open the medical pack she had been left. Ignoring the combat raging around her, she began desperately working on the broken child, the blood spreading around them.

Rileeta rolled free of the man she had killed, blood soaking her hands and forearms and saw Storch. The Intel specialist was coated in blood – He still had a loop of intestines belonging to the Soldier who had shot Dorea clutched in one hand while he was gleefully tearing a second man to bits, the armor torn open and his body cavity gaping wide. Two of the man’s comrades tried to switch targets from the other Dosadi and the Guardsman who were raining unexpected volumes of fire upon them, and Storch giggled and leapt onto the first one, his fangs sinking deeply into his neck as the man fired a round into Storch’s side. There was a gurgling scream as Storch ripped his throat out, and then all was quiet, except for Storch’s purring and the sounds of him ripping tissues with his teeth.

Rileeta ordered “Keep the door covered and dammit Strike, keep him DOWN!” Wallon had his head poked up again. She walked over to Storch, “Storch?”

He snarled at her and backed quickly towards his first victim, crouching on him and giggling again. The poor man was somehow still alive and conscious, blood pooling out of him as he weakly struggled to pull his internal organs back. Storch ripped something out of him with a gleeful laugh when the man screamed in agony. Then he began shoving the organ into the dying man’s mouth with a snarl, smearing his blood across his own face and licking it off.

“Ralex?” She asked, quietly.

“Priority, Ri.” She tapped on her Raider insignia, “Ralex to Delos, medical emergency, one litter urgent, direct transport expedite!”

Rileeta tapped her comm badge as well, “Rileeta to Delos, we urgently need Marine support and another medic.”

Both their badges chirped a moment later, “Delos here, we’re at least 30 minutes out.”

Rileeta said, “We don’t have 30 minutes. There’s been an attempted coup de etat, unknown enemy forces, we have wounded and one of the Royal Family is wounded as well.”

“Wait one.”

 

* * *

Aboard the Delos, Captain De’Vax looked at his crew. “Suggestions?” There was no way he was going to try to take his untried Supercarrier into an emergency in-system warp jump. Fortunately, he was saved from that choice.

His communications officer, Lieutenant Careen said, “Sir, incoming from the Sekar.”

“On screen.”

A moment later, the forward view screen filled with the image of Lieutenant Commander Jon’Kell. She was younger than most Captains and her fur was an unusual silvery color brought about by an accident when she was a kit: She was a risk-taker. “Good morning, Captain! We monitored that last communication. With your permission, the Sekar can get there in about two minutes.”

“You’re ready for that?”

“De’fran is already working the calculations.”

De’Vax nodded. “Good luck, Sekar.” Jon’Kell grinned back at him and gave a snappy salute and vanished.

 

* * *

Rileeta kneeled in front of Storch. She knew what was wrong – Dosadi were vulnerable to a mental illness called mr’aww (blood lust). A sort of mental fugue where the enjoyment of killing grew and fed upon itself until the sufferer preferred to literally bathe in blood. It was one reason that Raiders usually rotated out of the field; in order to prevent the disorder from beginning.

The dead man he was perched on still had something stuffed into his mouth, and Storch was playing with something in his chest cavity and purring. “Storch?” she asked again.

He looked at her and snarled again, his ears flat on his skull. He had multiple wounds, but seemed to not notice them at all.

Wallon was completely stunned. Kneeling on one side of K’Reen while Nefer crouched on the other, they Peered over the edge of the table. Nefer was too shocked to speak, but Wallon asked, “What…what is he doing?” His own people used slow torture as a form of execution for the most severe crimes but he had come to think of Storch as an easy-going man with a quick sense of humor. What he was seeing was an animal.

K’Reen tried to explain, “It’s not his fault.” His eyes continued to scan the room for threats or likely avenues for new threats to appear. “He’s seen a lot of combat. More than any of the rest of us even though I’ve had more missions. Some of it was very, very bloody.” He sighed. “I had hoped this mission wouldn’t involve any. I didn’t think he was that close to the edge. It’s treatable. Maybe if it hadn’t been the kit…”

Wallon asked, “Kit?” And then he saw Ralex working on the bloody body of his youngest daughter. “DOREA!” He screamed and tried to jump up. K’Reen drove his shoulder into him and body-slammed him back onto the floor, snagging Nefer with his free hand as well.

“Stay DOWN you fools! We’re not secure!”

“Get OFF me!” The Pharaoh struggled to get free. “NOW! I will have you FLAYED! MY DAUGHTER!!!”

K’Reen elbowed him across the side of the head, momentarily stunning him. “Ralex is working on her you jackass! If she’s got any chance at all, she’ll save her. You need to stay in cover.”

There was the humming sound of a transporter, and K’Reen poked his head back over the table edge. Ralex and Dorea were gone, but there were six new people in various stages of putting on battle armor.

Rileeta reached for Storch but he bared his teeth at her. Getting an inspiration, she kept her eyes on her teammate and reached for Dorea’s little doll, finally grasping the toy and bringing it up like a talisman. “Storch? C’mon, it’ll be OK.”

His eyes focused on the doll. She held it still. After a moment, he stopped purring and his ears started to come up.

“Storch? She’s going to want this back, right?”

His eyes flicked up and looked into hers and his expression grew slightly puzzled. His mouth opened, and a terrified, horrified look of realization came into his eyes and he wailed, “Ri!!”

She reached for him, handing him the doll, “It’ll be OK, Storch.” She gathered him into a sort of hug, watching the room for danger as best she could.

K’Reen glared at Gareen and reminded him, “I haven’t released you back to his service yet. Keep him down, and keep us covered.” He stood up and stepped over the table towards the six new Dosadi who were gearing up. “Please tell me at least one of you is a Marine?” The sounds of combat in the palace hallways was coming closer.

The four men and two women looked at each other. Finally one of the women said, “ We’re from the Sekar, we don’t have any Marines, but I did six weeks duty with Security last year.”

K’Reen almost laughed. “Well, beggars can’t be choosy I guess. Any medics?” More stares. He shook his head. “Get your gear on, fast and take positions covering the doorway. You, and you, once you’re armored up, your sole responsibility is to protect that man until we can get transported out.”

He stepped over to P’Asch, and T’Inau who was using a couple cloth napkins as makeshift bandages for the four new holes in P’Asch’s hide. K’Reen asked, “You gonna make it, P’Asch?”

“This fucking burns like fire, Strike, but I’m still in the fight.”

K’Reen clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Get some cover and watch the back door and the roof. He tapped his own comm-badge. “K’Reen to Sekar.”

Sekar.

“When we getting beamed up? What’s the hold up?”

“We’re on the far side of the sun, K’Reen. Headed for the Delos‘ medbay. We’ve got a medic, not a full medbay.”

“Wonderful.” He thought to himself, “Great. They’re not going to risk another jump like that, so figure at least half an hour to an hour before we can exfil.” He looked over at Storch. The man looked like something out of a horror movie. Rileeta was holding him and he was clutching the little kit’s bloody doll like a life preserver.

One of the new people yelled “INCOMING!” And there was the ripping sound of a plasma rifle. K’Reen saw the bolt slice completely through two more invaders, their body armor barely even slowing it down and dove for cover.

Rileeta grabbed Storch and she half-dragged him out of the line of fire while P’Asch and T’Inau vaulted for the table leaving the six armored Dosadi holding a ragged line facing the door.

K’Reen was keeping Nefer pinned behind the heavy table while Gareen was practically sitting on top of Wallon and he was astonished. There were nearly thirty skilled Soldiers charging down the hallway. The contest wasn’t even close. A pair of grenades went off in the banquet hall, wounding some of the Advocates who had failed to find good cover. But the six alien warriors weren’t even mussed. They knelt on the floor, their horrible weapons making a sound like wood being torn apart – the Anorian weapons didn’t even bounce off their strangely patterned armor. The darts simply smashed into them and fell to the floor. But each shot the aliens fired blew at least one Anorian to pieces as they spat brightly colored gouts of lightning.

Twenty minutes later, it was quiet again. The invaders had tried to breach the room from the back. From the front. Even from the roof through a skylight. It didn’t matter. The sensors in the aliens’ helmets alerted them to the Anorians long before they came into range and they were obliterated to a man.

“I think we’re all clear, Strike Leader.”

K’Reen, stretched out on his back behind the cover of the table and relaxed asked, “You think?

“We are all clear, Strike Leader.”

He sat up. “That’s better.” He scanned the carnage. The hallway was an appalling mess. There were Anorian bodies dangling halfway through the skylight and what looked like the remains of a squad that had tried to come in the back way. There were piles of flattened darts around the six newcomers. Many of them were designed to pierce the armor that the Anorians wore. Even those did little more than nick the outer skin of the Dosadi armor.

Gareen finally let Wallon sit up. The Pharaoh looked around the carnage and swore softly. “These are even more fearsome Soldiers than you?”

K’Reen laughed, “Um, no. Sing out, what are your normal posts?”

“Engineering.”

“Disruptor targeting.”

“I’m a cook.”

“Maintenance.”

“Sensory.”

“Communications.”

“These people….they are cooks?!”

“Only one of them.” K’Reen smiled smugly. “Don’t be so shocked. Our technology is better than yours is all. They knew that from our studies of your broadcasts – there was simply no way your weapons were going to penetrate our battle armor. Our primary infantry weapon, however, is capable of penetrating the armor you have on your armored vehicles. So what these poor bastards were wearing wasn’t even going to slow it down.”

K’Reen turned back to Wallon, “What happened? Why did they try to kill you? I thought these two were your advocates?” He walked over to Banto and Atker. Banto had stopped several darts during the firefight and was long since dead, but Atker was still mostly in one piece after P’Asch’s tender mercies.

Shaking his head slowly Wallon answered K’Reen’s question. “An attempt to replace me. I will find out which of the Great Houses were behind this. And I will have my vengeance. Take me to my daughter. Now.”

K’Reen frowned, “I can’t yet. She’ll be aboard the Delos by now. The Sekar had to do something very risky to come and pick her up and then take her back. It will be a little bit before they can get here again. What needs to happen to get your own security in place again?”

Baldon, holding his wounded arm somewhat awkwardly, commented dryly, “I think I now believe you about the effectiveness of their weapons, Great One.”

The other Dosadi were trying to treat the Advocates and House Leaders who had been wounded. Meanwhile Wallon thought about his security forces, struggling some to shift his thinking away from his daughter’s welfare. He answered K’Reen, “At the moment, I have one…” he glanced at Gareen, then back at K’Reen. I would have one Guardsman I know I can trust. I’m sure you saw that a number of the attackers were wearing my livery.”

K’Reen got the hint. “Gareen!”

“Yes, Strike Leader?”

“You did good. I release you back to him.” He smiled at the young troop. “You really did. I was afraid you’d think we were the ones attacking your Pharaoh…”

Gareen looked down for a moment. “I almost did, Strike Leader.”

K’Reen grinned, “Yeah, I thought so. But you didn’t react, did you? You took that extra fraction of a second and thought it through. That’s the sort of maturity I was after.”

Wallon indicated the six Dosadi in armor. “May I use your troops for a few hours?”

K’Reen smiled again. “Seems only fair. You gave me one of yours.” He addressed the six newcomers. “Who’s the ranking man here?”

The woman from maintenance, who had security experience spoke, “I am, Strike Leader. Crew Leader Bans’eeth.”

“Crew leader, you and your team are to report to…” He turned, “Guardsman Gareen for the next six hours, unless he releases you earlier. Understood?”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

Gareen looked more than a little surprised. K’Reen looked him up and down again. “These people are your responsibility, Gareen. I expect them back in the same condition that I’m handing them off to you in.”
“Yes, Strike Leader.”

 

CHAPTER 5

Be genuinely interested in everyone you meet and everyone you meet will be genuinely interested in you.
Rasheed Ogunlaru

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Captain Picard looked up and called out, “Come!”

Counselor Troi glided into his ready room. He had often been impressed with the grace of the Betazoid’s movements.

“Yes, Counselor? Is Captain Rileeta aboard yet?”

She crossed her hands in front of herself. “No, sir. Data is having some difficulty getting in contact with her. According to the communications specialist at the safe house, she is leading a team into the city to try to locate Will.”

He sat back in his chair and looked unhappy. “She looks nothing like a Malcorian. She has no business being anywhere outside of the safe house.”

“You seem to know the Captain fairly well, sir.”

He sighed. It was Troi’s job to monitor his mental balance, but her…digging…was often trying. “I suppose I used to, Counselor.”

Without being invited to, she sat in the chair opposite his desk. “While we wait, perhaps you could tell me a little bit about her – it may help when you meet with her and it will certainly help me if I am to advise you.”

He thought about that for a few moments. “Yes, I suppose so. How much do you know about the Dosadi, or for that matter, the history of the First Contact teams?”

 

* * *

DOSADI IMPERIAL HEAVY CARRIER ISS DELOS-B, UNDER WAY, ANORIA

AUGUST 2321

In the Delos’ medbay, Ralex was assisting the Chief Healer. There was the soft, rapid beeping of the bio bed and a faint hiss as an oxygen condenser was blowing pure oxygen into Dorea’s nostrils. All of the indicators on the charting panel above her head were towards the bottoms of their scales.

Commander T’Lang switched instruments, “BP is dropping. Someone get me some replicated blood for this species!!”

A tech called back “Working on it!”

She yelled “Work faster! Ralex, what’s the status on that second heart?”

“It’s stopped – that toxin is interfering with the electrical propagation and seems to be slowing down something in the nerves.”

“Yes, the neutotransmitter uptake is blocked.” A hypo-spray hissed. “Put the cardio-stimulator on the primary heart and then finish closing up those two holes. I’ve got the darts out.” The tech came in and began feeding blood into the girl’s veins.

Over the next several minutes, the pointers on the scales began creeping upwards as the two worked on the little girl. Finally T’Lang blew air through her teeth and decided, “I think she’s gonna make it.”

Ralex leaned forward, her hands spread wide on the edge of the bio-bed. “Thank all the gods.”

“Keep that cardio-stimulator on her primary heart though, just in case it decides to be ornery. Let’s let her sleep for a while.”

Ralex suggested, “Her people are very body-private – we should pull a curtain around this area. And her father is going to be going insane.”

T’Lang dialed the lighting down and drew a blast-curtain around that section of beds. As they walked away she commented, “Well, let’s go talk to Captain De’Vax and see how long it’ll take to get her back to him. There were still four squadrons out when you showed up.”

Immediately after they walked away, there was the faint sound of two spring-clip fasteners being rotated free. A few moments later, the fresh-air vent on the wall between two of the beds was pushed up and two bright gold eyes peered into the dim light. These were quickly followed by a pair of ears and a remarkably long set of whiskers.

After assuring himself that no adults were around, seven year-old Ar’dox’t let himself silently down to the floor; He had been watching the entire surgery. Carefully leaning forward, he sniffed at the strange looking being on the bed. It didn’t look like any alien he had seen yet. It sort of looked like a human, but the head was wrong. He squirmed his face around to get a better look at the alien’s face and his whiskers brushed the skin.

Dorea opened her eyes and saw a Dosadi face inches away from her own and almost screamed. Fortunately, she had been close to Storch so it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. Instead, she started to cry.

Ar’dox’t whispered, “Shhh! They’ll hear you! What’s wrong?”

She sniffled, “It hurts all over.” She was a little puzzled. He wasn’t speaking Anorian like Storch or the rest did. When he talked, she could hear a bunch of nonsense words and then she’d hear Anorian come out of the little pin on his chest.

“Yeah, I watched them heal you. They had to pull a couple metal things out of you and they put this machine on you. They only do that when someone’s really messed up.”

“Am I going to die?”

“Nah. They wouldn’t leave you if you were still in danger. The healer’s really, really good. That’s one reason I like to watch her when I can.” He sniffed again. “You smell like flowers.”

“Thank you.” she said primly. “Are you sure I am not going to die? I feel like I am burning up.”

“You’ll be OK.” He reached up and touched the skin on her shoulder. “You’re really smooth. Are you a boy or a girl?”

“I am a princess.” she announced.

“A real one? I’ve read about them. I didn’t think I’d ever meet one. Is it hard to be a princess?”

“Sometimes. You have to sit around a lot and listen to people talk and pretend to like them even when they are smelly or stupid. What are you?”

“I’m a boy. I’m a duct cleaner. Well, that’s my job this trip. I didn’t go on the last one, I stayed home with my dad. The one before that was on a different ship and I took care of the plants.”

“Where is your mom?”

“She works in the torpedo bay, she’s a loader.”

“What is that?”

“It means shes one of the people that loads photon torpedoes so that the ship can shoot them at anyone we’re fighting.”

“Oh. What does a duct cleaner do?”

“I go through all the life-support ducts and clean all the gunk out so that the air stays fresh for everyone.”

“That sounds nasty.” She realized that didn’t sound very nice and quickly added, “But really important.”

“It’s a lot better than taking care of all the plants. Plus I get to go everywhere in the ship. I even get to watch the fighters.”

“That does sound fun.” She had seen Anorian fighter planes do fly-overs at various events.

“When you feel better I’ll show you if you want.” He thought for a second. “Do you want to be friends?”

“Yes, please!” One of the down-sides to being a princess was that she didn’t really have a lot of friends. She had servants, and people from other Great Houses who were sort of near her age but a lot of the time they weren’t very nice. Even at her age she had social duties to perform and expected behavior.

He brought his very-long whiskers forward and thought for a second. Then he flipped open the sealed flap on a pocket and fished in it for a second and his hand came out closed. He uncurled his fingers and in a fairly grubby palm glimmered a little pearl-sized gem that swirled and glowed with red-orange lights as though it contained a fireball.

Dorea raised her head a little to get a better look at it. “That is pretty! What is it?”

She heard “Inau’bat’ar” and then ‘torch-stone’. They’re really hard to find and I found the nest all by myself and I found this one and hardly got stung at all getting it out and I hardly messed their nest up at all! It’s the first one I ever found.”

She didn’t know quite what to make of all that. “I have never seen anything like it. It looks like it is on fire.”

“I know! If you set it down it turns grey. It only glows when it gets warm from your body.” He thought hard again while she watched the swirling patterns in the stone. “We give them to friends when we leave. Then when we see them again, they give it back. It means you’re friends and that you’re going to come back.” With more than a little hesitation, he offered the little girl his treasure. “Do you want to hang on to it for me?”

Dorea glanced up at his eyes. This was the first time someone had ever offered her something that was actually precious to them, and despite her young age, she was astute enough to realize it. There were some advantages to being exposed to palace politics since birth. This was something genuine. He was looking down at the little stone. She asked, “And I give it back to you when you come back, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to be friends and all.”

She put her hand on top of his. His fingers and palm seemed stretched compared to hers. She picked the little stone up. “Okay.” She brought the gem up so she could see it better, watching the colors swirl. “I’m Dorea. I’m six.”

He was starting to wonder about giving her the torch-stone, but she was the first friend he had outside the ship since he’d found it just before they left. “I’m Ar’dox’t. I’m seven. I’d better go before they come back. I’ll sneak back later and I’ll show you the fighters if you want.”

She looked up and over her shoulder as he quickly and quietly hauled himself back into the open duct and then re-sealed the vent. Then she looked back down at the torch-stone.

Half an hour later, she was still holding it up and turning it between her fingers when T’Lang came back to check on her. It was impossible to miss the glowing gem in the dim light, but the healer decided not to mention it immediately.

“Hello there. I’m Commander T’Lang.”

“I am Dorea.” She had quickly put her hand back down at her side as soon as she caught sight of the older woman.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes. I do not feel like I am burning up so much now.”

“It’ll go away more and more soon, Dorea.” She glanced up at the charting panel over the little girl’s head. “Everything looks much better.” She took out an instrument from her belt kit and scanned the girl. “Ahh, yes, lots better. Your second heart is beating again.”

“Am I going to be OK?”

“Oh my yes. You’ll be fine. We should have you back to your father in an hour or two.” She looked down and pointed to Dorea’s closed fist. “What do you have there?”

“Nothing.”

“Can I see it?”

Dorea didn’t particularly want to show the doctor the stone. Ar’dox’t had been very secretive and she didn’t want him to get in trouble. She knew all about secrets. “Can I go home sooner?”

T’Lang wasn’t fooled at all; She had two kits of her own. “Dorea, may I please see what you have in your hand?”

She thought about it for a few moments. The language might have been different, but the firmness came through the translation. She held her hand up and opened her fingers, the little gem glowing brightly.

“Oooo! A torch-stone!” T’Lang twitched her ears backwards. “How did you get a torch-stone?”

Dorea shrugged – the gesture was exactly the same from human to Dosadi to Anorian. Something about mammalian architecture lent itself well to that motion.

The healer cocked one ear backwards and her whiskers twitched. “Did someone come visit you? How? You certainly didn’t go anywhere.”

She shrugged again.

T’Lang decided that there was no point to trying to solve this particular mystery. It surely wasn’t hurting the kit and if she was feeling well enough to keep a secret, that was a good sign. “Well, fine, don’t tell me then. But you don’t want to lose that. They’re very special. Did you know that?”

She nodded.

“We give them to really good friends, people that we trust and want to see again. They’re hard to find and harder to get away from the little insects that make them. They sting a lot!” Dorea was just looking at the stone, even though it was clear she was listening.

“I’ve got an idea to help make sure you don’t lose it. Hang on a second.” The woman took a few steps over to the replicator panel for this bay and tapped a few controls. Then she came back with a hair-thin, silver chain. “This is called tritanium. It’s very, very strong. Can I see your torch-stone for a moment? I promise I’ll give it right back. I’m going to put a tiny hole through it so that the chain will go through. I promise whoever gave it to you won’t mind. A lot of people do this sort of thing with them.”

Dorea thought about it for a little while, then offered the stone up. T’Lang set the little rock on the cardio-stimulator arch and brought out a micro-beam cutter. With a surgeon’s careful aim, she bored a hole directly through the center and then easily threaded the chain through it. She reached down and gently pulled the ends of the chain around the girl’s neck and twisted the clasp together.

“There. Now it will always glow and everyone can see it and know you’ve got a special friend.” She reached into a drawer under the bio-bed and brought out a small mirror. “See?”

Dorea looked at her reflection and smiled. The silver glittered nicely against her red skin and the torch-stone was an eye-catching living swirl of flame at her throat. “Thank you.”

Ralex walked in while Dorea was still looking at it. “Hey, Commander, how’s our…what the hell? Where’d she get a torch-stone?!”

T’Lang just said, “It’s her secret.”

The Raider medic screwed her face up in irritated confusion. “Your call, Commander. But that’s a little weird. She hasn’t been aboard for more than an hour, she hasn’t left the medbay and she’s somehow got a torch-stone?” Ralex shook her head.

Dorea asked plaintively, “Can I go home please?”

T’Lang smiled, “Oh yes, honey, we have to recover another squadron of fighters or two and then we’ll take you right home.” More to Ralex than to the girl, she continued, “The Captain’s doing an underway recovery, so he’s already got us heading back towards Anoria, but we’re going the long way around to simulate combat maneuvering. It should only be another couple of hours. He knows where you are and he knows you’re OK.”

“What happened?”

Ralex glanced at the Commander before answering. “Some bad people wanted to hurt your family.” She grinned wolfishly, “But we didn’t let them.” T’Lang began removing the cardio-stimulator arch from across the child’s body.

“Did you kill them all?” Anorian politics were often violent and she was well aware of the fate of those who committed treason. Death in battle was entirely preferable to what would happen to those who were captured.

A little surprised, Ralex said, “Well, yes. They weren’t really expecting us to have weapons but one of your father’s Guardsmen came in at just the right moment.”

“Good.”

Ralex flicked an ear at T’Lang. “Ah, yes. You sound like you’re feeling a lot better.” She was interrupted by the intercom’s signal.

“Commander T’Lang and Group Leader Ralex to the Bridge.”

T’Lang said to Dorea, “You just stay here and relax. We’ll come and get you when your father arrives.”

“Okay.” She pulled the coverlet on the bio bed up to her chin and watched the two Dosadi leave, pulling the curtain back around her bed as they left. She was just starting to get sleepy when she heard the faint sounds of the vent opening again and looked up to see Ar’dox’t slide out of the duct.

“Hello again!” he whispered. He had a folded packet of grey cloth with him. “Did you want to go see the fighters?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. Here, I brought you a coverall so you won’t get all gunky.” He handed her the packet.

“Thank you.” She held it over her chest.

After a few moments he asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to put it on?”

“Are you going to leave now?”

“Huh? What for?”

“So I can put it on!”

“Why can’t you do that now?”

“You would see me!”

“So?”

Her jaw fell open. “I am a girl!”

Ar’dox’t was totally confused. “So what?”

Frustrated, she ordered him, “Just turn around or something. And do not peek!”

Puzzled, he did as she demanded, staring at the blast-curtain around the bio beds. He wondered why the way she talked sounded so funny and he finally realized that they didn’t use contractions. Every word was always in its place – it sounded…stilted and formal to him. Finally she said, “Okay. You can turn around now.”

He looked at her and said, “If it doesn’t fit I had to guess at your size and I said for a human ’cause you kinda look like a human in the body. You wouldn’t fit in ours ’cause your legs are all different.”

“Thank you.” She looked at herself. It was very different than the kilts, dresses, gowns, skirts and the like that she was used to wearing, but it fit fairly well. It was the exact sort of thing he was wearing and looked like something a lower servant in her own house would wear.

“I got it in my team’s color, too. We’re Light Grey team.” He looked at the duct and then back at her. “I’ll lift you up. If you go down it about 10 meters it’ll get bigger and I can go past you, okay?”

She put her hand to the torch-stone. “Do I give this back now?”

He thought for a second. “Nah. You’re going back to the planet so you might as well keep it until the next time, okay?”

“Okay.” She was a little hesitant to go in the duct, but she moved over in front of it. Then Ar’dox’t wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up to the vent. She giggled and said, “Do not tickle!!” and squirmed her way into the duct. He was right behind her, and turned around practically in his own skin and re-closed the vent.

The two of them slid down the duct until he could get past her. As he was crawling past, he put his mouth very close to her ear and whispered “Be really quiet – sound carries a really long way in the ducts.” She giggled again as his whiskers tickled her ear. But he was off and moving quickly so she hurried to stay close to him.

There were colored markers on the intersections they passed and once they had climbed up a level into a much larger duct. Every now and again there would be automatically closing bulkheads, but they were all open. But she banged her knee on a couple of them; She decided it was a good thing that the knees of her coverall had pads in them. Finally they came to a large, vertical shaft. She looked down – it went down a long way. Then she looked up. It went up a long way too!

Ar’dox’t leaned close again, “We need to go through our secret den to get to the flight deck. Just stay close.” And he leaned backwards into the duct and began climbing up the rungs built into the wall.

Gritting her teeth and plucking up her courage, she followed him, keeping her eyes on the wall in front of her instead of up or down. They had gone up perhaps three decks when she felt his tail brush against the side of her face a couple times and she made the mistake of looking up. His feet and then his tail vanished down a horizontal duct and she was looking straight up, maybe a hundred feet or even more! She swallowed hard and hauled herself after him.

She was beginning to wonder just how far they had to go when he stopped and whispered “Just be quiet and we’ll go right through, OK?” He tapped on a glowing circle cut into 8 pie-pieces and a hatch slid open. She quickly followed him inside and her eyes widened. There were almost a dozen Dosadi kits in the space, curled up on the floor, draped on pipes, or sitting up – and all of them were staring at her. There were several different colored coveralls, but they were all a bit dusty.

The biggest one said, “Hold it, Dox’t. What’s that?” Dorea’s ears flicked at the ‘what’.

“She’s an alien from that planet. She’s my friend, Entar. We’re just going to the flight deck so she can see the fighters.”

He crossed his arms – on a Dosadi, the gesture left their wrists crossed and about at their throat – and shook his head. “You know the rules.” He noticed the glowing gem hanging at her throat, “You gave her your torch-stone? Wow.”

“She’s not gonna be a duct-rat, Entar, we’re just going through.”

“Anyone going through my ducts has to take the test. Especially if you gave her that.”

“Come on!”

Dorea, bursting with curiosity asked, “What test?”

He looked at her. “You gotta go to the main vertical shaft, climb all the way to the top and then come back and tell us what you see. And there’s a hatch you have to go through at the very top. Dox’t, give her your code.”

She was unhappy and in a small voice asked, “All the way?” She remembered looking up … and up … and up.

He nodded. “All the way. And no one will be watching you. So if you fall, no one will know.”

“Oh.”

Ar’dox’t asked her, “We can go back and find another way if you don’t want to. I won’t let them make you.” He glared at Entar, who was two years older than he was and quite a bit larger. He had two solid black lines across each shoulder as well. Ar’dox’t only had one broken one on his.

She thought about it for a few moments. All the kits in the space were watching her, the big one looking relaxed and very much in charge. She was used to that look. She really didn’t want to climb up that huge big ladder. But she also didn’t want to let her new friend down. Nefer always talked about going on adventures – she never mentioned that adventures were scary!

Suddenly she decided that it was up to her to show these space aliens that she wasn’t a ‘fraidy-cat. That anything they could do, she could do too. “I will do it.”

Ar’dox’t looked surprised. Entar smiled at her and said, “Good! You just go back out the way you came in and climb all the way up the big ladder, and when you get to the very top you enter his code and go through. Once you get to the very end you can come back and tell us what you saw.”

She looked at her friend, he drew four symbols in the dust along the wall. “Just press those buttons on the little round thing by the hatch. Four, one, three, six, then press the the center piece.”

“Those don’t look like numbers.”

“They do too! Oh, sorry, yeah, they’re Dosadi numbers. I don’t know what yours look like.” She drew her numbers beside his. “Weird!’ Anyway the buttons will have these symbols on them. Just press them and the hatches will open.”

She studied them. A square, a single horizontal line, a little triangle pointing left, and a part of a triangle pointing up. She could remember that. “I will go now.”

Entar just said, “Don’t fall.” and chuckled.

That made her angry. She glared at him and hurried out the hatch and back into the ducts. It didn’t take her long at all to get back to the main vertical shaft that led through the center of the Delos‘ hull. 30 decks thick, with a double-hull, it extended over a hundred meters from end to end and she was just about in the middle. She willed herself not to look down.

Remembering how her friend had leaned into the shaft to pull himself up, she did the same thing, feeling for the rung and then sliding backwards and pulling herself up, then stepping out to the rung on the side of the duct she was in. And she began to climb, keeping her eyes focused only on the rung above her.

When her hand bumped into the hatch-cover, she was actually surprised – She had made it! And faster than she thought possible. Looking up, she saw the round, glowing plate with the little symbols on it. It looked like a pie cut into eight pieces and she figured out very quickly that each piece was a button. It was obvious that 0 was at the top and her first button was at the bottom. “This is easy!” she thought as she pressed the little pie-pieces. The circular button in the center just had an X on it, and she pressed it firmly. The hatch slid back quickly and she saw a few meters above her a clear dome and through it more stars than she ever thought possible.

More curious now than afraid, she reached through the hatch – but her arm felt strange. When she pulled herself through, she screamed and clung tightly to the rungs – she was falling!!

Except she wasn’t. She was falling – but she was still holding to the rungs of the ladder. She opened her eyes again. The rungs weren’t moving, but she was falling! Was the ship crashing? She risked a look up and saw the stars looked just the same. After a few moments, she figured it out – she was really in space!! She had seen the broadcasts of Anorian astronauts floating in space – she was doing the same thing!

Carefully pulling herself up to the clear dome, making very sure she had a firm hold with both hands and feet at every rung, she forced herself to look outside. She gasped in wonder. Her head was actually above the hull of the Delos and she was looking aft at the moment. The absolutely black sky was full of so many stars it seemed almost bright. Just passing behind them was a planet – red, yellow, and orange – she recognized it from pictures. It was the next planet closest to the sun from Anoria, and she was seeing it! She turned her head, looking at everything at once. The un-dimmed light from the sun was making the blue and grey mottled hull of the Delos glow brightly.

A moving streak of light caught her eye and she noticed a tiny ship was racing towards the back of the hull and then she knew she was seeing a space fighter! Now she really wanted to go watch them up close. Tearing herself away from the spectacular view, she carefully climbed back through the hatch, feeling gravity take hold of her once more.

While she was climbing down, she heard a ‘whoosh’ sound and glanced up to see the hatch had closed itself. Her mind full of what she had just seen, the climb back down was easy – she barely even noticed when she got to the entrance to the duct leading to the others.

She again keyed Ar’dox’t’s code into the pad and the hatch-cover slid aside. She crawled through to find them all staring at her again.

Entar asked, “And? What did you see?”

“It is so beautiful!! There are so many stars and I saw Velox and a fighter and I thought I was falling and I could see the whole ship and…” She was interrupted by the whispery-cheers of the other kits.

Entar smiled, “You really did it!! Great! That’s the test – to see if you’ll lie about it since no one is watching you, and to see if you’re brave enough to really climb up there and go through free-fall.” He reached forward and gripped her shoulder, and suddenly she was surrounded by Dosadi kits all grabbing her shoulders.

After everyone had settled down he said, “You’re a duct-rat now! What’s your name?”

She was smiling. This was probably the first thing in her entire life that she had earned entirely on her own and it felt good. “Dorea.”

“Okay, among us you’re…” he looked at her necklace, “…N’Inau. But only among us duct-rats, okay? It’s a secret name.”

“What does it mean?”

“New Fire. I’m Ja – it means small, and your friend Dox’t here is Thevet. That means mouse.” He continued to introduce the rest of the kits.

Ar’dox’t finally managed to say “We have to go if we want to watch the fighters land.”

With a smile of pride on her face she said, “Okay. I am ready!” and the two of them scurried off through the far side of the compartment they had been in and back into the duct-work. It seemed to take far less time than it had to get from the Medbay to the duct-rat’s den – but that wasn’t possible, she knew. But soon enough she found herself squeezed next to Ar’dox’t – Thevet! She corrected herself – looking through a vent cover at a long, open space full of little ships painted in blotchy blue and grey. They looked deadly even sitting still. There was smoke or steam coming off of their hulls and fins and as she watched, another one came screaming in the black rectangular opening at the back of the space.

The fighter touched down on the deck and there was a loud groaning noise from a number of odd glowing bumps on the walls. Jets of something came out of the front and it slowed rapidly. Frost quickly formed on the wings, fins, and nose and just as quickly began to sublimate to steam. She saw the next one coming in and the bright golden light by the opening to the hangar bay suddenly sparked off, the fighter shot through and it sparked on again – she could see what looked like fireflies escape out the back of the ship when the light went off.

There were groups of Dosadi in different colored coveralls running around, doing unfathomable things to the fighters – Red, Green, White, Blue and more! It was one of the most amazing things she had ever seen. The little ships were moving towards sheltered bays off to the side of the long space. Other bays were already occupied by several different types of fighters and there were so many of them!

 

* * *

In the Delos‘ transporter room, Captain De’Vax welcomed the leader of Anoria aboard. They materialized and standing next to him were Princess Nefer and the remaining five members of the First Contact team. Wallon had decided to get Nefer out of the palace – and away from any other potentially treasonous advocates. “Good morning, Pharaoh Wallon. I am Captain De’Vax of the ISS Delos. I would like to welcome you aboard!”

A little puzzled by ‘good morning’, Wallon said, “Thank you, Captain. And thank you for your very timely assistance a short while ago. May I see my daughter now?”

“Of course, sir. If you will follow me?” He began to lead the way out of the room with Rileeta and her team following along behind, helping Storch and P’Asch. Their wounds were stabilized, but they still hurt. “Ordinarily we would have sent a shuttlecraft for you, but with the…questionable security situation we felt that it was safer to minimize your exposure.”

The doors swooshed open and the group stepped into the dimly lit corridors. De’Vax picked up on Wallon’s time-confusion “Our time aboard ship is synchronized to our home-world – at the moment it is not yet dawn here.”

Wallon, trying not to be overwhelmed by being suddenly teleported from his palace to what was evidently a might warship simply said, “Ah. Of course.” Nefer was constantly looking around in wide-eyed wonder. The hallways weren’t terribly busy, but there was a consistent amount of traffic and to her, every Dosadi crewman, crew-woman, or kit was a novelty.

Passing several kits and even a pair of nursing mothers, Wallon asked, “Is this not a warship?”

“Yes, it is. All of our ships have multiple capabilities, though we focus on combat, of course.” Guessing what was puzzling the Anorian, he continued, “We Dosadi are a little unusual in the galaxy. We carry our families with us wherever we go; How can one bear to be apart from one’s mate and kits? The interstellar deeps are dark, and cold and the warmth of family is a welcome touch of home.”

De’Vax began describing the Delos with a Captain’s pride as they continued towards the turbo-lift “…and we carry over 120 fighters and shuttlecraft as well as a full battleforce of Marines with an assault-lander. It gives us more firepower than most battle groups that other galactic powers field. And that doesn’t include the two corvettes. It was one of those, the ISS Sekar that transported your daughter to our healer.”

“I would like to…” he rocked a bit as the turbo-lift stopped “…uh…personally thank that ship’s captain.”

“I will see to it, sir”

When they entered the MedBay, they found Ralex talking with T’Lang, both of whom stopped speaking as they entered and then stood to attention.

The Captain provided the introductions, “Commander T’Lang is our Chief Healer, Group Leader Ralex, you already know.”

“Ralex.” He made the Anorian gesture of obeisance, “You saved my daughter. I will forever be in your debt. And you, Surgeon, is she all right? Is she well? I find myself in many people’s debt this day.”

T’Lang said, “She’s fine, sir. She’s resting right now. I’ll take you to her.”

They walked back to the closed curtain around her bed and she pulled it back, “Look who’s…oh shit.”

The coverlet on the bio-bed was still pulled back but that was the only evidence that Dorea had ever been there.

Wallon asked, “I do not understand. Where is my daughter?”

De’Vax said sternly, “What is the meaning of this Commander?”

Ralex snorted and quickly tried to make out that she was stifling a sneeze while she helped P’Asch and Storch into bio-beds. She saw Dorea’s little doll tucked into the waist-strap of Storch’s kilt but didn’t say anything about it. The man was covered in blood and still had bits of … things … stuck to him.

T’Lang, stunned, tried to answer. “I…She was here. I left her resting! We’ve been right outside! She couldn’t have gone anywhere!”

Wallon, starting to get angry demanded, “You have lost my daughter?”

Captain De’Vax tried to calm him, “No, sir, I’m sure she has gone to the bathroom or…”

Ralex suddenly had an inspiration and looked up from Storch, “The torch-stone!” she interrupted.

“What’s that you’re saying, Ralex?” the Captain asked.

“Sorry sir! When we left her earlier, she had somehow picked up a torch-stone. Someone snuck in to give it to her, I’d bet she snuck out with them.”

“How? Where is a kit going to snea…” All of the Dosadi looked up at the vent. “Kits.”

Even more confused and angry, Wallon said, “What do you mean kits?”

Clearing his throat, De’Vax tried to explain. “Aboard our ships our children have duties as well. The ones in your daughter’s age group are often assigned to clean the life-support ducts. I think your daughter has made friends with one of them and is no doubt even now exploring the Delos.”

“You are telling me that the Princess Dorea is…crawling around inside your air conditioning?”

Very embarrassed, the Captain said, “I’m afraid so, sir. We can get this straightened out quickly…”

“With a janitor?”

Ralex chipped in with, “Well, obviously she’s feeling a lot better, sir.”

Rileeta gave her a quick whispered “Shhh!”

De’Vax stepped slightly away from everyone and tapping his comm-badge, made a quick and quiet call to his first officer. “Commander Ar’valla. Find out who’s in charge of the duct-rats this shift and get their furry butt back to the MedBay and have them get the princess and whoever ran off with her here as well before I start cutting off tails!!”

Turning back to the group he smiled, “The princess will be here shortly, sir.” He thought to himself, “Or I will personally de-whisker the kit responsible.”

 

* * *

Ar’dox’t was explaining the different types of fighters to Dorea. Like pretty much any mammalian males of any age anywhere, he was showing off for a female. “Those are A-20 Arrows. They’re attack fighters. One of those can blow up a Klingon cruiser!” That was a gross exaggeration, but Dorea had no way of knowing that, nor did it particularly matter to either child.

His comm-badge chirped. “Entar to Ar’dox’t!”

She looked at his comm-badge. She was used to the Raider’s little pins, but this one was different. It was a stylized bent-winged bird in bronze with a silver lightning bolt across it. She asked, “How come your pin looks different than the ones everyone I already met at the Palace wore?”

“This is the Delos‘ symbol.” Then he added, “A delos is a really fast bird we have on Dosad. They hunt in flocks and they’re really pretty. They’re a pale blue on the bottom and sort of tan on top. What did the people you saw wear?

“Like a little sun with a knife over it.”

“Wow! Those are Raiders! They’re the best Soldiers in the entire universe!”

“Entar to Ar’dox’t! You’re in trouble! Answer!”

He tapped his badge, “What for?”

“You have to get her to the MedBay!! NOW! The Captain’s waiting and he’s mad.”

He was horrified. He had never even peeked into the Bridge yet – he hadn’t dared. His voice quavered, “The Captain?”

“The First Officer called me! He’s really really mad! Hurry up!! I have to get there too!”

Dorea asked, “What is wrong?”

“They must’ve found out I snuck you out.” He frowned. “C’mon, we have to get going.” He quickly turned around in the tight-space and led the way to the nearest companionway.

“What is he going to do to you? Will you be punished?” she asked.

“I don’t know what. He can do anything. He’s the captain. He might even put me in the brig. They lock you up and you can’t go anywhere and the bathroom is right in the open and it’s horrible.”

Dorea was following along next to him, but both of them were too frightened to talk any more. “Hurry!” he said as he stepped into a waiting turbo-lift. A few curious crewmen had seen them hurry past, but none of the crew had any reason to stop them.

And so, a few minutes later, the two of them hesitatingly stepped into the DelosMedBay. Ar’dox’t, his voice very quiet, said, “I’m…uh…” there were a dozen different officers and crewmen staring at them. He got even quieter. “I’m…we’re…supposed to…”

Dorea saw her father and squealed, “DADDY!” and ran to him. He dropped to his knee and gathered his daughter into his arms, squeezing her tightly.

Ar’dox’t on the other hand stood in the doorway, his eyes wide, his ears back and his tail slightly poofed-out staring at all the Raiders and the Captain and Entar.

De’Vax glowered down at the kit and motioned him to come closer. “What did you do?

Ar’dox’t was on the verge of tears. He didn’t mean to make everyone mad. Entar looked mad at him too. He thought about what he could say, desperately trying to come up with an excuse that would save him and then made his choice. His lip trembling, he stood as tall as he could and said, “I wanted to show her the fighters, sir.”

Wallon held his daughter a little away from himself and looked at her. She was wearing some sort of lower-class work clothing and was dusty from head to toe. But she was alive. There was some sort of glowing gem at her throat that he had never seen before. He lifted it up from her neck “What is this?”

Dorea said, “My friend gave it to me. And I got to meet a bunch of other kids and made friends with them and I got to see … “ she thought again of secrets and continued, “the fighters and he is really nice daddy. Please do not be mad at him. He is my friend.”

De’Vax continued, “And you just took a patient out of the MedBay without asking anyone and went sneaking through the ducts without telling anyone.”

“She wasn’t really a patient any more. They took the machines away. She was just lying there. She was scared and bored and…”

Wallon was standing by him now. “You are the boy who snuck off with my daughter?”

Ar’dox’t was wondering how long he’d be locked up in the brig. To a Dosadi, confinement is nearly intolerable. Confinement without any form of privacy is even worse. Struggling not to burst into tears – to be brave like a Warrior – he answered, “Yes, sir.”

“Do you know who I am?”

He mutely shook his head.

“I am Pharaoh Wallon, the leader of all Anoria.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I just wanted to show her the fighters. I didn’t mean to do anything bad.” His eyes were starting to well up with tears now and he was blinking them back furiously.

“It scared me when she was not there. But I’m not mad any more, boy. Why did you give her the necklace?”

“She was nice and I wanted her to be my friend.”

Wallon looked at De’Vax. “What will you do with the child for what he did?”

De’Vax thought about it. The kit had definitely broken regulations and had been inconsiderate; but he was a kit. And he hadn’t tried to lie or shift responsibility for what he had done at all. He asked the kit, “Ar’dox’t, what do you think your punishment should be?”

Struggling not to cry he asked, “Are you going to put me in the brig?”

He smiled, “I don’t think so. Let’s look at what you did. You snuck a patient out of the MedBay without permission. That’s very bad. But you also were honest about what you did – even knowing that you were in trouble, and being afraid that you would be severely punished. That’s the sort of thing I like to see in my officers.

“That tells me that Entar here is doing a good job teaching you younger kits how to behave with honor. And that’s more important to me than just about anything. Do you understand?”

Getting some sense that his life might not be at an end, Ar’dox’t said, “I think so. You’re mad at me because I broke the rules but you’re happy I did the right thing afterwards?”

“Exactly. And you did something else good. Our whole mission is to make friends. And it looks like you did just that, kit. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to be punished by having to clean bathrooms for two hours every day for the next week. And then you have to spend two hours every day the next week cleaning the MedBay for Commander T’Lang. Do you understand?”

Vastly relieved, he said, “Yes, sir!”

Meanwhile, satisfied that her friend wasn’t going to be locked up, Dorea had been looking around at all the different people. She saw Storch laying in a bio-bed with two Dosadi doing things to him, and then saw her doll. She quickly ran over to him and called out, “Ganda!”

Storch, his eyes still haunted, pulled the doll out of the waist-strap and said, “I thought you’d want her back so I kept her safe for you.”

One of the medics cautioned him, “Hey, stop squirming around.” Then jumped as Dorea wormed past him to get at Storch and her doll. “Hey!”

The little girl clutched her toy and wrapped her arms around Storch’s “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

The Medic shook his head and began prying her off his patient. “You can thank him later. We need to fix him up now, okay, kit?”

Nefer made her way over to the two injured Raiders and took hold of little Dorea. “Come with me, Dorea. We are going to see the whole ship now!”

As Captain De’Vax and the Anorians began to leave the MedBay, the Captain spoke, “Ensign, if you would accompany us? I’m sure the Commander will see to your team.”

She hesitated. “Yes, sir.” Moving quickly to T’Lang, she whispered in her ear, and the Healer’s face registered her surprise followed by a quick look at Storch. T’Lang nodded and put her hand on Rileeta’s shoulder before heading over to his bio-bed.

 

* * *

An hour later and the tour ended up on the Bridge. Commander Ar’valla had completed showing off the various bridge work-stations and Wallon and his children were staring at the tan and green globe of their world turning slowly below them on the view screen. Dorea thought it would look nicer through the dome she had looked through. The Captain was just about to suggest that they adjourn to his ready room – a luxury concept stolen shamelessly from Federation designs – when the sensor operator called out in alarm, “Klingon K’t’inga-class cruiser 20 degrees sub-West! 10,000 kilometers and closing!”

The alarm siren sounded and the lights dimmed. Everyone felt the crinkle-tightness across their skin as the Delos’ shields snapped on. Wallon, concerned, asked “What is happening?”

The view screen wavered for a moment then showed the greenish hull, long forward nacelle, and bulbous nose of a Klingon heavy cruiser angling for them, light building around her main weapons ports.

De’Vax snapped out, “Reinforce shields 5 and 6, come left 20 degrees. Have the…” The Delos shuddered very slightly as phasers and disruptors bracketed her. “…two CIP squadrons get behind her. Return fire with the Northwest phaser array.”

“Captain?” Wallon asked.

“Nothing to be concerned about, sir. This is a fairly normal greeting for the Klingons.” There was the high pitched whine of phasers and Wallon was able to see the Klingon’s shields glow from the impacts.

The man at the communications console called out next, “We’re being hailed, sir.”

“On screen.”

The viewscreen dissolved into a heavily built Klingon warrior, resplendent in armor and weapons harness. “De’Vax, I was sure I’d catch you cat-napping in that warp-powered space-dock!”

The Captain grinned, “Well, I was, Ka’var, but it’s hard to sleep with all the noise that junkyard you’re flying makes. Perhaps you’d care to land her on my South deck and come aboard? We can offer you repairs.”

The Klingon laughed and then did a double-take. “Rileeta?!”

“Hello Uncle Ka’var.”

Everyone on the Bridge turned and looked at the young Ensign.

CHAPTER 6

In chess one cannot control everything. Sometimes a game takes an unexpected turn, in which beauty begins to emerge. Both players are always instrumental in this.”
Vladimir Kramnik

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Deana Troi was surprised, “I had no idea that the First Contact program originated outside the Federation.”

Picard raised his fingers to his temple. “Oh yes. It had been considered a normal function of any Starship, but there had simply been too many disastrous first-contacts. After the Dosadi mission to Anoria, it was decided that the idea of having dedicated, highly-trained teams to smooth the process and help to avoid mis-steps was a good one. And to help avoid losing control of the situation to other powers.”

She asked, “But there are still accidents? Unexpected first contacts?”

“Of course. Which is why we also train for handling them without violence. But, for those developing species who seem about to pass the barrier of the Prime Directive, it is far more desirable to get boots on the ground and learn what we can long before we are ready to welcome them into the Federation.”

“But aren’t the Anorians part of the Dosadi Imperium?”

He held his palm over his face. “Yes. Rlieeta’s career caused quite a bit of heartache for Starfleet. And continues to do so, evidently.”

 

* * *

DOSADI IMPERIAL HEAVY CARRIER ISS DELOS-B, IN ORBIT OVER ANORIA

AUGUST 2321

Ka’var asked, “Does your father know you’re out here on that…that…abomination?”

“Yes, Uncle.” she chuckled, “I graduated from the Academy two months ago. This is my first mission.”

He looked at her Anorian clothing. “What is that you’re wearing? And what is a brand-new Raider doing on this sort of mission?”

Captain De’Vax did not like being surprised. Rileeta could feel the ice of his stare without even turning her head. “Perhaps you should ask the Captain, Uncle.”

“Ah, of course.” He turned his eyes back to the Captain. Waving his hand at Rileeta he asked, “De’Vax, do you have any idea what you’ve got on board there?”

“I’m beginning to have my suspicions, Ka’var. How is it that you are her uncle?”

He grinned. It wasn’t often he got to put one over on his Dosadi rival. They had often tangled when De’Vax had commanded a Dosadi Heavy Cruiser. “My father and her grandfather did a lot of business together, and over the years her father and I became blood-brothers.”

“I see. And what brings you into the Imperium, Ka’var?”

“The Imperium? I was going to ask what brought that monstrosity of a ship into the Empire! I was afraid you were lost.”

De’Vax narrowed his eyes. “We can agree to disagree over who’s territory we’re in, Ka’var.” He smiled again, “Allow me to introduce to you our friend, Pharaoh Wallon, leader of all Anoria. We have extended an invitation to them to join the Imperium.

“Pharaoh, I present to you Captain Ka’var, son of K’mpok, of the House of Konjah of the Klingon Empire.”

The Klingon saluted Wallon and offered, “I would not be so quick to jump at that offer, Wallon, with the Klingon Empire here – There is much glory to be had at our sides!”

The alert siren sounded again, and the sensor operator sang out, “Federation Excelsior-class cruiser, dead South, 25,000 kilometers and closing!” There was a spate of Klingonese on Ka’var’s bridge as well, with his own people clearly giving him the same information.

Wallon was nearly overwhelmed. Two days ago, his world was alone in the universe. Now, he was surrounded by aliens with technologies so far beyond his own as to make his people seem like infants.

“We’re being hailed again, Captain.” came the communications officer’s voice.

“Split-screen.” he commanded, and the view screen jumped. To Ka’var’s left was a craggy looking human being with thinning dark hair and gem-hard blue-eyes in the deep red double-breasted jacket of Starfleet.

De’Vax spoke first, “You and the Valley Forge are late to the party, Captain Marlow.”

“Evidently. The fact that there is a party at all is something of a surprise to the Federation as this is a clear violation of the Prime Directive.”

“You mean Starfleet’s Prime Directive, Captain?” De’Vax asked mildly. “We don’t have anything like that in the Imperial Fleet.”

Ka’var chuckled, “Nor in the Klingon Empire.”

“This planet is in Federation Space, gentlemen, so the Prime Directive holds.”

Wallon decided to take steps to get things back where he had some sort of control. “Anoria is in Anorian space. Unless one of you is here to attempt to conquer us, in which case I am sure that I can rapidly find allies to help us among the other two.”

All three Captains looked at him. Again, De’Vax spoke first, “We can guarantee that no hostile power would conquer you, Pharaoh.”

Marlow chimed in next, “The Federation doesn’t use armed conquest, that sort of barbarism went out hundreds of years ago.”

Ka’var turned his head to look at the Federation Captain, “Along with all the spirit of your people. One day, Captain, we will meet in battle and that day shall be glorious. But, in this instance, I have been directed to…” he made a face and turned back to Wallon, “negotiate your entry into the Empire.”

Wallon offered, “At my Palace, it is past time for dinner. Among my people, it is traditional to conduct business over a meal. I would be honored to be your host for such a meal. Each of you and shall we say, two of your advocates? In two hours’ time?” He turned to Rileeta, “I am in your debt, Rileeta, you and your team are always welcome in my House and I would ask that you join us.”

Both Marlow and Ka’var raised their eyebrows at that. Marlow thought, “Great. We are waay behind on this one.”

After the Delos had closed the communications channels, little Dorea was tugging on her father’s kilt. “Yes, what is it?”

She whispered up to him, “Can my friend come too? Please? Nefer gets to have her friend.”

It took Wallon a moment to realize she meant Rileeta. His eldest daughter was standing next to the black-furred Dosadi asking her something in a low voice. He turned his face back to the alien Captain. “Would it be possible for the boy to join us as well?”

De’Vax was surprised. “The kit who ran off with your daughter?”

“Yes. She has requested it.”

“I’ll have to ask his mother, but I’m fine with it.”

“Do you not command here?”

“Of course. But I am the Captain, not the slave-master. I could order his mother to attend as she is under my command, but her son’s duties are aboard ship and that is the limit of my authority over him.”

“You are a very strange people, Captain.”

De’Vax smiled, “You will meet many more even stranger peoples, Pharaoh, as your people find their place in the galaxy.”

 

* * *

PLANET ANORIA, TICON, PALACE OF THE KINGS

AUGUST 2321

Rileeta tried not to sigh as she looked down the table – again groaning with food. How the Anorians had managed to clean the carnage up in the few hours it had been since the attempted coup was beyond her. But she noticed that there were still some chunks out of the table, some scorch marks faintly visible on the walls, some chips and gouges in the wood paneling, and a slightly reddish stain where Storch had…She looked back at the table.

K’Reen was off by the door talking with a Dosadi woman in battle armor, her helmet tucked under her arm and her plasma rifle slung across her back. Guardsman Gareen was there as well, listening intently.

An odd-sounding transporter hum came clearly in the room and everyone turned to see Captain Ka’var and two other Klingons rapidly take form.

Wallon thought to himself that these new technologies were going to take a lot of getting used to. Ka’var looked at the many Dosadi in the room and frowned. “I had understood we were to each bring two Lieutenants. And yet I see what looks like Captain Da’Vax with a half-dozen Dosadi Marines, and nine others.”

Wallon explained, “The Captain has his two advocates only, Captain. Rileeta and her team are here at my invitation, though two of them are still in their medical center. The boy and his mother are here at my daughter’s invitation. “

“And the Marines?”

“There was an incident before you arrived that they assisted me with. They are on-loan to my security forces. As I understand it, they are not even Soldiers, despite their appearance.”

Ka’var gritted his teeth. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I bring a few of my own security troops. For my own safety, of course.”

Wallon was surprised – and somewhat insulted. “You are safe in my house, Captain. You have no need of your weapons here.”

The Klingon noted that the only Dosadi under arms were the six in armor – although the Dosadi women with Rileeta had knives. That didn’t matter much as those six were more than a match for his own two men. He knew he was coming in to this situation at a serious disadvantage – even if he hadn’t known that, it would have been plain enough the moment they materialized.

Rileeta and her teammates were wearing Anorian dress with what was evidently the House symbol. And there was Lorac! He was in regular Dosadi clothing – what was her close-friend doing here? The kit by the little Anorian was wearing the same Dosadi uniform his mother was – by Kahless, she was only a Crew Leader! – and she was sitting near the head of the table looking very uncomfortable. De’Vax and his First Officer and another woman with odd silver fur were in Dosadi uniform as well. Why was Rileeta’s team in Anorian costumes?

He had little time to puzzle it out any further as there was another humming transporter beam and Captain Marlow, his First Officer and a Tellarite materialized a few feet from the back of the room.

Marlow quickly took stock of the situation, making the same observations that Ka’var had. However, the Dosadi were staunch allies of the Federation so to his point of view, the armored troops were an advantage. “Pharaoh, thank you very much for inviting us. May I present my officers?”

Wallon nodded his assent and Marlow said, “I am Captain Abraham Marlow of the Starship Valley Forge, this is my First Officer, Commander Paul Girard, and Special Envoy Gaavrin, a representative of my government.”

Ka’var jumped in, “As you know, I am Captain Ka’var of the Klingon warship T’ing. My First Officer, Lieutenant Vetac, and my Weapons Master, Lieutenant Tamok.” He and his men strode over to the table and found seats without waiting for an invitation, looking suspiciously at the Dosadi and most especially at the Starfleet men.

Wallon said to Marlow, “Please find seats where you are comfortable, Captain. This is my Advocate for War, Baldon, and my Advocate for Science, Pentar.” He was watching the Klingons begin pouring Anorian wine into convenient goblets and sniffing it with some curiosity. Their ways were certainly not those of his people. Rileeta had been able to give him some warning as to what to expect, and for that he was quite grateful.

She had cautioned him that the Klingons were a powerful people and mighty warriors. They were quick to passions and not much given to the same sorts of courtesies that Anorians followed, but great seekers of honor and glory.

Rileeta interrupted his thoughts, “So, Uncle, I see you still have the manners of a goat.” Wallon was shocked.

Ka’var turned his head to look at her, some wine spilling down his chin. “And you are still quick to criticize your elders and your betters, girl.”

“Just older, Uncle, not better.”

Captain Marlow had taken a seat near him and leaned close, “The Klingons are famous for their tempers. She’s not terribly wise to provoke him like that. We of the Federation are a much more reasoned and…”

Ka’var roared, “You think I will not teach you a lesson?” He drew his d’k tahg, the sharpened guard springing open.

Rileeta gracefully stood up, “I think you’ll try, but I think you’re too old and fat to do more than boast!”

Wallon was completely puzzled – no one except the Federation personnel seemed even slightly alarmed as the Klingon – easily twice her size, yelled something in Klingon and charged her. She quickly drew her own blade and easily deflected the Klingon’s strike, smoothly pivoting to the side and letting the bigger man race past.

The other Klingons were cheering their Captain and Rileeta’s team were calling encouragement to their commander. De’Vax was looking at the table and shaking his head. Wallon had absolutely no idea what to do – should he stop the fight? Aid Rileeta, whom he was indebted to? But that would alienate the powerful Klingons. No one else seemed to think either party needed aid…

Ka’var spun back around, his knife and hers clashing loudly. He reversed his grip, but she tracked along with it, the two blades locking together and then flying off towards the wall while they grappled. So quickly Wallon couldn’t even follow it, Rileeta ended up on Ka’var’s back, her legs locked into his thighs and her arms around his neck, brutally choking him.

Finally he slapped his leg twice and she released him. He roared with laughter, grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, kissing her face loudly. “By Kahless, I’ve missed you, little one. I remember teaching you that move, you little brat!”

She butted her head under his chin, “I missed you too, Uncle.” She wormed free of him and went and retrieved their knives.

“How is your father? As pissy as always?”

She smiled as she returned his knife. “Only when the stumps hurt him. He doesn’t say anything, you know how he is, but you can tell. I think they’re worse now.”

“Bah. He’s a Warrior. He will find his way to Sto’vo’kor; He doesn’t want to stay home and rot like an old woman.” He looked up at Wallon. “You will excuse us, I hope. My people are warriors and fighters. We live hard and fight hard both; Renewing the bonds of family is always a priority. Unlike the Federation, we have little time or tolerance for diplomats.”

Wallon said, “I was given some warning what to expect, Captain, though I will confess this is beyond what I believed.”

Ka’var grinned at him. “Then let us continue to enjoy! A meeting such as this should be a celebration, not some morbid and endless bicker-fest – look, already the Federation seeks to tie you down with talk and papers and agreements. What glory or honor is there in treaties? What life? Rileeta, sing for us! Sing a song of battle!”

She glanced at her Captain “Uncle…now isn’t the time.”

Little Dorea chimed in, “She sings really pretty!”

Wallon was beginning to enjoy himself. He was starting to understand. The Klingon had adroitly taken charge of the entire dinner, his boisterousness neatly cutting off any chance the Federation people had to talk with him. He was not-so-subtly showing his people’s culture, attempting to make up for lost time with energy and volume. And to be honest, Wallon was finding little to like in the Federation’s representation so far. “My people love music as well, Captain, especially songs of love and glory.” He looked at Rileeta again, “I would enjoy a song, if you have one to share, Rileeta?”

“All right.” She thought for a moment. She definitely didn’t want to alienate the Federation, and she thought she was likely to need them as a counterweight to Ka’var’s drama. The Anorians were as enamored with battle and glory as the Klingons. “I have a song from Earth, the heart of the Federation, that my aunt found. I can sing that. Captain, may I borrow your PADD?”

De’Vax, trying very hard not to be annoyed simply handed over the device to his newest Ensign. His orders gave her complete control over the first contact portion of the mission; a situation he found galling at best.

Ka’var watched his niece and her Captain as she tapped briefly at the device and it began playing a soft song of guitars and violins in a minor key. Rileeta stepped back by Lorac and sang, gently stroking his ears and face while she did so, her voice clear and pure:

 

Love me one more time,
Make this night last forever,
For on the morrow, I leave for battle-

I may survive,
And I shall return to you,
But come the morrow, I leave for battle-

And if I die, just remember I love you,
And youll always be mine,
Let us warm up this cold night together,
Come the morrow, I leave for battle-

Until tomorrow,
Let me love you forever,
For come the morrow, I leave for battle-

And if I die, just remember I love you,
And you
ll always be mine,
Let us warm up this cold night together,
Come the morrow, I leave for battle-

Yes, tomorrow, I leave for battle-1

 

The Klingons roared their approval and pounded their fists on the table, making things rattle. Wallon complimented her, “You do sing well, and that song could be one of my own people.”

Ka’var waved his goblet at her, sloshing some of the pale-yellow Anorian wine. “Bah! You are still enamored of that beardless boy?” He slapped his Weapons Master on the shoulder, “I’ve a Klingon here for you, girl! A warrior!”

Tamok looked less than interested; Rileeta winked at him and stuck her tongue out at Ka’var as she returned to her seat.

 

* * *

Some hours later, Wallon was walking the grounds of his Palace with Baldon and Pentar. He paused for a moment, looking up at the stars. “Do they seem different to you, now?”

His two advocates looked at each other and Pentar asked, “The stars?” He looked up as well. Many of those pinpoints of light he now knew held intelligent life. More than he had ever imagined. “Yes, Great One, they do. Less mysterious now, but perhaps more wondrous.”

Baldon, also looking up, contributed, “More dangerous. By far.”

Pentar rolled his eyes, “You are such a stereotype, Baldon.”

The Soldier looked back down at Pentar, “You can afford to be filled with child-like glee, Pentar, I cannot. My job is to evaluate threats. What had been a theoretical is now a certainty – and one that we simply do not have the capability to defend against. And in addition, in just a few hours since their presence was made known to our people we have had three Great Houses align in a coup against us, riots and chaos in several cities from people who were afraid they were about to be enslaved, and then more chaos resulting from the coup.

“When was the last time the Pharaoh had to take to the airwaves twice in a single day with news such as this?”

Wallon said, “I think their arrival was timely, Baldon. That coup was not one that was put together in a few hours; I believe they panicked and jumped too early; To our advantage. Had the aliens not been present, I believe there would be a new Pharaoh.”

“Humph. And what are we to make of all these aliens? Our planet has become the prize in a three-way game of jam-dar. Do we pick one and anger the others? And if we do so, will that lead to war with the two not so favored? I do not think we would survive such a conflict.”

Pentar asked “Must we choose? Think of the knowledge we could gain by playing one against the others!”

“And what of this other great power, these Romulans who also lay claim to us? Why are they not here? How will they react if we declare our allegiance to one of these other three?”

The Pharaoh of the Twin Kingdoms of Anoria walked in silence for a few more paces. “Pentar, if you had to pick, which would it be?”

The scientist answered quickly, “The Federation. They are powerful, dignified, peace-loving and dedicated to the search for knowledge. You got to see the Dosadi ship – perhaps I could be taken to see the Federation vessel?”

“And Baldon? What would your choice be?”

The younger man thought for a bit. “I confess I like the Klingons. They are a people much like our own. They are strong and would be able to offer us protection from these Romulans that each of the three say are so dangerous.”

Wallon laughed. “And I find myself preferring the Dosadi. They are allied with the Federation – but willing to share more knowledge much faster, Pentar. They are also strong, even though small, and evidently have fought often with these Romulans – and the Klingons. They are friendly with the Klingons as well. I see alliance with them as the best of all possible worlds.

“We would still be able to maintain alliances with the Klingons and the Federation, we would have access to their technology faster, and we would have a much greater voice in our own fate than in either of the other two. In the Federation, we would be lost in the crowd. In the Klingon Empire, we would be a minor House at the very best. But in the Dosadi Imperium? All of their few members have a voice in council. It is not inconceivable that we could, in time, maneuver our way to leadership.

“And Baldon, they have managed to maintain their independence while existing between three great powers. That is no mean feat. And I sense this ship of theirs, this Delos, is something the others are afraid of. I do not know why a single ship is seen as such a threat, but it dwarfs the other two. I do not think the two of them combined could defeat it in combat. That is something also to consider.”

The three men walked for a while longer. “Pentar, let us see the other two ships as well. I do not need to decide this moment.”

 

* * *

Rileeta was perched on a balance beam, watching Nefer train with her defense master. The woman was impressively fit, and tall even for an Anorian, but, to Rileeta’s eyes, she was ridiculously ‘endowed’. Over the past three days, she had found that she actually enjoyed Nefer’s company. The woman was quite a bit more shrewd than she let on and had a thirst for knowledge that rivaled Rileeta’s own.

After Selo again threw Nefer half-way across the training room, Rileeta suggested, “Want to give her a try against a different opponent? You can observe and make corrections then.”

The big Anorian stood upright and looked over at Rileeta. She flicked her over-large ears backward and considered it. “Yah. That’ll work.” Rileeta still wasn’t used to Selo – her language was considered ‘gutter’ by the members of House Wallon and her placement as a Soldier marked her as a non-woman. Yet she relished the role of outcast – She was, in fact, one of their best special forces operatives.

Rileeta nimbly jumped down onto the mat and took up a position opposite Nefer. “So, I still don’t understand why you are even getting this training – your people don’t seem very keen on women fighting. I’m not sure I’m ever going to understand how you got the training you got, Selo.”

Selo laughed, “Because I’m the best. I’ve never been very girly, but I’ve always been strong, and fast. Even growing up, I beat the boys at pretty much everything.” She shrugged, “And I like girls. Our House is a House Minor, and it was pretty obvious I wasn’t going to marry up, or down for that matter, so I got sent to the armed forces early. They don’t care about your plumbing there, or who you trade pleasure with, just what you can do.”

Nefer circled Ri, who pivoted in a circle. Rileeta asked her, “So why is your father letting you train at all?”

She closed with Ri in a rush. Rileeta took a quick side-step and pivoted gracefully, letting her tail foul up Nefer’s legs and trip her. As she got up, Nefer answered, “He is always worried about our safety and has had us train to fight since birth. But because fighting is so…close,” She shifted her stance, studying Rileeta, “he didn’t want a man to teach us.”

Rileeta feinted, causing Nefer to attack before she was ready. Rileeta grabbed her extended wrist, locked it, and rolled onto her back, kicking Nefer up and away before rolling smoothly back onto her feet. “Makes sense.” she agreed. “Our culture doesn’t care about things like that. Or about what gender does what.”

Selo commented, “Nefer, stop letting her control the fight. And keep your movements precise and fine.”

Getting back to her feet again, Nefer said, “I wish I could do what you two do. I want adventures! I want to go and see all of these alien worlds! I want to make my own choices!” She then launched a series of strikes and kicks that Rileeta blocked, slowly giving ground.

“Better!” Selo complimented her. “Yah, because being a princess is sooo hard. Having everything you ever wanted handed to you.” But she was smiling as she said it and Rileeta guessed this was a frequent complaint of the princess.

Rileeta took the chance to drop down low and sweep Nefer’s legs out from under her, and then spin away and back into a guard stance. “Don’t get distracted, Nefer.” she cautioned her.

Selo looked at the little cat-person appraisingly. “So, you feel like trying someone more challenging than a student?”

Rileeta grinned, “We Dosadi love challenges. Let’s go.”

Selo waved her student off to the side and she and Rileeta began to stalk each other. They each tried a number of feints, getting a feel for their opponent. Selo attacked first with a series of bridging techniques that Rileeta avoided, keeping her distance. The Anorian had height, reach, weight, strength, and experience, but Dosadi reflexes were faster and Rileeta was utilizing that to the fullest.

She asked Selo, “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty five. You?” They closed with each other, trading knees and elbows in a brutal series, then breaking apart again and circling.

“Seventeen. You figure out who was behind the coup yet?” She leaped high, throwing a kick that Selo blocked easily, but she used her tail to wrap around the Anorian’s arm and used it to alter her flight so that she fell straight down Selo’s back. She quickly grabbed her calves and pulled her onto her face, but the Anorian yanked back on Ri’s tail and then kicked hard for her face causing Rileeta to have to abort her attack to block and the two split again, each regaining their feet a meter or two from the center of the mat.

“Yup. Two of the Great Houses from the Southern Kingdom and one from the Northern.” Selo smiled a very wicked smile, “I’ll be dealing with them each in turn.”

Nefer interrupted, “Selo, you can not! Father has not yet completed his investigations. He will be furious with you!”

“I’ve completed mine. He’ll be fine with it when the heads of the traitorous Houses are on his wall.” She attacked Rileeta in a savage series, causing the little Dosadi to back-pedal rapidly, blocking as she went, but finally landing a solid shot across Selo’s jaw and staggering her.

Selo fell back and shook her head to clear it. “Nice one. See Nefer, what happens when you get distracted?”

Rileeta stood up and dropped her guard. “Nice match. You’ve got a team, I take it?”

“Oh yes. Twelve men and myself. More than enough for what needs to be done.”

Nefer pleaded, “Take me with you!”

Selo laughed, “Nefer, you’re nowhere near ready for real combat and you know it. You’ve got a good basic skill set, but not what you need for a raid like this. And if I let you go, your father would gut me.”

Nefer pouted. “That is so unfair.”

Rileeta laughed as well, “Nefer, if you want adventure, you should run off and join Starfleet. That’s their recruiting slogan, ‘Make your life an adventure – Join Starfleet and explore the universe.’

Selo shook her head, “She doesn’t need any encouragement.”

Nefer asked, “Can you do that if you are not part of the Federation? I think father wants to join your Imperium.”

Rileeta confirmed, “Yes, you can apply if you’re from any allied power. But it isn’t easy to get in.” Seeing Selo frowning at her and shaking her head she continued, “But you might want to get permission from your father first. So I don’t get in trouble.”

Nefer thought about that for a moment. “Tell me something about your world.”

“Nice subject change, Nefer.” But she was smiling, “It’s beautiful. Dosad is mostly covered in forests and lakes or oceans. Um…” She thought for a moment, “Well, my house is in a forest of meritha trees. They’re a semi-deciduous hardwood with these loong corn-husk-like leaves and when the wind blows it sounds like they’re talking to each other. It’s only a few kilometers from Lake Elesh, and I love to go sailing in a longboat. If you go to the far side, it’s all kend’fee trees – they’re this really big, dense-grained tree that’s almost black and the leaves are like big fronds and they’re great for climbing. You can go up a long way and just drape on a branch and watch the world go by underneath you.

“We’ve got one moon, we call it ‘Thorin’ and when it’s full it lights up the sky, especially when the volcanoes there are erupting. That always causes meteor showers that look like fireworks that go on for days. Sometimes you can even see the eruptions and the meteors during the daylight. Someday if you come and visit, I’ll take you up in the mountains and we can watch the felar hunt – er, that’s a really fast bird that hunts at night and it loves to catch little creatures to eat. They sing when they hunt and on nights when Thorin is erupting and the meteors are coming down it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.”

She asked, “What else do you want to know?”

“How do you raise your children?”

“Well I don’t have any yet, of course, but everyone helps. We don’t have children as fast or as easily as a lot of species in the galaxy. So, when someone gives birth, there’s the n’mewr rak’kas – a birth celebration. The whole neighborhood has a sort of party where they bring food and little things for the new kitten and people will stay over for the first week even and help the father keep up. Our newborns spend most of their first month or two just nursing and sleeping and it’s pretty draining on the mom. But they are so cute. We usually don’t give them names until around the end of their second month – there’s another big feast where all the kits in that age group get their name, that’s called rikt rak’kas – the naming festival.

“What’s the most fun though is every year we have de’vax rak’kas – that means the first hunt festival.” She smiled at the memories. “We split the kits up into three age groups, the really little kittens, and 4-6 year olds, and then the youngsters 7-10. We release little thevets for the kittens and pashtols, um, they’re sort of like rabbits, for the middle kits, and k’lox for the bigger ones. Aw, um, k’lox are almost a meter tall, they’ve got big teeth, fluffy tails, beady eyes and sharp claws…Anyway, each group gets to hunt for dinner for everyone and they share their kills with the whole town in a huge feast. Watching the kittens go chasing around after these little mouse-sized thevets is so cute.

“But it gives the kits a chance to provide for everyone and work on their hunting and teamwork skills and share stories and make friends and there are so many different recipes that you can go from one side of the green to the other and eat so much you aren’t even hungry the next day.

“No matter what your father decides, you’ll have the chance to go see a lot of other worlds.” She grinned, “Of course if you join the Imperium, you can travel in the Federation, the Imperium, or the Klingon Empire. Three for one!”

Nefer thought about that for a few seconds while she stretched out some kinks in her legs. “Teach me something in Dosadi. Like good morning or something.”

“Huh. Well, we don’t usually say good morning…We might say ango’vax. That’s ‘best hunting’. Or pitt’barl’t – fresh breezes.”

“Ango’vax” Nefer tried.

“Close. The o sound is a little longer than that and the a needs to go further back in your mouth.”

“Ango’vax?”

“Better. Another really common phrase is stol t’het. That means ‘honor above all.’ We live by that.”

“Stolthet”

“Erms, no. Not ‘thet’ – there’s like a break there. T’het. And a pause between so, stol…t’het.”

“Stol t’het.”

“Be!” She smiled, “That’s ‘yes’. No would be ‘Ca.’”

Nefer smiled at Rileeta while Selo just shook her head. “So how would I say thank you?”

“Kareen – don’t get the C and the K confused. That C is shorter and harder than the K.”

“Kareen, Rileeta. Stol t’het!” Nefer said easily.

Her ears and whiskers flicking back in surprise Rileeta said, “Wow. You learn languages pretty quickly!”

“I love learning anything. There’s always something more to learn.” Nefer agreed.

“You’ll get along well with Lorac. He’s a super-genius. But I’m thinking you need to get back to training or Selo’s never going to let me watch another session…”

CHAPTER 7

One of the nicest things in life is making new friends who end up lasting a lifetime.
-Unknown

MALCOR III – CAPITAL CITY

JANUARY 2367

Riker had managed to stagger out of the alleyway, dizzy with shock. People were staring at him – that was bad. He wasn’t supposed to attract attention. He was supposed to be doing…what? He stumbled another couple of steps, leaning drunkenly on a wall for support.

None of them looked right. This wasn’t where he belonged. The ship. He had to get back to the ship.

A woman screamed. He sank to his knees and several people ran up to him, but none of them were wearing the right clothes – where was Dr. Crusher? Where was Data?

The last thing he remembered was hands grabbing at him.

 

* * *

Two men wheeled the cart through the halls of the medical center, finally getting the injured man into the trauma bay. The staff wasted no time getting him attached to the monitors.

Nilrem, examining the medic’s initial reports said “He took a severe blow…possible trauma to the telencephalon…”

While Tava was conducting her own assessment, she added “Start fifteen octares of quadroline. We’ll need a complete del-scan series…

Seconds later, Nilrem, listening with an audio-amplifier said, “Something’s wrong. I can’t find his cardial organ.”

Tava grabbed for Riker’s wrist, and after a moment she asked “What do you mean? I’m reading a steady circulation…”

Seconds later, after searching, and holding the device over his center chest. “There it is…up here…”

Perplexed, she turned and asked, “In his digestive tract??”

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Picard continued, “The Anorians did elect to join the Imperium, as you know.“

“So her mission was a success then.”

“For the Dosadi yes, for the Federation, it was something of a minor disaster. A promising species lost, in clear violation of the Prime Directive. And there was other political fallout as well.”

“Is that why the Federation created it’s own first contact teams?”

Picard cleared his throat. “Well, yes. Gaavrin found himself rather outmaneuvered by Ka’var, Rileeta, and her friend Lorac. But he had the last laugh in the end; rather typical for a Tellarite.”

“How?”

The Captain shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The Valley Forge returned to Dosad while the Delos stayed at Anoria. The Federation lodged a formal protest with the Dosadi over their violation of the Prime Directive and Gaavrin then negotiated the Treaty of Va’fakt. The Dosadi would leave all First Contact missions to the Federation in exchange for certain technological considerations and trade concessions. They turned over the entire program to the Federation.”

Deanna Troi considered that for a moment, her hands in her lap. “So that is how Rileeta ended up assigned to Starfleet for so long. How did she react?”

“As you might expect, she was furious. At a stroke, the Federation had taken control of her project even after a successful mission. And she and Lorac had considerably less influence in Starfleet than they did in the Imperial fleet. Although they tried.”

“What did they do?”

“Lorac joined Starfleet. He entered the Academy. He was in my class, in fact. Along with one other from the whole sorry mess.”

“Who?”

Picard sighed. “The Princess Nefer.”

“How did she manage that?”

“Wallon was a shrewd one. After the coup attempt he took steps to protect his family. Little Dorea was often sent to Dosad on ‘diplomatic’ missions or to visit her friend from the Delos. She turned out to be quite the charmer and stuck with the diplomatic mission long after it stopped being a pretense. She is still Anoria’s representative to the Dosadi Imperial Council of Governors, in fact. Nefer, he sent to us.”

“She was able to pass the exams?”

“She had embarked on a very intensive two year program to do exactly that. Guess who helped prepare her?”

“Rileeta?”

Picard sat up more comfortably, “No, actually, it was Lorac. We learned much later that he was a near-eidetic as well as being a spy.”

“Is that how you met her?”

“Yes, of course. Starfleet wanted to add to her and her team’s education before continuing the program and have her transfer her knowledge to other teams. They were actually studying at CalTech while we were at the Academy, but she visited often. Her aunt had graduated about thirty years earlier and was a very senior Captain at that time.”

Picard’s comm-badge whistled and Data’s voice came through, “Captain, we have located Captain Rileeta. She will be aboard within twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Data. Have her…” he considered it for a moment, “Have her shown to Ten-Forward. Tell the senior staff to prepare for a briefing in one hour.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Picard stood, tugged his jacket downward and asked Troi, “Would you care to join us counselor? We can continue the history lesson.”

She smiled and stood as well, “Thank you, Captain, I would. I’m looking forward to meeting this old acquaintance of yours.”

 

* * *

STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH

SEPTEMBER 2323

Cadet Jean-Luc Picard was running free and clean. The rain was starting to come down fairly hard, but it had little effect upon him, except to keep him cool. He was a solid 18 miles in and long past the wall, just enjoying the feel of the air pumping in and out of his lungs and the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the path.

This particular way was a winding jogging path that made its way up and down the folds in the Bay coastline near the Academy and was one of his favorite routes to run. The hills meant that in inclement weather it was less-frequently traveled than some of the other paths lower down and the views were spectacular.

It had been a very good year for him so far. He had actually won the Academy Marathon back in April, only a few months after he had passed the entrance exams – beating an upperclassman to do it. Well, it had been a good year for him socially…and athletically. It hadn’t been all that good academically. There just always seemed to be other things to do – studying could wait. And then wait some more – usually until it was too late.

He turned his head to look out over the Bay, enjoying the feel of the rain on his face and the crenelated surface of the ocean, iron-grey and flat, heading out to the horizon…and he snapped his attention back to the path just as he slammed into the back of another person on the trail, tumbling the two of them into the rain-slick grass.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” he said as he rolled back to his knees, attempting to help the other person as well – then noticing that the other person looked like a dripping-wet black panther in dark blue trousers and a white shirt. And a moment later, realizing that the person was a foreign military officer.

Picard quickly got back to his feet and offered a hand down to the officer, “My fault entirely…” he paused a moment as he tried to determine their gender, finally settling on one, “Ma’am.”

Rileeta took the proffered hand with a smile and sniffed. Taking in the young man’s Academy PT uniform she answered in nasally and accented Standard, “Thank you, cadet. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention either. I don’t like the rain much and I’ve got a cold.”

“Cadet Jean-Luc Picard, ma’am. Starfleet Academy.” he graciously introduced himself.

“Lieutenant (J.G.) Rileeta, Dosadi Imperial Marines.” she shook his hand. “I’m meeting some friends at the shelter just around the bend, I don’t suppose we could finish the introductions there?”

“Well, if it’s OK with you ma’am, I was just going to finish my run – I’ve still got about 5 miles to go.”

She waved him on and said, “Have fun, cadet!” and took a step – or tried to. “Yow!!” She caught herself before she fell and kept the weight off her right ankle.

Picard also caught her elbow. “Are you OK?”

“I think I twisted it a little when we tumbled there…You hit like a brick wall.” she teased him.

“Sorry.” he smiled at her. “Can I offer you an arm until you get to the shelter?”

The two of them made their way the few hundred meters to a small building overlooking the ocean. Ever the gentleman, Picard helped her through the door, noting that there were several other cadets in the room as well.

“Ri?!” Another Dosadi called out and was on his feet in an instant, heading towards the door, concern all over his furry face.

“I just twisted it is all, Lorac. Don’t worry.” Rather than letting loose of Picard’s arm, she introduced him, “Everyone, this is Cadet Jean-Luc Picard.

“Picard, this is my th’mew Cadet Lorac, and this is Cadet Nefer, Princess of Anoria!”

The aforementioned princess rolled her eyes and said “Jealous!”

Ignoring her, Rileeta continued, “Cadet Jim Robbins, and Cadet Phil Howard.”

Picard said, “Pleased to meet you all.” His curiosity got the better of him, “This seems like rather an odd gathering in an odd location. May I ask what you all are doing?”

Lorac grinned, “We’re all spies!” That got a laugh from most everyone except Picard, who didn’t much enjoy being made fun of. “Sorry.” he continued with a twinkle in his golden cat’s-eyes. “We’re a study group – I’m tutoring us in astrophysics and stellar navigation and Rileeta tutors in ground tactics and first contact protocols. She’s attached to Starfleet, it’s all legitimate.”

“Astrophysics?” That was one of the subjects he was struggling in.

Robbins said, “I know you – you won the marathon! Hey, join in man, the more the merrier.”

Rileeta sniffed again and tried to shake the water out of her fur and her clothing. Cadet Howard grabbed a pair of towels from a drying rack along the back wall of the shelter and tossed them to her and to Picard. She smiled at him gratefully and began drying off.

Picard caught it easily, “Thanks. I think I shall.” He made his way over to the table, piled high with books and took a seat, drying his shaved head first.

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Picard and Troi made their way through the corridors of the Enterprise, continuing to talk. Troi, always glad to get more information about his past from the normally reticent Picard, asked “So you were study-buddies?”

“I don’t know that I’d use that specific term, Counselor, but that was how I met them initially. Cadet Lorac was actually quite a good tutor, and Rileeta’s presentation was always rather engaging. She tended to illustrate her discussions with real-world stories of battles from many different cultures. The Dosadi as you know seem to have a nearly genetic fascination with history.”

The doors to Ten-Forward swooshed open and they walked into the lounge, taking seats at a table near the large forward-facing windows. As always Picard found his attention drawn to the view. No matter how often he made orbit around a planet, the view of another world turning lazily below him inspired at least a brief period of reflection.

He continued while the two enjoyed the view. “From studying together, the group of us began to associate more and more. We all had a firm belief that conflict could be avoided through understanding and interaction. That intellect could defeat the brute passions. Lorac and I in particular seemed to have a very similar philosophy about different cultures. He helped me with academics and I helped him with physical fitness and athletics. Despite his very powerful intellect, he was not terribly athletic and he struggled to maintain passing scores on Academy fitness testing. My circle of friends and theirs interacted quite a bit, we found that we all socialized well together and often enjoyed a lot of the same events. Believe it or not, Counselor, a large group of us would even go bar-hopping occasionally.”

He smiled again, “I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Dosadi are very light-weight drinkers; Although they’re spectacular jumpers and their cardiovascular system is better than humans, their livers are smaller and alcohol hits them fast and hard. Lorac was a hilarious drunk and would inevitably believe that he was suddenly endowed with dancing powers and he would drag Rileeta up onto the floor at every opportunity.”

Returning her own view from the window to the Captain, Troi laughed, “It is hard to visualize you as a young, partying cadet. But,“ Troi prompted, “I sense there was a lot more to your relationship than study partners, Captain.”

“Oh yes, Counselor.” At her questioning expression he hastened to explain, “Oh, no, not like that, no, no. We were…” He was interrupted by the the double-doors sliding open again and there was a five-foot tall black-furred Dosadi with a good sized hole in her left ear just above a silver earring. The alien was wearing dusty-grey battle-dress with the 3 solid silver stripes of a captain over her shoulders, a Warrior’s pendant snug around her neck and just above it, a throat-mic. It was evident that this was a working uniform – and from the dirt and stains on it, that she had been working in some fairly unsavory locations recently.

She and Picard saw each other instantly. He stood up and she walked over to the table, arriving just as Guinan made her way to the table as well. Rileeta simply looked at him, suspicion and not a little anger evident on her face.

Picard greeted her with a simple, “Rileeta.” Her muzzle was shot with grey and there were some new scars, but otherwise she looked much the same.

She returned his greeting cooly, “Jean-Luc.”

Rather than asking for their orders, Guinan instead looked at Troi with an expression of bemused surprise. “Jean-Luc.” She looked back at Picard, pulled out a chair and sat down, “This is a story I have to hear.”

Somewhat confused, Rileeta asked, “Beg pardon?”

Trying to regain control of the situation Picard said, “Allow me to begin with some introductions. This is my ship’s counselor, Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troi and this is…” Picard hesitated. Guinan’s role was considerably more than simply a bartender.

She introduced herself. “My name is Guinan. I’m the bartender here aboard the Enterprise. And I listen.”

“Yes, exactly.” he hurried on, “This is Captain Rileeta, Dosadi Imperial Marines. She is leading the First Contact team on Malcor III that Will was liaising with. Won’t you be seated?”

Rileeta pulled her own chair out and sat down, followed swiftly by Picard.

She started out straight to business, “We haven’t found him yet. We know where the team lost contact and we’ve been working from there out. He’s not at the main medical center. We’re checking the smaller clinics and…other places. The situation is still pretty fluid.”

Troi was sorting through the torrent of strong emotions coming from the two senior officers. Sadness, regret, betrayal, anger, hesitation, mistrust – with her empathic abilities, it was a bit like being hit with a hose.

Picard thought for a few moments, his mouth tightly closed. No one said anything while he decided what tack to take. Finally he said, “Thank you for coming aboard to brief me in person. If Will is injured we must making locating him our absolute top priority.”

A steward had come up to the table and Rileeta simply said, “Dosadi whiskey, neat.”

Picard raised an eyebrow but politely ordered, “Earl Grey, hot.” Both Guinan and Troi settled for water.

Guinan stepped in again, “So you’re a Jean-Luc friend?” she asked Rileeta.

Rileeta looked puzzled and Troi tried to explain, “The Captain’s just been explaining some of their history, Guinan. Evidently they were study partners at the Academy.”

Rileeta cocked an ear at that. “Study partners?” She snorted.

Guinan decided to try to tease a little to get the two captains to lighten up. “Lovers, perhaps?”

Picard’s face registered his surprise at that suggestion coming from Guinan and Rileeta actually laughed, “Oh no.” She finally smiled and said, “I don’t think either of us ever even considered it, although he was our th’mew.”

Guinan asked, “Th’mew?”

Rileeta, reached for the drink that was just arriving, “I’ll let him explain it. I once thought he understood it.” She took a solid slug of the dark green liquid.

Picard took his tea and set it on the table, then straightened his tunic. “It means literally close-friend. But it goes well beyond that. It can mean lovers, or something like blood brothers. It’s a bond of extreme trust and friendship that goes well beyond the norm. It’s about one step shy of being adopted into the family.”

“Something like imzadi, then.” Troi suggested.

“Yes, that’s really rather close, Counselor.” he said, and tried to shift the topic somewhat. “You and Lorac were th’mew – but there it meant lovers, and more. Did you ever become mates?”

Troi struggled again with the wave of conflicting emotions. Warmth, pride, love, joy, anger, betrayal, loneliness. It was difficult to keep her face impassive. “From what the Captain has told me so far, I would guess that you did. “

Rileeta swirled the whiskey in her glass. “Eventually, but it’s not that easy for Dosadi.” She took another drink.

Guinan continued to probe, “It’s not? Are there family issues?”

Smiling, Rileeta tried to explain, “No, not like that. Although my father was not Lorac’s biggest fan. For Dosadi, our biochemistry is heavily involved. We don’t even become fertile until we’ve settled on a mate and been around them for some time. Becoming mates is as much about compatible chemistry as it is about love. Usually you try out several mates until you find the one you are most compatible with and then your bodies just settle into each other’s rhythms.

“My people love quickly, but for a mate, it goes well beyond that. When you find your mate, you really lose interest in anyone else. They become pretty much another half of you. If we lose our mate, we will often just…fade away and die. There’s no interest in continuing to be.” She glared at Picard, “Being apart from them is often quite difficult.”

Trying not to show a reaction from the wave of anger coming from the Dosadi, Troi asked, “I’m surprised that you weren’t mates by the time you were at the Academy with the Captain. From what he told me you were always together since you were little children.”

Rileeta sighed, “It was a fairly unusual situation. Not by choice.” She took another swallow of her drink and looked at Picard. “Do you remember, Jean-Luc?” She actually looked a little sad at the memory. “I remember you being very uncomfortable that evening, even though you were our th’mew by then.”

He shifted in his seat and straightened his tunic again. “Among my people, that sort of conversation is not for outsiders, as you well know, Rileeta.”

“You weren’t an outsider. Not then, anyway.” Her ears had drooped a little bit and Troi again had to deal with a storm of conflicting emotions.

Curious, Guinan prodded again, “What happened?”

Seeing Rileeta focused on her drink he decided to continue the story after all. “Well, we were in Lorac’s room at the Academy one evening. I think it was raining again, in fact. I don’t recall why Rileeta was there…”

“Gave a class presentation on first contact disasters.” she spoke over the rim of her glass, her eyes still focused on the whiskey.

“Oh yes. Well, in any case, I remember the two of you were curled up on his bunk, and I think it was Varley and Nefer on the floor wasn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“I said something like ‘why don’t you two just get married already?’ which actually isn’t even allowed at the Academy, if you remember your regulations.”

Rileeta mumbled something about “you and regulations…” but Picard chose to ignore her and continued,

“And that was when she began to explain it to me…”

 

* * *

STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH

FEBRUARY 2324

Rileeta snuggled backwards into Lorac, enjoying the feel of him spooned around her. After Jean-Luc’s question, she had tried to explain how Dosadi find their life’s partner. It seemed like every species had it’s own twist on finding your one true love.

Nefer asked, “So why aren’t you two mates? You’ve said you’ve been friends since you were what, six?”

Rileeta said, “I don’t know. Something just hasn’t clicked yet.”

Very softly, Lorac said, “It has for me.”

She turned her head over her shoulder, “What?”

“You are my mate, Ri.”

Picard was wondering if he, Nefer and Varley should make a dignified exit and head back to their own quarters. Varley’s dark face was starting to show a blush at the intimacy the two were openly displaying.

“But…How…Why not for…when?

He looked at her, his eyes, whiskers and ears projecting a sort of sad and hopeless longing. “Since I was about ten.”

Her jaw dropped open and her ears flicked backwards in surprise. “That’s not…why haven’t I…”

He shrugged and decided to explain to the three friends that had become such a close part of their lives. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes one person settles on a partner, but that partner doesn’t have the same reaction.”

“I do though! I want you as my mate!” she objected.

He continued, “It’s not anything you can control, really. It doesn’t really matter unless you want to have kits or if…well, if the other partner finds another mate. That simply isn’t survivable. To see your mate become someone else’s.”

Rileeta stroked his face softly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Picard and Varley looked at each other. There simply wasn’t any way to subtly escape this conversation. Nefer, however seemed fascinated.

Lorac said, “Why would I? If you settled on me, I would tell you then. If you didn’t, well, why burden you? But Ri, I’ve never had any interest in anyone else. Do you remember S’eeth?”

Rileeta laughed, “Of course, silly. And you know it. We still write all the time.”

“I know – I meant do you remember when we were kits? I liked her. Before I met you, she was one of my best friends. But she wasn’t you. No one was. I’ve never even played at mates with anyone else. No matter what I was doing, I thought about telling you, or asking you or how you’d react. From the first time I saw that dirty fur, I could not get you out of my mind.”

She blinked back some tears, “Your ears are still funny looking.” She flipped over, not paying any attention to her other friends, “Lorac, I don’t understand it. If you knew…what’s wrong with me? I’ve never been interested in anyone else. Never wanted anyone else. I still don’t. Why haven’t I felt it?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know, Ri. Maybe you will some day. I just figured it was time for you to know.”

She nuzzled into him, pulling herself close, the two exchanging little kisses and touches. After a few moments, she turned back over, noticing how uncomfortable Varley and Picard were. She sniffed, “Sorry. You guys don’t need to be so freaked out.”

Nefer, enthralled, gushed, “This is so romantic!

Varley said, “We didn’t mean to eavesdrop, of course, but it’s not like we had much of a choice.”

Lorac said, “You weren’t eavesdropping. You’re th’mew – you’ve as much a right to know what’s going on with us as anyone does. We trust you; with everything.”

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Troi took a sip of her water. “So you weren’t even a student at the Academy Captain Rileeta? But Lorac was your classmate, Captain?”

Picard said, “Yes. Rileeta was actually working on her PhDs in Xenology and Engineering at CalTech, but she would often be brought in as a guest lecturer at the Academy. Lorac and I ended up on a number of class-postings, in fact.”

Rileeta laughed, “One of which nearly got you both expelled.”

Guinan’s eyes widened “Jean-Luc! Expelled?”

He grimaced. “Actually, I thought it a rather clever solution at the time.”

Troi took a guess, ‘The Kobayashi Maru test?”

“That seems to be everyone’s first guess for everything at the Academy, doesn’t it, Counselor? But no, not actually. Well, it was somewhat related to that test.”

Rileeta finished her drink and signaled for a refill. She snorted. “Only in so far as that motivated the bet.”

Both Guinan and Troi were watching him, but neither woman was saying anything. Picard tried to look innocent. “Simply an exploration of a no-win situation that might be encountered in fleet duty.”

The pause continued. Finally, so did he. “I maintained that a cleverly captained small ship could successfully defeat a much larger one.”

Rileeta chuckled. “You make it all sound so civilized, Jean-Luc. You were bragging and you know it. You were a cocky bastard. And sneaky.”

Troi’s surprise registered on her face. “Cocky? Sneaky? What happened?”

“He bet the tactical instructor that he could beat him with a Miranda-class frigate even if the instructor had an Excelsior-class heavy cruiser.”

“That seems like an impossible mis-match.”

“It would have been too. But Jean-Luc had an ace up his sleeve Captain MacGregor wasn’t expecting.”

 

* * *

FEDERATION EXCELSIOR-CLASS STARSHIP USS BERLIN, EARTH ORBIT

APRIL 2327

Captain Ian MacGregor shook his counterpart’s hand. “Thank you, Captain Grinelli, for lending me your ship for this exercise.”

Sofia Grinelli smiled at him. “It wasn’t all that long ago that I was a student, Captain. And this particular exercise doesn’t sound like it’s going to take all that long.”

“No, it really shouldn’t. He’s an excellent tactician, but he’s overconfident, cocky, and boastful. In addition to teaching him some much-needed humility, this will provide an excellent exercise for the rest of the students. Although the Thunderbolt’s crew will remain aboard and supervising, the acting crew will be made up entirely of students.”

“You selected them?”

MacGregor laughed, his ruddy face and walrus-mustache shaking, “You’d think he’d at least have that much sense wouldn’t you? But no, he’s hand-picked his entire crew.”

 

* * *

Down in the Berlin‘s communications switch room, a Dosadi crewman walked in with a clipboard and took a seat at a console. Looking bored, he simply watched the three other people go about their business and made a few notes. After a few minutes he stood up, stretched and left the room again.

 

* * *

FEDERATION MIRANDA-CLASS FRIGATE USS THUNDERBOLT, EARTH ORBIT

APRIL 2327

Senior Cadet Jean-Luc Picard sat comfortably in the command chair of the USS Thunderbolt. Her actual captain was just behind his shoulder, but for the day, the ship was his. The bridge was humming along quite nicely. Watching his crew go about their duties with such competence was very satisfying. None of the Thunderbolt’s crew had needed to step in at all; True, they were simply holding orbit while everyone got settled before the exercise began, but it still spoke highly of their abilities that their first time as a complete crew in a real starship, they were doing well.

The bridge turbo-lift doors swooshed open and Lorac walked into the space. Picard swiveled his chair to face him, “Ah, Number One. Everything going well below decks?”

Lorac smiled, showing his fangs, “Everything is as expected, Captain.”

Captain Abasi tried not to roll his eyes. The tall Kenyan had the starved-greyhound look that all ultra-marathoners seemed to enjoy.

Cadet Marta Batanides at the communications console turned her head to look at Picard. “The Berlin is hailing us, Captain.”

“On screen please, Ms. Batanides.”

MacGregor’s smiling face filled the forward screen. “All right Picard. If you and your crew are ready, we’ll head to the flight range at Titan. Nothing to get worried about, it’ll be just like the simulations.”

Picard tugged his jacket down. “Oh yes, Captain. We’re all very nervous over here.” His mock sincerity fooled no one.

MacGregor frowned and shook his head. “Picard, I am afraid I’m really going to enjoy teaching you this lesson. Berlin out.”

As the screen went dark, Picard again spoke to Lorac, “Enough time, Number One?”

Lorac, typing away at the tactical console just nodded.

“What’s the word going to be?”

“Ava”

Picard chuckled, causing Abasi to wonder exactly what was up. The word was Dosadi for ‘thunder’. Picard turned back towards Varley at Flight Control, “Mr. Varley, take us out.”

Two hours later, both ships coasted to their positions near Saturn.

Batanides again told Picard, “Berlin is hailing us, sir.”

“On screen – and don’t cut off until I signal you. That’s vital, Marty.” She grinned back and gave him a thumbs-up.

The forward view screen filled with the view of Berlin’s bridge, her crew of experienced officers looking calm and collected. Picard could tell that his crew – while excited, were also nervous and most of them were probably expecting to be quickly defeated.

MacGregor smiled, every inch of him the confident, skilled Starfleet commander that he was. “Well, Picard, everything ready?”

“Yes, sir. And sir, we’re all looking forward to seeing just how starship combat should be conducted.”

MacGregor’s smile faded. “Picard, you are treading on very thin ice with that attitude.” His Berlin dwarfed the Thunderbolt in every respect.

“I apologize sir. I must be letting my excitement get the better of me.”

“You might want to pay more attention to preparing for this exercise than making smart-mouthed comments. Now, verify that your weapons are on ‘safe’, sensors are configured to record uplink data from the Berlin and that your library computer is tied into Range Control.”

“Yes, sir. Captain Abasi will check me on that.”

Abasi nodded and waved his hand at MacGregor.

“Are you ready, Mr. Picard?”

“Yes, sir. Thunderbolt is ready.”

“Then let’s begin. Begin Exercise.”

“Sir?” there was the briefest of pauses as MacGregor looked back at Picard. Picard smiled and said, “Ava”. And made a slashing motion with his arm to Batanides. He immediately began issuing crisp, rapid orders. “Varley, full impulse, directly over the primary hull, weapons, fire as they bear.”

The little ship leaped forward while the Berlin remained motionless. Picard continued, “Full shields, energize the defense grids. As we cross her primary hull, pivot 180 degrees and descend between her nacelles and continue firing. Weapons free to engage any target available.”

Abasi was stunned. The Berlin wasn’t moving at all. The Thunderbolt’s phasers and torpedoes were firing and clearly scoring ‘hits’ on the cruiser as she closed to point-blank range.

 

* * *

FEDERATION EXCELSIOR-CLASS STARSHIP USS BERLIN, TITAN RANGE

APRIL 2327

Picard said, “Sir?”

McGregor, in the act of cutting communications looked at Cadet Picard who simply said, “Ava.”

And throughout the Berlin, the intercom system began blaring some sort of horribly loud music at pain-inducing volumes. Everyone on the bridge clapped their hands over their ears and ducked their heads. Species with sensitive hearing were in agony, trying to block out the noise. Some sort of guitar and moaning noises and then drums began to beat…

Thunder! Thunder! Thunder! Over and over again. The music – and the pain – rapidly became more intense.

He tried to shout orders over the music, but no one could hear him. Everyone still had their hands over their ears anyway. So did he, for that matter.

I was caught in the middle of a railroad track THUNDER

Damage indicators were lighting up all over the consoles and the forward view screen showed MacGregor the Thunderbolt streaking in at them.

I looked around And I knew there was no turning back THUNDER

The weapons operator, a Caitan with very sensitive hearing, was curled up on the floor, trying to cover her ears with her hands and hide her head under the console. McGregor screamed “RAISE SHIELDS!” but no one could hear him. He jumped to his feet and ran to the defense station, his ears ringing loudly and shook the man, pointing at the viewscreen.

My mind raced and I thought what I could do THUNDER

Trying to hunch his shoulder up to cover his now-exposed ear the man typed quickly at his console, trying to raise the shields. More damage-indicators were coming on across the ship and the Thunderbolt was no longer visible on the screen.

And I knew, there was no help, no help from you THUNDER

McGregor sprinted for the communications console, pointing at the overhead and making throat slashing motions. The man at that station had been typing, feeling like his ears were bleeding, and he simply shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

Sound of the drums, beatin’ in my heart, the thunder of guns, tore me apart. You’ve been…THUNDERSTRUCK

Finally the Berlin began to maneuver – though she had already taken severe damage from the pounding the Thunderbolt was giving her. Unfortunately, having to communicate with hand signals is not conducive to starship combat. The Thunderbolt was no longer visible on the Berlin’s sensors, but from the damage ripping across their starship, it was obvious she was behind them somewhere.

Went down the highway, broke the limit, we hit the town, went through to Texas, yeah Texas, and we had some fun. We met some girls, some dancers who gave a good time. Broke all the rules, played all the fools. Yeah, yeah, they, they, they blew our minds.

He was trying to get the idea across to his helmsman that he wanted to execute a skew-flip turn, through gestures and shouts, but no one could hear much of anything but ringing and the painfully loud music at this point.

I was shakin’ at the knees. Could I come again please? Yeah the ladies were too kind. You’ve been – THUNDERSTRUCK. THUNDERSTRUCK, yeah, yeah, yeah THUNDERSTRUCK!2

Finally, mercifully, the computer decided that so much damage had been done to the Berlin that internal communications had failed and the horrible music cut off, leaving silence. Everyone aboard breathed a sigh of relief, most shaking their heads and trying to end the echoing high-pitched whining ringing sound left in their ears.

Seconds later another bracket of point-blank phasers and photon torpedoes struck the Berlin and the library computer’s voice came over the intercom at normal volumes that everyone now struggled to hear: “Exercise concluded. USS Berlin combat ineffective. Casualties 76.7%. Elapsed time, three minutes.”

Furious, MacGregor sat back down in the Captain’s chair and tried to compose himself before he beamed over there and ripped that cadet into pieces.

 

* * *

FEDERATION MIRANDA-CLASS FRIGATE USS THUNDERBOLT, EARTH ORBIT

APRIL 2327

Abasi just watched, stunned, as the Berlin sat still while the Thunderbolt swung around, sat between her warp nacelles and calmly shot her to pieces. Finally, the cruiser swung into motion, but the cadet at the helm had little difficulty matching her movements while the weapons crews were engaging relatively motionless targets at point-blank range.

He looked at Picard, who was relaxed, watching the Berlin try to maneuver away, the mock damage she had suffered making that difficult. “What did you do?

Picard looked back at him. “Do?”

“Don’t be smart, cadet. That was some sort of code word – Did it disable their computers somehow?”

“That wouldn’t be entirely fair, would it, Captain?”

Lorac laughed.

Picard continued, “Would you care to let him in on the secret, Number One?”

Lorac grinned, “Yes, Captain.” He stood and held up a small, flat piece of equipment, no more than an inch on a side. “Have you ever seen one of these, sir?”

Abasi took it from him and studied it. “Data tap?”

“Yes, sir. While we were waiting, I beamed over to the Berlin and placed one in their communications switch room. No one even questioned why I was there. While we were en route, I simply used one of their own access codes.”

“You can’t access command functions from the comm system. There are interlocks to prevent that. In fact, you can’t even inject command code for any critical system via external links.”

“Not a critical system at all, sir. Well, at least not as far as the designers considered it.”

“What non-critical system could you hack that would disable a starship’s shields, weapons, and navigation?”

“The intercom, sir.”

“How in the hell is that going to disable the ship??”

Lorac said, “Sound, at a loud enough volume, is seriously disorienting and disabling. And most of commanding a starship in combat involves verbal orders. Like ‘raise shields’ or courses, or…Well, I’m sure you get the picture sir.”

Abasi’s mouth hung open. “I don’t know if you’re going to be decorated or arrested.”

 

CHAPTER 8

The more you trust, the greater the betrayal. The more you love, the greater the harm.
-Unknown

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

With a sly smile, Guinan said, “Jean-Luc! You cheated!

Trying to explain he said, “No, no – it was actually part of our discussion that led to the bet. I had commented that a skilled commander studied his foes – learned their weaknesses, strengths, and applied them in ways that they might not expect. My argument was that such a commander, backed by a highly-skilled and motivated crew could defeat ships many times their size. I, in fact, had mentioned that communications and data links were a great vulnerability for Starfleet vessels.”

Rileeta simply said, “MacGregor and Grinelli sure didn’t agree with you on that.”

“Yes, there were accusations of espionage, security violations, assault, everything just shy of piracy. Especially for Lorac.”

Rileeta mumbled, “And you used that against him.” If anyone took any note of her comment, they didn’t show it.

Troi, smiling said, “How did you get away with it?”

“Well,” he gestured with his hand, “The Commandant decided that exposing that vulnerability in Fleet vessels was a plus, and that balanced the security violation. I did get several demerits over it, as did Lorac. MacGregor was absolutely furious with me. I don’t think he ever got over it.”

He thought for a moment while Rileeta finished her drink. “Counselor, assemble the senior staff in the briefing room. It’s time we put together a plan for finding Will. Guinan, will you attend, please?

Rileeta cocked an ear at him. When had Jean-Luc begun having his bartender attend staff meetings?

 

* * *

MALCOR III – CAPITAL CITY SIKLA MEDICAL FACILITY

JANUARY 2367

The two Malcorian trauma doctors were watching Riker from the foot of his bed. Their curiosity was obvious, Riker slowly opened his eyes and brought his hand up to his bandaged head. “What happened?”

The senior physician, Beral, spoke calmly, “You’re in the crisis room at the Sikla Medical Facility. You’ve had a severe injury, but you’re going to be all right.”

Will thought for a moment, trying to work through the pain in his skull. He slowly nodded his understanding. “I was caught in the riot when the police moved in… that’s the last thing I remember.”

“Can you tell us your name?”

Cautiously, struggling to make sure he got this right he answered, “Rivas. Rivas Jakara”

“Rivas Jakara. Where do you live?

Riker focused on the older doctor. “In the Marta community on the southern continent.”

Tava chipped in, “You’re a long way from home…Are there any members of your family we should notify?”

“No, I have no family.” Catching sight of the antiquated medical equipment around him he continued, “I can’t stay here…I have to get back…”

Beral cautioned him, “You’re in no condition to leave yet…” He clearly didn’t believe this man, but he didn’t really need to. “There are several…unusual things about your case, Mister Jakara…your cranial lobes, for example. They seem to be surgical implants…”

“I did have some cosmetic surgery…to correct a genetic birth defect…”

The Malcorian nodded and picked up Riker’s hand. The structure is very different than theirs, “And these? Another birth defect?”

Yes, isn’t that something? My father’s were the same way…”

Nilrem had had enough. He snapped out “You want us to believe that all your abnormalities are inherited genetic traits?”

Beral glared the younger doctor into silence.

“I understand your confusion. My personal physician is much more familiar with these… genetic irregularities…to be honest, I’d feel better if I were back home under her care…”

“Why don’t I talk to her about that?” Beral suggested reasonably. “What’s her name?”

Riker paused for a moment. “Crusher…but actually, I’m not sure you’ll be able to reach her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s taking… a sabbatical.”

Beral studied Riker for a few moments. “Well, we’ll do the best we can for you.” He got to his feet and then paused, “Oh, there was one other thing…Pulling Riker’s phaser out of his pocket he continued, “We found this curious looking device in your clothes… what is it?”

“Oh, it’s just a toy I was taking home… a present…”

“I thought you didn’t have any family?”

“For a neighbor’s child. Did they find anything else? I had one piece of jewelry…A metal pin.”

“No, I’m sorry, this was all we found.”

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Rileeta sat and watched as Jean-Luc’s senior staff assembled in the briefing room. A smile broke her face as a tall Klingon walked into the room and she called out “nuq’neH!”

Worf cocked his head at the little alien and went to his seat, closely followed by Dr. Crusher, Lieutenant Commander La Forge, and Lieutenant Commander Data. Rileeta’s nose wrinkled and her ears swiveled around to focus on Data while she tried to determine exactly what he was. None of the officers commented on the disheveled appearance of her uniform. He had certainly assembled a strange collection of officers since she had seen him last.

Picard began the briefing . “With Commander Riker missing on Malcor III, our focus must shift from that of preparing for first contact to one of recovery. To that end, I have asked the commander of the First Contact Team to come aboard and brief us on the situation on the planet. Captain Rileeta is a Dosadi Imperial Marine but has served with Starfleet for many years, developing the First Contact protocols now in use.

“Captain, will you bring us up to speed?”

She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “We began embedded research of the Malcorians nearly two standard years ago – which is a little over three Malcorian years. They have a twenty-nine hour day, which presents something of a challenge for those of us used to shorter days.” she smiled. Dosad had a twenty-hour day. Fortunately, Dosadi usually slept in short bursts throughout the day and night. For the human members of her team, the extra 5 hours a day was challenging. “What is most significant to recovering Commander Riker is their social order.

“The Malcorian sees herself as the supreme being and the only intelligent life in the universe. Their studies of radio-astronomy and other sciences have led them to conclude that there is no one else out there, which has only reinforced their belief that they must be the apex life-form and that their planet is uniquely favored by their deity.

“The leader of Malcor III, Chancellor Durken is a forward-thinking reformer who has been implementing many changes to their culture in the past six years. These changes have led to a lot of unrest in their society, especially in their major cities where there is significant population pressure. Resource allocation is a constant source of tension and the Chancellor has been putting many of those resources into their space program.

“Conservative elements in Malcorian society see this as a tremendous waste and want a return to a focus on home. Even many of the more reformist groups see the warp program as a dangerous and risky gamble while arch-religious groups see it as a trespass on the realm of God.”

She stood up and walked to the view screen. “Computer, display map of Capital City, Melcor III, one to twenty-five thousand scale, center on First Contact Team safe house.” The map flashed onto the screen and she pointed to a building marked in the center of the map.

“We have spent a lot of our time acting as a listening post, but we have also made use of surgically altered individuals to make contacts within Malcorian society. We have assiduously kept these agents in low-level functionary jobs but have endeavored to use them to get an insider’s view of their culture and the changes occurring there.

“There have been an increasing number of disturbances, some terrorist acts, and riots over the past several months as publicity about the warp program’s successes has become wide-spread. It was one of these riots that resulted in Commander Riker’s separation from our Team after a meeting with one of our deep-cover agents.”

She shifted her finger to an open square on the far side of the map. “Commander Riker, against the advice of the engagement team leader,” she cast a look at Picard, “elected to go to the rescue of a young woman near the edge of the square. When the team went to help him, a wave of rioters ran into them, followed by police sweeping the square with riot-control equipment.

“Two of the engagement team suffered minor injuries as well. Thus far, our inquiries into the medical center and smaller clinics have turned up nothing. We believe that he may have been arrested as the police took several dozen people into custody and have yet to identify them. If that is the case, he will be held here.” she tapped at another building near the square.

“If the worst happened and the Commander is dead, he would be taken to this facility here. However, we have a contact who is watching that building and he has not been seen there. I have personally searched a number of potential escape routes that the Commander may have used and there is no evidence that he has attempted to use them.

“At this point, my recommendation is to wait until we locate him. Then, my team will move into recovery mode and we will get him out and back to the safe house. We need to proceed with caution – we are not yet ready to initiate first contact, but anticipate reaching that point within the month. An inadvertent exposure would be a worst-case scenario.” She returned to her seat and sat down.

Picard asked, “Commander La Forge, is there any way to find his bio-signs?”

The black man with the strange visor over his eyes thought for a moment. “We’re scanning, Captain, but the differences between Malcorian and Human bio-signs are really small, especially from this distance. It requires a precise focus and that takes more time – we’ve been concentrating on likely places for him to have been taken. We completed the scan of the medical center first off and are now working on the detention facility.”

Worf growled and said, “First contact or not, if he is being held, we should go and get him. By force if necessary.”

Rileeta looked at him, “And throw away years of work, cause a massive disruption to a more primitive society, violate the Prime Directive, and probably cause the death of dozens of Malcorians. Great idea!”

He struggled to keep his temper in check and settled for simply baring his teeth at the alien Captain.

Picard held his hand up, “I doubt that will be necessary in any case. But we will retrieve my First Officer.”

Troi watched Rileeta. She had picked up another wave of mood-change from her; it was evident the whiskey was having more than a small effect.

Rileeta turned her unblinking cats-gaze back to Picard. “Loyalty, Jean-Luc? I’m a little surprised to hear that from you.”

The venomous comment shocked the entire room into silence. Even Guinan looked surprised. But it was Dr. Crusher who jumped to her Captain’s defense.

“I don’t know who you are, Captain Rileeta, but you obviously know nothing about Captain Picard. He is one of the finest and most loyal officers I’ve ever served under.”

She laughed, “Know nothing? Know nothing? I know him so well it nauseates me. Do you know that he betrayed one of his best friends?” The officers in the room looked confused. Crusher, in particular had a sudden moment of doubt wash across her – Her husband had been killed under Picard’s command. “No? Why don’t you tell the tale, Jean-Luc? Tell them what you did to my mate. Even after he saved your damn life!”

Picard had been about to interrupt when she had dropped that particular conversational bomb. “Rileeta, I did not betray Lorac. He betrayed the Federation and his oath as a Starfleet officer. He was a spy.”

She spat, “He betrayed no oath. Why don’t you tell them? Or shall I? Or will you just throw me into the brig too?”

The other officers looked increasingly uncomfortable. Picard debated simply pulling rank and telling her to sit down and mind her manners. But the issue had been raised – until he put it to rest, there would be some lingering doubt in their minds. “Very well. Since you seem to be determined to discuss this here.”

 

* * *

MT HOOD, OREGON, NORTH AMERICAN DISTRICT, EARTH

AUGUST 2328

Picard was leading the pair of them down from their summit of Mt Hood. Two hours ago, the afternoon sun had been still visible and they were on-track for getting off of the mountain before it got entirely dark and before any weather was expected. Unfortunately, Mt Hood is famous for being unpredictable.

The wind had picked up, blowing snow from off the ground and into their faces. Undeterred, they had pulled down their goggles and leaned into it. Then the clouds rolled in and the snow began. Their pace slowed as they carefully placed each crampon, testing their footing. Within fifteen minutes, they were in whiteout conditions and the temperature was dropping fast. Lorac slipped and went down, skidding a few feet past Picard before the rope connecting them snapped taut and he was brought up short, face down on the snow-covered scree. Quickly trying to self-arrest with his ice-axe, he spiked the tool into the earth. Looking up, he saw Jean-Luc, braced, his own ice-axe seated firmly, and looking down at him.

Shouting up into the howling wind and darkening skies Lorac called, “Nice catch!!” And punched his crampon-toes into the dirt, regaining his feet. “I’m not sure we’re on the path!”

“I don’t know any more. I can’t see more than about six feet!” Picard shouted back.

Lorac fluffed his fur underneath his anorak and tried to squint through the snow. Dosadi vision covered a bit more of the visible spectrum than human eyesight did, but in this mess it made no difference at all. Lorac looked at his compass – but without having any sort of visual cue as to where they were, it was as useful as saying “Go down.” He shook his head, “I’m thinking we should have brought modern equipment after all!”

“A little late now!”

Lorac called back up the slope, “Which way then?!”

Picard shrugged, “Down!”

Lorac laughed and shook his head, “Think it and it becomes reality”. He pointed at an angle and the two of them continued on, slower than before, testing and probing.

The wind was howling and the visibility was, if anything worse as the light failed. There was a nearly sub-sonic rumble and Picard jerked on the rope; Human hearing was slightly superior at lower frequencies. He shouted “AVALANCHE!”

Lorac looked up the slope, and then the sound reached him. Both men immediately began running across the slope, trying to find the side of the avalanche before it reached them. When it became obvious that they were not going to escape it, they both dropped their packs and as the wave of snow hit them, desperately tried to ‘swim’ through the massive force of the avalanche.

Finally, they stopped tumbling. Picard tried to move his arm and found it wouldn’t work. He slowly blew out the chest-full of air he had held for the last few seconds, letting the warmth of his breath melt an air pocket. He had no way of knowing how far down he was, but he couldn’t reach up with his working arm. That wasn’t a good sign.

Then he heard scratching sounds. Finally a few minutes after that, the crunching sound of a snow-crust breaking and a tug on the rope. Forcing himself to remain calm, he slowed his breathing and closed his eyes. There was again the sound of digging and ten minutes later, a wash of fresh, cold air over his face.

“Thank the gods Jean-Luc! Hang on – I was almost at the surface, I’ll get you out!” Lorac had ditched his gloves and had his claws out and digging rapidly. After a few more minutes, he kicked off his boots and began working at the snow-pack with all four limbs, the claws raking the snow loose and his legs kicking it away. Ten more minutes and Picard was able to worm his way free. His shoulder was dislocated and his ankle was broken, however. He could tell that even without getting off his back.

“Jean-Luc, we can’t keep trying to find our way down in this! We need to make a shelter!”

Picard thought about that for a few moments. His gloves were gone, both of their gear was gone, and the storm was still blowing gale-force and creating a white-out. “Might as well use this!” He pointed down into the hole he had just been dug out of.

Lorac just ducked back down and continued digging until they had a hole in the pack that would hold the two of them – barely.

The storm just wouldn’t let up. Picard shivered – even in a snow cave and curled up around Lorac’s higher-than-human body heat, it was freezing cold. The surprise storm had been one thing. The avalanche along the West Crater Rim had been another. The situation was not good, but was manageable as long as they kept their heads.

Lorac looked at his friend. “Jean-Luc, you’re not doing well.”

“I’ll make it, Lorac.” He shivered harder, his face a waxy white, and buried his frozen fingers under the Dosadi’s armpits.

“Yowl!” Lorac squirmed at the icy feel of Picard’s fingers. “We need to get you out of here before you turn into an iceetreat.” Lorac considered giving his friend his gloves but figured they were doing better soaking up his body-heat.

“We can’t.” He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything other than how cold he was. “The storm’s still going. It’ll be warmer in here than if we try to go down the mountain.

Lorac shook his head. “All right, we’ll wait, but I think you’re crazy.”

Three hours later, the howling winds seem to have settled. “Jean-Luc?” Lorac asked. He shook his friend’s arm and asked again, “Jean-Luc? You still with me?”

Mumbling and slurring, Picard answered, “Yeah. Wish I had fur too.”

“I’m gonna dig us out – we need to get you out of here. You’re hypothermic.” The Dosadi stripped off his boots and gloves and began to dig at the wall of the snow-cave, using his claws to speed the digging. Minutes later, he broke through and bright moonlight splashed across their shelter.

Lorac ducked back inside and put his gear back on. He dragged the sluggish Picard through the opening and onto the smooth slope of snow, sparkling in the black night of the mountain.

Picard struggled back onto one foot, “Let’s go then.”

Shaking his head Lorac said, “You are one stubborn SOB, Jean-Luc. You’re not going to be able to walk, I’m going to have to carry you.”

“I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’ll slow us both down. Get on my back and I’ll carry you.”

Picard shook his head, “You’ll sink.”

Lorac laughed, “No, I don’t think so. Watch.” He dropped onto all fours and looked back at his friend, “We Dosadi can be quads, too.” and grinned. “No saddle I’m afraid, and I swear, if you say Hiyo-Silver, I’m going to throw you into the first crevasse we go by.”

Shivering still, Picard managed a grin and climbed onto his friend’s back, clinging with his good arm. Still slurring from hypothermia he managed a joke, “Does this make you a snow-cat?”

Working hard in the deep snow, Lorac laughed, “Okay, cat puns go in the crevasse category from here on out monkey-boy.”

Five hours later, the two of them struggled into a shelter where they were able to call for an emergency beam-out to a hospital, both suffering from hypothermia in addition to Picard’s other injuries.

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Troi looked puzzled, “So he saved your life. Although that sounds very much like you did your part too during a climbing accident. But how does that…”

Picard continued, “Yes, I’m getting to that. Since she raised both issues, I wanted to explain what she was referring to. What happened later was…difficult. Extremely difficult, but I had no choice in the matter.”

Rileeta snorted again. “You had every choice.”

Troi could sense that despite his statement, Picard was deeply conflicted. There were strong waves of guilt, sorrow, and anger along with a feeling of correctness. “Then what happened?”

Picard sighed. “All three of us had been posted to the USS Reliant, Rileeta, Lorac, and myself. We were mostly doing routine patrols, but Rileeta’s team were gearing up for a first contact mission in that sector that would take place a year after this particular event. So in addition to monitoring her target planet, the Reliant was doing the usual stellar cartography, survey missions, patrol duties and the like.

 

* * *

FEDERATION MIRANDA-CLASS STARSHIP USS RELIANT, UNDER WAY

JANUARY 2330

Lieutenant (J.G.) Picard was excited. He’d passed his final test to stand duty shifts as a flight controller for the Reliant and that was a critical milestone for a Command candidate. The next step was to pass the Bridge Officer’s Test – once he passed that, he’d be fully qualified to command a duty shift.

He hurried down to Lorac’s quarters, planning on telling him and Rileeta of his success. Not thinking, he walked through the automatic door and into the room. The Dosadi looked up from his bunk, shocked, and quickly flipped over a PADD and several papers.

Picard caught a quick glimpse of both – they were covered with computer schematics and lines of 3 digit numbers. “Oh. I’m sorry – I should have knocked. I was just excited to tell you…Rileeta’s not here?” That was a surprise. The two might not have been mates, but they were basically joined at the hip.

Smiling, Lorac said, “No worries, you just surprised, me. I was studying a bit. So what’s got you so excited, Jean-Luc?”

Something about those papers was nagging at Picard. “I passed! I’ve got my first shift at flight control tomorrow at 0400!”

“Hey! That’s great news, Jean-Luc! I’m not even qualified to hold down Engineering yet. I hope I do as well as you just did.”

Picard smiled back, “When have you ever had trouble with a test, Lorac? Your memory is phenomenal.”

“It’s just a weird trick is all. But I’m sure glad I have it – I don’t have your or Rileeta’s flair.”

“Speaking of, where’s she tonight?”

Lorac stretched, “Down in the sensory, reading intercepts from Landon IV, where else?”

“That mission’s not even slated to start for 6 months!”

“She’s a little excited and figures she’ll get the ground work going. Aren’t you looking forward to it? You spent all that time going through commando training in the Brecon Beacons, aren’t you ready for it to pay off?”

“Oh, of course, but that wasn’t my idea. That was Rileeta’s. Her point of view is that if I’m to spend time observing and reporting for the Captain that I need to be able to keep up. But, I’m much more interested in command than I am in all that mucking about.”

“You collect skills like other people collect art, Jean-Luc.”

“Well, a starship Captain needs to have as broad a base of skills as he can – you never know what you’ll run into.” He thought for a moment. “How is she taking to the new team assignments?”

Lorac’s ears drooped a little bit. “Well, she wasn’t too happy with everyone else returning to the Imperium, but it wasn’t unexpected. None of them want to be away from their mates as long as they’d have to be to run missions for Starfleet and Storch was…well, past the limit. And K’Reen wasn’t going to be anywhere far from T’Inau once she had her kit.”

Picard nodded, still troubled by those documents. “I was rather surprised they stayed with her so long at CalTech. They really weren’t doing what they signed on for at all.”

“They are her th’purra (close-battle-friends), Jean-Luc. They weren’t going to leave her just because it was hard.”

“But they did?”

Lorac laughed. “No, she cut them loose. Once the assignment to the Reliant came through and it became obvious that their mates would have to go back to Dosad and T’Inau was pregnant, she couldn’t, in honor, ask them to keep following her on another lengthy mission. They had all done more than their share teaching and training the Starfleet teams.”

“Ah, I wondered – I didn’t want to ask why they all left at once though, I was afraid that it was something painful. She seemed disinclined to talk about it much.”

“It was painful. But it was also what was needed. And she knew it.”

“So why didn’t you try for a First Contact berth? Why Engineering?”

“I’m not as…physically capable as you are, Jean-Luc, or as they are. If it hadn’t been for your help I probably would’ve been a PT failure at the Academy. I could never have completed the extra training you went through.”

“Well it was only fair; I would likely have failed out academically if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Well, you nearly did what with that whole semester with A…”

“Ancient history.” Picard interrupted.

Cocking his head and ears at Picard he said, “I thought you liked ancient history, Jean-Luc?”

He laughed. “Well, I’m sorry to have interrupted you and to have been so rude as to just walk in. I just wanted to share my news.”

“Any time, Jean-Luc. But if you don’t want to see me jump onto the ceiling in surprise, knock first!” he laughed and waved as Picard headed back into the hallway.

The doors closed behind him with their familiar swoosh and he stood there for a few moments. He turned his head and looked at the door while his memory recalled what Lorac had been looking at, and he frowned. A few moments later he heard the faint chirp of the door locking. Frowning more deeply, he began to walk back to his own quarters. Once there, he continued to fret.

Those were schematics of weapons systems. He recognized them. Those weren’t anything Lorac should have been studying. In fact, they weren’t anything he should even have access to yet. What was he doing with them? And what were those blocks of numbers? They looked like some sort of cipher.

He was a Dosadi, not a Federation citizen. But he was a Starfleet officer. Why would he be studying those systems as an engineer? Picard sat at his desk and stared at nothing. No matter how he came at it, there was no way Lorac should have had what it looked like he had. Maybe they were something else.

Except he recognized the phase-control circuitry for the Reliant’s main phaser banks; the phase crystal made a very distinctive pattern in the circuit geometry. That was a critical piece of the targeting system and some of the Federation’s most secret technology. He had only been exposed to it a week ago as part of his command track training. Lorac was a warp engineer.

Dammit, why would he have that? And what were all those numbers? And why on paper? No one used paper any more. The only reason you’d use paper was to keep it out of the ship’s computer. And the only reason to keep things out of the computer was to keep a secret. And if he was keeping something secret – like those schematics, that was not a good thing.

He put his face in his hand. He was seriously considering that one of his closest friends might be a spy.

 

* * *

Three nights later, Picard found himself wishing that he were anywhere other than where he was. Deep in the bowels of the Reliant’s computer core, he was staring at a small, flat, black object that was hidden alongside one of the duotronic pathway routers. It was the third one he’d found in three nights searching various critical systems. It was a smaller, more advanced version of the same gadget Lorac had used on the Berlin.

The devices had been skillfully hidden – but Picard knew what he was looking for, and had a good idea where to start to look. He leaned his head forward onto his arms, staring at the data tap. It was possible that someone else had placed them. It was very unlikely to be anyone else – but it was possible. He needed to be sure, before he went to the Captain. And he needed to know if anyone else was involved as well.

He carefully reached in and loosened the tap’s adhesive from it’s perch and flipped it down onto the router housing. The device would still work, but would transmit garbage when queried – it was too far from the pathways to get good data. And when whoever it was came to replace it, he would be watching. He placed a sensor of his own on the maintenance hatchway. It would be easy enough to find out if whoever opened it was supposed to be there, and if not, he could get there quickly.

 

* * *

Picard didn’t have long to wait. Two nights later, his PADD pinged – and he knew no maintenance was scheduled for that time. He quickly ran down to the computer core, keyed in his command override code and the door slid open.

Lorac lifted his head from the housing and looked into Picard’s eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments and Lorac’s ears and whiskers drooped. “Jean-Luc.” he said, sadly.

“Why?! Dammit Lorac, why?”

The Dosadi rolled onto his rump and dusted his hands off. “It’s my job, Jean-Luc. My duty. It always has been.”

Picard was stunned. “You’re not going to deny it? You’re just going to sit there and admit to being a spy?”

Lorac looked puzzled. “You’re th’mew, Jean-Luc, I wouldn’t lie to you. And it would be pretty stupid to sit here and claim I wasn’t when you caught me red-handed, wouldn’t it?”

Picard was furious. “Get up. You’re under arrest, Lorac.”

Lorac stood up. “I’m sorry, Jean-Luc.”

“For what? For being a spy? For lying to me? For breaking your oath?”

Surprised, he said, “I never lied to you Jean-Luc. And I didn’t break my oath, to either Starfleet or the Imperium. Nothing in that oath said I wouldn’t send information back home.”

“Shut up! Just walk.”

“Sure, Jean-Luc. Where to?”

“The brig! Where else?!”

“My quarters, maybe? Or yours?”

Picard looked disgusted, “You’re a spy, Lorac. You’re going to the brig.”

He smiled at him, “Well, I figured I could ask. But I knew you had too much honor to pretend you didn’t see this. It’s one reason I’ve always liked you.” He started walking towards the Reliant’s security post. When they got there, Lorac said, “This doesn’t change anything, Jean-Luc. It’s your duty.”

Furious, Picard shouted, “Shut up! Get in there.”

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Picard sighed heavily, “The trial was classified. Lorac, in fact, exercised his right not to testify at all. But the data breach was considered the most serious in Federation history. Lorac had been able to tap the computers at Starfleet Academy, Starfleet Command, and several starships. There was a frantic search of just about every system in Starfleet; We discovered a number of problems in addition to his taps. So it wasn’t all bad.

“But the sheer volume of data he had sent back to the Imperium in seven years was mind boggling. In addition to his data taps, with his nearly eidetic memory, anything he read, he remembered and was able to duplicate. For the Korat it had been an incredible intelligence coup and it allowed them to leapfrog a lot of their technology by decades. Behind the scenes there was a lot of diplomatic fallout that it took the Dosadi several years to recover from.”

Rileeta glared at him, “And they locked him up. You left that part out. You left him locked up in the brig until we got back to Earth and then they locked him up in Ceres. Remember that? Life in prison, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“I was there Jean-Luc. The court-martial sentenced him to life.”

“And he was released two years later in a diplomatic deal for a Federation agent.”

“You know Dosadi don’t survive long like that. Starfleet seems to have a thing for locking my family up in that rock. And I could hardly ever get leave to go see him! Do you know how messed up he was when he was released?” Angry, she stood up and stormed out of the briefing room.

Picard said, “Perhaps it’s time for a brief recess. We seem to have wandered from our original purpose in any case.” He looked at the map still showing on the wall. Thirty minutes and then I want options from each of you on what our next move is in order to get Will back safely.” He stood and walked over to the windows, watching Malcor III, turning peacefully below the Enterprise while his senior staff found their way out.

CHAPTER 9

Those who expect moments of change to be comfortable and free of conflict have not learned their history.”

Joan Wallach Scott

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Guinan found Rileeta laying her head on her arms on a table by one of the windows in Ten Forward. She pulled out the chair opposite the other woman and sat down, joining her in looking out the window. After a short while, Rileeta turned her head on her arms and asked, “What are you?”

“I told you. I’m the bartender. And I listen.”

“Bartenders do not attend senior staff briefings.”

“This one does.”

She sniffed. “What for? You didn’t even say a word.”

“Neither did Worf, or Data.”

“They’re officers. They’re supposed to be there.”

Guinan shrugged and turned her eyes back out the window.

After another lengthy silence Rileeta asked, “So what do you want? Why did you come over here?”

The El Aurian looked down again, “You look like someone who needs someone to listen.”

“To what?”

She shrugged again. “Maybe to this huge grudge you have against Jean-Luc.”

It’s not a grudge. He betrayed my mate.”

“Didn’t sound like it to me.”

“He arrested him. He testified against him in court, he put him in prison without a second thought and walked away like it hadn’t mattered.”

Which part of that was a betrayal?”

Rileeta glared at Guinan. “All of it?”

“So, because they were friends you expected Jean-Luc to just ignore a spy aboard his ship?”

“He didn’t have to turn him in. He could have made him just go back to the Imperium. He would have. Do you know he’s not even allowed in the Federation any more? He can’t visit our family’s farm in Yorkshire. He can’t visit me. I’m gone so often on these missions and I don’t get to have him with me. I only get to see him and our kits when I’m back on Dosad.”

What does he think about what happened?”

Rileeta looked out the window again.

After a few moments Guinan prompted, “What Jean-Luc said is right, isn’t it? He doesn’t hold it against him. He knows he was only doing his duty.”

Rileeta sniffed. “He spent too long in prison. It messed him up. He used to talk to people who weren’t there. It took us about a year to get him mostly back to normal.”

Guinan nodded, but said nothing.

It was another three years after his release before I really got to spend a lot of time with him. That’s when we became mates.” She smiled at that memory.

So, all those years you were always together and you were his mate but it never clicked for you. And then, he’s taken away from you for a while and all of a sudden it clicks for you. Sounds to me like Jean-Luc did you two a favor.”

What? No. That’s not how it works. And that wasn’t why he had him arrested!”

Reasonably, Guinan said, “No, he had him arrested because he was a spy. But the effect was that it kick-started you into no longer seeing Lorac as something you could always count on. It pushed you into making a choice, even if it wasn’t anywhere near the conscious level. And you hate him for that? Seems to me that you’re the one who betrayed him.

Rileeta’s jaw dropped open, “That’s not true. He did! He tore us apart!”

“And Lorac being a spy had nothing to do with it? Did you continue aboard the Reliant with Jean-Luc after the trial?”

Her ears and whiskers drooped. “I had to. They wouldn’t release me. I was always under suspicion though after that. But we still had a major mission to run.”

That had to be hard.”

“It was. Lorac was in prisonbecause of him and I still had to work with him. We tried to avoid each other when we could.”

The two women fell silent for a few minutes, looking out the window.

Guinan spoke again, You know, in all the many years I’ve known Jean-Luc, he’s never mentioned you.”

Rileeta snorted, and continued to look out the window.

“I don’t think it was easy for him. I think he did his duty. Aren’t you Dosadi supposed to be all about honor, even if it’s painful and costly?”

She twitched her ear and tail dismissively.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not particularly.”

“I think you’ve known for what, almost forty years? That he did the right thing. The only thing he could, in honor do. And I think you’ve trapped yourself. You want to be loyal to your mate so you’re angry at a dear friend for hurting him, even though he didn’t have a choice because of what your mate did. But you can’t be angry at your mate, so you’ve shifted that to Jean-Luc. And you absolutely refuse to admit that you were, and are, wrong.

“And I think you’ve been so spitting-angry and unpleasant to everyone who’s ever called you on it that people just stopped calling you on it. You’re wrong.”

Rileeta’s ears were back. She said, very quietly, “Do you want to know what I think?”

“I can guess.”

“You’re a bitch who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Guinan inclined her head, “I’ve been called worse by better. You Dosadi like history and philosophy right?”

Rileeta shrugged and went back to looking out the window.

“Here’s something to take with you when you head back into that briefing – which you’re due back in after so unprofessionally walking out of in about 10 minutes. Many centuries ago, in China on Earth, two monks were walking along a dusty path. These monks were sworn to the study of the mind and philosophy and so wouldn’t have anything to do with women. They didn’t want to be distracted or confused, so they wouldn’t talk with them or touch them; nothing!

“But as they were walking, they came to a river. It was only about thigh-deep, so it could be forded easily. But there was a beautiful woman standing on the bank, dressed in expensive and delicate clothing. If she were to wade across, her fine clothes would be ruined.

“The elder of the two monks smiled at the woman, and invited her to climb on his back; He would carry her across the river. Which is exactly what he did.

“The two monks continued their journey for another few kilometers before the younger monk finally couldn’t stand it any more. He berated his brother for what he had done. ‘Brother! How could you do that? We are sworn to purity! You touched a woman! A beautiful woman! Her arms and legs were wrapped around you!’

“The elder monk smiled at his younger brother and said, “Brother, I set her down there upon the bank. Why are you still carrying her?”

Rileeta snorted again.

Guinan pushed her chair back and stood up. “I think it’s time you put that grudge down. Everyone else has long since left it.” After a few moments of being ignored, she left and went back to her bar.

* * *

Rileeta was the last person to re-enter the briefing room and all eyes were upon her as she walked through the doors. She went to the chair she had been in and sat down. Troi watched her walk past and focused on riding out the storm of emotions radiating off her.

Picard said, “Now then. What are our options?”

La Forge said, “We can wait until I finish the scan, but that will take time. And we should probably run it a second time in case he was moved from one place to back to one after I completed scanning it.”

There were no other suggestions. “I wanted options from each of you. Doctor?”

“I’m sorry, Captain. Until we locate Will, there’s nothing I can do. I’ve been working with Geordi to help him refine the differences between the two species though.”

“Worf?”

“My suggestion would be a violation of the Prime Directive, according to the First Contact protocols.”

“I’m afraid we may be to that point, Lieutenant.”

Rileeta said, “No! Jean-Luc, we’ve spent years on this mission. We are close to success – there is no reason for an armed raid, especially when you don’t even know where you want to assault!”

“I wasn’t talking about an armed raid, Captain.”

She looked puzzled. “What are you talking about then?”

He thought for a moment. “I think it’s time that we went ahead and made first contact, Rileeta.”

“You’re not talking about a public display are you?”

“No, I’m talking about making direct contact with someone in their government who can help us locate Commander Riker.”

She frowned. “That would be jumping us ahead by almost a month, Captain, but I think I can have my team ready to…”

“No. Just myself and…Counselor Troi.”

Her jaw sagged open. “What?”

“I don’t want to alter your plans. The work you have done is too valuable to throw away – What I want to do is a very small, very personal contact with one individual. Someone open to the idea, someone who can help us. Leave your original plan in place. This will be a contact for just this purpose alone.”

“So a secret contact then?”

“Yes.”

“Marasta Yale.” Rileeta said without hesitation.

“Who is that?”

“She is the head of their warp research project. She’s very forward thinking, well-connected, and knows many like-minded people. I can think of no one else better suited for you to ask for help. But I would strongly caution you against contacting anyone else. A secret may be kept between two people, but not three.”

Picard smiled. “That seems like good advice, Captain.”

* * *

SPACE RESEARCH FACILITY, CAPITAL CITY, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

The doors to the operations center swung open and Marasta Yale walked in and sat down at the main console. She began to type commands in order to view the status of the various probes and rovers that were exploring their solar system. There was a strange sound from behind her and she swiveled her chair around to see two very strange looking beings standing in her lab.

In as mild a tone as possible, Captain Picard said, “Excuse me, Mirasta Yale?”

Trying to determine just what was going on she asked, “Yes?” Slightly alarmed, she got to her feet.

“My name is Jean Luc-Picard. This is my associate Deanna Troi. May we come in?”

“Who are you?”

Deanna, sensing the stress and alarm in the Malcorian, tried to calm her. “Please don’t be alarmed by our appearance… We’ve come with some… important information.”

“About what?”

Picard said, “About space. About the universe you are preparing to enter.”

Troi continued, “We are from a federation of planets, Mirasta. Captain Picard is from a planet called Earth more than two thousand light years from here. I am from another planet called Betazed.”

Suspicious, Mirasta could only grunt, “Uh huh.”

Picard, projecting confidence and friendship said, “We have been monitoring your progress toward warp drive capability. When a society reaches your level of technology and is clearly about to initiate warp travel, we believe it is time to make first contact. We prefer meeting like this rather than a random confrontation in deep space.

Deana added “We’ve come to you first because you are a leader in the scientific community. And scientists can generally accept our arrival more easily than others.”

The Captain again continued, “We almost always encounter fear and shock on this sort of mission. We hope you will be able to help facilitate our introduction.”

Mirasta had had enough. “Is this a joke? Did Lupo and the others at the lab put you up to this?”

Smiling, Picard held up his hands “I assure you this is no joke. You can see we are quite physically different than Malcorians. And with your permission, I am prepared to prove what I am saying.”

Hesitating, but beginning to suspect that this was indeed no joke, she allowed, “All right.”

Picard tapped his comm-badge, “Picard to Enterprise. Three to beam up.” and moments later, the transporter beam dissolved them in a shimmer of colors.

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Rileeta sat in a back table of Ten-Forward, waiting. They had decided that she would remain in the background, as she preferred, leaving the actual contact for this species to others. It was far easier for her to maintain a professional detachment if she were not personally involved. That lesson had been learned the hard way.

Finally, Picard, Troi, and Yale walked into the lounge.

Mirasta was still looking around with child-like wonder. “It’s beyond words…everything I’ve ever dreamed about… When I was a child, my parents would take me to the planetarium and we would sit in the dark and it was as if I was on a spaceship on my way to another world… to meet people from other planets.”

Troi guided her towards one of the tables by the windows, “Now that you’re about to travel beyond your own solar system, you will meet a great many more people from other planets, Mirasta.”

Captain Picard again let her know, “The Federation prefers to make first contact like this, rather than a random confrontation in deep space.”

Still looking out the windows in wonder, the Malcorian said, “A part of me still expects the lights to come up as the program ends.” She paused. “How did you know about me?”

Troi smiled, “One of the things we do is monitor broadcast signals. We listen to your journalism, your music, your humor. We try to better understand you as a people.”

Mirasta laughed, “I hate to think how you would judge us based upon our popular music and entertainment.”

Picard leaned forward slightly. “To be sure, we get an incomplete picture from long distance. That’s why we also do… on-surface reconnaissance.”

She studied him for a few moments. It made sense. “You’ve had people on our planet?”

Troi confirmed it, “For several years.”

Picard moved to re-assure her, “We’ve found that the most hazardous aspect of this kind of mission is a lack of sufficient information.”

Yale snorted, “You don’t have to explain. I understand. But not everyone on my planet would. They would think you were trying to infiltrate our security.”

Captain Picard steeled himself and opened the issue, “We do have a complication here, Mirasta. One of our people is missing. My first officer, Commander William Riker. He was on the surface to coordinate the final details with our observation team when he disappeared. Our people have made inquiries, but we have not been able to locate him. If there’s any way you can help.”

“Of course. Where was Riker’s last known location?”

Troi supplied, “The capital city. He was there under the name of Rivas Jakara, a tourist from the Marta community.”

Worried, Mirasta warned them, “We’ve got to find him before someone realizes what he really is. If this gets out prematurely, it will seriously complicate matters.” She thought for a few moments. “Introducing you to this world will not be an easy matter.”

Deanna nodded, “It never is.”

“You must already know that my people are in a transitory stage. An old staid culture has been pulled into the future by Chancellor Durken…but it is not easy to discard deep-rooted beliefs. Our entire ideology is based on the assumption that the Malrorian is the surpreme lifeform and that our world is the center of the universe. Your arrival will change our entire understanding of life…Some will not want it to change.”

Picard asked, “What about Durken?”

Rileeta sat up straight, her ears focused on the trio at the table. She thought to herself, “No! Jean-Luc not again!”

“Durken will be open-minded. But cautious. I strongly suggest that you do not discuss your surveillance teams with him…not right away at least.”

“But, with the disappearance of Commander Riker, wouldn’t it be prudent…”

Interrupting him, Mirasta continued, “Captain Picard, you must trust me on this. If you tell the Chancellor about Commander Riker, it would undermine everything you hope to accomplish here.”

Both Troi and Picard sat back, unhappy. She kept the pressure on, “Durken would assign Krola, the Minister of Security, to find him. Krola has his own political agenda. He will perceive you as the greatest threat my people have ever known. And he will not hesitate to use Riker to prove he is correct.”

* * *

A short while later Guinan brought Rileeta yet another Dosadi whiskey. “I think that’s going to have to be your last one.” Seeing that the Dosadi looked completely miserable, she sat down opposite her, again saying nothing.

Rileeta finally picked up the glass and swallowed another long drink of the dark green whiskey. Not looking at Guinan she whispered, “It’s going to happen again.”

Puzzled, Guinan asked “What is?” She couldn’t think how anything that had been going on related to anything Rileeta had talked about so far.

“You still don’t really know him.”

“Our relationship is beyond anything you can imagine.”

“Has he told you about Landon IV yet?”

“No. Should he?”

Rileeta snorted. “Considering he ignored my advice, again, and took over my mission, again, and is about to destroy another entire planet full of people, again; yeah, I think maybe he should.”

Guinan frowned. “Maybe you should. Though your point of view on events involving Jean-Luc appears to be pretty biased.”

She laughed; a hollow, haunted sound. “I’ll tell you. Then you can look it up and see if I’m being biased.”

* * *

CITY OF VOGA, SOUTH-EASTERN CONTINENT, NATION OF PARLANG, LANDON IV

NOVEMBER 2331

Rileeta changed the program on the view-screen. The team was sitting in the inner chamber of their safe-house and bringing Picard up to speed. LT Picard watched the latest images – an action-adventure fiction full of patriotic themes and clever dialog. He shook his head. “So much nationalism.”

Rileeta commented, “That’s not always a bad thing, Jean-Luc.” It was challenging for her to interact civilly with him, although she was trying. She would never forgive him for betraying Lorac – for arresting him, for testifying against him, for seeing to it that he was rotting in Ceres even now. She closed off that line of thought quickly. ‘Mission first’, she reminded herself. “Pride in one’s self and people can be a drive to greatness – here, let me find one on their space program.”

She quickly flicked through a few more broadcasts until she came to one focusing on science. “Look – this one is talking about the benefits to everyone from the ability to go faster than light – the ability to find new resources, new lands, new challenges! There is a lot of conflict on this planet, but they are moving towards unity. It’s just not an easy process.”

They watched the show, Picard commenting, “These people seem to be driven to explore.”

“Many of the nations here are. There are some that want to conquer, driven by lust for power or theology, but the vast majority just want to live in peace. Their architecture is beautiful – let me take you for a ride through the city and I’ll show you!”

“A ride? Rileeta, you’re the only one on this team who looks anything like a Landoner. You took a huge risk getting this safe-house. Speaking of which, how did you even do that?”

She grinned. “I replicated enough money to buy it outright.” Seeing his look of concern she sighed and said, “I’ve got a good cover story. I’m the daughter of a rich land-owner from the Maenali. There is a lot of corruption in that nation and a few rich land-owners control giant swaths of farmland. They keep most of the population in poverty and force them to work the land – No one even blinked at the story.”

“And you think these people are ready for first contact?”

“Yes. They’re not perfect, Jean-Luc, no one is. But their technology is growing rapidly – faster than their society can adapt. Once they see what awaits them, they will come together. That nationalistic drive you are so worried about, that ‘us-vs-them’ attitude will show them that they are all Landoners; These silly differences will evaporate.

“Ride with me – you’ll wear a full cloak and be inside a lifter, no one will know you’re an alien. We’ve done this before, there’s no risk.”

Half an hour later as they wound their way through the lower traffic-levels in Voga, Picard had to admit she had a point about the beauty of the city. Central planning had resulted in a city of elegance with soaring towers in complementary colors and design. Bridges joined building to building with delicate strands and the flow of lifter traffic winding it’s way around the buildings completed a vibrant tapestry of life. Even the poor here would be considered well-off anywhere else on this planet.

The streets were clean, the buildings sparkling and showing a wide variety of artwork, and the people were well-organized as they went about their daily life. It seemed incongruous with what he knew of the chaos across most of the planet. He needed to see more.

* * *

NEAR VILLAGE OF BALRAST, EQUATORIAL CONTINENT, NATION OF MAENALI, LANDON IV

DECEMBER 2331

The team was laying prone on a small ridge overlooking a rustic village a few hundred meters away. The houses were little more than huts, but the dense forest around them was lush and the people who lived there looked healthy and happy as they went about the bustle of daily life.

Lieutenant Picard, his active camouflage battle dress making him essentially invisible, put down his binoculars and looked at Lieutenant Rileeta. “They really do look an awful lot like you, Rileeta.”

She smiled and lowered her own binoculars. Day by day she still struggled to even be civil to this man, much less work with him in the field. But, she continued to remind herself that the mission came first – honor demanded it. “I know. I’ve actually been in the village talking with some of them. They’re a lot closer to Dosadi markings and build than the Parlangs in the South-Eastern continent. I’m pretty sure the higher tech and better nutrition there have a lot to do with them being so much larger and stronger.”

“You’ve taken a lot of risks on this mission.”

“Not really. The UT implant makes it easy to communicate. And the information has been invaluable. This planet is in a tremendous amount of flux. Only the Parlangs are so close to breaking the warp barrier. There are a few other higher tech nations with space flight capability, but not many.”

“How many total nations?”

“175.”

Picard looked stunned. “That many? How are these people at all ready for first contact? Especially with such a gulf between their technological and societal developments? ”

“The Parlangs are about to launch a warp-powered probe. That trips the protocols and you know it.”

“But we’ve never had a planet that’s so…fractured.” He focused the binoculars on the village again. “These people live like primitives while the Parlang’s are a modern and developed society. The gulf continues to worry me. And the conflicts that are a constant on this world…So many wars.”

She countered with “All of the active conflicts at the moment are low-level and usually internal. A fair number of terrorist groups of any sort you can imagine, governments enslaving citizens, failed-states that are in chaos, that sort of thing. Much of it senseless. A lot of blood feuds and tribal hatreds.”

She sighed. “The Parlangs have some primitive energy weapons. There are several major nations with nuclear weapons and long-range delivery systems, and a few others with the weapons, but lacking the delivery systems. A lot of nations still utilize biological and chemical weapons as well. It’s a mess.”

“Then why are we even here? Why didn’t you abort the mission?”

“Jean-Luc, they’re good people. And they’re still about to break the warp barrier.”

One group is, Rileeta.”

“And with the right guidance and assistance from the Federation, we can unify the rest, bring them into the Federation and help them find their way.”

Picard shook his head and looked back at the rest of the Starfleet team hidden in the brush behind them. “I think that’s past what anyone could do. Or should do. The Federation is not in the business of altering other peoples’ societies.”

“Well it’s better than just ignoring them.”

“I’m not so sure about that. They’re in a fairly isolated region of space. I’m thinking it would be better to pull the plug on this and see what happens over the next decade or two.”

“Jean-Luc, that’s not a good idea. They’re always on the verge of a major conflict – it’s one of the big stressors they all have. There are resource issues, environmental issues, energy issues, religious issues, health issues – all things that we could help with. If the Federation is able to show them how to fix those and live together, it’s quite natural that they’d unite in order to take their place at the table.”

He studied the village for a while longer. “Or the fact that we contacted the Parlangs would cause that final war due to fear and jealousy. Or they’d explode into the galaxy with their biological and chemical weapons and bring their wars there.”

“Jean-Luc, trust me like you used to. I’ve spent almost a year studying these people. They’re not that different then the Dosadi. Or your Earth only a few centuries ago. There’s a little girl in that village who’s the cutest thing you will ever see. She’s smart, and funny, and you’d like her. We can’t just leave and let them try to settle all their problems on their own. These less developed regions are chaotic. Warlords and armed gangs roaming everywhere like locusts, killing anyone who gets in their way. There is no reason not to help them.”

He again put his binoculars down and looked at her. “Lieutenant, that sort of interference in a culture’s natural development is exactly the sort of thing the Prime Directive was created to prevent. We cannot go about deciding how a people should settle their differences.”

She was shaking her head and continuing to study the village. Picard was beginning to get a very bad feeling. “How much time have you spent with the villagers over there, Lieutenant?”

She shrugged. She might as well tell him, the team would be able to fill him in anyway. “A week or two. Not that long. Long enough to get to know them and their people.”

He noted several damaged huts and some burn marks. “Lieutenant. These wandering gangs you mentioned. Did one attack here?”

She sighed. “Yes. And yes, it was while I was here. And no, I did not do nothing. Jean-Luc, they’ve got nothing. No weapons, nothing. These gangs, they rape and murder and steal children to fight for them. They brainwash them. There is nothing right or honorable or dignified or philosophical about sitting back and watching innocent and helpless people be slaughtered.”

He was horrified. “What did you do?”

She looked at him. “What I had to. Don’t look so annoyed. No one saw me and I only used stun when I couldn’t use their own weapons. Jean-Luc, this planet is full of good people. People with potential. Yes, there are a lot of vicious, murdering, insane people too, but we shouldn’t let that push us to throw out the good ones.”

“Lieutenant, you violated the Prime Directive. Badly.”

“I did not, Jean-Luc. We’re in the process of initiating first contact now. I’m not altering anything and no one was exposed to any advanced technology. I stopped a crime, that’s all.”

Picard was wrestling with his own instincts. She had something of a point, but technically she had committed a gross violation. He would be within his rights to arrest her. Like he had Lorac. Damn the woman and her putting him in this position. With the suspicion she was still under, the Captain had, in fact, placed him over Rileeta. “We need to move on to the next people you want to show me.”

She was disgusted. “You didn’t used to be so married to every regulation and rule. You used to understand that there were times that you had to take action that wasn’t covered by the rule book. You…”

She was interrupted by one of her team, “Sirs! You need to see what’s going on down there.”

Both officers raised their binoculars again. They could see villagers running and other people wearing dark and light striped clothing and carrying weapons, running towards the village. Rileeta dropped her binoculars onto their strap and stood up, drawing her sidearm. “Split left and right, we’ll…”

Picard interrupted her, “Belay that. Lieutenant, put your phaser down.”

“What? Jean-Luc, we don’t have time for this, we have to…”

“We have to do nothing. We are not here to play god, or to play cavalry riding to the rescue and favor one group over another. Regulations are very specific on this point, first contact or no.”

Her team had also stood up, but were hesitating. Picard was the ranking officer, per the Captain’s order, but they’d been training with Rileeta and then in the field with her for quite some time. The Prime Directive was nearly a religion for Starfleet personnel – it was something you just didn’t mess with.

Picard stood up next to her and spoke again, firmly. “Put it down, Lieutenant.” The sound of screams and gunfire was beginning to reach them.

She glared at him. “Screw you, Jean-Luc.” She started to run but he grabbed her arm, her own momentum swinging her around.

“Stop!” he called out to her team, still struggling with Rileeta. “Restrain the Lieutenant.” Seeing their hesitation he commanded them, “That is a direct order.

She managed to rip her arm free of him, but two of her team grabbed her and the more she struggled, the more of them grabbed her.

“Let me loose damn you all! They’ll kill them!”

She begged. She cursed. She pleaded. Her team was anguished, but had no choice. Picard tapped his comm-badge. “Picard to Reliant. Seven to beam up.”

Reliant here. Sorry Lieutenant, transporters are down for the next hour plus – emergency maintenance on the pattern buffers.”

“Understood. Picard out.”

Eventually, there was silence from below the team’s vantage point. Picard looked down and could see smoke rising, even flames from some of the buildings. But there was no motion. He brought his binoculars up again and scanned. There was nothing moving anywhere.

“Let her up.” He waved at the men holding Rileeta down. “I’m sorry Lieutenant. We must not allow our personal preferences to interfere with our du…”

FUCK you!” she screamed, breaking free and sprinting for the village, phaser in hand.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Picard and the rest of the team caught up with her, working their way through the few buildings in the village. The marauders had been very thorough. Those they didn’t take away, they murdered. What they didn’t steal, they set fire to. When they found Rileeta, she was sitting a short way away from a burning hut, cradling the body of a little girl in her lap, singing softly and rocking back and forth.

Picard slowly walked towards her. The child looked very much like a young Dosadi, but with tufts on her ears, and instead of a uniform tan on her back and sides, there were darker horizontal stripes. Her throat had been slit and blood matted the white fur on her neck and chest. He swallowed hard.

Before he could say anything, Rileeta spoke. She was stroking the fur on the child’s head. “This is Karalin. She’s five. And she wants to go to school so she can be a teacher and her favorite color is green.” She sniffed.

Picard blinked back tears. “I’m sorry. Our orders are clear. We can’t let our personal…”

“I promised her that I’d keep her safe. I told her that there were good people who were going to make all the bad ones go away.” She looked up at Picard. “She isn’t some order, Jean-Luc. She’s not some theoretical in the Academy. She’s a little girl. She’s just a little girl.” She put her head down onto the child’s and cried.

Picard’s comm-badge chirped. “Reliant to Picard. We’re ready when you are.”

He bent down and put his hand on Rileeta’s shoulder. “We need to go.”

She gently set the dead child on the ground by her mother’s body and stood up. She took a deep breath and punched Picard in the face, knocking him to the ground and then stalked off towards the rest of the team, who were staring at her in shocked surprise. Two of them came over to help Picard up, his eye already starting to blacken. The Team NCO asked, a little hesitatingly, “Uh, sir, do you want us to arrest the Lieutenant?”

Picard dusted himself off and straightened his battle dress. “For what? I tripped, Chief.”

The man looked at Picard with new respect. “Yes, sir. That’s what we all saw too, sir.”

* * *

FEDERATION STARSHIP RELIANT, IN SOLAR ORBIT NEAR LANDON IV

DECEMBER 2331

Commander Kyle finished going through the pile of reports on his PADDs. The two officers in front of him were both very thorough, very passionate, and very logical. He had decided not to mention the giant black eye Lieutenant Picard was sporting. It looked like it was about 3 days old, but no one else on the landing party had seen fit to say anything about it.

He sighed and slid the two devices further onto the desk in his ready room. From the way the Dosadi was scowling at him, he was sure that his scent had given him away. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Rileeta. I agree with Picard. They’re not ready.”

“So we’re just going to ignore them? What are we going to do when that first warp probe comes out of their system? Pretend that it didn’t?”

Kyle was trying to be patient with her. This was a lot of work and effort for her team, gone to waste, and Picard’s report on the events while surveying the village made it plain she had become emotionally involved with these people. “No. But you know as well as I do that they can spend about five years at early warp-levels exploring the stars in this area and find nothing. We’ll post monitors and beacons to warn other vessels away until they are ready, or until they are on the verge of making it out of this region.

Both of your reports make it plain that they may not ever make it out. The pastoral-life movement is quite strong and seeks to end all technological progress. Religious groups demanding supremacy and control. Government slavery. The sheer number of armed terrorist groups boggles the mind and all the various nations are armed to the teeth and looking for an excuse. Any large-scale war has the potential to reduce them all to pre-space flight levels. Even their own orbital space is cluttered with junk and disasters ready to happen. Were we to make first contact now, we would only exacerbate the issue. The Prime Directive makes it very clear that we are not to play big brother to less advanced cultures; The White Man’s Burden went out centuries ago, Lieutenant.

“You’ll continue to monitor the situation and lead the first contact mission during this period. If and when you think they’ve got things together enough to warrant another look, we can pick up where you left off. You did good work here, Lieutenant. There will be other first contacts.”

Rileeta sagged in her chair and just stared at Picard as he stood up.

Kyle looked at her. “Was there something else, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir.” She bit her tongue and followed Picard out, getting away from him at the first opportunity.

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Guinan slowly nodded her head as Rileeta paused for another swallow of whiskey. “He was right again. And he didn’t have you arrested when he could have, for a couple of things. I understand that you were angry that your friend died, but…”

Rileeta interrupted. “Oh no. Not just my friend. There’s more. Let me finish. It’s not just her blood he has on his hands.”

* * *

FEDERATION STARSHIP RELIANT, UNDER WAY, LANDON SECTOR

MARCH 2332

Rileeta sat down at her usual console in the sensory and pulled up the day’s monitor logs from Landon IV. The Parlang’s first warp probe had gone off without a hitch and had made it to their closest stellar neighbor, conducted several days of science experiments and returned safely to home. And, because of Picard’s unfavorable report, the Federation had done nothing.

She sat up with a start, now completely focused on the display. “Oh, shit, no.” she said, reading quickly.

“What’s up, Lieutenant?” Ensign Rousch, the duty officer, asked her.

“Someone blew up Saru yesterday.”

“That’s the big port city on Landon IV, isn’t it?”

“Not any more. They’re saying it was a 50 kt atomic bomb. Casualties are in the hundreds of thousands already.” She continued to scan rapidly. “They’re going berserk. No group has said they did it. The Parlangs are blaming several other nations.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“We need to go back. The Captain’s got to go back. We can stop it.” She quickly routed the report to her PADD and ran out of the sensory.

* * *

Commander Kyle swiveled his command chair around as the turbo-lift doors swooshed open. Rileeta almost jumped the few paces to his side and said, urgently, “Captain, we need to get back to Landon IV. Right away. Look.” She handed him the PADD.

He began to read through the logs and she continued, “Sir, please, they’re about to blow themselves up. We can stop it.”

Lieutenant Picard, on-duty at Flight Control also stood up and walked back to Kyle. “Sir, while I appreciate the Lieutenant’s compassion and desire to help, this is explicitly prohibited by the Prime Directive.”

Kyle looked up at Picard. “Are you presuming to educate me about the Prime Directive, Lieutenant?”

Picard stiffened. “No, sir! The Lieutenant’s energy is infectious, I intended only to advise.”

“When I need advice, Picard, I’ll ask for it. Return to your station.”

“Yes, sir.” Abashed, he turned and went back to his console.

Kyle finished reading the intercepts. “Lieutenant, from the looks of this, there’s nothing we could do even if regulations allowed it. Look, they’re issuing ultimatums. And…” he tapped at the device, bringing up different sensor platform’s monitor logs. “All five major powers are getting ready for war. There, look.” He handed her PADD back.

On it was a picture of a missile field in Lungor, Parlang’s historic adversary. The silo doors were all open.

“That photo is only a few hours old. These are not the actions of peoples who are wanting someone to help them resolve their differences. What do you want us to do, drop out of warp and conquer them? Take them under our wing and guide them to the future we see for them?”

Bitter, but knowing nothing would be done she said, “Wouldn’t that be better than no future at all?”

“Who’s to say, Lieutenant? I understand that the Dosadi do not have a Prime Directive. The Federation does. As long as you are attached to my command, we will follow that Directive no matter how difficult a choice that it is. If it is this species’ destiny to commit suicide in such an idiotic fashion, we will not take that destiny from them.”

The bosun’s pipes sounded and Ensign Rousch’s voice sounded, “Sensory to Bridge.”

Kyle pressed the button on his chair arm. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, Ensign Rousch. I brought the monitors for Landon IV live, I think you should hear this.”

“Route it to the bridge intercom, then, Ensign.”

What they heard next was a descent into Hell. Rousch rather skillfully shifted between different monitoring devices, routing them through the universal translator, which didn’t even begin to remove the desperation they heard. Civilian broadcasts sounding the alarm and urging people to seek shelter. Reports of cities blasted or poisoned and frantic pleas for help. Crisp, coded military orders obviously sending missiles, aircraft, spacecraft, and naval vessels into the attack.

Fragmentary reports of military disasters. Formations of troops being exterminated in an instant, entire squadrons of ships vaporizing, or air battles across the planet. Even the smaller nations seemed drawn into the blood lust as ancient tribal hatreds flared anew.

Everyone on the bridge was listening in horror as the war wound down. Finally, after just twenty minutes, there were no more communications being monitored and Rausch’s voice came again: “We’re just getting a lot of interference on all bands, Captain; Way too much noise. I can bring up a visual if you want.”

“Do it.”

The main view screen wavered into life, the image showing the effects of many light-years of travel through sub-space. But the image was clear enough; what had been a beautiful blue-green ball with swirls of white frosting across it was now showing widespread visible fires and smoke plumes across the entire globe. Glowing craters were visible on the night side.

“Sir, radiation levels are spiking across the entire planet. A lot of areas are already well into multiple Seiverts.”

Kyle shook his head. “Turn it off, Rausch.” The viewscreen clicked back to the stars around the Reliant.

Rileeta was nearly in tears. “There were nearly four billion of them. We could have saved them. We were ready to contact them. If you had only let me…”

Looking at the young Dosadi with compassion, Kyle ordered, “Lieutenant, you are relieved. Take the next two days completely off, then come see me in my ready room. All right?”

She took a shuddering breath and looked at her Captain. They locked eyes for a few moments and then she lowered her eyes, turned around and slowly slunk off the Bridge and back to her quarters.

* * *

Two days later, she had her PADD in hand when she knocked on his Ready Room door. “Come!” he shouted.

She walked in and set the PADD on his desk. “Sir, please. I am begging you. By anything you hold dear, if there is any compassion in your heart, please, there are people alive. Look.”

He sighed heavily and picked up the device and read the intercepts she had extracted from the static.

“Please! If there is anyone out there, we are in the third sub-basement of the Tawi research station. We’re sealed in but we only have a few days water. Help us!”

“To any station receiving, we are trapped at…”

“…we have children, please help!”

“…seven of us at the polar station is there anyone there?”

“…desperately need medical help, many injured…”

“…children, someone, anyone, help us!”

Kyle put the PADD down and turned it off, then passed his hand over his face. “You know I cannot.”

Her left eye and ear twitched. “Sir, there aren’t that many survivors. Maybe a hundred all told. There is no culture left to influence. Nothing that needs the protection of the Prime Directive. Just frightened, injured, desperate people. Children…Sir, please. We can take them to the Imperium. You can say I forced you and lock me up forever, I don’t care, but please, don’t just let them die.”

“If you think this is easy for me, you are an idiot. And I know you aren’t. You know I can’t do a god-damn thing, no matter how much I want to. Do you think I’m some heartless monster to let these people die with the planet they blew up? Do you think I don’t have any compassion? FUCK you, Lieutenant!” He took a deep breath and composed himself.

“I apologize for that remark, Lieutenant.” He paused again. “I swore an oath to uphold my orders and especially the Prime Directive. There’s a reason it’s the PRIME Directive. Wiser heads than mine have analyzed what happens when we attempt to interfere, with the best of intentions and it is always a disaster. We cannot know what would happen to these few refugees from a dead world and an extinct culture, or how they would affect any society they were placed in. We cannot even imagine the horrors they would endure every day, if they did survive. Quite possibly they would long for death. We cannot know.

“What we can know is that it is forbidden to us to interfere. And we can follow our orders and live up to our oaths. “ He sat back in his chair and studied her. She was clearly furious and heartbroken. “The Federation knew that horribly difficult situations like this would arise. They made an absolute rule of non-interference so that there would never be a question. So that even when confronted with what looks like a hideous and cruel choice, we would know what to do. This is exactly the situation that the Prime Directive was created to cover.

“Lieutenant, I am ordering you to report to sick bay for counseling. And when we complete this cruise, I want your request for transfer on my desk. Understood?”

She stood straight. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Guinan studied Rileeta. “And you blame Jean-Luc for that?”

“Yes. It was his report that Commander Kyle used to terminate the first contact protocols. In all the years I’ve done this, I’ve safely brought ten species through first contact and into the Federation. I’ve lost one. The Landoners.”

“It seems to me that they were pretty clearly not ready. Again, I think he was right.”

“His report, his advice, doomed four billion people to death.”

Guinan looked at her more closely. “You don’t look stupid.”

Suprised, Rileeta asked, “What?”

“Everything you have blamed him for, he was right to do. Legally, ethically, and morally right. The consequences were horrific – to him and others – but he was right. And you know it.”

“How were they right? He betr…”

“I’ve listened to you, will you please listen to me?”

Rileeta gritted her teeth, but nodded.

“You’re angry because he caught your mate being a spy. And did his duty by turning one of his best friends in to the authorities. You’re angry because he followed his orders and the highest orders of the Federation and did his duty by not letting you interfere with a more primitive culture. You’re angry because he gave an honest report about a fractured, sick culture that simply wasn’t ready and because you wanted to play mamma to the whole planet and save them from themselves.

“Are you starting to see a pattern here? Everything you’ve built up into this hatred is because he did the right thing despite the personal cost and because you wanted to do the wrong thing.” She shook her head. “You said you knew him so well it nauseated you. You are the one who knows nothing about Jean-Luc Picard. You don’t know anything about the costs he has born or the trillions of lives his actions have saved.

“Here’s my advice to you, Captain Rileeta. Sit down someplace quiet and go through everything you just told me and this time instead of looking for reasons to nurse your hate, ask yourself who was doing what they had to. It’s entirely possible you both were, even though that put you in conflict. Your mate seems to have understood that.

“If you’re as stupid as I think you aren’t, you’ll just keep on hating a cardboard cut-out that you’ve created and ignore the real, complex, person. Why don’t you ask yourself what you owe someone you claimed as th’mew and go from there.”

Guinan stood up. “If you’re as smart as you’re supposed to be, you’d talk with Counselor Troi. Learn something about Captain Picard – learn something about what has happened in the last thirty years and more. Learn something about what happened all those years ago beyond what you’ve convinced yourself of.” Rileeta didn’t even look up, so Guinan turned and walked back to the bar, leaving the black-furred Dosadi woman looking out the window and alone with her thoughts.

Rileeta laid her head back down upon her arms, looking out the big windows in Ten Forward at Malcor III as the Enterprise orbited above. She stayed there, alone, for a very long time.

CHAPTER 10

Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising every time we fail.

Confucius

MALCOR III – CAPITAL CITY SIKLA MEDICAL FACILITY

JANUARY 2367

Commander Riker struggled back to his feet, fighting through the pain in his head and the dizziness. Finding his clothes, he began to dress.

“There are guards out there. You’ll never escape that way.”

Surprised, Riker studied her, trying to decide what to do.

“I’m not afraid of you.” the young woman said.

“Good. Because there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Nurse Lanel looked up into his eyes, “We shouldn’t fear the unknown. We should embrace it.”

After a brief moment he asked her, “Can you help me get out of here?”

“Are you really an alien? It’s all right to tell me.”

“No, I’m not an alien.”

“I don’t believe you. You are an alien.”

Frustrated, Riker continued, “Listen, I really have to leave.”

She suggested, “I could divert the guard’s attention. You might have a chance if you took the service exit down the hall to the left.”

Nodding he said, “To the left. All right, let’s do it.”

“Why should I?”

Riker took a deep breath, then moved close to her, looking down and argued, “You know why. Because I don’t belong here. Because I have to get back to my ship…in space.”

Wide-eyed, she whispered, “I believe you.”

“Now. Will you help me?”

“If you make love to me.”

Stunned, Riker asked, “What?”

“I’ve always wanted to make love with an alien.”

“Listen, Miss…”

“Lanel.”

“…I really have to get going…all the other aliens are expecting me.”

She put her hands on his arms. “It’s not so much to ask. And then I’ll help you escape.”

Looking for a way out of this mess he tried to explain, “It’s not that easy. There are…differences…in the way my people make love.”

“I can’t wait to learn.”

“But…”

She had made her decision. “It’s your only way out of here…my alien.”

 

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

“Come!” Counselor Troi shouted, seated at her desk. She was surprised to see Captain Rileeta come through the door. “Yes?”

Rileeta hesitated. “Are you busy Counselor?”

“I only just got to my office this morning so I’m not busy at all yet. What did you have in mind?”

She looked around curiously. “I wondered if I could talk with you about a few things.”

Troi could sense that the alien officer was frustrated, confused, angry, sad – the torrent of emotions was once again like a blast. “About Captain Picard?”

“That obvious?”

Troi smiled, “Your emotional state is always…conflicted when you’re mind is on that subject.”

“My mind?” a wave of concern.

She hurried to put Rileeta at ease, “I’m part Betazoid, I’m…” she stopped. The Dosadi had backed into the wall, her ears flat against her skull and the strength of the fear, horror, and loathing coming off of her made Troi put her hand to her head.

“Mirru’shaard!” Rileeta spat.

“Uh!” She had encountered peole who were afraid of telepaths before, but this was unusual. “I’m not a telepath. I can only sense emotions.” Holding her hand to her temple she tried to continue, “Please, respect for the sanctity of another’s mind is paramount…I’m only half-Betazoid. I can’t read minds!”

Rileeta’s ears came up slightly, “You can’t?”

“No! But even if I could, I wouldn’t without an invitation – but your emotions are so strong, anyone, empath or not could read them. All I can do is to sense emotions – not thoughts.”

She was still wary. “Oh. Perhaps I should come back another time.” she was edging towards the door.

“Captain, if you want my help, you and I will need to trust each other. Before you leave, can I ask what that word meant?”

“Mirru’shaard?” at Troi’s nod she flicked an ear. “It’s Dosadi for telepath; it means mind-thief.” She paused again. “To us, having someone invade our mind is like…well…like being raped.”

“That explains your reaction.” Troi said wryly. “Again, before you leave, why did you decide to come to me?”

Rileeta fidgeted. Troi continued, “Well, if I could read your mind, I wouldn’t need to ask, would I?”

Rileeta grinned. “Guinan.”

“Ah. She suggested…what exactly?”

“Well. She and I were talking about some of my…history, with Jean-Luc. And she gave me some things to think about. I. Well, I spent a lot of time thinking. She thought you might have some insight.”

“I see. Do you want to sit down?”

Rileeta hesitated for a few moments, then found the chair the furthest from Troi that was available.

Troi waited patiently. Finally, Rileeta asked, “Have you ever talked with Jean-Luc about Landon IV?”

Deanna considered it for a few moments, “No, I don’t believe I have. Why?”

Rileeta’s ears drooped. “This is more than I’ve talked about any of these events for decades. It’s not easy.”

Troi nodded, but said nothing.

Rileeta again told the story of what had happened so many years ago. When she had finished, Troi thought abut what to say. “And you blame the Captain for all of this.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think Commander Kyle would have done if Captain Picard had matched your recommendation?”

“We would have been able to guide them through that phase. They wouldn’t have blown everything up like that.”

“You didn’t answer my question, exactly.”

Rileeta thought. “With both of us saying to continue on, he would have taken our recommendation.”

“Even though he could see how fractured and unstable their society was? Even though you mentioned it as well? You think he would have ignored all of that and just taken your advice?”

She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

Troi could sense a lot of confliction in that statement. “I see. Do you think Captain Picard didn’t care about those people?”

“I don’t see how he could have.”

“He did. I know he did. I’ve seen him make the hard decisions before and I’ve felt how it affected him. Have you heard of Drema IV?”

“No. Should I have?”

Agreeably, Troi said, “No, probably not. It wasn’t anything of consequence to the Federation. But it was something of a similar situation – but with a different ending. Perhaps because of what happened at Landon IV.”

“What happened?”

The planet was pre-space flight. And it was literally tearing itself apart due to an unusual amount of dilithium in the crust. Lieutenant Commander Data had been communicating by radio with a little girl who lived there – technically violating the Prime Directive although he never exposed the child to any advanced technology. Much like you did with your friend on Landon IV.

“We kept trying to find some way to help them that wouldn’t violate the Prime Directive. Most of us, including the Captain, felt that there was nothing that we could do – that the Prime Directive was absolutely clear on this point; We are not allowed to interfere in primitive cultures. But then, Data’s friend called him, desperate for help.”

“Like the survivors on Landon IV?”

“Yes. The Captain decided that could not be ignored; That a cry for help allowed us to find a way to act.”

“He ignored them on Landon IV.” She closed her eyes, the long-ago sounds of hopeless, pleading voices in the dark tearing her heart out anew.

“No, from what you said, Commander Kyle chose to follow the Prime Directive as he was required to do and didn’t respond to their calls for help. Captain Picard didn’t even have any input into that decision.”

Rileeta ignored that comment. “You said the outcome was different?”

“Yes. Our science team was able to find a way to break up the dilithium matrix that was tearing their planet apart. And in a manner that wouldn’t expose their people to our advanced culture.”

Rileeta thought about that. Troi could sense the resistance in her. The Dosadi stood up and asked, “Can I come see you again later?”

“Would you like to make an appointment?”

* * *

MALCOR III – CAPITAL CITY, CAPITOL BUILDING

JANUARY 2367

Chancelor Durken heard the now recognizable sound of the transporter beam.

Captain Picard greeted him, “Chancellor.”

Durken complimented him, “You are punctual, Captain.”

“I know how busy you are.”

“Do you?” Picard looked at the Chancellor, puzzlement showing on his face. The Malcorian leader sat down behind his desk and Picard sat opposite him. “I think you know a great deal more about me than I know about you.”

“In what respect?”

“I can’t know what motivates you, how you make decisions, what value you place on life…You speak of trust and peace and working together to enter a new era. At the same time, you conduct secret surveillance posing as Malcorians.”

Picard sat up straighter. “Commander Riker.”

“Commander Riker.”

“Mirasta felt it would be a mistake to discuss…”

Durken interrupted him, “Yes, she’s tried to accept the responsibility.”

Picard took a quick moment to collect his thoughts. “You’re right. It was my error, not hers.” He got to his feet and tried to explain. “Chancellor, no starship mission is more dangerous than first contact. We never know what we face when we open the door to a new world. How will we be greeted? What are the dangers? Centuries ago, a disastrous first contact with the Klingon Empire led to decades of war. It was decided then that we must do surveillance before making contact. It was a controversial decision. But I believe it prevents more problems than it creates.”

“I appreciate the logic of your position, Captain. But it would seema full disclosure after contact would have been in order.”

Picard nodded. “In time, there would have been full disclosure. I know I can only ask you to believe that. On some worlds, it is not even an issue. But here, everything our observers reported suggested the people of this world would almost certainly react negatively to our arrival. We could see our surveillance might even be interpreted as an act of aggression.” He paused. “I was hoping that we would find Commander Riker before you did…so the matter would not complicate our introduction. And it was a mistake.”

Durken smiled a little. “A mistake I might have made in your place.” He paused. “I rather like it actually.”

Confused, Picard asked, “Like it?”

“That you make mistakes like any man.”

Smiling, Picard agreed, “Oh, I’ve made some fine ones in my time.” The two men studied each other for a few moments. “Will you release my officer?”

Durken’s expression remained the same. “We’ll talk again later, Captain.”

* * *

FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS STARSHIP USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT, MALCOR III

JANUARY 2367

Rileeta faded further back into Sick Bay as Captain Picard, Mirasta Yale, and Chancellor Durken came through the doors. Dr Crusher turned away from Commander Riker’s bedside and said, “They’re both going to be OK. We were able to stabilize Will…if we’d been any later…”

Chancellor Durken, concerned, asked, “Krola?”

“He was never in any real danger. The phaser was on stun.”

Minister Yale, puzzled, asked “Stun?”

Captain Picard hastened to explain. “It is a defensive weapon. We do not use it to kill.” He turned to Dr. Crusher, “Have you been able to ascertain what happened?”

“I have a good idea. Based on the angle of impact, it suggests that Krola had his right hand on the phaser when it went off.”

Durken understood. “They were struggling for the weapon?”

“Commander Riker was in no position to offer any kind of struggle, Chancellor.”

Mirasta offered, “Krola was trying to be a martyr?”

Durken shook his head and moved to Krola’s side. The wounded man slowly opened his eyes and took in where he was, trying to understand. “Where is this?”

Speaking gently, Durken said, “You are aboard the starship, my foolish old friend.”

“No. Chancellor. You must not…you must not pursue relations with them. You must not.”

Patting his hand, Durken agreed, “I know. I know.”

* * *

A short while later, in Picard’s ready room, the discussion continued. Durken argued, “Mirasta, it goes against every instinct in my being.” He turned to Picard, “But my people are not ready to accept what you represent. Everything that has happened at the hospital proves it. Krola is the best evidence of all. We must slow down and allow all those like him to join us in the present before we move into the future.

Yale disagreed, “But when we encounter other beings in space, our people must be ready!”

“The warp program will have to be delayed. We will divert more resources into education and social development to prepare for the day when we are ready.”

“Chancellor, I strongly disagree.”

He nodded. “I know. Captain Picard, you once said that if I ask you to leave, you would without hesitation. I’m afraid I must ask you to do just that.”

Picard sighed. “It is your decision, Chancellor. But I must say I regret that we won’t have the opportunity of knowing your people better.”

“We are a good people, Captain. A society with much potential. Once we cross this threshold of space, we will have to give up the self-importance, the conceit that we are the center of the universe. But this is not the time. For now it is better that we continue to enjoy that sweet innocence.

The Captain asked, “But how can you keep us a secret…when so many have seen and heard so much?”

“The stories will be told for many years, I have no doubt. Of the ship that made contact. Of an alien who was held prisoner in a medical facility. There will be charges of a government cover-up. Some of the witnesses will tell their tales and most people will laugh at them and go back and watch more interesting fiction on the daily broadcasts. It will pass.

Mirasta agreed. “I’m sorry to say, he’s probably right.

Picard got to his feet and Mirasta continued. “Captain, I have one last request. Take me with you.”

Surprised, he looked to the Chancellor who agreed, “She will be unhappy with the restrictions I must place on her at home, Captain.”

Turning back to Mirasta, he said, “We may not be back in your lifetime. And I have to believe that you are not fully prepared for the risks of space, Mirasta.”

“I have been prepared for the risks of space since I was nine years old sitting in a planetarium.”

Picard tapped his comm-badge. “Mister Worf, to my ready room.” A few moments later, Worf entered. “Escort Chancellor Durken to the transporter room, Lieutenant. And then assign quarters to Minister Yale. She’ll be staying on board.”

“Aye, sir.”

Picard nodded at Durken. “Until we return then.”

Durken looked back at him and said, “With luck, we will both still be around to renew our friendship, Captain.”

* * *

When Worf took the Chancellor to the transporter room, they found Rileeta waiting for them.

Worf looked unhappy. “Captain.” he acknowledge her.

Durken looked at the fur-covered alien in her very different uniform with some curiosity. She was clearly waiting to speak with him. “Yes?”

“What was your decision, Chancellor?”

Puzzled he said, “I have instructed Captain Picard to leave. My people are not yet ready for space travel.”

“I was afraid of that. In that case, Chancellor. I have something for you.” She handed him what looked like a briefcase.

Durken took it and looked at it for a moment. “What is it?”

“A beacon, Chancellor. If you open it, it will turn on. It has two buttons. This red one, you can press if you have an urgent need of Federation assistance. You are in something of a grey area for the Prime Directive. If something terrible happens, or is about to happen – use this. We may be able to help; asking for assistance can give us a loophole in that Directive. The green one is for when you are ready to re-initiate first-contact – to pick up where we left off.”

“Thank you. Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Chancellor. Good luck with moving your people forward.” She turned and moved to the transporter console. “Ready?”

Worf looked at her with displeasure. She had clearly relieved Chief O’Brien, who should have been operating the transporter; since this was still dealing with a first contact situation, she had that right, but… The Chancellor looked at her in puzzlement for a moment more, then stepped up onto the platform and a moment later dissolved in a scintillating beam of light.

Finally deigning to notice Worf’s glare, Rileeta matched the Klingon look for look.

Being as courteous as he could, but firmly expressing his unhappiness with her behavior he stated, “Captain. You were most…unprofessional to Captain Picard.”

Rileeta smiled up at him with a squint, the tip of her tail twitching and one ear flicked backwards, “You’re not much of a Klingon, are you?”

Insulted, Worf hissed, “I could kill you right now.” The Klingon was nearly half a meter taller than the Dosadi’s meter and a half.

She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. But I’ll tell you what. Come find me another day and we’ll see who can kill who, all right?”

I look forward to that…Captain.” Worf was unpleasantly reminded of Commander Data’s cat, Spot.


* * *

Two weeks later the Enterprise was en route to Starbase 375. Rileeta was sitting on a deserted beach, the lights of T’Elesh visible in the near-distance down the coastline to her right, the moon large and low on the horizon over the big lake, washing out all but the brightest stars. The waves were lapping softly and a light breeze was ruffling her fur. The quiet buzzing-chirps of whirks rose and fell in a counterpoint to the breaking waves.

Picard stepped through the arch of the holo-deck and looked around, curiously. The arch vanished behind him and he walked down the grassy slope onto the sandy beach. Her dress uniform was on the sand beside her and her fur was still damp. Her left ear swiveled around, tracking him as he walked up next to her, but she didn’t turn her head. “Where is this?” he asked quietly.

“Home.” she said with obvious longing in her voice. She was looking across the lake at the distant horizon, the river-reflection of the moon rippling with the waves.

He nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is. But the holo-decks don‘t produce the scents accurately so it’s not quite right.”

Finally, he sat down next to her and in silence, they watched the moon and the waves for a few minutes.

Without turning her head, she asked, “Do you hate me?”

He hurried to answer. “No, Rileeta. Not once in all these years have I hated you.”

“I hated you.”

He sighed and looked up at the stars. “I know. He told me.”

Her ears swiveled again, “Who did?”

“Lorac.”

Stunned silence followed his answer. “When? How?”

“About a year after he was released. Shortly after you had returned home from the Reliant. He wrote me.”

“He never told me he wrote to you.”

“I know.”

The waves continued to lap at the sand and a felar stooped on some poor creature in the dunes. “What did he say?”

Would you like to read it?”

She finally turned her head to look at him. “You still have it? You’d let me?”

Instead of answering, he pulled his PADD out of it’s pouch and tapped on the screen a few times, then handed the device to her. With some hesitation, she took it and began to read.

 

Dear Jean-Luc,

I have been released from prison! I would have written you sooner, but I’m afraid that I was suffering from a number of mental imbalances brought about by my confinement. As I’m sure you know, we Dosadi find that sort of thing to be intolerable – it is, to us, a form of torture.

I wanted to again stress to you that I understand what you did, and why, and I do not hold it against you. As I told you at the time, I knew you were an honorable man and that was one of many reasons you are my th’mew. I hope that you likewise understand that I was also doing my duty. I truly did not violate my oath, nor any orders. I didn’t bring this up in the trial as it would have done more harm than good, but if you examine the security agreements I signed, you’ll find that the signature on each does not read ‘Lorac’ as the clerks assumed, but instead reads ‘Urac’p’ which means “I do not agree”. I will admit to using poor penmanship, however.

Knowing that I am persona non gratis in the Federation, this will be my only letter to you as I have no wish to mar your obviously promising career path. I am, however, very sorry that I will not be there with you. Losing your companionship is the greatest part of the price I pay for having done my duty to my Emperor.

I must also ask that you not write back. Firstly as such a communication would bring you under suspicion, and that, I will not have. Secondly, and this pains me to say, it would hurt Rileeta. She is entirely irrational when it comes to you, and I cannot begin to tell you how much that saddens me. I have tried to talk to her, but she discounts it as a side-effect of my illness. Her father, mother, brother – everyone has tried to talk to her, but she simply refuses to see any other possibility than what she has decided.

I don’t fully understand it myself, but she seems to enjoy causing herself pain on this subject. She feels that you have somehow betrayed me – and her – by your actions and no amount of argument will sway her. The hate she feels is poisonous and wrong, but she refuses to listen. We have all decided that the more we push the issue, the more determined she is to refuse to change her mind and have abandoned any attempts.

Perhaps one day the gods will bring her to a place where she will open her eyes and see that nothing has really changed between us all except physical distance. That day, with any luck, we can again renew our friendship and share the stories of all that has gone by while we were apart, and you can return my inau’bat’ar. At least until you resume your duties any way.

 

Your th’mew,

MAJ Lorac

Dosadi Imperial Intelligence Service

 

She read the letter a second time before wordlessly handing the PADD back to Picard.

They sat in silence for a while longer, listening to the sounds of the waves and the breeze. She asked, “Do you still have them?”

He undid the flap on his tunic and opened an internal pocket, drawing out two small glowing balls of fire, holding them in his hand.

She reached out and took one from his palm, watching the colors swirl in the blue-grey light of the Dosadi night.

At the sound of footsteps behind them, they both turned to see Lieutenant Worf, carrying a bat’leth. “Am I interrupting?”

Rileeta set the stone back in Picard’s palm, causing him to look at her in surprise. “No, Lieutenant. I lost track of time. We have something to settle, don’t we?”

Picard looked at her curiously. “Is there an issue with my officer, Captain?”

A minor difference in viewpoint is all, Jean-Luc.” She smiled. You’re welcome to stay and watch if you wish.”

Somewhat concerned but also curious, he said, “Very well.”

Rileeta started putting her uniform back on, cloak and all. “Well, Lieutenant, let’s see if there’s any Klingon in you after all. You pick terrain, not that it’ll matter.”

He laughed. “Computer, Klingon calisthenics program, setting only.” Picard tried not to jump as the lovely beach setting dissolved and reformed into a group of ruins set in a jungle. He was used to the holo-deck, but the rapid and drastic changes of setting that it was capable of going through was always a bit of a shock.

Finishing dressing, Rileeta chucked her longsword onto a platform and picked up a bat’leth of her own. She muttered sotto voce, “Might as well stick with something you’re familiar with.”

Picard tried to hide a grin and found a spot out of the way where he could watch.

Worf barked out, “Begin!” He advanced quickly, his bat’leth suddenly swinging in a lethal arc. Just as quickly, Rileeta ripped her cloak from her shoulders, snarling Worf’s weapon in the cloth and letting it swirl over his face. She quickly stepped to the side and put her boot on his rump and shoved him face first into the dirt.

“One for me, boy.”

He got back to his feet. “You cheated!

“Cheated? Did someone make a rule book for a fight?” she asked with an innocent smile.

“I thought we were using tournament rules. I did not wish to cause you seriousinjury.”

She laughed again. “Don’t be silly, boy. How can you settle a difference of opinion with rules? But if you want tournament rules, we can do that. However, just in case you really are a Klingon, computer, remove the safeties.”

“Belay that.” Picard countermanded.

Rileeta lowered her bat’leth. “Oh come on Jean-Luc. Fine. Computer, lethal-protections only.” She held her hands out imploringly to Picard. He waved his hand in acquiescence and the two began to circle each other again.

Worf swung his weapon again, this time making a loud clang as the two curved blades struck each other. The two combatants hacked and parried several times before Rileeta ducked under a savage neck-level swing, hooked Worf’s left leg with her bat’leth and overbore, flipping him on his back again. Smoothly moving past him, she tapped the edge of the outer point on his belly.

“Two for me, boy. Gotta adjust for height.”

Angry now, Worf jumped back to his feet and again launched a flurry of blows. The two backed away and circled each other. Worf, with a redonda twirling technique, was using his size and power against her to drive her back. Pressed hard, she stumbled on a piece of ruined masonry and he brought his bat’leth crashing down on hers, driving into her shoulder, cutting her deeply. Struggling to keep Worf’s blade from slicing further into her, she swept her leg out and again knocked Worf onto his back and then jumped back to her feet as he rolled clear of her counter-blow and regained his own footing.

Gasping in pain she said, “Almost one for you, boy. I’ll give you a half. Gotta be quicker than that.” They circled for distance again and she called out to Picard, “Don’t you dare stop this, Jean-Luc.” Her white uniform shirt was soaking up the blood flowing from the cut on her shoulderand her tail was lashing.

He had been about to order them to stop but decided to wait after all, though it was against his better judgment.

“Want to see how you do without the toy?” she asked amiably. Seeing his confused look she waggled her bat’leth at him. “Or aren’t you very good with bare hands?”

He laughed at her. He was expert in several different forms of unarmed combat. He tossed his bat’leth into the greenery and she did the same.

Things went much the same – Worf closed in with size and power and Rileeta countered with agility, speed and technique. His first attempt to close got a slapping backhand across his throat and a “One for me, boy.” as she rolled under his grapple and away. A spinning series of kicks and hammer-fists only resulted in her leaping over him kicking him right in the bridge of the nose as she went past, stunning him. Picard tried to stifle a smile – Dosadi had a tremendous jumping ability and his Security Chief was seriously over-matched.

“Two, I think, boy.” She taunted. His next series was met block for blow, but he smoothly stepped in and threw a powerful elbow into her ribs. Picard could hear the bones break from where he was and the little cat flew several feet across the ruins, sliding away in a cloud of dirt.

She got back to her feet and spat some blood. “That’s better, Worf. I guess maybe there’s Klingon in you after all.” They closed again and blows were being exchanged so quickly he couldn’t even follow – he heard several loud snaps, but didn’t know who was breaking what.

Finally the two broke apart, panting and bloody. Worf’s right leg was obviously broken, as was Rileeta’s left wrist. There was blood pouring out of the Klingon’s nose and mouth and he was favoring his left side.

“All right.” she had her arm wrapped across her body, putting pressure on her broken ribs. “Good enough, Warrior?”

He stood up straight, and coughed out a chunk of something. After a few moments his expression relaxed. He nodded and said, Good enough. You fight with skill and honor, though I could have done without the insults.”

She grinned. “You’ve been around humans too much. I needed to get you mad so you wouldn’t hold back.”

“That can be…dangerous.” he offered.

She smiled more broadly. “First of all, I’ve spent over forty years in the Dosadi special forces. I’m impressed you were able to do anywhere near as well as you did – you should be in competition. Second, I’ve grown up fighting Klingons, Worf. My uncle is Klingon.” She ducked under his arm. “Shall we help each other to Sick Bay?” She cast a smile at Picard. He thought that was possibly the first true smile he’d seen her send his way in many years. “Otherwise Jean-Luc’s going to be mad at me for breaking his officer.”

Picard watched them both and just shook his head. “Computer, end program.” he called out and the room returned to the glowing grid-lines and black surfaces of its natural state. Rileeta and Worf hobbled out the arch and into the hallway.

Jean-Luc, will you get our blades?” she called over her shoulder. Shaking his head again, he picked up their discarded weapons from the floor of the holo-deck. Instead of following them, he decided he did not want to be there for Dr. Crusher’s inevitable lecture and headed back to the bridge. Let the duty crew wonder why he had a bat’leth and a longsword

 

* * *

When the two officers limped into Sick Bay, Dr. Crusher was surprised. “What on Earth happened to you both?!” She quickly got to her feet and picked up her personal kit, calling out to her staff. “Nurse!”

She then helped the two of them to bio-beds and began running her micro-scanner over Worf while her nurse began doing the same for Rileeta. “Well?” she demanded.

Worf and Rileeta looked at each other. Rileeta shrugged and after a moment Worf offered, “We were having a discussion.”

Crusher was disbelieving as her readings began tallying the list of injuries to her two patients. “A discussion?

Worf stated with some feeling, “It was most…stimulating.”

 

* * *

Captain Jean-Luc Picard had just settled into his bunk, watching the stars race by in the windows set into the Enterprise’s outer hullbehind him and arching over his head.Naturally, the annunciator chime for his door went off just as he was getting comfortable. Sighing, he sat up, pulled on his short robe and called out, “Come!”

The door slid open and he saw Rileeta standing in the corridor. She looked at him and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t even think about the time…”

“No, no, I was just laying there. Please, come in.”

Hesitatingly, she walked a couple of paces through the door until it swooshed closed.

Seeing how uncomfortable she was, he asked, “Won’t you please sit down?” When she finally did he continued, “May I offer you something to drink?”

He thought she was going to ask for whiskey again, but instead she said, “Hot chocolate, please. Extra-sweet?” And he remembered that Dosadi taste-buds, while extra-sensitive to salty flavors, were weak on sweets.

He gave the order to his replicator and followed with his usual “Earl Grey, hot.” He returned with the drinks and sat opposite her. He took a sip from his cup and waited for her to begin.

Finally, looking directly into her hot chocolate, she said, “Your Counselor Troi is really quite good.”

He smiled. “Yes, I’ve found her advice to be invaluable and her skills have helped many of my crew.”

A few moments later and still looking down at her mug she took a deep breath and offered quietly, “We’ve got two kits. Did you know?”

‘That took a lot of effort’ he thought to himself, “No, I haven’t pried into your life, Rileeta. I’ve wondered frequently, but…”

“Karalin, she’s 30 now. She’s a teacher.” She finally looked at him. “Ar’ande, he’s 29. He’s a sailor, but on a clipper ship, not a starship.”

That’s fine!” he smiled.

“I’ve even got grandkits. Can you believe it?”

He shook his head, “You as a grandmother? That’s really not something I ever imagined.”

She paused. “Would you like to see some pictures?”

Oh yes, Rileeta. I’d like that very much.”

* * *

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The Dosadi Suite

[contact-form to=’jburhans@griffon-ltd.com’ subject=’The Dosadi Suite’][contact-field label=’Name’ type=’name’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Email’ type=’email’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Website’ type=’url’/][contact-field label=’Comment’ type=’textarea’ required=’1’/][/contact-form] unt)

FOREWORD
For those of you not terribly familiar with the Star Trek universe (all rights owned by Paramoallow me to provide a brief background.
“The United Federation of Planets (abbreviated as UFP and commonly referred to as the Federation) was an interstellar federal republic, composed of planetary governments that agreed to exist semi-autonomously under a single central government based on the principles of universal liberty, rights, and equality, and to share their knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation and space exploration. One of the most powerful interstellar states in known space, it encompassed 8,000 light years and at least a thousand planets.  The total number of formal members worlds was over one hundred and fifty.
Unlike its imperial rivals, who derived power from a single species subjugating other races, the Federation’s various member worlds joined willingly and were equals in the Federation’s democratic society.  The Federation Starfleet was incorporated to maintain exploratory, scientific, diplomatic, and defense functions.” (Source: https://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/United_Federation_of_Planets)
For clarity, units and numbers are converted to more human-friendly terms. Dosadi use base-8 numbering and most space-faring nations base distance calculations on the wavelength of the hydrogen absorption line – a universal constant – rather than Earth-centric light-years or parsecs.
All 5 cycles in this book follow the actions of a mixed-race family from their foundation through the first generation of children.
Cycle 1: Fugue
A young Star Fleet ensign joins the Officer Exchange Program with the Dosadi Imperium and ends up finding more than he bargained for while he keeps unknowingly crossing paths with a mysterious alien Colonel. Love, Loss, Life, and Death all play their parts.
Cycle 2: Triad
A Star Fleet crewman and his alien wife become entangled with a foreign colonel and stolen data with the USS Hood and USS Yorktown caught in the middle.
Cycle 3:  Pivot
A Star Fleet engineer and his alien wife are caught up in the schemes of several powers’ intelligence services. Meanwhile, a genetically engineered polymorphic plague is heading, undetected to the core of the Federation.
Coda 1: Raid!
This is mainly a starship combat story and as the title suggests, is a reprise of events already covered. It is the story of the Dosadi raid on Romulus as told by Colonel Jons about 10 years after the end of Pivot.
Coda 2: Free For All At Toulagai
Again, mainly a starship combat story that reprises events already covered. The story of a single Dosadi fleet out-gunned 3:1. The Dosadi carrier group fights for its life against the Hydran carrier group, Klingon battleship force, and the Gorn’s cruiser force. Continues the stories told by Colonel Jons about 10 years after the end of Pivot.
Coda 3: The Long Night
A more detailed telling of the final combat in Fugue as told by Colonel Jons about 10 years after the end of Pivot. The Dosadi are coming to get a defector from the Gorn battlestation at Airdrie and have to fight their way through a minefield, two Gorn fleets, and a battlestation.
Cycle 4: Minuet
The half-human/half-Dosadi daughter of Wilkes and Sooth joins Star Fleet as a fighter pilot and undertakes a mission that requires a sacrifice that may be more than she can bear. Minor cameo appearances by Sulu, Kirk, and McCoy. Set just before the events of “The Undiscovered Country’
Cycle 5: Finale
Picks up 20 years after Cycle 4, following the actions of a battered old Dosadi Special Forces operator and his Raider Team after the Cardassian Union conquers a key Dosadi resource. A young child begins to show him that there’s more to living than killing and more to coming home than an address, after a desperate battle.
PROLOGUE
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago–never mind how long precisely –having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on…No, no. Forgive me. I have recently been exposed to a number of ancient entertainments of various types and I’m afraid it has warped my sense of humor somewhat.
The truth is, I’m normally a reporter, not a historian. But the two seem to overlap sometimes as one must truly dig into the background of a story to understand it and accurately present it. I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve done enough solid, popular work for the media outfit I work for that I was allowed to follow my nose on a story of my own choosing. You never really know where such investigations will take you or how the story will affect your life. It’s not uncommon to become as much a part of the story as those you’re reporting on.
When I was still in primary school on Earth, there had been an incident between the Federation and the Cardassian Union. At that time the Cardassians were still very much an unknown to humans and I was at just the right age for it to enthrall me. It had all the elements of an adventure story, a spy story, and a war story, and I still remember watching all the coverage I could find. I think those stories and the excellent work done by those doing the producing played a major part in my becoming a journalist. I wanted to be the man telling these stories, not just watching them.
During my early years with Argus (you may not know this but Argus is actually owned by a Hydran conglomerate – look it up yourself!) I found myself doing a fair amount of war reporting – conflict always attracts people’s attention – and made something of a name for myself doing so. I did some historical specials focusing on Federation heroes, and even one in Klingon on the legend of Kahless. So it was natural, when given leave to do an independent project, that I would return to that first story that captured my attention and start looking into the background of the main players.
I’m sure you’re all aware that history is replete with individuals who seem to stand astride the events of their day and re-align things to their own liking. Individuals such as Napoleon Bonaparte of Earth, Surak of Vulcan, Kahless of Qo’noS, and more recently for the Federation, Captain James T. Kirk or Captain Jonathan Archer. There is always the on-going question as to whether the events make the man, or the man makes the event. With individuals of such surpassing influence, I prefer to believe that the man makes the event, at least in their rare cases.
However there are also, scattered throughout the history of man – in whatever form you find him, be it Human, Vulcan, Dosadi, or any other sentient shape – entire families that seem to be intertwined in the fabric of history with influence well beyond what one would expect. These families exert a tremendous impact on our times, but sometimes seem to remain nearly unnoticed.
When I began to pull on the threads attached to the young woman who had been so central to that story which had so captivated me as a boy, I found just such a family. Encountering them nearly killed me and has deeply altered the course of my life.
There are really five major strands to their story and I shall break my tale down to follow those paths. The first three take place across almost twenty years and covers several events you may never have even heard of, though they were tremendously significant to the Federation and a number of other powers. The fourth finally tells the true story of the incident that set me on my path, and the fifth covers the more recent events that most everyone in the galaxy is familiar with to some degree.
To begin, I will need to take you back over fifty years ago, to the glory days of Captain James Kirk and the USS Enterprise…
CYCLE 1 – FUGUE
CHAPTER 1
“The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are.”
– John Pierpoint Morgan – Earth (Human)
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
JUNE 2267
Ensign Thomas Wilkes looked wistfully at the scenery at the edge of the landing field. San Francisco was beautiful any time of year, but early summer always seemed to bring out the best in the Bay area and the view was spectacular. The Golden Gate Bridge was poking her towers up above the sparkling blue waters of the bay, with a few puffy clouds overhead in the cobalt sky. The aroma of California Roses from the Academy’s immaculate gardens scented the air.
He had to admit that it had been an interesting four years and he’d often wondered if he’d be allowed to graduate at all. He’d had plenty of fun, exploring California’s hills and coast, much as he’d explored the various offerings at the Academy before finally settling on Engineering and Power Generation and Distribution Systems as a focus. He sighed to himself. Nothing really seemed to ever catch his interest for long. Taking the entrance exam at 16 back in North Yorkshire, England, had been a freak thing – passing it had been even more of a freak event.  But he really didn’t have anything better to do with his time. His parents were not all that well off so University was out, and taking over the family farm just really didn’t seem like his thing.
Starfleet only asked for eight years – and four of them were spent in the Academy – so why not? A chance to get out, see some of the universe, have some fun, then maybe try to figure out what to do with his life. It was insane expecting teenagers to know what they wanted to do with themselves. But there you had it – that’s how the world worked. You were expected to fit in, to be like everybody else and do the same things at the same time and… He sighed again.
“Hey Wilksey, why the heavy sighs?” he heard a silky voice ask.
Turning to face the speaker he replied “Hello Angie.” and smiled. Angie had been one of the very nice things about his Junior year and in fact had almost been responsible for him flunking out. Well, one of the times he almost flunked out anyway. Spending time in his quarters with her was a lot more fun than going to class. But it had really only been a fling for both of them – She had plans for her life and had her eye on the big chair.
Glancing down at the way she filled out her gold Command-branch uniform tunic he continued “Just being me, is all. Still not really sure where I’m going or why.”
She laughed, a sound that still sent thrills up his back, “Wilksey, I just have the feeling that there’s something out there for you. I have said for AGES that you’re special. You just need to-”
He interrupted with a laugh, “Apply myself! I know, I know. I’ve heard that about every two weeks from one counselor or another since I was 12.”
She leaned in close and gave him a solid kiss, which he returned with interest. “I got the posting I wanted!” she smiled and began putting her very non-regulation long chestnut brown curls into a more regulation pony-tail.
“Enterprise?” he asked, stunned. The USS Enterprise was the top choice of pretty much every graduate. There were legends going around about that particular ship, and you had to be cream of the crop to get a berth there.
“Yes. I’ll be starting out in astrogation, so I might even get bridge qualified in a few weeks!”
“Angie, that’s amazing!” he said, genuinely pleased. “You’ll be Captain Stone before you’re 30!”
She laughed again, happy and excited, “Probably not that fast, but who knows? Where are you headed? That garbage scow you always figured Dr. Reynolds had in mind for you?”
He laughed, “No! Believe it or not, the Hood.”
She was surprised, “The Hood? For real? How’d you swing that?”
“I have no idea. Dr. Reynolds told me that I was specifically requested. He looked like he’d just bit into a lemon when he told me.”
She looked at him for a few moments. “Requested? Wilksey, I don’t want to be mean, but you were the absolute bottom of the class. One more demerit, one point less on any test and you would’ve flunked out. Why would they request you for one of the top Constitution-class cruisers in the fleet?”
He shrugged, “I have no idea. But I’m supposed to report to Chief Engineer White in Main Engineering.”
Shaking her head but smiling, she kissed him again and said, “Wilksey, I’ve said since I met you that you’re the luckiest man on Earth. I’ve got to go – my shuttle’s boosting in like 2 minutes.” She slung her duffel over her shoulder and hurried off to a waiting shuttlecraft, emblazoned with NCC-1701/3 USS ENTERPRISE along her side and the name COPERNICUS in jaunty script on her nose. He enjoyed the view as Angie walked away. Definitely something to miss.
He wondered again why he couldn’t seem to really commit to a relationship; or anything else. Angie was an amazing woman; you’d think he’d have chased after her with everything he had in him, but it had been the other way around. She was only his second lover after an awkward and fumbling affair in secondary school. Women were just one more thing that he liked but could never really get that focused on.
Sighing again, he shouldered his own duffel and walked the short distance across the field to the shuttlecraft from the Hood, found a seat and strapped in. A few minutes later the little ship lifted off, pointed her nose to the stars and he was on his way. He spent most of the ride up wondering just why he had been requested, and by whom.
When the shuttlecraft landed in the Hood’s aft bay, he didn’t have long to wait. Each of the eight newly-minted Ensigns aboard were met by a runner from their section and escorted directly to their waiting supervisors.  Since Wilkes was the only Engineer among the group, he quickly found himself standing at attention in front of a compact little Australian with a neatly shaved head. The office was packed with technical manuals and the man’s desk was covered with coffee stains and paperwork. At the moment he was kicked back in his chair with his feet on his desk, scrutinizing one Ensign Thomas Wilkes.
The subject of his study was getting more uncomfortable by the second. Trying to keep his back straight and his eyes focused on an imaginary spot on the office wall, he wondered exactly what was going on here. He’d been called on the carpet before, but usually they started right in as to what was wrong. But he hadn’t done anything yet!
Finally, Chief Engineer Ethan White broke the silence, “And why are you here in my office, Ensign Wilkes?”
Thoroughly puzzled, he tried to explain, “Sir, I was ordered to report to Chief Engineer White aboard the USS Hood and that is why I am here.”
“Don’t be a drongo, Wilkes. You’re an Engineer. Explain to me why you’re here.”
“Someone aboard specifically requested me, sir.”
“And why would that be?”
“I honestly have no idea, sir. I was expecting a… smaller ship.”
“You were expecting a garbage scow. I spoke to Dr. Reynolds at the Academy.” White laughed.  “You were the Goat this year. In fact, you’ve managed to set a sort of record – you have the lowest passing score ever recorded for a Cadet. In fact, the lowest score possible for a Cadet. So again, why are you here?”
Thinking quickly Wilkes came up with the answer, “You requested me, sir?”
“Very good Wilkes. Any idea why?”
“No, sir.”
“Wilkes, the Goat is a rather unique position at the Academy and that… honor… traces its lineage back to the old military academies of pre-atomic Earth. Interestingly, the Goats have a tendency to exceed all expectations and often surprass the accomplishments of the top of their class. They are statistical odd-balls and misfits who seem to be able to find a way through the most unusual circumstances and come out on top. Often heroically.
“I’ve looked into your history, Wilkes. You are young. You took the entrance exam – and passed – despite nearly flunking out of secondary school. How is that possible?”
Clearing his throat, Wilkes said, “I guess I just never applied myself, sir.”
“Psycho-babble bullshit, Wilkes. I’ve read your files. I’ve talked with your parents. I know everything there is to know about you. You’re a square peg in a world of round holes in a lot of ways. But I think there’s some potential here, and I intend to take advantage of this tendency of yours to fall into the shit and come out smelling like a rose. Get your gear squared away in your quarters. You report to Lieutenant Jerkowycz tomorrow morning at dilithium control.
“And Wilkes, you’re holding out on me. Cough it up.”
“OH! Yes, sir!” Wilkes dug into his duffel and pulled out a wrapped package. “Mother didn’t say who this was for.”
“Your mother is a saint, Wilkes. A home-made Yorkshire curd tart FROM Yorkshire is too good to pass up. I’ll admit that’s part of the reason I requested you. If I catch you causing her any stress, I’ll have you fed into the warp drives. Dismissed.” As Wilkes walked away, White was happily unwrapping his treat.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, UNDER WAY
DECEMBER 2267
Six months later, Wilkes again found himself in front of White’s battered old desk, uncomfortably bearing the scrutiny of the Chief Engineer.
“Wilkes. Once again you come before me. And why is that?”
Wilkes hated White’s tendency to start his ‘interviews’ by demanding that the one summoned explain why he was summoned. He hadn’t done anything wrong… lately. Of course he hadn’t done anything spectacularly right either. He had just done what he was supposed to do. “I believe you want to check on my progress, sir? It’s been almost six months since I reported aboard.”
White rolled his eyes, “Wrong! Bzzzt! Good guess though, I suppose. How do you like working on the engines, Wilkes?”
Uh-oh. “It’s OK, sir.”
“Not terribly exciting, is it? At least not if you’re doing everything right. In Warp Engineering, if things are getting exciting someone has really stuffed it. Ever think of branching out?”
“Branching out?”
“There’s a lot more to Starfleet engineering than just warp power, Wilkes. A lot more to learn. If you’re ever thinking of really moving up in rank you have to broaden your focus. Or are you just a one-term wally? Keep your head down, do the bare minimum, never poke your head up, and get out. Waste your whole enlistment doing nothing?”
Wilkes bristled, “No, sir. I just don’t really know what I want to do yet.”
“And you never will until you get some experience beyond fine-tuning matter/anti-matter flow rates and juggling plasma fields. From what your supervisor tells me, you’re not having any trouble with the work. You have an excellent understanding of the theory and the practice, you just lack the hands-on experience.” He paused. “Wilkes, what do you know about the Dosadi?”
Dredging his memory from the Academy he answered, “Um, they’re a race of cat-people. Very vicious fighters, and they like to fight a lot. The Federation made first-contact a bit over a century ago. They use a lot of Federation technology and we tend to back them in brush wars, which they fight a lot of. Smaller empire out towards the Klingons and Romulans if I recall. You see them on Earth every now and again in some of the bigger cities. They seem to be historians if I recall correctly.”
“Close enough. Tell me about fighters.”
“Fighters, sir? The Hood doesn’t normally carry fighters.”
“I didn’t ask you what the Hood carried, Wilkes.”
“Fighters. Either a big, heavily armed shuttlecraft with limited warp capability or a really small, underpowered and under-armored starship depending upon your point of view. Becoming more popular in fleet actions for their flexibility and ability to deliver heavy payloads, but they have very high casualty rates.”
“Good. I prefer the very small starship point of view myself. Did you study their systems at all?”
“Yes, sir, actually I did. One of my professors was a big proponent of fighter tactics; I got to work on a couple different models. They’re a lot more complex than shuttlecraft with more redundant systems, and of course they’re optimized for combat.”
White smiled. “Spot-on, Wilkes. How married to the whole idea of rank are you?”
“Sir?”
“How important is it to you that you outrank crewmen and you can give them orders? Is your status as an officer critical to your self-image?”
“I like being an officer, sir. But I suppose I don’t really care. When you’re working on something it just matters that you get the job done to standard.”
“That’s pretty much what your supervisor told me about you and about what I’d expect from you. You never struck me as someone who was that concerned with symbols and all the trappings of rank and all that crap. All right Wilkes, I think you’ll do. Come with me.” He then stood up and began to leave the office.
Completely confused again, Wilkes followed his Chief down to one of the smaller briefing rooms. As they entered the room Wilkes almost missed a step. There, big as life, was a five-foot tall version of puss-in-boots.
Now the Chief’s question about the Dosadi made sense, Wilkes thought to himself. And this one had rank, if he was reading the silver stripes on the alien’s shoulders correctly.
White walked up to the big feline, clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Captain Nolin! It’s great to see you again.”
The tan-and-cream colored cat smiled back, showing some good-sized canines and gripped his shoulder. “White. It’s been too long. Captain Karmes said that you had a candidate in mind.”
“I believe I do. Nolin, this is Ensign Wilkes; one of our newest engineers with a focus on power engineering, but I think he’s more of a generalist than that.”
Wilkes wondered exactly what the Chief had in mind as he tried to study the alien Captain. He looked like a big cougar that had decided to stand upright and upgrade his paws for hands. He was wearing dark blue trousers with a bronze stripe down each leg, a sword for Christ’s sake, black boots, and a black cloak. He spoke Standard but with a hint of an accent. Wilkes thought it sounded almost Swedish. Then he noticed that the cat was sizing him up as well.
“Wilkes, did Chief Engineer White tell you what we’ve got in mind?”
“No, sir. Not yet, sir.”
Nolin turned slightly and smiled, “Still keeping secrets from everyone, White?”
“Old habits die hard, mate.” He smiled back.
Turning back to Wilkes, Nolin continued, “Are you familiar with the Officer Exchange Program, Ensign Wilkes?”
Wondering if every senior officer in the universe started their interviews out with questions he answered “Yes sir.”
“Ever consider it?”
Wilkes was genuinely surprised. The Officer Exchange Program was usually for the elite – people who would represent the very best of the Federation. How did he get picked for this? “Honestly sir I had not.”
Nodding, Nolin put his hand on his sword hilt and thought for a moment. “Chief Engineer White thinks highly of you Wilkes, or he would not have brought you here. I command the Imperial Dosadi assault carrier Delos. She’s brand new, still fitting out, really. White and I are, as you’ve probably guessed, old comrades. He suggested a trade to help both our cultures. But, there’s a bit of a difficulty.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Well, the person I want to send over is an enlisted rank. A Crew Leader – A Petty Officer in your system. Chief  Engineer White is fine with that, and he’ll be filling in your position with a temporary rank of acting Ensign. If you decide to take advantage of this opportunity. But here’s the problem. You would be filling in his position – a position beneath your rank and status.”
Wilkes thought to himself Ahhhh….Now I understand all the questions White was asking about that. But Nolin was continuing:
“However, you’d be in charge of more people than you are now – you’d have a crew of 4 reporting directly to you and you’d be in charge of all the power, energy weapons, and shields on an F-14 Tomcat fighter. You’d be getting experience in leadership and in a broad range of systems. But it is beneath your rank. In fact you would be reporting to an enlisted man, and although you would outrank him, your position is beneath him. It’s technically grade-inversion and that’s usually a bad idea. I’m willing to make an exception in this case based upon White’s recommendation.”
White spoke, “Wilkes, I’d advise you consider this. You’d be experiencing another culture, you’d be leading men, you’d have an entire ship that was your responsibility instead of just bits of one. And you’d see things you’d never see aboard the Hood. We’d still be your home ship; you’d return to us when you’re done.”
“How long is this posting for, sirs?”
White spoke first, “A year.”
Wilkes thought about it. Serving aboard the Hood was easy, comfortable, and frankly, boring. The crew were nice, the work easy and it just wasn’t that different from the Academy. Or home. The decision was easy, “I’d love to take a swing at it, sirs.”
Big smiles showed all around and Captain Nolin said, “Well done, Wilkes! I think I can promise you an interesting year. If you survive it, of course.”
CHAPTER 2
“It is only at the first encounter that a face makes its full impression on us.”
– Arthur Schopenhauer – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
DECEMBER 2267
Imperial Marine Crewman Sooth was walking with her friend, Ensign Eletha. As they made their way down the corridor of the Dosadi assault carrier Delos, she was trying to rub the kink out of her right shoulder, swinging her right arm while her left hand rubbed the muscles.
Eletha smiled and asked, “Tough drill?”
“You kidding? When aren’t they?” Sooth laughed, “I think I need to adjust my armor.  Whenever my rifle kicks it digs a – ” and she stopped dead in her tracks as a Crew Leader walked towards them escorting a human in Starfleet red and black. The human looked over at her and as their eyes met, Sooth’s widened.
Eletha had walked a pace or two past when she realized that Sooth had stopped. “Sooth?” she turned and looked back at her friend.
“Uh, what?” she shook her head in surprise and hurried to catch up with Eletha.
“Oh. I didn’t even think about it. The human, right?”
“Yes. I just haven’t seen one in quite a while. I didn’t expect to is all.” Her eyes had a far away look.
“I heard he’s here for the Officer Exchange Program with the Federation. I didn’t even think about it Sooth, sorry.”
She smiled, “It’s OK. I’ll get used to it again. He’ll be aboard for a year, right?”
They continued walking towards the East Living Pod and Eletha answered, “Yup, it should be interesting. I’ve never met a human before. I heard he’s going to be working on the flight deck, so maybe T’Laren will introduce us.”
“Assuming you can ever pry your mate out of his fighter, anyway.” Sooth laughed.
“As if it’s any easier to pry you out of your armor and away from those endless drills?”
“So? It’s fun!” her eyes sparkled, “It’s got to be a lot more fun than being stuck in the nursery with all those kits hanging all over you.”
Eletha thought about her response for a pace or two, “You’ll feel differently when you have kits.”
“I’m never having kits, and you know it.”
“Well not if you never let anyone get close to you. Sooth, not everyone leaves or dies right away, nor do you have to keep running and fighting everyone and everything.”
“I don’t fight everyone. I’m just ready in case I have to. And I let you get close.”
Eletha sniffed and twitched her ears at her friend, “I didn’t really give you any choice in the matter, now did I?” She glanced at the young woman, “And if you don’t fight everyone who tries to get close, what happened with Kam the other day? One minute you two are finally sharing a cozy sleeping spot, and the next he’s flying through the air.”
Sooth laid her ears back, “He got… pushy.”
“Oh.” Eletha, seeing the signs decided to back off, “Well, if you’d like some non-pushy company tonight, T’Laren, the kits, and I are gonna all be in the pod tonight, you’re more than welcome to curl up with us any time.” As they walked through the doors into the East Living Pod, they took a moment to adjust to the change in environment.
The Dosadi arrange their ships quite differently than other space-faring species. Although heavily influenced by the traditions of their Federation patrons, they put their own spin on it. As a culture they preferred things in their natural state, so directions aboard ship were based upon a compass; The forward part of the ship was North, the right side East, and so on. As a social species that lacked most privacy taboos, they didn’t have individual quarters. Instead there were several large living pods that served as barracks, recreation hall, mess hall, and meeting room. Stuffed with greenery and liberally supplied with soft places to sleep, drape, climb or sit, they were the most comfortable areas aboard the ships. The overhead was designed to mimic the Dosadi sky, cycling from dawn to dusk and back again, complete with the yellow-white sun during the day and familiar stars overhead at night. It was a comforting touch of home in the endless night of space.
Currently the lighting show it to be early evening aboard ship. Several groups of friends could be seen with their evening meal fresh from the replicators, and there were a few people already catching a nap. Eletha could see Kam sitting with some of the other crewmen from the Astrogation section, softly playing a flute while one of his friends tapped along on a small drum. Sooth noticed him as well.
Eletha rolled her eyes, “From your expression, I’m guessing we should go over that way instead…” and lead the way to the far side of the large space. “You haven’t even talked to him since you threw him half-way across the pod. You ever going to again?”
Her tail lashed as she glared at Kam. “No. I trusted him and he… he didn’t deserve it. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”
Eletha was worried for her friend’s happiness. Sooth was quite young; barely 17 and fresh out of her initial year of training for the Imperial Marines. In the few weeks since she had been assigned to the Delos she had made no really close friends, except Eletha; the only males who had attempted to strike up a friendship had ended up much like Kam. She had a reputation as unapproachable, and as a slightly strange loner. The Dosadi have a strong streak of individualism, but they are a very co-operative culture as well, and Sooth wasn’t really fitting in outside of her combat team. But perhaps now wasn’t the time to push, Eletha thought. So as they ate their evening meal she kept the conversation to safer topics.
As they were finishing up their chow, a tall Dosadi male wearing a hard-won Warrior Pendant around his neck plopped down between them and with a cheery smile said “Hiya!”
A startled Sooth started to swing at him, catching herself before the blow landed. Continuing to smile, he didn’t even flinch. Eletha laughed, “Hello Corin. You’re lucky she didn’t knock you on your tail!”
“It’s not me she’d have to worry about then,” he grinned as another female gracefully sat down next to him, curling her tail around his waist, “It’d be Nollos avenging me!”
“Or not.” she snorted. “You did that deliberately and would deserve whatever you got.”
“Ooh! My own mate abandoning me! What a cruel, harsh world…” he splayed himself onto his back.
Nollos ignored him. “My mate, the drama-queen.”
Shaking her head, Eletha asked, “Corin, you’re a Team Leader on Lieutenant Commander Delac’s fighter right? Do you know anything about that human that we saw earlier?”
“I – well here he is now, in fact.” he interrupted himself as the door cycled open again. Standing up he called out to the obviously disoriented young man, “Ensign Wilkes! Over here!”
Clearly relieved to see someone he at least vaguely recognized, Wilkes made his way over to the little group. “Hello, Team Leader.”
“We’re off duty Wilkes; I’m just Corin. This is my mate and my reason for being, Nollos. She’s a Hornet Team Leader. This lady is Ensign Eletha, a disruptor targeting officer when she’s not nursing; her mate is T’Laren, a Thunderbolt pilot, he might be here later. And this is Sooth, she’s a Marine.
“Everyone, this is Ensign Wilkes. He’ll be one of my Crew Leaders for the next year.”
“Hello everyone. I apologize in advance if I get names and faces mixed up. I’m struggling to tell you all apart. You still all look alike to me, mostly.” He glanced at Sooth, “You I think I recognize at least…Sooth? Didn’t I pass you in the corridor earlier?”
“Um, yes. You have a good memory, I think.” she answered shyly.
“Hey, there’s hope for me yet!” Wilkes said with a smile, thanking God above for whoever invented the Universal Translator implant.
Corin laughed and said “Have a seat Wilkes. I’ll grab some chow – you prefer human foods or are you feeling adventurous?”
“I’m here aren’t I?” he smiled at Corin as he sat down cross-legged in an open spot in the circle of people.
As the introductions and basic questions continued, Eletha noticed that Sooth had pretty much clammed up. “So Wilkes, if we all look alike to you how did you recognize Sooth?”
Sooth’s ears twitched back and forth, and Wilkes said, “I think her eyes look different than those of anyone else, and she’s got those two black stripes coming up off them that are very beau… umm… distinctive.”
Eletha noticed that Sooth was trying very hard to disappear. “Well to us, scent plays a big part in it too. How do you tell each other apart?”
“Our noses aren’t that good. For us it’s all about how different everyone looks; Shape of the nose and ears, the way they smile, height and weight, hair color, eye color, that sort of thing. So far most of the Dosadi I’ve met have golden colored eyes, but hers are blue.”
Nollos said, “That’s not that common for us. Eletha’s kits all have blue eyes right now, but that doesn’t usually last more than a couple of years. There’s some people with green eyes too. More common than blue, but still not very common.”
By the time the lights had dimmed past dusk Eletha’s mate and their four kits had arrived and Wilkes was thoroughly enjoying himself. The four little ones had been initially terrified of him, but within a few minutes decided that he was more interesting than frightening. Within half an hour they were climbing him like a tree. One seemed to take particular delight in sitting on his head.
T’Laren reached up and set the little ball of fur down again, “Ceena, stop doing that.” he chided the little girl.
“It’s OK. I don’t mind.” Wilkes said good naturedly. “Fortunately their claws don’t go in too far, but I’m starting to see a real disadvantage to not having fur…”
Nollos laughed, “I didn’t want to say anything, but you look to us like a big bald monkey. I’ve studied up on Earth animals: I want to go there to study your military history. There’s an academy in Russia I really want to go to.”
Wilkes scratched his own armpits and said, “Ook! Ook! Ook!” to everyone’s amusement. The children immediately picked up on the noise and began aping him.
Eletha noticed that Sooth was watching the young man rather carefully – if surreptitiously. “Tell us a story from your world Wilkes. We Dosadi love stories, so I’m going to put you on the spot.”
Wilkes said, “Okay. Fortunately for you I’ve studied a little bit of a lot, and folk stories are something I enjoy.” He thought a moment while everyone settled in, even the little ones, and he began, “This is a story from Ireland, a small country near where I was born, and it’s called Connla and the Fairy Maiden.” He hoped the Translator had all the concepts for this story.
Now this tale happened a very long time ago when there was still magic in the world and all manner of wizards and magical folk. Connla of the Fiery Hair was the son of the king, Conn of the Hundred Fights. One day, as he stood with his father on the heights of Usna, he saw a beautiful maiden in strange garb coming towards him.
“Where do you come from, maiden?” said Connla.
“I come from the Plains of the Ever Living,” she said, her voice as musical as tiny bells on the wind, “there where there is neither death nor pain. There we keep holiday always, and need no help from anyone in our joy. And in all our pleasures we have no strife. And because we make our homes in the round green hills, men call us the Hill Folk.”
The king and all with him wondered to hear a voice when they could see no one.     For save Connla alone, none saw the Fairy Maiden.
“To whom do you speak, my son?” said Conn, the King.
Then the maiden answered, “Connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whom neither death nor old age awaits. I love Connla, and now I call him away to the Plain of Pleasure, Moy Mell, where Boadag is king for aye, there has been no complaint nor sorrow in that land since he ascended the throne. Oh, come with me, Connla of the Fiery Hair, ruddy as the dawn with thy tawny skin. A fairy crown awaits thee to grace they comely face and royal form. Come, and never shall they comeliness fade, nor thy youth, till the end of days.”
Now the king was much afraid, he did not wish to lose his son. “You would take my son from me? You are a fell voice and I shall summon my Druid to banish you from my lands!”
The maiden spoke again, “Oh mighty king, why do you keep your son from such an adventure and from everlasting joy and life? Is it I who am evil, who offer only love and happiness while you wish to keep your son for your own selfish desires until he too grows old and dies?” And she slowly became visible to all.
The king was struck by the wisdom of the fairy maid. He spoke to his son, “Oh Connla, what is in your heart and mind?”
“Father, all men know that I love my own folk above all things, most especially you. But yet, a longing seizes me for the maiden.”
When the maiden heard this she answered, “The ocean is not so strong as the waves of my love for you, Connla. Come with me in my curragh, the gleaming straight-gliding crystal canoe. Soon we can reach Boadag’s realm. I see the bright sun sink, yet as far as it is, we can reach it before dark. There is too, another land worthy of thy journey,  joyous to all that seek it. Only wives and maidens dwell there. If you wish it, we can see it and live there alone together in joy.”
The king looked to his son, the joy of his days and said, “My son, I free you to find your own path and your own destiny, though you shall always have a home here.”
Connla of the Fiery Hair rushed away from his father and taking the maiden’s hand, they sprang into the curragh, and the king, his court, and all saw it glide away over the bright sea into the setting sun. Away and away till the eye could see it no longer, and Connla and the Fairy Maiden went their way on the sea and were no more seen, nor did any know where they came.
As he finished, Wilkes though to himself, “Now why did I pick THAT story?”
“Nice story Wilkes! Well done!” Corin cheered him.
Sooth said flatly, “So he left.”
Puzzled, Wilkes asked, “Beg pardon?”
“He left. He left his family to go with her.”
“Well his father realized that all our children grow up and need to find their own way in the world, and he said he understood. He set him free; he didn’t just leave.”
Sooth looked at him. “Maybe.”
Heading this particular line off, Eletha jumped in, “We should tell you a story now.”
Still a little puzzled, Wilkes said, “Yeah, um, say, how did my people even encounter yours anyway? First contact missions always have a story attached to them.”
Nollos said, “Oh I love this story, I’ll tell it.”
CHAPTER 3
History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity.
– CICERO, Pro Publio Sestio – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
DECEMBER 2267
Looking around the assembled group of friends and reading the happy anticipation in their expressions, Nollos settled in to a more comfortable position before starting her tale.
“We Dosadi have taken much from the experiences of your Federation since we first encountered you over a century ago.” she began, looking at Wilkes as she spoke.
“We are avid historians with a rich history of our own, but you humans have fascinated us since that long ago first-contact. Your history is one of barbarism, dishonor, cruelty and hate arising again and again. And each time, those evils were struck down by civilization, honor, kindness and love.”
The group all were nodding in agreement as she continued the tale, her voice starting to take on an almost professorial tone.
“Your Federation presents itself as a pacifist organization, but you fight like demons out of hell at the drop of a hat and possess the most frightful weapons in the known galaxy. Your species always struggle to remain true to those principles, and are always seeking to better yourselves. That paradox is one of the things that attract the Dosadi to you so much. It is also the biggest reason you will often see Dosadi studying the writings and deeds of your great generals like Leonidas, Sun Tzu, Giap, Mao, Patton, Washington, Nelson, Kirk – and great philosophers like Ghandi, Lincoln, Buddha and more.”
Taking a small breath, Nollos once again addressed Wilkes directly, “Now Wilkes I understand you might not know much about us, so I will add more of our background than usual so there are no misunderstandings. I’m sure everyone will agree to that.”
Everyone was enjoying listening to her and simply waved her on, nibbling on snacks or enjoying some of the fiery Dosadi whiskey.
“All right. Dosad is a heavily forested planet orbiting an F-class yellow-white star in the constellation Cygnus, as your people see the stars. As we evolved, our species focused more on predation than agriculture, staying nomadic long after other species had settled in city-states. We’ve never been a very populous people – Our reproduction rate is low and our mortality high as you shall see. Even once we began to cooperate on a scale larger than small tribal bands, our cities stayed small and were much more integrated into the forest than any on Earth. Even our heavy industry is green-belted.” Indicating the growing plants throughout the Living Pod she said, “As you can tell, we prefer to be among living things.
“Our culture has become one that reveres valor in battle with a drive to constantly test ourselves and to better ourselves. Our religion and philosophy focus more on how you live your life and who you are, rather than the things you have. You humans have always been focused on the things one can aquire – another puzzle to us!” and she smiled. Now, Death to us is the end to all our stories. How you meet your fate is a critical part of your life.
“But, our focus on philosophy rather than things meant that we were slow to develop advanced technology compared to most of the major powers. Believe it or not, Wilkes, our species is almost a hundred thousand years older than yours – but we didn’t develop a warp drive until about a hundred years after you did. So now, I’ve got you caught up a bit and I can move on to the day the Federation first contacted us.”
Nollos’ tone and manner changed as she told her tale in grand style, right down to the accents involved:
As it happened, one of the first Federation cruisers, the USS Defiant was passing through the sector about the time of that initial warp flight and made first contact. Naturally, her captain was immediately challenged to single combat. Fortunately for future Federation-Dosadi relations, Captain Heather Sterling was a student of military history and an expert in several different martial arts including grappling styles such as Hakko Ryu JuJutsu and striking styles such as Muay Thai . Lacking real teeth and claws, standing a good six inches shorter than her opponent and massing some twenty kilos less, the Dosadi were expecting a quick victory. Still, it was important to see HOW these hairless apes fought – Were they honorable? Or cowards? Could they fight at all? Would they use their superior weapons to take vengeance after their Captain was slain? Much can be learned in the challenge ring.
Recognizing a warrior culture immediately, she knew the significance of this fight. “No,” she thought, “this ceremony.” Her security chief, Lt. Desoto-Cortez, nearly half a meter taller, twice her weight and muscled like a mountain gorilla, had begged to be allowed to represent the Defiant, but she refused. First Contact missions were the most challenging and delicate of any in Starfleet and had effects that echoed through centuries. This fight was hers, and hers alone. Her opponent, five and a half feet of sleek fur-covered muscle, teeth and claws snarled at her as he stripped his clothes off. “When in Rome…” she decided and followed suit, answering his snarl with a smile.
“Lewtenant, if yon critter shuld happen ta kill me, take it wi’ good graces. Tis’ vital important tha’ we show nothin’ but honor an’ style.” she explained as she pulled her red hair back into a pony tail.
“I understand, Captain, but I don’t have to like it.” the massive Spaniard grumbled.
A howl rose over the crowd as several of the bagpipe-like instruments the Dosadi called ‘trusk’ began to play a driving beat with flute and drums providing the counterpoint. ‘Och,’ she said to her Security Chief, “Dinna fret naow. I feel raht at home, lad.” And with a laugh, she stepped naked into the ring. Several of the big cats surrounding the arena began to take up a song, a song which grew louder as more joined in and the fight went on.
Hith’an circled slowly towards Sterling’s left, suspicious that the Federation Captain wasn’t reacting at all. A quick feint likewise brought no more than that smile and a wink. Were they capable of fighting at all? He lunged in fast and low, going for a crippling slash at her legs only to be met with a stunning elbow across the side of his skull. Rolling away from her rising knee, he slid face first across the ring, scrambling away from her with new-found caution.
Again, she stood motionless. He regained his feet and faced her again. He laughed, a mix of a purr and a meow and dipped his head in respect, his ears erect. Clearly this was no fool. He closed in carefully, in a light-footed combat stance, his tail providing exceptional balance.
“Ah, “ Captain Sterling thought, “This one won’t be suckered again. Time to play for keeps.” And so began an epic battle between two expert combatants. Hith’an was one of the most feared fighters on Dosad and had never lost a challenge in his thirty years. Captain Sterling, though nearly a decade older had won many full contact tournaments against fighters from across the galaxy. At this level, fights are either over very quickly or they drag on endlessly until one person either makes a mistake, or injuries or bad luck simply overwhelm them.
Sterling’s fight was one of the latter. After almost half an hour of combat, the two elected to take a rest break for water and to treat some of the more obvious injuries. The Dosadi mid-day sun and high humidity were brutal – Hith’an was panting for all he was worth and Captain Sterling was dripping sweat and blood. Desoto-Cortez fussed as he tried to staunch some of the deeper gouges with a med-kit. Two of her fingers were broken and she was showing a stunning selection of bruises across her chest, belly and legs. Sterling chuckled, “Ha, the lad’s in nae better shape! But bugger, he knas wa’ he’s abou’.”
Indeed, on his side of the ring, Hith’an’s tail was hanging limply from a broken vertebra, one ear had been torn off almost entirely and one side of his skull was fractured, the swelling beginning to distort his vision on that side. Several teeth were missing and he was spitting blood.
Another 30 minutes and another break. And another. And another. The gathered Dosadi were nearly ecstatic – no challenge had EVER gone on so long or at such a level of expertise! Both fighters had passed on strikes at their opponent after a slip and fall – both had conducted themselves with the utmost courage and honor. The warrior cats were astounded that someone so small, so weak, and so lacking in natural weapons as Captain Sterling, could face their greatest champion at all, much less for such an epic battle! Stories of this match would be told for centuries.
Finally, an exhausted, overheated Hith’an made a mistake. His attempt at a grapple that would have held on a fur-covered Dosadi instead slipped neatly off the blood and sweat-slick Sterling, and she quickly took advantage, grabbing two fistfuls of forearm-fur and locking his arm into a painful bar while wrapping her legs around his throat and neck. As his other hand came up and began raking deep, bloody gouges in her legs, she leaned backwards with everything she had left, hearing the bones in his arm splinter and seconds later, he passed out from the choke.
Releasing him, she stood weakly and said, “Baws, I shouldna don’ tha’.” and collapsed across him.
A short while later, she regained consciousness in a Dosadi medical bay, next to Hith’an and a crowd of onlookers. Unlike the match, it was nearly silent – she thought she heard purring. Lt. Desoto-Cortez was getting more nervous by the minute; The landing party was badly outnumbered and in close-quarters and he had no way of judging the aliens’ mood. The Emperor had flatly refused his request to beam back to the Defiant to provide medical care for the Captain.
Trying to focus her swollen eyes she asked, “Och, Lewtenant, wa’ happened?” before he could answer, Emperor H’Rath asked, “Captain Sterling. Why didn’t you kill Hith’an? The victory was yours. The battle hard-won.”
Even groggy, exhausted, and in pain, Heather Sterling was aware of the stakes. “Nae. The lad fought better than any I’ve met on a dozen different worlds. With courage, honor an’ skill ta spare. Were I ta kill ‘im, I’d lose the chance to face ‘im again.” The howls were deafening and it took a moment for Desoto-Cortez to realize that the Dosadi weren’t about to attack.

* * *
Returning to her normal manner, Nollos continued, “From that moment on, the Dosadi would be steadfast allies of the Federation. The names ‘Heather’ and ‘Sterling’ suddenly became popular names for Dosadi kittens. Over the years since that first contact, Dosadi units served with Starfleet ground forces, aboard their ships, and often as mercenaries or proxies when the Federation needed force applied, but with political deniability. The Federation went to great lengths to maintain their image as the shining knights of the galaxy, but sometimes dirty work needed to be done.
She smiled, “I bet you didn’t know that, did you, Wilkes? I’ve got friends who’ve been to Earth. We’re portrayed as these crazy vicious primitives that the Federation tries to keep on a leash, but a lot of the fights we get into are at Federation urging. Most of our technology is Federation supplied or derived from Federation designs, but with a unique Dosadi flavor. For instance, we loved the different colors that you use in your uniforms to indicate which branch you’re in. That’s why our fighter wings are named after colors and the crew wear coveralls in colors to match.
“But we have a lot of respect for the Federation – especially you humans. The Vulcans, well, we have a hard time trusting them. Honor and Logic don’t seem to get along all that well sometimes. It’s one reason we tend to name our weapons systems after ancient and legendary Earth weapons or warriors. Well, and there’s always the flattery aspect of it too. We’re a small power and we rely heavily on the Federation for technological support.
“And all of this has come about because one Federation Captain over a hundred years ago understood what Honor was, and showed us that humans are worth trusting and knowing.”
As she finished her tale, she was passed a glass of whiskey and Wilkes said, “Wow. I didn’t know much at all of that story.”
CHAPTER 4
“If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater.”
– Unknown
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2268
The next few weeks were busy ones for the crew of the Delos as they finished her shake-down cruise. Even more so for Wilkes as he struggled to learn a new culture and new ways of doing things, new systems, and new people. He was constantly challenged to learn more, faster, and to expand what he thought he knew. He realized he had never been happier.
He had become friends with the other Crew Leader on his team, a tough, wiry little male named M’Ralin, as well as with Corin and Nollos. And he kept finding himself looking for reasons to spend time talking to the young Marine, Sooth. He found that the nights where she was sleeping in the same group with him that he tended to stay up much too late talking with her. As a dilettante, he found her single-minded focus on her Marine training almost hypnotically different. As it turned out, they both enjoyed poetry, loved looking at stars and being outdoors, especially on the water. He remembered that conversation.
“Wait. You’re a cat and you like water?” he teased.
“I think that was a joke, but it didn’t translate very well. What’s a cat?”
“Oh, Damn, I’m sorry, Sooth, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, I was kidding.” he started to reach his hand out to touch her on the shoulder but she flinched away so he stopped and rather lamely made out that he was smoothing his hair. “A cat’s a small house pet on Earth that looks very much like a miniature Dosadi and they’re famous because they HATE being wet.”
She thought about that for a second. He really did look upset that he had said the wrong thing. “Oh.” she said, “Nollos is the one who knows all the Earth animals. I’ll have to get her to show me one some time.” She spent a few moments looking at him, almost involuntarily being drawn to his eyes.
“Sooth?” he asked quietly.
Shaking her head a little she answered, “What?”
“Who hurt you so bad?”
She bristled, “What makes you think someone hurt me?”
“I’m sorry if I’m being nosy. I don’t want to be rude, and I don’t want to say anything stupid, especially nothing that would make you not want to be my friend. It’s just…You have like this big wall up that says ‘don’t come close to me!’ and the only people I’ve ever met with walls like that have been hurt.”
She looked away.
He waited a few moments, “I don’t want to hurt you either, Sooth. I like talking with you too much.” and he smiled at her, getting a small smile in return. “Can I ask you something really silly?”
“What?”
He blushed, “Can I please touch your shoulder? You guys all look so soft, I’ve been dying to feel someone’s fur but I think I’d look like a total ass if I asked. You’re about the only person I trust enough not to think I was an idiot, or laugh at me, or beat me to a pulp.”
Her ears swiveled back and the wall came crashing down. He hurriedly spoke again,
“Never mind – really. I’m sorry, Sooth. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He almost held his breath to see if she would just get up and leave. Instead she said, “Okay.”
“Are you sure? I feel pretty stupid asking, like a tourist or something.”
“No, it’s OK.”
Slowly he reached his hand out, noticing that she tensed up, and he gently touched her shoulder, feeling the silky fur there. He let his fingers stroke along her shoulder briefly and then pulled his hand back. “Wow. You are really soft. That’s amazing. Thank you, Sooth.”
“It’s just fur.”
“I meant for trusting me enough to let me do that.”
She looked at him again. He met her eyes with his, watching her thoughts play through them. He wondered what had happened to her that she was so jumpy about a simple touch, and the answer he got wasn’t a good one. He decided to steer the conversation to a safer topic.
“Enough of me being a fool.” and he smiled, getting one back. “Can I ask why you decided to join the Imperial Marines? You can…” bam, the wall was back. He quickly shifted gears, “Or you can ask ME anything you want, I’ve probably been nosy enough for one night.”

* * *
That conversation hadn’t seemed to hurt their growing friendship, much to his relief. He would occasionally try to pry more details out of her about her life, but she was always hesitant to open up. She was like a puzzle and she absolutely fascinated him.
One day, as he was heading towards a locker room to shower up after a long shift running drills in the hangar deck,  he realized that he had been spending more time with Sooth than with pretty much anyone else aboard. Starting to strip off his forest green coveralls, he saw three Dosadi come in and head over to where he was changing.
“Hey there, Wilkes.” one of them said.
“Um. I’m sorry, I don’t know your names yet? I’m still awful at that.”
“I’m Inveth. I’m Sooth’s Crew Leader.”
“Oh hi! I’m glad to meet…Um.” they didn’t look all that friendly. “I think I’ve seen this scene in a dozen different entertainments.” Wilkes finished.
“Scene? What are you talking about?” Inveth was genuinely confused.
“Let me guess, you three are here to kick my ass for daring to get friendly with Sooth, right?”
“What the hell? No!” Inveth laughed, “Dosadi don’t work that way. If we want to fight you, we’ll challenge you straight up. We just want to know what you’re after.”
“After?” Wilkes asked.
“Look, Sooth’s had it tough. She doesn’t need to get hurt any more, OK?”
“What happened to her?”
“That’s not our story to tell. Ask her.” Inveth made a sour face, “You’re only here for a year, right?”
“Yes.” Wilkes agreed.
“Is this just like a game then? Have fun for a year, then leave?”
“I really don’t know, Inveth. I got offered the chance and I took it. I’ve really liked everyone I’ve met so far. Sooth is just…” he paused and thought, smiling as he pictured her face, “Special. There’s something about her that’s different than anyone I’ve ever met. I thought it was just that she was so totally focused on being the best Marine in history, but I’ve had friends with that kind of focus before. So I don’t really know.
“But if you’re asking if I’m just out looking for a score and a heart to break, that’s not it at all.”
Inveth was struggling with the translation, “A score?”
“Sorry, slang term, it means to have sex with someone.” He grinned as he saw all three pairs of ears swivel backwards. “Guys, seriously, I like Sooth a lot. I’m not going to do anything to hurt her.” He was trying not to smile at the image of a fair maiden’s three big brothers coming after the charming rake.
“We don’t put up with people hurting our friends, Wilkes. You humans have a reputation that you frequently do hurt your friends. This is not going to be like that, right?”
“No, it’s not. I’m not like that, Inveth.”
“I’ll take your word on it then, Wilkes.”
Wilkes grinned, “Actually, I like that she’s got friends who look out for her. I get the impression she doesn’t really let anyone get close at all.”
“She doesn’t, but we’re her team. That’s different. She’s had a couple of bad experiences with some other friends, and we just don’t want to see that happen again. Thanks for understanding, Wilkes. Maybe I’ve misjudged your species. I guess we’ll see.”
All three of them turned and stalked out the door. Maybe stalked was too strong a term, he thought. These were Marines after all, they pretty much stalked everywhere no matter what species they were. As he showered, his thoughts kept turning back to Sooth. Maybe it was just the mystery about her past that attracted him. Or that she was so easy to talk to. Well, she was pretty too.
Checking himself, he began to question his sanity. She looked like a cat. Angie was pretty. Angie had a fantastic set of curves while Sooth barely had hips. And Sooth had those insanely beautiful eyes, and they were just framed perfectly in her face. Even her nose was…What the hell. He stuck his head under the water. The more he tried to think of Angie, the more images of Sooth intruded. And she really did have a nice tail end. The tail only added to her wiggle when she walked GAAA!!! Turning the water to full cold he decided he had some serious mental issues. He was getting turned on thinking about a large, bi-pedal cat.

* * *
The next day, Sooth invited him to go and visit the Delos’ nursery to see Eletha and her kits. Having children wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about as part of his life and he’d never really spent any time around anyone’s kids. But since he came aboard, there always seemed to be kids running about and he found he actually enjoyed the little buggers.
Unlike other races, the Dosadi lived, fought, and died as families. Kits were given duties aboard commensurate with their age and abilities. Whether it was cleaning decks, scrubbing air passages, maintaining the many plants aboard, or helping keep on-duty crews hydrated and fed, there was always something that needed doing and youngsters were perfect for these unskilled tasks. There were those who said that was one reason the Dosadi fought so ferociously – in every battle, they were defending everything they loved. The loss of a ship was a tragedy to a relatively small species, although they all understood the need to sacrifice few for many when the time came. There was great honor in such a sacrifice – but only if it paid off. Only fools threw lives away without a commensurate gain.
A nursery aboard a warship was something that Wilkes wanted to see. Being able to spend more time with Sooth may have played a part in it as well and he enjoyed sharing some old jokes with her as they walked. Her laugh was yet another thing that he found attractive. So by the time they arrived, she had actually rubbed shoulders with him and seemed more accepting of the occasional touch, much to his delight.
Walking into the big, greenery filled place Wilkes was surprised. It wasn’t what his mental image of a ‘nursery’ was. There were about a dozen obviously female Dosadi and nearly fifty kits of various ages running rampant, chasing each other, climbing, napping, pouncing…Sooth bumped into him as he stopped in the doorway. “Wilkes!” Much to his further surprise, she took hold of his arm and steered him into the nursery.
Within seconds, Eletha’s four kits had spotted him and swooped in to ‘attack’. Allowing himself to be bowled over, he put up a fierce resistance while Sooth began to talk to Eletha.
Smiling at her kits, Eletha said, “I think he spends more time with the kits than any male who’s not a father.”
Sooth just watched him wrestle with the little ones, listening to the savage growls coming from four little throats. “He’s definitely different.”
“I like that you’re spending time with him. It’s really helping him learn how to be part of our crew and to learn our culture.” Smiling at her friend she continued, “And I think maybe it’s helping you to open up a little too.”
Flicking her tail, Sooth ignored her last comment. “I heard he’s a really good leader. His crew respects him and he knows a lot about the Tomcats. Corin said that he doesn’t even care that he’s actually a higher rank than his Team Leader. He just gets the job done.”
“Really? So it looks like he has honor as well.”
Twitching one ear back, Sooth said quietly, “He’s still leaving in less than a year.”
“So? Does distance really matter to a friendship?”
Sooth was thinking about that when they heard Wilkes say “Whoa, hang on a second.” and she watched him stand up and walk quickly over to where an older kit had just cuffed a smaller one. The kit’s mother was swooping in like a hawk.
Wilkes picked the bigger kit up and just held him aloft. “What’d you do that for?”
Eletha signaled the kit’s mom to wait, getting a glare in return. “Cuz he’s puny and he’s stupid.”
“Really? You think you are going to impress people by beating up people smaller than you?”
The kit thought about that, “No. But he still deserves it.”
“And you know this, why?”
“Cuz he’s stupid.”
“I’d bet if you and I compared what we know you’d come out looking pretty stupid. Should I beat you up?”
“No, but that’s different.”
“No, kit, it’s not. Everyone’s different. Just because right now you can do something, because you can make fun of someone who’s in a different place than you doesn’t mean you should.” He put the kit down and said, “I’m going to tell you a story from my planet about how unwise it is to do that”. At the promise of a story, quite a few kits started coming closer, and once Wilkes had released her kit, his mother relaxed some. Eletha noticed Sooth was watching Wilkes with a different expression than she’d ever seen on her friend’s face.
“A long time ago, in the land of Japan, there lived a fierce warrior people. Their nation was ruled by the Emperor, who was the son of a god. He gave his instructions to the Shogun, who appointed judges to rule on the law and make sure that everyone followed the rules. The most famous of these judges was Judge Ooka, and he lived in the city of Yedo.
“One day, Ooka was walking through a district of shops and he noticed a little boy standing outside a sculptor’s shop, gazing longingly up at three big terra cotta dogs. Noticing that the boy’s kimono was patched and worn, it was obvious that he was much too poor to be able to afford anything at the shop and the shopkeeper was ignoring him.
“Now Ooka was a very kindly man and had a grandson not much older than the little boy, so he asked him, ‘What is it you are looking at there, boy?’”
“The little boy answered, “My grandfather is the best grandfather in the world, and he loves dogs. But we are too poor to afford a dog. But a stone dog like this wouldn’t eat anything, so that’s a dog he could have.”
“Ooka smiled and said, “Well, I like to think that I’m a pretty good grandfather, but that’s a wonderful gift. Do you think you can afford it?” and catching the shopkeeper’s eye, he made a small sign, intending that he would make up any difference in price out of his own pocket.
The little boy said, “I have a single ryo” – that’s a small coin at the time – “I hope that is enough.””
“Ooka said, “I imagine that it might be!” and winked at the shopkeeper.
“But the shopkeeper was a bitter little man, and thinking that Ooka was like himself, he thought only to belittle the boy. Smiling a cruel smile he said, “Certainly! Why, that is enough for all THREE dogs!”
“The boy was shocked at his good fortune and his smile of pride was like a beacon.
“The shopkeeper continued, “Of course, you can only have them if you can carry one home all by yourself.” and he laughed since it was clearly impossible for such a small boy to carry such a heavy sculpture home. Crushed by the shopkeeper’s mocking his hopes, the little boy turned away.
“Judge Ooka was furious. He quickly called out to the lad, “Boy! Stop! Come back here, and bring with you that small stone in the road.” Puzzled, the boy did so. “Now take that stone and smash one of the dogs, then you can easily carry it home piece by piece.”
“Wait! Wait!” the shopkeeper cried, “You are a judge! You cannot allow this boy to destroy my property!”
“YOUR property? You struck a bargain. The dogs are HIS, all he must do is carry one home. You didn’t specify how he had to carry it home.”
“But I meant…”
“What you meant is of no matter. The law is quite clear. The boy may do with his property as he wishes.”
“But my lord! This will bankrupt me!”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you cruelly decided to torment someone smaller and less fortunate than yourself. But perhaps the boy is made of better stuff than you. I imagine he would be quite willing to give you back two of the dogs if you would provide a porter to carry but one of them home to his grandfather.”
Grudgingly, the shopkeeper agreed, and Ooka left him with this advice, “Take the boy’s little coin. Don’t put it in your strong box. Instead, put it on your wall where it can remind you whenever you are tempted to take joy from hurting others.”
“So you see, kit, you never really know where other people are in their lives, or where you will be. You gain honor from doing the right thing, from helping those weaker and less fortunate than yourself, not from hurting or from doing things just because you can.”
The bigger kit digested this for a moment and finally said, “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
Deciding that was the best he could hope for from so young a person, Wilkes said, “That’s all anyone can ask of anyone, kit.” And he stood up. Turning, he realized that he had quite a bit more audience than he thought he had. “Um. Sorry. Might not have been my place.”
Sooth was just watching him, so Eletha said, “No, that’s OK. On Dosad, children are raised by everyone – That’s his mother there, she was just making sure that you weren’t going to hurt her kit. She might say something else to him as well, but she’s not going to interrupt your say.”
Later, as they were getting ready to leave, Sooth looked at her friend and then at Wilkes, “Um, Wilkes?”
“Huh? What’s up, Sooth?”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to sleep with me tonight.”
Wilkes’ jaw dropped. “I…wait..I don’t think the translator did that right. Sooth, I’m sorry if I’m being an idiot, I’m still not very good with your language. In my language, that phrase means something really different than what I think you meant and if you meant what I think you meant oh Christ, I’ve confused myself. “ Both Eletha and Sooth were staring at him. “I got it, I think. Sorry – You mean share the same sleeping place, right?”
“Of course. What did you think I meant?”
Blushing, Wilkes said, “The translator took that phrase as a slang term for something else.”
Both women’s eyes went wide and Eletha said, “Oh my.”
Wilkes said, “Like I said, I was being stupid. I do that a lot.” and he smiled, “Sooth, I would absolutely love to, if you really trust me enough.”
“Well now I’m not sure I do!” Sooth said.
Eletha laughed, “Sooth, don’t be silly. It’s not his fault the Universal Translator messed up.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” She smiled shyly at Wilkes, “Sorry if I’m a little jumpy.”
“It’s OK, Sooth. I don’t mind, as long as you keep being my friend.”

* * *
A few hours later, back in the East Living Pod, Wilkes was almost as jumpy as she was. They had found a raised, round platform with a recessed soft area for sleeping in. He said, “Sooth, are you sure you’re OK with this?”
“I think so. I really am sorry to be so…jumpy. I get nervous about people.”
“You’re not nervous about Corin and Nollos, or Eletha.”
“That’s different.”
He watched her, enjoying the way she looked in the deepening light of the night. She was trying very hard not to look at him, sitting on the far side of the platform. He thought to himself, Why do I feel like I’m back in secondary school and my parents are out of the house? Instead of showing his unease, he smiled and lay down on his side, leaving plenty of space for her to be as close, or as far, as she chose. A minute or so later, she lay down about a foot away, facing him.
“It does feel different when there’s no one else right next to you, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“I think that’s what makes me so jumpy.”
“It’s a lot more personal. More private. Closer.” he watched her face.
“Yes.”
He very slowly reached his hand towards the pendant around her throat. She stiffened and he cautiously touched it, asking “Sooth, I see a lot of Dosadi wearing these, but not all of them. What are they?”
“It’s a Warrior’s Pendant.” She swallowed and he let his fingers brush the fur on her throat while he examined the pendant. “It…You have to go out into the wild and prove your courage to earn it. You try and find the biggest, fiercest creature you can and fight it. If you win, you bring it back as proof of your courage and you’re judged by a council of elder Warriors. If they think you’re worthy, you’re given the right to wear it. It takes a lot to earn one.”
He moved his hand back, and again moving very slowly, brought his finger up to the tattoo around her left eye. It could be hard to see through the fur sometimes. Gently tracing along the lines he asked, “And this?”
Trying to keep her voice steady she explained, “It’s an Honor Tattoo. It’s something you’re awarded by others in your unit, or your town for doing something that earns you high honor. They get more complex as you earn more. It’s always fun to ask people the stories behind theirs.”
“Am I pushing you, Sooth? I mean, making you uncomfortable at all? I don’t want to do that.”
She swallowed again. “No, I think I’m OK. I’m just nervous. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. Maybe some day you’ll tell me why you’re so nervous. We’ve slept next to each other a lot. The only difference here is that it’s just us two.”
“Like you said, it’s more personal. It…To us, if you sleep with just one person it’s a sign of a really close friendship. I haven’t had a lot of those.”
“How many?”
“Well. I almost had one friend that close. He turned out to be an ass.”
“Oh.” Gently, he reached his hand up and stroked the side of her face, “I’m honored that you trust me enough, Sooth.” Feeling her tremble, he pulled his arm back. “Sooth, please tell me if I do anything stupid or anything that makes you not comfortable? I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
She nodded, still trembling.
“And some day, I’d love to hear about your Pendant, and your tattoo, and your family…” she stiffened again, “Oh.” Another piece of her puzzle fell into place. “Some day, Sooth. When you’re ready. I’m too nosy, I know, but you fascinate me and I want to learn as much about you as you’ll share. Let’s just sleep now though, OK?”
That got a brilliant smile and she actually reached up and touched HIS face, which pretty much made his day. She rolled onto her other side and a few moments later, he felt her scootch closer until they were spooned together. He moved his arm so that it was draped over her. Not moving, he waited for her trembling to subside, and then for her breathing to deepen as she finally drifted off to sleep.
“God help me, I’m falling in love with a cat.” he thought to himself. He nuzzled the back of her neck, enjoying the faint cinnamon-scent of her and the silken softness of her fur. He fell asleep like that, vaguely thinking that he’d never felt so content. There was none of the urgent passion of sleeping next to Angie and frankly, he didn’t miss it.

CHAPTER 5
“Character is much easier kept than recovered”
– Thomas Paine, Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2268
Wilkes awoke the next morning to find a pair of sapphire-blue eyes studying him intently. Smiling, he lay there enjoying the moment; He actually had the morning off and so did she. Finally she said, “You snore.”
He laughed and started to reach for her and stopped himself before she could jerk back. “I think most humans do, don’t Dosadi?”
“Not very often.” she smiled. “We’re built differently than you are, we don’t spend as much time on our backs, I think.”
Feeling very pleased with life in general, he decided to take a small risk. “Sooth, would you let me hug you?”
“What does that mean?”
“Um, humans use it a lot to show someone that you like them and are glad to see them. You just get close to each other and wrap your arms around each other and squeeze is all.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Our shoulders are a little different than yours. I’m not sure it would work.”
“Do you want to try? It’s a nice way to show someone that they’re special to you.”
“Okay. Sure.”
She was clearly nervous about the idea, so Wilkes went slowly. As he slid closer to her, she again stiffened up defensively. “It’s OK Sooth, I’m going to put my arms around you, if you don’t like that, tell me and I’ll stop.”
She nodded as he slid one arm under her shoulder and the other over her.
“Now you do the same thing.” he said to the shaking young woman, wondering why someone like her could be so terrified of a simple hug. She finally managed to get her arms in the right places. Mostly.
“It’s hard to wrap them like you have them. Our arms don’t rotate in as much as yours do.”
Smiling Wilkes said, “It doesn’t matter. Now just squeeze a little.” Pulling her into him, he held her close, feeling her tremble, feeling her heart pounding as she began to return the hug. She was shorter than he was and had ended up looking down slightly, her face against his throat and chest. “What do you think?” he asked.
She nodded, not trusting her voice to say anything. She thought to herself, “This is stupid. I shouldn’t let him get close to me like this. He’s just going to leave. I don’t have time for this sort of thing anyway. There’s more training to do. I shouldn’t trust him. I shouldn’t like this so much.”
Wilkes slowly began to rub his hands along the soft fur on her shoulders and upper back, reveling in the touch of her body against his. His feelings for her were very different than any relationship he’d ever had before and that left him feeling a little off-balance. Noticing two pairs of ears and bright blue eyes peering over the edge of the platform at them he said, “Sooth, we’ve got an audience.” and smiled.
She jerked her head back, barely missing his chin and saw Eletha’s other two kits staring down at her. One of them, a little male named Kaileen said, “What are YOU doing? It looks weird!”
Disentangling themselves, they both sat up and Wilkes said, “It’s called a hug, kit. Humans do that to show that someone’s a really good friend and they’re glad to see them.” He thought that the very weak privacy taboos that the Dosadi culture had took some getting used to.
“Humans are so weird.” he decided. “Mother! They’re awake!” he called down to Eletha and as Wilkes looked around the Living Pod he noticed that there were an awful lot of people staring up at them and more than a few smiles.
Stretching and scratching at his hair he decided he really wanted a shower before breakfast. Sooth stretched luxuriously and yawned and he thought that waking up next to her was a definite treat. One he’d very much like to repeat. A lot. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he followed Sooth down the various steps and rungs to the deck. Just as he was about to yell good morning to Eletha and the rest of that group, a male Dosadi sauntered past and said,
“Rather sleep with animals, is that it, Sooth?” and glared at her.
Her ears went flat against her skull but before she could say anything, Wilkes stepped directly in front of him and said, “You little shit.” Hoping that the translator would put in all the venom he intended he continued,  “I know who you are. You’re not worth the time it would take to turn you into a rug.”
Kam hissed at him, “You need a lesson, ape.”
“Think you can teach me? You don’t even have a Pendant or a tattoo, that tells me you’re a coward as well as a fool.”
Kam was beside himself with rage, “I challenge you, animal. NOW.” and people began to back away, clearing a ring around them. He dropped into a crouch and bared his teeth.
Wilkes was fervently hoping that the year he had spent on the Academy Combatives team would pay off. He’d seen a few challenges play out since he’d come aboard, he just never expected to be in one. He kept his arms wide, his hands open and watched Kam. Wilkes was bigger, but probably not stronger. He wasn’t sure about Kam’s speed, but after last night he knew a lot more about Dosadi anatomy and he had some ideas.
People had begun cheering both of them on and offering helpful suggestions to the two fighters. Kam made a couple of fast swipes with a clawed hand, but Wilkes simply dodged the blows, getting a feel for how he moved and how fast. Kam tried a fast leg-sweep, and Wilkes took the chance for a snap-kick into his shin as it swept in. Spitting, Kam rolled away and back to his feet, limping some. Kam tried another couple of strikes, but Wilkes blocked them, getting some deep cuts in his forearms in the process.
“You bleed like a teeg.” Kam smiled. Wilkes ignored him, continuing to leave wider and wider targets for Kam to swing at. Finally, when both Kam’s arms were out wide, Wilkes ducked, feinted a hook and as Kam moved to block, drove in close, grappling him to the ground and moving quickly into a front mount, pinning him to the deck.
Wilkes decided that he needed more of a lesson than just a choke-out and began to pound his face with his fists. Kam was clawing at his legs and trying to get his arms up to block, but their arms didn’t work as well as a human’s did, in-close. Especially not in such a disadvantaged position. Once he had his face thoroughly bloodied and the big cat groggy from the repeated blows, Wilkes dropped flat onto him and slid one arm under the back of his neck and the other across, using his own neck fur to apply an Ezekial-choke hold, cutting off both his air and the blood to his brain. In seconds, Kam went limp. He kept the choke on a few seconds longer than he needed to in order to guarantee he’d wake up with the mother of all migraines, and then he sat up and got to his feet, leaving the limp, bloody Kam laying on the deck.
“Anyone else want to say something about Sooth?” he asked. There was a smattering of laughter from the ring around them, but no takers. Shaking the blood off his arms he saw Inveth watching him – Wilkes thought the Marine approved, but he wasn’t sure. Walking up to Corin he asked, “Brawling in the barracks – In Starfleet, that’s a week in the brig, how bad is it here?”
“Bad?” Corin laughed and put his hand on his shoulder, “You just had your first challenge and you absolutely kicked his tail! It’s not bad, it’s excellent. We’re different than your people, Wilkes. This is our way of settling disputes – and this settles it. Completely. I know humans are big on revenge, we’re not. You don’t need to bring it up again to him or his friends.”

Nollos came up with a med-kit and said “Well done! Everyone wondered if you’d ever challenge anyone about anything. Let me close up those cuts – you’ll have to clean up your own mess off the deck though.” she chuckled, indicating the bloody trail he had left from the wounds. As she waved the wound-sprayer across the cuts, closing them up, she asked, “So, why did you challenge him? Because he called you an animal, right?”
“No, because he insulted Sooth. I don’t care what he calls me.” he answered, watching her heal the gouges in his arms and legs.
Sooth said, “I don’t need anyone to fight for me, Wilkes.”
“I know you don’t, Sooth. You guys have your culture and I have mine. In my culture a man who insults a woman is scum. And any man who cares about her will step up to defend her whether she needs it or not. I’m not just going to walk away like that.”
As Nollos was finishing with the wound spray, the alert siren began to wail. Wilkes said, “Dammit! I had the morning off!” and everyone began jumping for where their gear was stored.

CHAPTER 6
“Qui audet adipiscitur” (Who dares, wins)
– David Stirling – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2268
As usual, the alert siren was a drill. But, like any drill you had to do the job the same way you would if it were real – Train like you fight and you fight like you train. That motto had been around longer than there had been space flight.  The First Officer aboard the Delos, Commander Sethos, felt that drilling was needed both to shake down all the new systems aboard and to gain the proficiency needed to win in combat. He liked realism and had been known to start a second drill as the first was winding down in order to simulate a surprise attack.
M’Ralin had his crew hanging weapons on pylons on the big Tomcat fighter while Wilkes and his crew dumped in all the charge the phaser and shield capacitors would take. During a scramble, everything has to happen all at once in order to get the birds into their launch tubes and ready to go as quickly as possible. The hangar launch bays were in the two long, heavy pods that ran along the tips of the ‘wings’ of the Delos’ squat, rectangular hull. Fighters recovered by flying through the big clam-shell doors on either end of the pod. The long, open deck allowed fighters to be recovered at much higher speeds than other carriers. Unlike most space-faring nations, the Dosadi placed their warp engines close to the center-line and put weapons pods out where other races’ had their warp nacelles, trading improved fields of fire for higher shielding requirements and a slower maximum speed when traveling at warp.
It was while they had the fighter on the tug and were guiding it towards the launch tube that things went wrong.  M’Ralin and one of his crew were finishing the connections between one of the Countach anti-ship drones and the Tomcat’s power systems when there was a loud bang, a bright flash, and the fighter collapsed onto it’s left wing, pinning M’Ralin and Tovath under the missile they had been working on as smoke began curling out of the wing’s access panels.
Corin immediately slapped the alarm panel and the team began trying to free the trapped crewmen. Lieutenant Commander Delac, stuck inside the cockpit of his powerless fighter, was trying to operate the manual egress system. Shouting orders, Corin directed two of the team to pull the manual canopy release and another to get a power lift but before they could start on these tasks, they heard the high-pitched whine of the phaser power system beginning to overload and open flames broke out on the wing, curling slowly towards the warhead on the drone.
They had just about 60 seconds to evacuate the bay and trigger the isolation field before the fighter exploded from either the phaser overload or the warhead on the drone cooking off.
Wilkes dove under the crippled fighter and popped an access panel off the aft end and began working frantically inside while Corin and the others tried to free the trapped crewmen and Delac and it was becoming very obvious that they were going to lose the race.  The two on the fuselage finally managed to pop the canopy and haul Delac out. As they sprinted for the bay door, Corin ordered the rest of the team out.
“Wilkes! I see you under there. Get the hell out of the bay!”
“No, I got this. Just hang on.”
The phaser overload was becoming a scream. “Dammit, Wilkes, that’s an order!”
“Sure thing, boss.” came the muffled answer, followed by another loud pop and flash and every loose piece of gear in the bay slammed into the walls as the Tomcat’s shield generator powered on.
Corin felt all the fur on his body stand on end from the force field that now surrounded him. “Wilkes! What the fuck did you do?” He continued trying to get the lift to engage under the wing, knowing that he was out of time. “Wilkes! I said get out of there!” A pointless order, he thought since the blast door was down.
“Wilkes?” He noticed that the scream from the phaser power-pack had leveled off. Finally getting the power-lift to engage on one of the outboard missile mounts, he started the lift up. The screaming sound was starting to taper off, he thought. “Wilkes! Answer me!” Pulling M’Ralin and Tovath out from under the drone that had trapped them, he dropped flat and slid under the fighter towards where Wilkes was still half inside the access panel.
“Wilkes?” He shook his shoulder, getting no response. The whine was definitely getting fainter, much faster now. Pulling the unconscious  Ensign out of the belly of the fighter, he noticed burns across his face and arms and splatters of metal all over the area. Checking for a pulse and finding none he cursed, “Oh shit. Dammit, Wilkes!” and he tried to figure out what to do for a human with no heartbeat.
Taking his best guess, he started chest compressions over where he hoped his heart was, listening to the phaser pack slowly wind down.

* * *
Wilkes opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. Every inch of him ached. His chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it and his head felt like it was in a vice. He heard a voice speaking Dosadi and tried to get the Universal Translator implant to activate, mentally kicking it several times.  Looking at the medic he said, “Slowly, please. I don’t understand.”
She winced and said, in Standard, “Your accent is horrible, Ensign. I said, ‘So you’ve decided to live, have you?’” and she smiled.
“Can I go back and change my decision?” he winced at the sound of his own voice.
She laughed and patted his leg, “No, I’m afraid not. I promised I’d call your Team Leader when you woke up – I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, Corin came into Sick Bay and looked down at him, frowning. “You going to make a habit out of disobeying orders, Ensign?”
“No, Team Leader, I’m not. I didn’t, in fact, disobey. When you made it an order, I was no longer capable of obeying.”
Shaking his head, Corin laughed, “Technicalities. What the hell did you DO anyway? We’ve spent the last two days safeing all the systems on Delac’s bird, but there’s a lot of damage to the power systems.”
“Well, in the Academy I got to spend time working on a couple different fighters. One of my professors was a huge fan of fighter tactics and systems and he had our class tear them down and build them back up again. One of them was an older mark of Tomcat. They’re really amazing birds. Anyway, when I heard the phaser capacitor start overloading, I figured out that M’Ralin must’ve caused a short in the power-systems when they coupled the Countach in on its hard-point. So basically, that caused a run-away in the power system with the capacitor in a feedback loop.
“In the back end though, the shield-generator power-coupling is pretty close to conduits for the phaser system. We found out the hard way at the Academy that you can bridge the two with a spanner and drain the entire phaser system into the shields. It makes a real mess of the insides though and makes a pretty spectacular bang. When we did it though there was only residual power left in the system.
“I took one of the 2” spanners and shorted between the two systems so that instead of feeding back into itself, all the power dumped into the shield system. I didn’t think I’d get the jolt that I did though. My buddy at the Academy got himself blown out of the access panel and his hair stood on end. He had some burns was all. I’m guessing I got knocked cold?”
Corin stared at him. “Damn, Wilkes, that’s clever as hell. The shields crushed anything even slightly fragile and smashed tools into wall panels all over the bay. It was a good thing that they had the isolation door down or it probably would’ve thrown the rest of the team across the hangar deck. And it’s a damn good thing we were all in contact with the hull or we would’ve gone too.
“You got a bit more than knocked cold. The spanner fused into the power system and blew molten iridium steel all over you and the inside of the Tomcat. Oh, and incidentally, the little jolt you got stopped your heart. Fortunately for you, I’m not only an amazing Team Leader, I’m also a miracle healer and I was able to keep you alive until the shields collapsed and they opened the bay up again.
“M’Ralin and Tovath are still in regen over there” he waved his arm to the far side of Sick Bay “Their lower halves got kinda smashed, but they’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.”
“That explains why my chest feels like you were jumping up and down on it.”
“Well, I pretty much was. Plus, I was seriously pissed off at you. I hadn’t given you permission to die.”
Wilkes laughed and regretted it. “So when can I get out of here?”
“Up to you. The medics say you’re physically fine, you’re just going to feel like shit for a couple of days.” Wilkes slowly started to work his way out of the diagnostic bed. “Oh, and Captain Nolin says ‘Thank you’. He seems to feel your quick action saved a lot of damage to the Delos, my life, M’Ralin’s, and Tovath’s as well. Delac says to tell you that you’re going to have to repair the mess you made in the guts of his bird though.”
Corin watched him stand and finally spoke again, “Wilkes, Sooth’s likely to be really mad at you, OK?”
“Huh? Why?”
“She’s let you get closer than anyone, closer even than Nollos and me and I think even Eletha. She’s…Look, she’s not had anyone stick around in her life very long and she’s pretty much run away from everyone for as long as anyone can remember. They had to work on you for a bit before your heart kicked in again and she found out about it. She looked like someone gut-punched her.
“Just don’t take it badly if she’s mad, OK? Don’t let her run away.”
“I won’t. I wouldn’t anyway. But thank you for letting me know; at least I’ll understand why.”
“Hey, what are leaders for, right?”
Wilkes grinned at him, “Oh, by the way, any idea why my UT implant isn’t working? I can’t get it to respond and my Dosadi still sucks. Thank God most every one speaks Standard.”
“I think you fried it when you tried to become part of the phaser system, Wilkes. Time for a crash-course in Dosadi.”

CHAPTER 7
“Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it”
– Bill Cosby – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2268
As they walked back to the East Living Pod, Wilkes decided that moving wasn’t going to kill him after all. “What time is it anyway?” he asked.
“Typical for you, you’ve managed to miss the entire work day – it’s just time for the evening meal.”
“I’ve always had good timing.” Wilkes smiled.
“I think you’re just lucky.” Corin snorted.
“It works out the same.” he laughed just in time for the door to cycle open. Corin led the way over to their favorite spot for chow. He could see the rest of the group there, and of course the first person he looked for was Sooth.  Sitting down in between her and Nollos, he greeted them all “Hey everyone, sorry I’m late!”
Nollos laughed, “Only by a couple of days.”
Eletha handed him a glass of the dark green Dosadi whiskey, “Here, I’m guessing you need this.”
Taking the glass he said, “Thank you!” and turning to Sooth he said, “Are you OK?”
Glaring back at him she said, “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who plugged himself into a phaser-capacitor.”  But her eyes lingered on his face.
Nollos said, “Well I’m glad he did. They said the whole thing would’ve exploded in the bay and killed Corin, M’Ralin, and Tovath if he hadn’t.”
Sooth glanced at her, and then back at Wilkes. She reached her hand up and touched his face around his left eye. “I guess it looks good on you.”
Confused, Wilkes asked, “What does? Am I still burned?”
Nollos giggled and Eletha said, “Corin! Didn’t you tell him?”
“It didn’t really come up.” he shrugged.
“What?” he put his hand up and tried to feel what was different about his face. Even Sooth stifled a giggle. “Um, little help? Anyone got a mirror?”
T’Laren pulled out a small inspection mirror and handed it over with a smile.
Wilkes held the mirror up and noted a simple, single strand tattoo around the outside of his left eye. “What the hell?”
Corin said, “Well, Force Leader F’Aath thought you’d earned it. The rest of us agreed. That was a hell of a thing, Wilkes.”
Trying not to smile too widely he said simply, “Thank you.”
Nollos reached over and squeezed his arm with a big smile. “You should get some chow.”
“Actually, what I want is to steal Sooth away for a few minutes, if that’s OK?” She snapped her head around to glare at him.
“Why?” she asked.
“I want to talk with you. In private. Please?”
“Fine. I’m done eating anyway.” She stood up
They walked a short way away from the rest of their friends until they found a quiet place in the midst of some hanging ivy-like vines and he asked, “Sooth, are you mad at me for something?”
“No. Why should I be?”
“I’m not sure. You just seem really angry and distant and I’m not sure why.”
She looked away and down. He waited a few moments to see if she’d answer him.  “Sooth, did I hurt you somehow?” Still no answer. He reached over and gently touched her arm. “If I did, I’m sorry, and I sure didn’t mean to.”
Finally she answered, “No, it’s not you, I just…I let myself…It’s me, all right?”
They stood there like that for a little while, neither of them saying anything, until Wilkes said, “Sooth, I think you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.” he began to slowly stroke her arm as he talked, “I would never deliberately hurt you, or make you upset, or afraid.”
She flicked her eyes back at him. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked.
She looked away again. “You’re making me afraid right now.”
She turned back towards him again, “What? How am I doing that?”
“I’m afraid you’ll shut me out. That you won’t want to be my friend any more.” Her eyes got wide and he said more softly, “I don’t want you to leave my life, Sooth.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing really came out. She tried to turn away but he gripped her arm and held her fast. She turned her head as far around as she could and he stepped closer to her. She started to pull back but Wilkes wrapped his arms around her and hugged her gently. She started shaking, and he realized that she was crying. He wasn’t even aware that Dosadi could cry. She was very quiet about it, but she was gulping air in big racking sobs while he held her.
As she cried herself out, she clumsily returned the hug, burying her face in his neck, the fur wet with tears and he brushed his hand along the back of her head and neck. He caught a quick glimpse of Eletha’s concerned face peeking in at them. Looking surprised, she left again without making a sound.
“Can you tell me a little about it?”
She sniffled but made no answer. He waited. Finally she said, “I’m sorry. I…I’ve never really had any luck with people.”
“How come?”
“Everyone I ever tried to get close to died, or left, or got rid of me. I thought you were going to die too.”
“I’m fine. Corin was there for me. What about your parents?”
“They died when I was two. I don’t want to talk about them now, Wilkes. OK? Maybe later.”
“Okay, Sooth. I don’t want to push. Didn’t you get adopted or something? Don’t the Dosadi treat kids as like everyone’s responsibility?”
“Normally. But I wasn’t on Dosad. I was on a Federation research vessel. For a few years anyway. Then they gave me to a Dosadi destroyer they ran into. I lived with them for a year. Then they dumped me in T’Elesh on Dosad. No one knew me, or my parents and I didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t know how. People got tired of me fast, so I moved around a lot before they’d get sick of me.
It’s easier if you don’t let anyone get close, so you don’t care about them. It only hurts if you care, right?”
He squeezed her tight, “Jesus, Sooth. No wonder you’re so gun-shy.”
She sniffed again, “I’m kind of a mess. I fit in really well with my team though, because I lived with the Marines on the Raleen before they kicked me out. No one else really seems to get along with me.”
“Sooth, I’m sure they didn’t kick you out – they were sending you someplace where you had a chance at a family. The crew of a destroyer is going to be too small, I’m sure they wanted to give you more options. And I know a lot of people here like you. Eletha? Corin? Nollos? Your team?”
“Eletha’s different. She’s been really nice to me. I’m not sure about the rest. I think they put up with me anyway.”
Wilkes chuckled. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
Surprised she said, “See what? What’s funny?”
He smiled at her and ran his finger along the soft fur of her ear. “Sooth, everyone likes you and cares about you way more than you know.” She snorted and he continued, “A while back your entire combat team looked me up in the shower to let me know that they wouldn’t put up with me hurting you. Eletha thinks you’re awesome and worries about you all the time. And today, Corin warned me that you were mad at me and wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to let you push me away.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Everyone here wants you to be happy, Sooth. They care about you. Now I know why everyone was staring at us this morning, no wait…I’ve lost track of time. Whenever that was. The morning after we slept together and why so many people were smiling.”
“They were?”
“Yup. I wondered about that. Now I know. They were just happy that you were happy.”
She thought about that for a little while, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“That’s OK. Just do me a favor and just watch, and see if what I just said makes more sense than what you’ve believed about yourself, all right? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”
“OK. I can do that.”  She paused for a moment, “Am I too messed up?”
“For what?”
Quietly, she said, “For you.”
Laughing he said, “Hell no, Sooth. I’m messed up too. Everyone is one way or another. I think you’re amazing and I want to learn everything there is to know about you. And I always want you to be my friend and in my life.”
“But you’re leaving, you’ll go back to the Federation.”
“That’s a long way off yet, Sooth. I don’t know what I’ll do then. But I do know I like you, I think more than I’ve ever liked anyone.”
She squeezed him again, not meeting his eyes, and they stood hugging each other for another few minutes. She sniffed again and said, “We should probably go back.”
“Sure.” He unwrapped his arms and smiled at her. “Would you share a sleeping spot with me tonight?”
Smiling back she answered, “If you really want to.” and they walked back to their friends.

CHAPTER 8
Few things are brought to a successful issue by impetuous desire, but most by calm and prudent forethought
– Thucydides, Greece, Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
FEBRUARY 2268
A month had come and gone since the accident in the hangar bay and Wilkes was finding himself feeling truly at home for the first time in his life. Looking around the large group of friends, he wondered why it was that he fit in so much better with an alien species than his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends on Earth, it was just…that’s all they were. People to hang out with and sometimes do things with. Even Angie had been a temporary thing and they both knew it. Neither of them had ever said ‘the L word’, and neither of them had expected it.
He looked over at Sooth, talking with Nollos and a couple of her friends from the Disruptor section. Did he love Sooth? He wasn’t really sure, but he couldn’t imagine not spending time with her. He had never really committed to anything in his life and the idea was scary. Corin and T’Laren were tormenting two of Eletha’s kits and M’Ralin and Tovath were playing a tune that some of group were starting to sing along with. How had these people become so much more to him than his classmates at the Academy?
He’d had a few more challenges in the last month as well, some for fun, some to prove a point. He’d never again done as well as his fight with Kam, but he’d hung on to win one and pull a draw in another. But his match against Force Leader F’Aath over F’Aath’s disciplining of one of Wilkes’ men had not gone well at all. The older man had studied military history at Heidelberg in Germany on Earth and was quite used to matching against humans. He had pretty thoroughly taken Wilkes apart. He grinned ruefully at the memory of that match. It had taken him a few days for all the bruises to go away and he had a few new scars to remind him of it.
Looking up at the pale blue lighting across the high ceiling of the East Living Pod, he thought that, as usual, the day was going by too fast. Dosad had a 20 hour day and their ships kept their clocks in synch with the capitol on Dosad. That was always one of the confusing things about the fabric of interstellar society and culture – time.  Your ship was on one schedule, any ship you encountered from another species was likely to be on a very different one. And no matter what planet you encountered, their clocks would be still different. Most captains tried to time their arrivals so that they at least started in the day time for their vessel and for whatever part of the planet they had business with. But, of course, if you were arriving for a scheduled event, that wasn’t an option.
Not for the first time he was glad he wasn’t a senior officer. The Delos was entering orbit around a Federation Starbase on the planet Toulagai. There was some big diplomatic  thing going on, but what was an early evening event for Toulagai was the middle of the night for the Delos. So he’d be asleep with his friends while the crew in the West Living Pod got to pull the duty for that – and the senior staff had to be down on Toulagai, getting no sleep at all, poor things.

* * *
FEDERATION STARBASE 26, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
That evening on Toulagai, Commodore Selek was watching the shifting patterns of individuals mixing at the annual Ambassador’s Ball. He found the bits of order that appeared in the semi-random patterns fascinating. The fact that this year there also happened to be a major medical conference meant that there was a lot of Starfleet blue mixed in with the more usual diplomatic tan or command gold. The conference had attracted a number of other races to this rather exposed outpost. Even non-aligned smaller powers such as the Gorns, Hydrans, Dosadi, Tholian, and Lyran’s were present.
Although there was a cold peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire at the moment, the presence of a sizable Klingon delegation was definitely cause for care. As a Vulcan, he felt he was rather uniquely qualified to see this complex mix of races, interests, and activities through to a successful conclusion. Had he been a member of a more emotional race, he’d likely be seen as smug. After all, there were fleets from six different space-faring races in orbit around his starbase and all were co-existing quite peacefully. Truly an example of what logical pacifism could accomplish.
Scanning across the currents and eddies of people in the large ballroom, he raised his left eyebrow upon noticing a group made up of several different military factions. As he was calculating whether that should be broken up or not, his First Officer, Commander Jackson, interrupted his thoughts. A tall black man with close-cropped hair and a narrow mustache, he had a commanding presence, a trait that the Commodore had often made use of.
“Hey boss, you see that little knot over there in the corner?” he gestured with his cigar, an affectation that Selek found both curious and disgusting.
“Of course, Commander. They are in full view, after all.”
“I think we might wanna go over there and break that up before trouble starts. I don’t like the mix.”
“I’m curious as to your reasons, Commander Jackson.” Although he was following the same chain of thought, he wanted to know the Commander’s rationale. His human intuition often reached the correct conclusion before logic would dictate the same course of action. And after years of successful teamwork, Selek had learned to trust that intuition like he trusted the starbase’s library computer.
Jackson took a long puff on his cigar. “Well, the big Gorn there, Admiral T’Skay, he’s been drinking a bit more than is smart. And you know the Dosadi, Ambassador Solyn, he’s not exactly the calm and content type of pussycat. They’ve been sparring verbally all night and Solyn’s been coming out on the short end of it. Admiral Kremble there, she’s commanding that big new Hydran carrier, the Kingdom, she seems to be backing the lizard. Drake, the Klingon who brought that battleship here, he just seems to want to see a fight. He’s been playing the ‘let’s you and him fight’ game for a while. He’d LOVE to see these alliances go out the window.
“Then it may indeed be prudent to gently separate the group, Commander. How do you suggest we go about it?”
Near the cluster of military men that was troubling Selek and Jackson, Lieutenant Christine Chapel was chatting with the Toulagai ambassador. The Toulagai were near earth-normal humanoids with a very slight empathic ability leading to comparisons to the Betazoids and endless theorizing about the spread of humanoid races throughout the galaxy. An utterly pacifist race, they welcomed the Federation’s offer of a starbase as it meant protection and stability for their precariously placed planet.
“Lieutenant, now that the conference is complete, will you be returning to your duties aboard the fabled Enterprise?” the ambassador asked in Standard. By universal custom, the language spoken was that of the hosts, in this case, the Federation.
Chapel allowed herself a slight chuckle, “Fabled? I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, and I’m very sure Dr. McCoy wouldn’t. He’d probably make some complaint about the ‘infernal gadgetry’ and ‘gallivanting across the cosmos’. But yes, I’m looking forward to it. I learned quite a lot here that I’ll be presenting to the medical staff aboard.”
The ambassador smiled, “Your presentation was also quite interesting. I don’t believe anyone expected that a fleet-duty Starfleet nurse would be sharing such advanced research on multi-phasic neural re-growth therapies for disrupted tissues. Perhaps a doctor from a research station, yes, but from a Starship? This is only one reason among many as to why I say ‘fabled’, Lt. Chapel.”
The volume of conversation from the group near them was starting to attract attention.  Chapel noticed the Starbase Commander and his First Officer heading across the ballroom towards the group. Gesturing towards  a Dosadi in the uniform of a ship’s captain, she commented “I know it’s unprofessional and likely racist, but I always want to pet the Dosadi. They just look so cuddly!”
The ambassador’s eyes widened.  He looked at the Dosadi officer she had indicated. He was slightly over 5′ tall, and looked like nothing so much as a Terran cougar that had decided to walk upright and upgrade his paws for fur-covered hands. The uniform consisted of a beaded necklace with a jeweled pendant strung snugly about the throat, a black cloak with the four broad silver stripes of a Fleet Captain across the shoulders, calf-high black boots and dark blue trousers with a bronze stripe down each leg. The Captain wore a long sword and had a silver hoop earring in his left ear and a complex tattoo around his left eye. He turned back to Nurse Chapel, “The Dosadi? Cuddly? Do you see the Warrior’s Pendant around their necks? They earn that in a ceremony that involves going into the wild, naked and unarmed. Each competes to bring back the greatest trophy of their courage possible, and only those who are judged worthy by elder Warriors are allowed to wear the pendant. Many make several attempts before success. Many never achieve it. Many never return. They are a strict honor/shame society that reveres courage and valor in battle above all. They get along well with the Klingons and often engage in personal combat with them as a test of courage and honor – a practice the Klingons encourage and participate in with great gusto. Raids between the two races are not seen as an act of war, but more of a sport. They recently nearly exterminated the entire planet of Romulus. They are allied with the Federation because it was a Starfleet cruiser, the Defiant, that made first contact with them over a century ago and the Federation has provided much assistance to them in the years since. There is nothing about them that is ‘cuddly’.”
Chapel rolled her eyes, “You don’t understand. Anything that looks like a great big kitty looks cuddly. Give him a hat with a feather in it and he could have walked out of a fairy tale – Puss in Boots.” She smiled and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “They’d probably enjoy being scratched behind the ears…”
The ambassador was almost sure she was teasing him.
Admiral T’Skay was enjoying himself. Baiting Ambassador Solyn was very amusing. The big cat had been getting more and more angry as the night had gone on, and was a little past civil by now. He and the Hydran female, Admiral Kremble, had made something of a game of tormenting the diplomat. He leaned over to the short, chocolate skinned humanoid female and stage-whispered, “How do you think he’d react if I pulled his tail?”
The Hydrans were a small interstellar Kingdom made up of several humanoid races spread across half a dozen planets. All shared a few traits in common – they were quite small in stature and inter-breeding had given them a genetic predisposition towards skin and hair in a wild mix of colors. One Federation wag, a fan of ancient entertainments, had tagged them with the nickname ‘Oompa-loompas’, an obscure reference to characters in a pre-atomic story who happened to look a lot like the Hydrans. Calling a Hydran an Oompa-loompa was a sure way to start a fight. – but the nickname had stuck.
Kremble giggled and pushed her bright pink hair back behind her ears again. The big cat looked like he was going to spit. Whatever the Federation stewards had been serving as drinks, it wasn’t Synthahol and it was making her feel a little fuzzy. “I dunno. Maybe he’d like some catnip.”
The ambassador pulled his lips back into a snarl and laid his ears back nearly flat on his head.
Admiral Drake, the Klingon, turned to his aide and said “Strange, I didn’t think a warrior people would put up with this level of dishonor. Tsk.”
Snarling, Ambassador Solyn spat out, “There is no dishonor in being insulted by lesser creatures who are very likely mentally damaged besides. As an ambassador, it is my duty to maintain alliances, even with those who are despicable and beneath me.”
T’Skay said, “Well, of course! After all, we all know why dead cats are fatter than live cats, right?” Commodore Selek and Commander Jackson had just reached the group as T’Skay went on, “Because the live ones run faster!”
Solyn’s eyes were slits and his ears were flat against his skull. Even Captain Nolin’s ears were back. Commodore Selek moved to prevent an explosion, “Admiral, that was neither an accurate statement, nor an effective joke…”
T’Skay interrupted him “Joke? I wasn’t making a joke. I’m sure all those Dosadi who fail their Warrior testing provide some very useful protein to a wide variety of species!”
Jackson was barely too slow to catch Solyn as he leapt onto the eight-foot tall T’Skay, all claws and teeth. Kremble, realizing that T’Skay had gone too far, made a grab for the massive tyrannosaur-looking Admiral, her 75 lbs having absolutely no effect upon the quarter ton alien.  Selek quickly stepped in front of Nolin and managed to keep him from joining the fracas. Although T’Skay was considerably more massive than Solyn, Solyn was faster and was swarming all over the Gorn, leaving bloody claw marks in his wake.
There was a loud hissing sound not coming from the Dosadi and the Ambassador slid off of T’Skay’s back onto the floor, unconscious. T’Skay spun around, enraged, and Nurse Chapel held the hypo-spray up and said “There’s more than enough here for you too, Admiral. I suggest you cut it OUT…Sir.”
Selek released Captain Nolin and spoke calmly,  “Excellent timing, Lieutenant. I think it is time for you gentlemen to find other – separate – amusements this evening. You are behaving in a most undignified manner and are disturbing our other guests.”
Nolin’s fur was spiked out and as he was collecting Solyn he hissed at the now bloody Gorn, “This is NOT over. We’ll blow you out of space you dishonorable coward.”
Drake could barely conceal his glee. Clapping his hand on T’Skay’s huge shoulder he laughed, “Ha! We’ve got you outnumbered better than three to one, pussycat!”
Kremble was trying to decide if she wanted to play a part in this. Her ships were new, untried in battle. By allying with the Gorn and Klingons for a little scrap, she could give her ships a nice live-fire trial with little risk.  She made her choice adding in, “Don’t even try it, cat. My carrier is every bit the equal of yours and we’ve got a lot more firepower than you can even dream of.”
Jackson tried to calm everyone down, blowing a cloud of noxious smoke into the group in an attempt to distract them from their posturing. “Now, why don’t we all settle down. This is a party – let’s head back to our tables and have something to…”
Nolin pulled out a small round communicator from his belt and hissed something in Dosadi. Indicating the three across from him he growled “Defend yourselves, fools.” and seconds later, he and the unconscious Ambassador dissolved in a transporter beam.
Selek attempted to regain some control over the situation, “Now, there is no need for you to return to your ships. The Dosadi will not attack vessels in orbit over the Starbase. We must allow time for the situation to stab…”
No one was listening. In rapid succession the Gorn, Klingon and Hydran contingents beamed out, leaving the Federation officers staring. Commander Jackson took a long draw on his cigar and growled, “God DAMN those cats are more trouble than they’re worth.”
Selek answered, “Indeed, Commander. I’ve often wondered how such a small empire can cause so much heartache for so many other governments. I’ve often questioned the Federation’s wisdom in providing them with advanced technology and utilizing them as mercenaries.”
Jackson said, “No shit.” as red alert klaxons began sounding.

CHAPTER 9
By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail. – Benjamin Franklin, Earth (Human)
Explosions are not comfortable. – Yevegny Zamyatin, Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, IN ORBIT OVER TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Back aboard the ISS Delos, Corin was jarred out of a sound sleep by the alert siren. Curled up with him, spoon-fashion, Nollos laid her ears back and spat, “IF that bald rat Sethos is running another drill I’m going to rip his tail off.” People were uncurling throughout the East Living Pod, and Corin allowed himself a fast chin-rub across the top of Nollos’ head before jumping to the floor. The lights had gone from a dim blue-grey with simulated stars over the greenery to the heat and glaring yellow-white of a Dosadi mid-day in an instant. As he was pulling on his forest green coveralls, Corin searched through the groups of crewmen, using eyes, nose, and ears to locate the members of his team and make sure they were on the move.
As always, one face stood out from the sea of cream and tan fur and the red, white and green coveralls – a lone human pulling on the red and black uniform of Starfleet’s Engineering crews. Corin had been impressed with Ensign Thomas Wilkes’ courage and the enthusiasm with which he approached his assignment. He could only hope that Crew Leader Toralin was doing as well aboard the Federation heavy cruiser USS Hood.
Corin felt that Ensign Wilkes had adapted well to the Dosadi’s very different patterns. During his six months aboard the Delos the twenty year-old human had stood his ground in several personal combats,  even winning a couple. He had several new scars to prove his courage and his Force Leader had awarded him an honor tattoo around his eye. But before the gods he would never learn to speak Dosadi properly.
“Wilkes!” Corin called out in Standard, “Make sure your crew checks the a-grav units in Lieutenant Commander Delac’s bird. He said there was a flutter the last time he launched and that’s not acceptable.”
“Understood, Crew Leader.” Wilkes answered back, gathering up the four Dosadi that made up his crew and heading out of the living pod at a trot. Crew Leader M’Ralin and his crew were already gone. Corin caught Nollos’ eye as she made her way out of the pod towards the hangar bays and twitched his whiskers at her. She rewarded him with a flick of her tail and a bit more wiggle in her hips as she jogged out of sight.
Endless drilling aboard the Delos was the standard. The big assault carrier was the pride of the Dosadi Imperial Fleet. But she was the third such vessel built – at great cost – and the only one surviving. The first, the ISS Thorin had been lost with all hands along with two corvettes the day she had launched, destroyed in a Romulan ambush. The second, the ISS Loreth had also been destroyed by the Romulans, but this time a single A-10 Thunderbolt fighter had survived along with her SWACS shuttlecraft and crew. Her death had been part of the Dosadi Razing of Romulus and had cost Corin one of his brothers, but the records brought back by the ISS Avric and the Loreth survivors were instrumental in advising design and training modifications for the Delos and her escorting corvettes.
Captain Nolin was determined that the Delos would have a long and valiant career and drilled his crew mercilessly. His First Officer, Commander Sethos was feared and respected throughout the crew. He thought nothing of staging drill upon drill and was an absolute terror in the challenge ring. However, as a result of this endless training, his crews could preform their duties in their sleep.
Wilkes was on his knees, pulling the west a-grav unit out of the big Federation-designed F-14 Tomcat fighter as someone on the bridge began piping battle music into the hangar bay. The big cats liked music and used it throughout battles – something he could never quite get used to after the austere silence of the USS Hood. The skirling bagpipe-like trusk, flutes, and drums sounded very Scottish to him. He had always heard bagpipes described as looking and sounding like someone had a cat under their arm with its tail in their mouth. Looking around him at the big, sentient cats preparing for battle, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. And as always, that led him to “A bunch of tom cats working on a Tomcat.” and he stifled a chuckle, bending to his work making sure the bi-lateral anti-gravity units were properly synchronized.
As Corin reached the hangar bay, he saw the two crews of four and their leaders that made up his team already swarming over Lieutenant Commander Delac’s bird. Battle music was being piped into the space, helping to motivate the crewmen.  He spared a moment to look down the length of the deck towards the bay where Nollos’ white-clad form was working on Lieutenant Tam’s F-18 Hornet. He sighed and mused “More lost sleep and closeness wit…”
His wistful thoughts were interrupted by the high-pitched whine of the waist phaser banks firing and the slight surge in ship’s gravity that always rippled through the Delos when she went to maximum speed and he realized that this was NOT another drill. “What in the name of Loreth?! We’re in orbit around a Federation starbase!” Seconds later the aft phasers discharged and the ship rocked from incoming fire. Crew looked up from their work, realizing that this was the real thing. Suddenly, adrenalin lent new urgency to the familiar tasks.
Pilots in flight-suits came racing in to the hangar bays, pulling on combat helmets as they ran. Tugs began to hook up to the fighters, ready to push them into the launch tubes. LCDR Delac strode up to Corin, “We’ve got a good fight on our hands!”
“What’s the challenge, sir?” he asked as he began helping the Wing Commander into his Tomcat.
“We’re going up against three fleets at the same time! Another carrier to boot – Hydran – a battleship, a few cruisers and some corvettes. Klingons and Gorns along with the Hydrans. Should be interesting.”
Corin glanced down at the anti-ship and anti-fighter missiles festooning the Tomcat’s wings and the big phaser mount in her nose. Getting a whisker and ear flick from his lead weaponeer, he said, “You’re ready to go, sir. Honor above all!”
Delac bared his fangs, “Honor above all!” and closed the canopy on his fighter. The tug pushed the bird into the launch tube, Wilkes connected the quick-release computer, power, and coolant connections and Corin primed the systems to launch-ready. One of the kittens was making the rounds of the crews with energy drinks and he took one, giving the kit an affectionate pummel. He didn’t recognize the little male, so he was evidently just learning his duties. Watching the kit hurry off to another crewman, he allowed himself to daydream about what his and Nollos’ kits would look like. She hadn’t been given leave to have a litter yet, but would be soon he was sure.
In the years since Federation first-contact, the Dosadi had expanded their empire to nearly a dozen planets and three different sentient species. Taking their cue from the Federation and their own philosophy, the members of the Dosadi Imperium were not slaves, but free partners. By now, even those who had been brought into the Empire through military conquest were willing members of a greater Empire.
Waiting for their bird to launch, Corin thought that deck crews had a difficult job to do. They had to work frantically to get the birds ready, and then wait. Then when they returned, work even more frantically to get them repaired and ready to go again and then more waiting. It could be maddening. Corin brought up a small holographic copy of the tactical display in the Bridge so that the crews could keep track of what was going on. Other Team Leaders did things differently, but he felt that keeping his team informed lead to better understanding and better performance.
Sitting on tool boxes, they watched the two fleets beginning to maneuver, seeing the great number of enemy ships facing their small fleet. This would be a fight worth many a tale. Someone began to sing along with the music being piped into the bay and in moments, most of the crew were adding their voices to the mix.
Wilkes looked around him. This always gave him the shivers and today it was even more energizing. This would be his first real battle and he was terrified he would fail.
CHAPTER 10
Love can do much, but duty more.
– Wolfgang Goethe, Earth (Human)
ROYAL HYDRAN LIGHT CRUISER SUCCESSION, IN ORBIT OVER TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Colonel Sir Jons Seins, Knight Commander of the Royal Hydran (Sword Worlds) Marines was bored.  At the moment, he was on the bridge of the light cruiser Succession.  For this ship, the hour was very early morning, and his Marines were still in their sleeping chambers. Safely in orbit around the Federation starbase at Toulagai, there was really very little to do for Marines. His battalion, spread throughout the four ships of the task force, were certainly not going to be invading Toulagai and weren’t terribly likely to be conducting boarding operations against any of the other ships in orbit either. Peace could be so dull.
Still, it was their duty to remain ready at all times and he was not one to fail at his duty. His normal command post was aboard the carrier Kingdom but he liked to make these little unannounced inspections, usually combined with a drill of some sort. It helped keep his troops on their toes and at their best. He would wait another few minutes and then see how this company performed.
Their culture was a very strict patrilinear feudal caste-system where women usually stayed home and tended to hearth and family. Seeing female Hydrans in any position of power was rare and meant an individual of surprising drive and capabilities, as well as powerful patrons. The Colonel wasn’t too sure how he felt about being placed under the command of Admiral Lady Kremble Mika, despite her connections to the Duke he owed his fealty to. His own wife was at home, where she belonged, managing his estate and finances and seeing to their four children, as was right and proper, while the Admiral wasn’t even married. He harbored certain suspicions about that situation.
As he inspected the various bridge stations aboard the Succession, he paid particular attention to the helmsman. Seated, Starfleet Ensign Akemi Yoshida was nearly as tall as his 4′ 2”, and he was tall for a Hydran. As he scanned her workstation for flaws, he briefly wondered if the Federation was sending a calculated insult to his people by assigning a woman to their officer exchange program. He would make a point of inspecting her sleeping chamber and reviewing her Chief’s reports on her efficiency and attention to her duties.
For her part, twenty-two year-old Akemi was nervous. It was an honor to be nominated to the Federation’s Officer Exchange Program, but she wished her Lieutenant had given her a few more months to get used to fleet duty aboard the USS Yorktown before she had to try to learn her duties and an entirely new culture as well. And why THIS culture? The Hydrans were so conservative they still treated their women like chattel most of the time. They lived aboard ship like monks, complete with daily rituals and strict codes of behavior. And now the Colonel she had heard was a total bear was standing right behind her, no doubt looking for any mistake. The bridge of the Succession was a small rectangular chamber with the Captain’s station above and to the center rear with various stations around the edges and a holographic sphere projecting the space around the ship hovering in front of everyone. It felt even more cramped with the little Colonel looking over her shoulder.
Suddenly, all her nervousness was swept away by stark terror. Her hands flew across the helm controls and the Succession rolled into a tight corkscrew, her engines straining at the sudden override demand from the helm position. The gravity wavered slightly from the power surge and the Colonel opened his mouth to demand answers from this alien woman. Before he could speak, a phaser blast lanced into the space where the Succession had been moments before, flashing green light into the bridge from the forward view-screens and the alarm horn sounded its brassy notes.
“What in the seven hells is going ON?!” the Colonel barked out. “Who is firing??”
The defense officer spoke quickly as he began routing power to weapons, shields, and defensive fields, “Sir, the Dosadi! They just started firing. They didn’t even use targeting systems! They’ve also engaged the Kingdom and the  Horval. Sir, they scored hits on both before they got their shields up.”
Lieutenant Rals Orens, the watch commander spoke up “Colonel, incoming message from the Admiral.” and seconds later, the image of Kremble filled the front of the bridge. After a moment scanning the bridge crew, she spoke “Colonel Jons, I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck over there for the duration. The Dosadi have elected to attack us, the Gorn, and the Klingons for reasons that I’m sure make some sort of sense to them.
In any case, we massively out-gun them. Lieutenant Rals, you will keep the Succession in close formation with the Kingdom. I intend to use you as the anvil and our fighter groups as the hammer and crush them between our fires. The Gorn are taking the opposite flank while the Klingons hold the center. This should be quick and easy. By the numbers, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Admiral. You can count on us.” He stood and bowed, as did the Colonel.
When she had cut the connection, the Colonel turned to Ensign Yoshida with a frown on his violet-skinned face. “Ensign. You acted without orders and without authority. How did you detect the phaser fire? Sensors had no warning whatsoever of any targeting or shields being raised anywhere.”
Sweating and sitting at rigid attention she said, “Sir. As helmsman, it is my duty to keep the ship on a safe course at all times. That duty provides the authority to act in an emergency. As part of that duty, I have been maintaining a regular scan of all other vessels in orbit near us. I noted the Dosadi vessels’ power-consumption curves going to emergency maximum.  The Command Destroyer Shagrat rolled to present her starboard weapons pod to us while other Dosadi vessels were maneuvering similarly. I concluded that they would try a snap-shot and acted accordingly.”
He studied the young Earth woman for a moment. Glancing up as the Succession’s captain stalked into the bridge he continued, “Well done, Ensign. Continue your attention to your duty. As I must attend to mine.” He headed off the bridge to the Marine command post. The Marines did double-duty as damage control techs during combat, but were always expected to be ready to conduct boarding or defense operations as well.

* * *
FEDERATION STARBASE 26, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Almost a thousand kilometers directly beneath Colonel Jons, Commodore Selek and Commander Jackson gave up trying to talk to the now wildly maneuvering ships racing out of orbit.
Jackson gnawed at his cigar, “That’s done it then. They got hits on the Kingdom, the Horval, Tyrannus, Tooth, and the Devisor. Someone was awake on the Succession though. That was their only miss – woulda hit ’em right square in the bridge too from the looks of it. I swear the Dosadi have ‘relations’ with their weapons. No one should be able to shoot that well without computer targeting.”
“There is no need to be crude, Commander. It is well known that the Dosadi drill extensively with their weapons both with and without targeting systems. Evidently, the prevailing wisdom that it is impossible to hit maneuvering targets at battle distances and speeds without computer assistance is incorrect.
“Raise shields and energize the weapons. I do not anticipate becoming involved, but there may be stray weapons fire. I do not want to see this situation spiral any further out of control. Also, make sure that all available sensors are tracking the battle and recording. If nothing else, this should provide excellent intelligence for Starfleet analysts.”
Petty Officer Bennett, at the Sensory station interrupted them, “Sirs, you might want to see this.” and he pushed a toggle, bringing up a local broadcast. A somber-looking man spoke directly into the pickup, “To recap, war has come to Toulagai. Despite the presence of the Federation Starbase, even now dozens of starships are battling it out over our planet for reasons unknown.” The image on the screen cut-away to an orbital platform’s capture of the Delos engaging several vessels and beginning to rocket away from them, dodging their return fire. The big carrier was charging straight at the pickup and in moments her blue-grey hull flashed past while the green lines of phasers went back and forth.
Jackson snorted at the image. Someone had helpfully added a dramatic soundtrack to the shots including a rumbling bass line for the Delos’ engines and the high-pitched whine of phaser fire. “Nice touch.” he said, but the newscaster was continuing,
“Clearly all that the presence of this military installation on our peaceful planet has done is to attract even more firepower.” The view shifted to a long-shot of the impressive bulk of the Klingon battleship Reaver.  “Violence and the tools of violence, infesting our peace-loving world. Was accepting this starbase really the benefit that we’ve been told that it was? We…”
Jackson gnawed his cigar to the other side of his mouth and said, “Turn that shit off, Bennett.”

CHAPTER 11
“Cry ‘havoc!’ And let slip the dogs of war!”
– Chang (Klingon) aboard a Bird of Prey near Camp Khitomer
ROYAL HYDRAN CARRIER KINGDOM, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Admiral Kremble watched the image of the big Gorn Admiral T’Skay on her viewscreen. He was explaining his battle plan and had some concerns. “If we can just keep that Klingon in line with us, the Dosadi don’t stand a chance. We’ve got them out-gunned almost three to one.”
She stood up and walked closer to the main screen. Her dark-chocolate skin and bright pink hair made a startling contrast to the Gorn’s olive-drab hide and glittering multi-faceted eyes. “You’re worried about a Klingon warrior in a battle? Why?”
T’Skay made a face. And when what looks like a bad-tempered dinosaur makes a face, it has a definite impact. “He’s an inexperienced political appointee that hasn’t the foggiest idea what he’s doing. He’s got no experience with a single ship, much less a fleet action. And those Dosadi are so damn tricky…”

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Corin got up from watching the maneuvering fleets in the holo-display and checked to be sure that the tools, parts, lubricants, coolants and other consumables were ready.  The tune being piped in from the bridge was a slower song more suitable to waiting, but with a slowly increasing tempo. He smiled to himself; Whoever was in charge of the music today was matching song to events well.
All appeared to be in order. Med-kits, fire-fighting tools, emergency seals and patch-kits all in their quick-release housings. The sensors controlling the air-tight doors and last-ditch isolation fields were clear and their panels’ self-tests indicated they were operating properly. In the event of a hull-breech too big for the smaller patches, the entire launch bay could be isolated and sealed off from the rest of the ship in a few seconds. You did not want to get caught on the wrong side of the door as the air would get rather thin very quickly.
Hearing the whhhooooof of fighters being fired out of their launchers, he turned back and rejoined his Team at the holo-display. LCDR Delac’s fighter was in the lead of Green Wing, taking the lower portion of a pincer type formation. They could hear some chatter over the com circuits as the wings began targeting the Klingon fleet in the center of the enemy formation. When most of the other fighters launched their missiles, Delac and half of Green Wing held their fire and accelerated along with the seeking weapons. As the fighters closed with the Klingon vessels, Delac’s three birds suddenly fired everything they had, performed a skew-flip turn and began applying a massive delta-vee to change their vector back to the carrier.
“On your feet! Get reloads up from the storage racks now and get ready to re-arm and recharge.” Corin ordered. “I want them ready to launch again in two minutes from when they hit the deck. You hear me now? TWO minutes.”

* * *
IMPERIAL KLINGON BATTLESHIP REAVER, MANUEVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Aboard the Reaver, Admiral Drake had panicked. Despite his officers’ assurances that they could track and deal with the hundreds of blinking red lights cutting quickly across the hexagonal grid showing the space around their battle group, all he saw was death. All the lines were closing rapidly with his ships and none of his warships had fired yet. His battle manager tried to calm him down,
“Sir! Courage!” He was disgusted. “Our close-in defenses are designed to work close-in…Sir! There is no need to…!”
Drake saw the group of fighters closing with him launch even more missiles at his vessel and then flip around before his force engaged them. “Come right to 050 and descend! There’s too many in-bounds.”
The captains of the two corvettes were even more disgusted, trying to track along with the massive battleship as it nearly ran one down and left the other hurrying to remain in formation. Their captains toyed with the idea of breaking orders and engaging on their own, but that was simply not the Klingon way. A warrior people who made the Dosadi look calm, the Klingons loved any sort of challenge. Drake’s view screen came to life with Admiral T’Skay’s enraged visage.
“What are you DOING you IDIOT?!” he hissed, “Stay in formation!”
Drake, terrified at the complicated tactical plot he really didn’t understand shouted back, “I can’t you fool! I’ve got hundreds of drones and two plasma torpedoes targeted on me! I cannot allow this ship to be disabled!”
“That’s what your fucking corvettes are for, you ass!”
The warning beeps of the sensors detecting the incoming missiles were getting faster as the range dropped. “There are too many!! They’re too close!” T’Skay could see his nerve break. “Emergency stop! Eject the wild weasel!” he cried out.
“NO! Damn you!!” T’Skay yelled. He broke the connection and set about trying to save his own fleet. The giant Reaver and the Devisor both slammed on the brakes and ejected shuttlecraft. The two corvettes, confused by the sudden maneuver began trying to figure out where they were supposed to be now. The Deceit swung straight down and away from the imposing bulk of the motionless Reaver. Her captain was damed if he was gonna try and stay close to that idiot. The Assassin spun first right, then left, then charged into the heart of the drones, trying to shoot them all down as that was what the little ships were designed to do. Nobody had told him about the wild weasels currently attracting all of the seeking weapons.  The first weapons began to slam into the fleet as dodging ships cut across the flight path of the powerful weapons, allowing them to re-acquire the ship instead of the electronic bait of the shuttlecraft. The explosions rattled Klingon shields, but did little else. When the two mid-sized Type-S plasma torpedoes the Shagrat had fired exploded on the little wild weasel near the Devisor, they actually had to drain batteries to reinforce their shields.
All around them, captains tried to maneuver their ships around the sudden obstacles as well as the seeking weapons that nobody now knew where they were targeted. Several Klingon and Gorn fighters, unable to dodge quickly enough were caught in the drone wave or the explosion of nearby torpedoes and were destroyed. The neat formation was a shambles.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
As crewmen scrambled to get what was needed, the dots representing the Klingon vessels began scattering across the paths of their Gorn and Hydran allies. M’Ralin called out, “Look! They’re running!” Heads turned across the bay as the enemy formation dissolved into chaos. The bay doors on each end of the deck slid open and fighters began to recover, flying into the large space at high speed, from both fore and aft.
A cheer went up from the teams as weapons began to impact across the enemy fleets. The high-pitched sounds of phasers and torpedoes firing had become a normal background noise as had the occasional vibration from the impact of enemy weapons. Delac’s Tomcat was the last into the bay, skidding across the deck as he backed the power and the retarding fields grabbed hold of the ship. As Wing Commander, he would expect to be the first ready to launch again and Corin’s team raced to get the fighter into the bay even as crew were prepping weapons mounts and connecting power and coolant cables. Even while his bird was being pushed into the bay, Delac leapt out of the cockpit and grabbed Corin “Did you SEE? Did you SEE?” The two of them laughed aloud as more Green Wing pilots ran up and joined in.
FOUR enemy ships out of action for several minutes at least and the enemy formation scattering to the skies! A spectacular result for what was, in reality, a fairly small strike. Corin disengaged from the celebrating pilots and returned to working on Delac’s Tomcat.  M’Ralin was struggling to get one of the Countach anti-ship missiles hung on its launch rail.  Corin yelled to a pair of kits, “You two! Lend a hand! MOVE!” and watched as the two, obviously brother and sister from their identical markings jumped to work, their small hands helping connect up the mount.
Checking the power couplings and charge rates for the F-14’s phaser and shield capacitors, Corin made some small adjustments and ordered another kit to clean the canopy. They were still working on the bird as Delac clambered back into the cockpit and the tug began to push her nose back into the launch tube. Glancing up at the status board, he smiled to see that Nollos had Lt. Tam’s Hornet in the tube first. She was hard to beat, that woman, hard to beat…
Wilkes got his attention, “Corin, they’re closing awfully fast.” and he pointed at the battle display. The Gorn fleet had gone to flank speed and was making course directly for the Delos, coming in from behind. The sound of occasional weapon impacts on the Delos’s shields was getting more frequent.  Silently, they watched as the heavy destroyer Dosin arced up above the Dosadi formation, rolled onto her back and charged straight into the heart of the Gorn ships, weapons blazing, filling space with phasers, torpedoes, and disruptor bolts in all directions. In seconds, one of the Gorn corvettes was falling away, obviously out of control and the destroyer Tooth had felt some of her wrath as well.
But the Dosin was clearly out of the fight. M’Ralin stood silently by. Wilkes spoke softly, “Aren’t your parents aboard the Dosin?”
“Yes. Mother is a phaser Crew Leader and a father is a Master Torpedoman.”
Seeing that the Gorn heavy cruiser Tyrannus had executed an emergency stop to reinforce shields against the Dosin’s attack, Corin said, “They bought us the time we needed, M’Ralin. Let’s make it count, right?”

* * *
ROYAL HYDRAN LIGHT CRUISER SUCCESSION, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Being rattled about in the command chair aboard the Succession, Captain Lord Rince Del exclaimed, “God’s TEETH!” Ensign Yoshida made no reply as she continued to force the light cruiser into maneuvers that stressed her hull and engines to the limits of their design – and beyond. The Chief Engineer’s loud complaints were getting no traction with the captain as the ship rolled, slid, skid, spiraled, and surged past Klingons, wild weasel shuttlecraft, plasma torpedoes, fighters, missiles, phasers and disruptor bolts. The artificial gravity struggled to maintain normal levels and vectors and people rocked in their seats or staggered across the deck in time to the groaning of the hull.
Captain Rince had long since decided to keep Yoshida in the helm position for this fight. Not a single shot fired at – or even near – the Succession had struck home. The woman was clearly a virtuoso at the helm with a sense of what the enemy were doing, seemingly before they even knew themselves. “Engineering shut UP! If you cannot meet my requirements I assure you that I can find someone who will. Now attend to your duties and be silent!” and he slammed his hand on the control panel, cutting the circuit. “Weapons! Continue harassing fire at the carrier. Helm, get us out of this mess and away from those damn Klingons!”
Mindful of the Admiral’s orders to keep her ship in close with the Hydran carrier, Yoshida slid the cruiser around the bigger ship, almost as though she were in orbit around it, taking station where she could continue to provide fire support but was out of the path of the scattering Klingons and the remaining seeking weapons the Dosadi had loosed upon them.
Below decks in the Marine command post, which doubled as damage control, Colonel Jons was bracing himself against the gravity’s surges. “Lieutenant, if enemy fire doesn’t damage us, I believe that the helmsman might!”
The lieutenant laughed, “Either way, we’re ready sir. My company is at battle stations in full equipment ready to fight or fix as required.” The two of them studied the repeater-display of the tactical situation available from the bridge.  The Gorn formation was scattering for their lives, one corvette out of action, a destroyer clearly damaged and a cloud of missiles streaking towards the heavy cruiser and the other corvette. A Dosadi heavy destroyer was curving slowly down and away from the Gorn, badly damaged. The Klingons were motionless and taking fire from three Dosadi Thunderbolt fighters. Their corvettes milling about aimlessly.
Suddenly, three new symbols winked into the display. “What the devil?” Jons asked, leaning forward to get a better view of the display.  “Oh, there’s going to be hell to pay.” A Federation heavy cruiser and destroyer, the USS Hood, and USS Samurai, and a Dosadi light cruiser, the ISS Alisar had dropped out of warp near the Klingons and were already changing course to intercept them.
“Lieutenant, I don’t believe we’re going to get much help from the Klingons.”
“Doesn’t look to me like they were much help anyway, sir.”
“Indeed. However, that was the center of our line, and the Gorn on the opposite flank have been routed. The Admiral may have bitten off more than she can chew…”
The display continued to get more complex as their sister ship, the heavy frigate Hydrus launched a plasma shotgun made up of eight type-F plasma torpedoes and the Delos launched all eighteen of her fighters. Seconds later, the Kingdom launched her own fighters. Again, space was full of twisting ships, beam weapons, missiles and plasma torpedoes.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
The Delos’ weapons were firing continually. The whine of the phasers, the thunk of missile launchers, the odd sounds of the photon torpedo and disruptor launchers firing, all intermixed with the ringing sounds of enemy weapons impacting on her shields. The gravity was surging in both direction and intensity as energy demands from weapons, shields, and engines argued it out in the ship’s computers.
Corin steadied himself against a hull former and shouted to his team, “Make sure your tools are secure! It’s going to get rough.” Crewmen bent to pull netting across their kits as the music from the bridge swelled to a crescendo. “YES! We got a frigate!!” A cheer went up and the Dosadi again began singing as the symbol indicating the enemy frigate began to spin slowly away from the Hydran fleet.
Wilkes was checking his crew, making sure everyone was hydrating, that their tools were secure, that they had what they needed to recharge and rearm the Tomcat when Delac returned. He had just decided that they were ready when weapons began to leak through the Delos’ shielding, the sound of explosions echoing through the big hangar bay and vibrating through the deck plates.
A sudden shower of sparks and coolant doused him from above while the force of the impact drove him to his knees. Terrified, he tried to clear his eyes from the blue fluid and beat out the glowing embers that had landed on his red shirt. One of the kits was down, a heavy chunk of ceiling half-covering his small furry body and one of his crew was screaming in pain, obviously badly burned. There was a high-pitched shriek of atmosphere leaking from a hull-breech and he didn’t know what to do! There was blood on the deck and people shouting, the screaming sound of a coolant leak and a strobe-light effect from flickering lights and arcing short circuits and the weird sound of Dosadi music behind it all.
Struggling to his feet, looking for where to run he saw Corin. The big cat’s tail had been broken about half way down but he was grabbing a patch-kit from the wall recess and yelling orders. Wilkes had no idea what he was saying or who he was issuing orders to. How could he be so calm?! Time seemed to slow down for the young human.
He wondered what was going on. It was as though he had all the time in the world. Glancing at the holo-display, he saw the six Hornets from White Wing were engaged in a swirling dogfight with all eighteen of the Stings from the Hydran carrier while Delac’s Green Wing was adding pot-shots at the fighters and attacking the Kingdom herself. The Lavet Cair was shooting her up as well. The Nareth had reduced the Gorn destroyer Tooth to a smoking ruin and the Shagrat had shot the Tyrannus up pretty badly.
He looked around the damaged bay in the strobing arc-light glare – Everyone was moving in slow motion. He really wanted to get the hell out of there before the entire bay blew out. He looked again at Corin. He was close to the air-tight door, he could leave if he wanted to. The door was going to close. Why wasn’t he leaving? It looked like he was yelling at M’Ralin, the other Crew Leader. Leader. And something clicked in Wilkes’ sub-conscious.
Time snapped back to normal as he raced further into the bay, slapping controls to de-energize the bay circuits and yelling orders to his crew to recover the wounded. Now, instead of time moving slowly it seemed like everything was happening faster than it was possible. As he tried to lift the heavy panel off of the limp kit he knew he was too late. The air-tight door had started closing to isolate the bay and protect the ship and they were on the wrong side, he didn’t have time. If he ran now, he could make it.
Instead, he bent his back again, giving one last effort to try to get the chunk of hull off from the little male. He thought to himself, “God dammit, if I’m gonna die, at least I’m gonna die trying!!” The plate lifted, but there was no way he could get the kit – and he saw Corin’s mate, Nollos had run into the shattered bay, helping to recover the wounded. She grabbed the kit and he dropped the plate, the two of them laughing and racing for the door. As they got there, Corin urging them on, the hull took another hit and blew out, the hurricane force winds caused by venting atmosphere starting to drag them back. Corin grabbed both of them with one hand each and M’Ralin grabbed Corin, the door inexorably lowering on the struggling group.
He and Nollos both had one of the kit’s arms, and Corin had one each of theirs. Despairing, Wilkes looked into Corin’s strained and anguished face – It simply wasn’t possible to pull three people against the force of the air blowing out. He could save one of them, and the kit, but not both. “It’s always the guy in the red shirt.” Wilkes thought to himself, a bitter and oft-voiced complaint brought about by the far higher casualty rates suffered by Starfleet’s services branch. And with a desolate cry, Corin and Nollos let go of each other at the same moment, his free hand sweeping down, now with enough strength to haul Wilkes and the kit out of the bay as the door closed, sealing the breech.

* * *
HYDRAN KINGDOM LIGHT CRUISER SUCCESSION, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Colonel Jons was furious. His battalion was being shot to shit and he was stuck on this cruiser, not where the troops who needed him were! Watching the Horval and Hydrus being cut to ribbons he knew that his Marines were being killed – The little ships had no real protected spaces and as damage controlmen they were no doubt in the thick of things. He desperately wanted a status report from the platoon aboard each ship, but knew better than to interrupt their leaders during a battle. They would send word when they could.
On the bridge, Captain Rince gave rapid fire orders, “Helm! Close with that corvette! NOW! Weapons – fire the missiles at the ship, phasers at those double-damned fighters! They’re slaughtering our Stings!!” Hoping that the Federation vessels would stay away from her ship and keep focusing on the Klingons, Yoshida rolled the Succession around the back side and under the Kingdom and Captain Rince stood half out of his chair, “HELM! I said…” and as the cruiser continued it’s tight orbit around the massive carrier, it came up and under the Lavet Cair, her missile launchers firing immediately and her phaser crews attempting to engage the twisting Hornets, to little effect.
The Captain sat back down, straightened his uniform and said, “My apologies Helm. Well done.” as he watched the Dosadi corvette begin trying to limp away from his ships, clearly out of the fight, the burning holes from his missile impacts glowing across her warp engines. Noting three Tomcats rolling in on the Kingdom he continued, “Weapons, what have we got left? We need to get those fighters off the Kingdom!”
“Nothing, sir. We’re recharging everything. Between engaging the Delos, the Lavet Cair, and the fighters we’re completely discharged. Hydrus and Horval are out of it and the Kingdom’s reporting they’re out of battery power, all weapons discharged, shields badly damaged and beginning to take damage throughout the ship.”
“Damn it to hell! What about the Gorn? Or the Klingons?”
“The Gorn are scattered, sir, all they’ve got left is the Tyrannus, and she’s shot up. The Klingons are fighting for their lives, both corvettes out of action, the Devisor’s damaged, and the Reaver’s lost her entire forward shielding. They’re fully engaged with the Federation vessels and the Alisar.”
Looking at the Dosadi fleet in his battle-sphere, he shook his head, “How in the hell do they DO that?”
Admiral Kremble signaled a moment later, “Captain, we are disengaging. Prepare for an immediate warp 4 jump at 315 mark 270 on my signal. Take the Hydrus under tow. We will take the Horval.”
“Yes, Admiral. What about the Gorn?”
“This really wasn’t our fight anyway, Captain. There will be another day. Our duty is to preserve our vessels and our crews. On my mark, Captain.”
He stood and bowed, “Understood, Admiral.”
Colonel Jons would count the dead. He knew them all, by face, by name, by family. Of his battalion of six hundred Marines, he had lost nearly a third. He would spend much of the voyage back to the Sword Worlds preparing the funeral ceremony for his troopers. They had done their duty and done it well. The reports he had in hand indicated that without their valor, both frigates would have been destroyed and the Kingdom would likely have been crippled.
Right at that moment, there were very few creatures in God’s universe he hated more than the Dosadi. He would have his revenge one day. For each and every troop they had murdered.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
FEBRUARY 2268
Shaking, in pain, exhausted, and in shock, Wilkes looked at his Team Leader. The big cat was looking forlornly at the air-tight door sealing off the destroyed launch bay. “Why?” he asked, his voice breaking.
After a moment, Corin looked at him and managed a sad little smile. “Why what, Wilkes?”
A medical team raced up and began treating the injured team, one of the medics administering a hypo to the critically wounded kit with a loud hiss.
“Why ME? She was your mate!”
Corin flicked an ear back and cocked his head. “Yes? What does that matter?”
“Why did you save me? I’m not your mate! I’m not even a Dosadi! I’m nothing to you!!” he was almost crying.
“You really don’t understand us at all yet, do you Wilkes? She was my mate, but my responsibility was to you. She knew that, as did I. There was no choice in the matter. She and I are Team Leaders. Our team is our first responsibility. Had I saved her, and allowed you to die, I would have dishonored us both so badly our only choice would be to kill ourselves in shame. Honor means doing what is right – always – even if doing so costs you everything you have or even dreamed of having.
“I would not be the man she loved nor she the woman that I loved had we both not known that basic truth before we were even weaned.”
“But…” Wilkes tried to digest this. After a few moments he hung his head and said, “I hate those bastards.”
Genuinely surprised, Corin asked, “Who? Why?”
Wilkes looked at him, now almost angry, “The Gorn! The Hydrans! They’re the ones who did this!! We’ll get them back.”
“Get them back? For what? This was a clean fight and we all fought well and with honor. There was no  treachery, no dishonor…what is there to hate them for?”
“They killed Nollos!”
“And many others. And we killed many of theirs. Star Sailors with mates and children and mothers and fathers who loved them dear. They fought hard, and they fought well. We just fought better today. We’ll tell the tales and remember the dead of both sides and light incense for them to honor their sacrifices.
“There will be other mates, and other fights. Those of us who live now must live on for those who died. I will mourn Nollos in my own way, in my own time.”
Wilkes was dumbfounded. A medic was treating his burns while another was waving a medi-scanner over Corin’s tail. “You did well, Wilkes. I think, perhaps, you understand more than you know. Why did you go back into the bay after the first torpedo hit?”
Wilkes thought. “I guess because I saw you. You were so damn calm. Yelling orders and putting the patch-kit on the hole in the hull. And I couldn’t leave the kit, I guess.”
Corin watched him for a second. “You are on the right path there, Wilkes.” He stood and offered his hand to the young man, “We’ve still got work to do. We’ve lounged here long enough.”
Fighters, most of them damaged to some degree were flying into the bay, smoke, coolant, and energy scattering across the deck as the pilots struggled to recover safely. Wilkes saw a Thunderbolt, missing one ‘wing’ and afire, blow through the open South bay doors, slamming into the heavy deck plates, buckling several and skidding into a spin as it careened across the bay.
Running towards it, Wilkes joined the bird’s crew in trying to put out the fire and rescue her pilots. The fighter was barely in one piece, most of her paint having blistered off. “Jesus. These poor bastards are cooked.” he thought to himself as he struggled with the blasted canopy. A damaged Hornet shrieked past them, barely missing the ruined Thunderbolt and the crew working on it.
They finally got the canopy off, struggling not to slip on the firefighting foam that was splattered everywhere and Wilkes helped reach in for the pilot. As he grabbed hold of one side of his harness, he recognized the pattern on the undamaged portion of his combat helmet. It was T’Laren, Eletha’s mate. Or it had been. The Team Leader was screaming for a medic, but Wilkes knew it was much too late. The other crew was using plasma torches to cut the gunner out of the rear cockpit and Wilkes looked inside. It looked like a Gatling phaser had caught them. The front cockpit had been blasted open to space, many of the controls and instruments were destroyed and wires and chunks of components were hanging loosely. How T’Laren had managed to stay conscious, let alone fly back to the Delos he had no idea.
Standing straight, he looked around the battered hangar deck. Many of the fighters had taken damage and medical teams were treating wounded pilots and crew who had been caught in weapons hits like his team had.
But, they had won the battle.
As the fleet headed back in to orbit around Toulagai, he wondered if it had been worth it.

CHAPTER 12
“The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable.”
– Victor Hugo – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
FEBRUARY 2268
It had only been two weeks since the battle at Toulagai. It just seemed like an eternity had passed. Wilkes lay on his back, watching the now-familiar Dosadi stars on the ceiling of the East Living Pod, Sooth curled up on one side of him, Eletha on the other and a puddle of kits by her side. Sometimes Corin would join them, but tonight he had wanted to be alone again. He had been spending a lot of his nights alone since Nollos died, and his friends all worried about that; It wasn’t entirely normal for a Dosadi to isolate themselves that much. He listened to the warbling sound of the whirks – the little bugs always reminded him of cicadas.
He thought Eletha had fallen asleep, but Sooth was still awake. He turned his head to look at her and found her watching him. “I still have a hard time just moving on like you Dosadi do.” he admitted.
“Still blaming yourself for Nollos?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah. I mean, I understand why Corin made the choice he did, I think. I just…I can’t accept it. I know he doesn’t, but I think he must hate my guts. Every time he sees me he has to be reminded that because of me, his mate is dead.”
“Not really. Wilkes, she ran into the bay to help. If you hadn’t lifted the plate off the kit, she would have tried and she still wouldn’t have made it out. Probably neither of them because Corin would’ve run in to help. You can play what-if games forever, but no one knows what would have happened, Wilkes, only what did happen.” She reached her hand up and caressed his face. “I liked Nollos too, Wilkes. She helped me a lot. But I’m glad you’re alive, and glad that we knew her.”
He watched her face in the dim blue-grey light of the starry sky.  “Got time for a stupid question?”
She smiled, “Sure.”
“How do Dosadi kiss?”
She giggled. “Nollos told me you were going to ask me that. She was always studying up on human culture and traditions and history and…” she sighed. “I miss her too.” Meeting his eyes again she continued, “We don’t really ‘kiss’. Our faces are built differently than humanoids are.”
“Oh.” he was clearly disappointed.
She looked down for a second, then leaned her face in close to his, nuzzled his cheek and he felt her tongue give him a quick raspy lick. She giggled again. “That’s what we do.”
Wilkes smiled at her, “It’s nice.”
“Well…you’re the first one I’ve done that to.”
“You’re kidding me. I’m your first kiss?”
Her ears drooped a little, “I told you I haven’t had any close friends.”
“No, no – Sooth, I’m flattered, I’m amazed I’m…” he shut up and touched her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. After a moment, he leaned closer to her, tipping his head a bit more than normal so that he didn’t bash her nose and gently brushed his lips against her mouth. She inhaled sharply, her eyes wide in surprise. He pressed a bit more firmly, extending the kiss for a few seconds and then pulled away. “That’s what we do, Sooth. To people we love.”
He watched her trying to analyze what had just happened and he heard a muffled “About damn time.” from Eletha. He couldn’t help it. He started laughing, pulling Sooth close to him. There were a few muffled calls to ‘be quiet!’ and he tried to stifle his laughs.
Sooth pushed him back a bit, poked her head up and peered up at Eletha, “What do you mean?”
She rolled over and said, “Everyone’s been hoping you two would pair up. You never know when your story will end, Sooth. You have to wring everything out of it you can.” She rested her hand on Wilkes’ shoulder, “You two are always happiest when you’re with each other. It only makes sense. Stop being so afraid to be happy.
“You’ve become some of my most special friends but by all the gods you are two of the densest beings I’ve ever met!”
Wilkes looked over his shoulder at her. “What did I do?”
“Shush.” She shook his shoulder then pointed at Sooth. “You too. Just listen for a minute. Wilkes, Dosadi are individualists in many ways, we don’t have a lot of the laws and rules and such that humans do. But what lets us be individuals is because we have a really tight web of friends and family that supports us and guides us. Part of growing up Dosadi is building that net – As kits you have playmates from all over and all ages. You start finding the ones that are going to become special, your really close circle of friends. Usually by the time someone is Sooth’s age, they’ve played at being mates with a number of different people from that inner circle, trying them out, seeing who makes a good partner for them and who doesn’t until two of them find the right match and stabilize on each other. But that web is always there. And your web interacts with everyone else’s. It’s strong.
“But Sooth has kept herself isolated her whole life – it’s almost impossible to function in our society like that. None of the people she should be able to count on for help, for counsel, for laughter, for joy, for fun are there. She’s been adrift her whole life.
“And then you showed up. I don’t know if it’s because you’re just the sweet person that you are, or because she spent so much of her kittenhood with humans or what, but you two click. You fit together. Nollos and I found out about you, Wilkes. You’ve wandered through your society without any roots.”
“I know…But wait..How did you…”
“Shush. I’m talking.” she gave his shoulder another friendly little shake. “We take care of each other, Wilkes. Always. I wasn’t going to let someone rip her loose from her friends again. I was saying, you’ve got a lot in common with her.
“But when I see the two of you together, you’re a team. I’m finally seeing that web coming into being for Sooth. And for you. Think about it: You two in the center, Corin, me, T’Laren, M’Ralin, Tovath, and Nollos close in, and it gets wider going out more and more. You two aren’t just these isolated individuals any more, you’re part of us.”
“You are fools if you let that slip away. And Sooth, I know what you’re afraid of. Don’t let that stop you – I miss my mate more than anything. It hurts. But the reason it hurts is because it was so wonderful. I’ll get through the hurt, and I’ll find another mate because that’s how I’m strongest and because T’Laren would want me to be happy again.  And I will be happy again.
“I’ve got you, and Wilkes, and Corin, and everyone else to help me through the loss, just like I’ll help them through theirs. Now, I’m going to go back to sleep. You two go back to…” she smiled, “being happy for once.” And she rolled over, pressing her back against Wilkes’.
Wilkes looked at Sooth and whispered, “Who am I to argue?” and he nuzzled her cheek in a Dosadi kiss. A few moments later he heard a faint rumbling noise coming from Sooth while they cuddled. Surprised he asked,  “Are you…purring?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
“No! It’s awesome. I didn’t know Dosadi purred. Cats on Earth purr. I thought that was like unique to Earth.”
“It’s involuntary. It just happens when we’re feeling really content or satisfied.”
“That is even nicer, then. I’m going to have to try to make you purr a lot more.”

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
MARCH 2268
Another two weeks passed and their relationship had grown even closer much to the delight of their friends. Wilkes found himself feeling more and more settled aboard the Delos and found it hard to believe that only four months had passed since he left the Hood and not even a year since he graduated from the Academy.  Briefly he wondered how Angie was doing aboard the Enterprise. By now, she was probably standing bridge watches and planning how to be next in line for the Captain’s chair. He thought back to graduation day on the landing field at the Academy when she had told him that there was something out there for him. She had been right, as usual.
Wilkes finished putting his gear away, closed out the files on his PADD for the maintenance they’d done on Delac’s Tomcat this shift, and headed back to the East Living Pod. He had gotten one of the machinists aboard to make him something special and the woman had finally finished it. He looked at the tiny little box and smiled, slipping it into his pocket. Walking through the Delos’ busy corridors at shift-change always had an impact on him. You tended to forget how many people it took to keep a starship – especially a carrier – running and humming. As a Crew Leader he was usually one of the last to leave his post, which meant he was also usually one of the last to make it to chow.
Indeed, as he walked into the Pod, he could see the rest of his friends had already started in on their meals, so he made a quick stop by a replicator panel and joined them happily. He was glad to see that Corin was there – evidently Eletha had been firm with him about being alone too much. He was even teasing one of her kits, so that was a good sign. Sitting next to Sooth, as usual, he leaned in to her shoulder. “Hiya.”
“Hi.” she smiled back at him. “Did you like Setho’s little double-drill today?”
He laughed, “No. We cycled the damn bird in and out of the launch tube three times, then we got declared ‘destroyed’ so we ended up sitting there reviewing maintenance procedures for the last half.”
“So you loafed. We got yanked from damage control to full armor and a simulated assault transport, then back to damage control drills – while we were still in armor. That’s always fun.”
Everyone began sharing their stories of the day’s drills and wondering if Sethos would give them the night off or run another all-hands drill in the middle of the night. Someone started passing a bottle of Dosadi whiskey around and M’Ralin and Eletha struck up an old a capella song about a famous Dosadi hero who had slain a monster that was carrying off kits in the night.
As the lighting in the ‘sky’ was dimming to the darker blues of late evening, he leaned close to Sooth and whispered, “Would you share a sleeping spot with me tonight? Just us?”
Eletha cocked an ear at him and smiled. “Damn’d Dosadi ears.” he thought to himself.
Sooth smiled shyly and said, “OK.”
Holding his hand out to her, he helped her stand up and the two of them went off in search of a comfortable spot for the night. Wilkes finally managed to steer them to one of the more isolated little platforms.
As they curled up with each other, Sooth said, “You’re being a little strange tonight, Wilkes.”
“I have something for you.”
Puzzled she asked, “What?”
“It’s a gift. Something to show you that you’re special, even when I’m not right near you to tell you so. This will always tell you that.” He pulled out the little box and handed it to her. Silently, she opened it up, pulling out a tiny silver bell with a clasp. Holding it up, she gave it a very slight shake, listening to the faint, musical tinkling sound. “It’ll clip on your earring. It’s tritanium so it’ll never rust, and I made sure it’ll be faint enough so that you can hear it whenever you move your head, but it won’t be very loud, even to your ears, so it won’t be distracting.”
She reached up and attached the little bell with a smile. “No one’s ever given me anything like this before.”
“No one’s ever given me what you have, Sooth.”
“I haven’t given you anything.”
He touched her throat and cheek, “You’ve given me a home, Sooth. You’ve given me your trust, and you’ve given me the most real happiness I’ve ever had. I haven’t had any really bad times, I’ve just been sort of…neutral I guess. Just existing. But you make me feel alive.“ He pulled her close into a hug. They had worked out a method that worked even with the differences between the two species.
As he held her close, he realized he was getting more nervous by the second. “Sooth, if I ask you something, will you promise to at least give me a chance to explain if it comes out wrong?”
“Okay, I guess. What is it?”
He tried to keep his nerve intact. This is ridiculous, he thought. We’re both adults. I feel like I’m 13 again. “Well, um.” He went for the detached approach, “in uh, your culture, how does say, one person let another person know that they…well…want to…mate.”
Her eyes got very wide. Her voice squeaked, “ME?”
He squeezed her tight, “Yes, you.” the trembling was back again, “I don’t want to push you into anything Sooth, I never want to make you uncomfortable, I never want you to be mad at me. If you don’t want to, I won’t ask again”
There was a long silence that he didn’t dare to break. “I.” more silence. “Are you sure? With me?”
He kissed the top of her head, “Yes. There’s no one else on any world that I would want to with, but you.”
“Wilkes, I’ve never…”
“That’s OK, Sooth.”
“But…Wilkes, humanoids are the most prolific species in the galaxy for a reason. I don’t know anything. Dosadi aren’t that…creative about it. What if I…”
He interrupted her. “Hush. Sooth, I don’t care about all that crap. What I care about is you. Being close to you, being part of you, being part of your life. We’ll figure our own ways out to have fun.”
“You won’t laugh at me?”
He kissed her mouth. “Never.”
Much later, he nuzzled at her ear, listening to the faint purring sound coming from her throat as she slept in his arms. It wouldn’t be the last time in his life he wished that he could purr.
He opened his eyes the next morning to find that the ‘sun’ was already well up and that he could hear the sounds of the people on duty today heading out to start their shifts. To his delight, Sooth was still asleep in his arms. Slowly sliding his arm out from under her, he thought that he’d go grab something quickly from the replicators and surprise her with it. Breakfast in bed wasn’t really something the Dosadi did, but he figured today was a good day to introduce the concept.
As quietly as he could, he pulled on some shorts and climbed down to the deck, getting a couple startled glances from people nearby. As he made his way over to the replicator he found that everyone he passed was grinning at him. Even Kam twitched his ears and whiskers at him and shot him a huge smile before turning away. As he picked up the food tray, he heard Eletha say “Oh my.”
He turned to face her. “Good morning!”
She had her hand over her nose. “Um, Wilkes.”
“What? What is wrong with everyone this morning?”
She giggled, “Um. Our noses are a lot better than yours.”
“So?”
“Scent seems to really cling to you humans.”
“Scent? Wha…oh. Shit.”
“You really need a shower, Wilkes.” She was smiling from ear to ear. Leaning close to him, she gave him a quick Dosadi kiss and said, “I couldn’t be more happy.” and she moved over to the replicator leaving him standing there feeling like he had just walked into a classroom naked.

CHAPTER 13
“Look at an infantryman’s eyes and you can tell how much war he has seen”
– William Henry – Earth (Human)

IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
APRIL 2268
Two months after the battle at Toulagai, Corin was relaxing in the Delos’ East Living Pod enjoying a snack and some conversation with Wilkes and the rest of their extended group of friends. At the moment, Wilkes was being mauled by Eletha’s four kits, roughhousing with them in mock battle. Their mother, still nursing and therefore assigned to duties in the Delos’ main nursery instead of her usual post as a disruptor targeting officer, had long since learned that she could trust the young human and that she genuinely enjoyed his company. Wilkes had become something of a favorite uncle for her kits who had quickly learned that he had no claws, no fur, and a high tolerance for being used as ‘prey’ and an endless variety of stories.
Shifting his gaze from the ferocious kits to the younger woman, Sooth, Corin wondered what the future held for her and for Wilkes. The pretty young Marine was actually purring and removing one of Eletha’s kits from Wilkes’ back while he was ‘savagely’ mauling two more.  The two, or sometimes three, of them often spent their nights together which had led to more than one rumor floating through the crew – rumors Corin did his best to squelch.
The Dosadi didn’t have a body- or sexual-privacy taboo like the humans did. The clothing they wore was for its utility, not for modesty. Soft boots protected the feet, loose trousers provided pockets and a cloak had many uses, from hammock to jacket to tent. But Corin knew that the humans had both taboos; strong ones.  So he tried to give Wilkes some privacy in both areas. But that didn’t mean he didn’t wonder. There had been quite a few jokes and stories spread about Wilkes and Sooth mating and the oddities involved in that coupling, some of which Corin believed, some of which he didn’t. But it did lead to questions about whether the two species could successfully breed. It wasn’t unheard of for two different races to interbreed but it was unusual. Vulcans and humans were a well-known, if uncommon hybrid and their biochemistries were much more different than humans and Dosadi. He tried not to grin as his imagination provided the image of a hairless pink Dosadi with Wilkes’ face.
Eletha’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, “What’s so amusing?”
“Nothing, really. Just letting my mind run free.” He smiled at her. She was pretty enough, he thought, and he enjoyed her company, so why couldn’t he seem to spark any serious interest in her as a mate? Perhaps because every time he looked at her, he saw Nollos’ smiling face, the delicate black markings across the backs of her ears and…He shook his head to clear the vision and she smiled at him,
“I know. It can be hard, can’t it? Like an echo.”
Flicking his ears back and drooping his whiskers he answered “That obvious?”
“Only to one going through the same thing.” She looped her tail across his and nodding towards Wilkes and Sooth asked quietly, “Is that pairing wise?”
Clicking his jaw he chuckled, “I have no idea. What will they do when he returns to the Hood and to his own people?”
“That’s a long journey yet, and the gods alone know its end. Let them have their fun while they can.”
“They’ve surely been doing that.”  he rubbed his shoulder against hers.
“My point was that they are living now, not in the past as we are, nor in the future.” she leaned back into him, surprising him by purring softly.

* * *
DUCHY OF THE SWORD WORLDS, HYDRAN KINGDOM
MAY 2268
As the dawn sun broke over the distant low hills that marked the edge of his holdings, Colonel Jons leaned over the balcony railing, watching as the first light crept across his fields. This was his favorite part of the day, a time of quiet and introspection when one felt the closest to God and one could hear His voice through the silence, setting the tone for the day to come.
When the sun was fully up, he turned and went down to breakfast. His wife, Marin, had the children setting the table and preparing the house for the working day to come. Truly there were few joys as great as home and family, he thought to himself. Though the sight of his two newest children provided just a hint of sadness and regret.
They were the biological children of two of his troopers killed over Toulagai. Both men had joined up to better their caste and were without family or patron. He thought back to that place, unimaginably distant from the Sword Worlds, and to that battle many months ago. Trooper Arens’ damage control team had responded to a plasma fire caused by a Dosadi phaser hit in the heavy frigate Hydrus’ warp drive. With no way to regulate the matter/anti-matter reaction the ship was minutes away from exploding. Without hesitation, Arens had picked up a conduit bridge and charged into the flames, reconnecting the damaged reactor regulation system and saving the ship. He died of his injuries, still holding the conduit bridge in place. His fifteen year-old daughter Sorral and his wife, Beton were now part of Jons’ household. Duty demanded that he look after his men in life, and in death.
The same stern charge brought Trooper Tenon’s wife and young son to his table.  Tenon had been less fortunate – or more, depending upon your point of view – than Arens. Tenon’s battle station aboard the heavy frigate Horval had taken a direct hit from a Dosadi disruptor bolt, leaving nothing but a ragged hole in the hull.
Marin gave him a kiss as he sat at the head of the table, indicating the family should sit as well. “My lord, how are you this lovely morning?”
“Very well, my wife. But I know that look – what clever plan are you about?”
She laughed, a musical sound, as she began serving the members of the household at her table. “I can never hide anything from you, can I Seins? And my plan is not so clever, just sensible. As are they all.”
“How well do I know it?” he grinned at her, “Since we were wed, my holdings have more than doubled in size, I’ve advanced three grades in rank, and our treasury fairly bulges with the results of your skilled handling. My father knew what he was doing when he arranged our match!”
“The best matches advance both partners.” she agreed, “Duty has its demands, but that doesn’t mean one cannot have fun nor gain even more rewards for obedience!”
She put her hand on Sorral’s shoulder, “As such, I believe I know of a good match for our newest daughter here.” the pretty girl blushed, her bright pink skin turning a deeper red and her mother smiled broadly.
“So soon? She’s been with us but a single season!”
“Her skills and charms are obvious to many young men. Lieutenant Sir Chon Tims has been spending quite a lot of time talking with young Sorral here. I think there is much potential for the two of them.”
Jons thought about it. The Lieutenant was young and a bit impetuous. A member of a well-connected artisan-caste family, he was well known for his skill and valor in combat as well as his lack of sense outside of battle. He had been knighted after his first battle but had made little progress since. Sorral, from a peasant class family, had already shown that she had solid good sense and the ability to get people, especially young men, to listen to her. The match would advance her caste beyond her father’s wildest dreams and provide the young Lieutenant the grounding he so sorely needed. Further, the alliance between his house and that of the Chon family would add to his influence in the business world.
“As I said, wife, a truly clever plan. I will speak with his father this very day.”
“You are wise, oh Lord.” she teased him.
Grinning back he said more seriously, “I’ll need that wisdom. I’m to be posted to the Gorn battlestation at Airdrie for the next couple of months as part of a diplomatic mission.”
By now she knew better than to ask for details. “Will it impact our holdings or dealings?”
The reason for the posting was as a military liaison to the Gorn Confederacy. The Gorn and Hydrans had been stirring up the Avatan’s frequent conflicts with the Dosadi and generally doing what they could to make life difficult for the cat people. A few months ago, the Dosadi had lost a major ground battle on the Avatan planet of Corlon. The Marshal responsible for the debacle had been well manipulated by agents of the Gorn Confederacy and had recently defected rather than accept his shame before his own people when the facts became known.
He considered the situation carefully before speaking, “Possibly. Investments in Federation munitions suppliers may be wise.”
“I’ll see to it.” she said, reading between the lines. Conflict was possible, but unlikely to spread, so something that stayed local and was far away. There was the chance for a lot of profit if the margins were played with skill. The future was tricky, but a wise planner could account for likely outcomes.

CHAPTER 14
“Pity the warrior who slays all his foes.”
– Klingon proverb.
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
JUNE 2268
The Delos had made good her losses in crew and fighters in the four months since Toulagai. Her new crew members had been trained up and fully integrated into the extended family that made up her crew.
Newly promoted to Admiral, Nolin hoped that they were as good as he and Sethos thought they were. The sensor pickups went live and he began addressing the crews of the largest fleet the Dosadi had assembled in some time. Two assault carriers, a battleship, two heavy cruisers, two destroyers, a frigate, four corvettes, and a pair of minesweepers. Seven full Wings of fighters and a full battleforce of nearly a thousand Marines. In his formal uniform for this broadcast, he truly did look like Puss-in-Boots, but only Ensign Wilkes noticed the similarity, or indeed was familiar with the fairy tale.
“There has been treachery.” He began. To a Dosadi, this was beyond dishonor. “The commander entrusted with the warriors at Corlon was the pawn of the Gorn. Rather than admitting his shame and paying the price, he has fled into their systems, no doubt hoping that he will find some sort of honor among the lizards.” he paused, looking into the visual pick-up. “This cannot stand. He has betrayed his family, his name, and all those who put their faith, their trust, their very lives into his treasonous hands.
“We are going to get him back.” Another pause, “We know now where he hides. And we are going to get him back. The challenge is great! We must cross the Romulan Empire, sneak through the Gorn border patrols, breech a minefield, and defeat an entire fleet before we can even begin to crack open the hole he has hidden himself in – an entire battlestation, covered in heavy phaser cannon, torpedo and missile launchers. But. – We are going to get him back.
There is an additional challenge. The Federation, our friends, our allies, are allied also with the Gorn. Out of respect for them and to avoid creating difficulties for the humans, we must apply the minimum of force needed to get Furball back. But we are going to get him back. I will be calling on all your skill in this battle, all of your courage.
“Your Captains have their orders. We leave immediately. The gods alone know when, or if we return! Honor above all!”
Lounging together in a small clear area in the East Living Pod, Corin, Eletha, Wilkes, and Sooth looked at each other as the broadcast ended. The Dosadi were excited at the challenge – Wilkes dreaded the coming battle. Since Toulagai, the Delos had been in a couple of smaller scraps and each time Wilkes was nearly physically ill from worry. What if the terror he felt at Toulagai hit him again? What if this time, he ran, like a coward?
What would Sooth think? Or Corin? OR Eletha’s kits? The thought was almost more than he could bear. How could the Dosadi be so damn casual about combat? The Challenge Ring was easy compared to battle.
Sooth, draped across Wilkes’ lap said, “About time we Marines got to do some real ground-fighting instead of all this damage control work. And against Gorn too! This is going to be fun!”
Eletha, nursing three of her four little ones said, “For you, at least. I’ll be stuck herding kits in the nursery until mine are weaned and I’m finally free of these damn things” she indicated her six full breasts.
Wilkes, gently rubbing behind Sooth’s ears asked “How can you not be scared? Gorn are twice your size and you’re going to be going toe to toe with them, with nothing to protect you.”
“Scared? I’m terrified! But that’s part of what makes it such fun! I’ll finally get to see what I’m made of – to earn a true tale to tell my kits.” she giggled, “assuming I ever have any.”
Wilkes blushed at the implication and tried to reconcile feeling both terrified and excited at the same time. There was a slight ripple in the ship’s artificial gravity as the fleet moved into warp drive and headed towards Airdrie, in a small outcropping of Gorn space, far from home.

* * *
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Inspecting Gorn Marine positions aboard the Airdrie Battlestation, Colonel Jons walked alongside Admiral T’Skay. The eight-foot, quarter-ton and more Gorn towered above the four-foot two-inch, eighty-five pound Hydran with his violet skin and bright white hair and his severely cut black and silver uniform. The contrast against the towering, olive-drab colored Gorn in their glittering metallic uniforms could not be greater. “Admiral, I do believe you are ready for any eventuality. Your commanders know their business well, from the electronic defenses to the more…” he waved his hand at the assembled Gorn troops, “Physical. I believe it would take a Division at least to overcome your internal defenses, and they would pay heavily for doing so.”
“I don’t really anticipate anyone trying it, Colonel. With our isolation here, the Romulans on one side and the Federation on the other, a massive minefield and our Fleet positioned to defend us, there is simply no way anyone could dream of trying to take this station.”
As they moved away from the assembled troops, the Colonel looked up at the big lizard, “It’s not exactly ‘anyone’ we’re concerned with here, is it, Admiral? You know what the intercepts are pointing towards.”
T’Skay hissed in frustration. “Yes. They’ve lost track of several Dosadi vessels, but ‘cannot reveal which ships’ to avoid compromising intelligence sources. And the idiot paper-pushing rats have delayed getting Furball deeper into the Confederacy at every turn. ‘Delicate alliances with the Federation’ they say. I’ve again been assured that Furball will be moved within a day or two – for the third time this week. There are days I wonder how the Confederacy can manage to feed itself, much less conduct operations of any sort.”
Jons smiled, “A hazard of any interstellar government, I’m afraid. We men of action must endure the bureaucrats and pay the price for their folly. Still, you are well prepared. If the kittycats do show up, I expect once they see what’s facing them, they’ll turn right around again. At least if they’ve got any sense at all.”
The big Gorn admiral paused, “They’re going to know what we’ve got, Colonel. The damn Federation has saddled me with a Dosadi ambassador to try to ‘normalize relations’. We’ve done our best to keep him away from anything that can transmit further than the kitchens, but I’m expecting that he’s found some way to get the word out.”
The little Hydran hissed, “Then there will be hell to pay.”
“Just so long as the damn cats are the ones paying the bill, I’ll be happy.  Will you be attending the party tonight? We’re showing off Furball to the various diplomatic missions AND, to add to the fun, he’ll be giving a speech!”
Stifling a groan, Jons said, “As the Sword Worlds military attache’, I’m afraid I’m required to be there.”
Later that evening, both military men were trying to drink enough to drown out the yowling coming from Marshal Furball’s seemingly endless speech. Colonel Jons thought to himself, “Thank GOD the Gorn continue to serve food and drink throughout these things or we’d all starve to death before he shuts up.” Jons’ dinner partner that evening was an attractive, if too tall, young functionary from the Federation. And of course, the humans had no real variation in skin color, which made their appearance rather bland to the Colonel’s taste.
The Dosadi ambassador was obviously in a foul mood, which only made Jons feel better about being stuck at the rather silly party. Continuing to engage the empty-headed woman in conversation, Jons noticed T’Skay following an aide out of the ballroom and wondered what was pulling the Admiral away from his triumph.

CHAPTER 15
Nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won
– Duke of Wellington – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, APPROACHING AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Corin checked the readouts on Delac’s Tomcat again. Not for the first time he pitied the pilot, stuck inside the launch tube. At least the Thunderbolt pilots had a gunner aboard to talk to. Rejoining his team around the holo-display, he sat back down on his toolbox.
The Delos and her task force had dropped out of warp almost on top of the Gorn minefield and he could see the foggy space indicating the detected mines already beginning to clog up the display. Off to their left was the big Gorn battlestation and a lot of ships. This was not going to be an easy fight, that was for sure. His Team cheered at the loud whhhoooof of the fighter being launched. Minutes later, the com channels began to broadcast the usual chatter from the initial formations as the first orders were issued and acknowledged. The bridge’s selection of battle music started out with an ancient Earth tune, slow and low, ‘The Gael’, matching the tempo of operations aboard ship. Corin thought again that whoever was the bard on the bridge needed some sort of award.
A volley of missiles streaked away from the fighter groups and Corin ordered “Right! Get the reloads up from ready storage now, make sure you’re ready to re-arm and recharge as soon as they’re back. We’re still early on so take your time and do it right.” As was his long habit, he glanced down the hangar bay towards where Lt. Tam’s Hornet was berthed. The new Team Leader there was male and seemed to have things well in hand. Corin always felt that Nollos was still there, somehow, and always half-expected to see her white-clad form smiling back at him. But now, he also spared a thought for Eletha, attending to the kits too young to have regular duties. The nursery was well protected and for that he was glad.
His thoughts were interrupted by a squad of armored Marines jogging up in full battle-gear. One Marine approached him in his mottled blue-grey and tan armor, plasma rifle, and helmet in hand. The one solid, one broken bronze stripe across his shoulders marking him as a Team Leader. “Team Leader Corin?”
“That’s me.” he noticed one of the most junior warriors was Sooth and that she was trying very hard to look as hard as steel.  He was quite sure Wilkes noticed her as well.
“Your Team will be needed to prepare a boarding pad for assault transport.” Different than standard transporters, the boarding pads were high-powered transporters and were send-only. They were designed for rapid evacuation of a ship, or to beam boarding parties through enemy jamming and were placed alongside some of the launch bays, each large enough to beam a standard team of ten and their leader at a single pass.
“Understood. What’s the time-frame?”
“Third wave.”
“Got it.” he turned to his Team. “Crew Leader Wilkes, you will take charge of that duty. Can you get it done?”
“Yes, sir! I’ll get them where they’re going.”
“Right. Go get the Team Leader and his team situated and prepared for beaming, then get back here as fast as you can run. You’re going to have to juggle both duties, but when the time comes, the Marines take priority, right?”
“Understood sir.” Wilkes said, gathered up his crew and jogged off, leading the Marines to the pads.
M’Ralin cheered “They got one! A minesweeper just blew up!” and the other Dosadi joined in. Corin spoke quickly, “We’re trying to keep casualties to a minimum, remember? This is more like the Challenge Ring – we need to win without killing, to force them to give in, not to kill them.”
Ears and tails drooped throughout the team, “Yes, sir.” M’Ralin answered back. Neither of his parents had survived the battle at Toulagai when the weapons pods they were stationed in aboard the heavy destroyer Dosin had been savaged by Gorn fire.

* * *
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
The human woman…”What was her name?” Jons wondered to himself, oh yes, “Rebecca” or some such, simply would not be quiet. She seemed compelled to maintain a steady stream of chatter about the most insignificant happenings across the Federation. Had it not been for his experience with the truly exceptional Ensign Yoshida aboard the Succession, he would discount the entire breed. She suddenly stopped her prattle when a group of half a dozen fully-armored Marines came trooping into the ballroom and took up ‘honor guard’ positions around Furball.
Jons stifled a grin. Someone had screwed up. Had they been in dress uniforms, they might have explained it away, but in combat gear? Were they afraid Furball was going to run? He looked mad enough to spit and the look he shot T’Skay was pure rage.
Realizing that the woman had asked him something about the Marines he answered “No, no, my dear, a guard of honor is not unusual at all for military men.” That was true as far as it went, but in true diplomateese, it left much unsaid. Smiling to reassure her, he was further distracted by a bright flash outside the ballroom’s truly massive crystalline windows, a small white blossom of death slowly turning an angry red against the black of space.
He frowned. That was a ship dying out there somewhere. T’Skay’s leaving the ballroom earlier, the guards, the flash, it could only mean one thing. They were coming for Furball. T’Skay had run out of time. In fact, T’Skay was hustling out of the ballroom again, no doubt to get to his command post. The Colonel wished that he could accompany him rather than being stuck here out of the loop, unable to contribute. His duty was here, unfortunately.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Corin and his team were hustling. All 18 fighters had recovered at high speed and they were re-charging and re-arming them as fast as they could. The music reflected the frenetic pace with a fast tempo driving tune; even the kits were moving as fast as their much shorter legs could carry them.
They quickly cycled through their tasks, the tugs pushing the fighters back into their launch tubes, the leaders connecting the various lines and making them ready to launch. Crewmen panted while the kits ran about with energy drinks and small snacks or cleaned up the work areas. Moments after the last fighter was loaded into its launch tube, the loud ‘whoooooouf’ of them launching echoed through the bay again.
Catching their breath and catching up on the battle outside, they saw a Gorn corvette begin making a wobbly turn away from the other ships towards the battlestation, obviously grievously wounded. The fighters again deployed into wings, and again weapons streaked across space.
The tension in the bays increased with the music as the fighter groups held their fire, accelerating to their maximum speed and closing with the Gorn cruisers. Corin ordered, “Get battle damage kits now and make sure the medical team’s ready to go.”
His Crew Leaders jumped to carry out their orders as the tiny dots within the holo-display merged, and then split again. Counting the returning fighters, Corin was stunned to see them all on their way back while both the enemy battlecruiser and a frigate were staggering out of line. But…The entire team was shocked into silence. The huge Dosadi battleship Dorsai was clearly hit badly by the Gorns’ return fire.  Everyone aboard was friends with or knew someone serving on her and the fear everyone felt for their well-being was palpable.
But there was no time to worry about their friends as damaged fighters began streaming into both ends of the open deck, slamming into the retarder fields. Delac’s Tomcat had taken a couple of light hits from enemy phasers, gouging melted tracks through her wing and hull plates, but nothing serious. Two of M’Ralin’s crew began bonding patches and replacing damaged wiring and optical harnesses while Wilkes’ crew struggled to reload the bird’s weapons and re-charge her shield and phaser capacitors.
Corin spared a moment to glance into the next bay. Medics were hauling the pilot, Lt. Rrawl, out of her smoking cockpit. A replacement pilot was already standing by while the team struggled with replacing the Tomcat’s canopy and bonding plates over the gaping hole in the hull. There was no time to worry about their friend. Others now had the responsibility for her. The bird needed to be ready to go again, immediately.

* * *
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Colonel Jons could hardly be more disgusted. There was clearly a massive battle going on outside and he was stuck in a dress uniform at a dancing party. “Might as well be a dress.” he thought to himself. Young Rebecca was pestering him for his opinions on what might be happening, and displaying a bureaucrat’s usual knowledge about military matters: None whatsoever.
“My dear, starship combat is not quite what you’ve seen in the entertainment suites. There are no handsome, heroic pirates flying to the rescue in a shuttlecraft, nor are things quite as clean as you see there. A ship is a team where everyone must play their part and believe me the casualties are very real, very bloody, and very personal.”
She seemed to not believe him, “What I don’t understand is how there’s any sort of fight at all. Whoever it is must know that Starfleet doesn’t allow this sort of banditry. Do they think there’s something to steal? Do they think they can get away with disturbing the peace and causing all this damage? It’s not right.”
Struggling to maintain his diplomatic composure, the Colonel tried to explain, “Madame, in the first place, we are a long way from Federation territory. In the second, Starfleet allows, and in fact often encourages, a great deal of banditry in the name of maintaining the peace. Thirdly, if what I think is occurring is in fact occurring, they are not coming here to steal anything. No bandit possesses the firepower needed to seriously threaten this station, much less the Gorn fleet stationed here.”
“Why Colonel! You must not know very much about Starfleet. They’re the maintainers of peace throughout the galaxy! Why, they protect everyone – they’re a force for Justice.”
Staring at the woman, Jons made one more attempt. “And do you think the Romulans, or the Klingons, or the Orions would agree that Starfleet protects everyone? Or do you think that they would even agree with your definition of Justice?”
She was clearly struggling with the concept, “Well, Justice is a universal, Colonel, everyone knows that. And yes, I think they would agree with me. The only times we’ve fought with them it was because they attacked US. Starfleet is a defensive organization only.”
He smiled, “But of course. How silly of me.” Another very bright flash outside the window caught his attention. Looking back down, he saw the Dosadi ambassador offering a silent toast across the room to T’Skay, who got up and quickly left again. “Well, in any case, Starfleet is not here, but it appears that the Dosadi ARE.”
“The Dosadi? They’re so cute! I don’t think they would attack the Gorn – we’re all allies, it would be silly for them to attack an ally. If they were attacking us do you think the Dosadi ambassador would still be here? Look! He’s having a great time! And the guest of honor is a Dosadi besides.”
“My dear child, the Dosadi are not whatever you think they are. They are vicious, blood-thirsty and utterly without fear. Their entire lives are dedicated to fighting anyone and anything that gets in their way. The guest of honor there, is an outcast who has, to their twisted way of thinking, betrayed their society and they are very likely coming here to get him back,whatever the cost.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see who’s right, won’t we, Colonel?” she smiled brightly, utterly certain that she was correct and Jons, as a Soldier, was just too ignorant and hide-bound to really understand the world as it was.
Jons rubbed his temple and reminded himself again that his duty was to be diplomatic, to be patient, and to be calm. “Indeed, we shall! If you are right, I shall buy you a bottle of your favorite wine as a prize.” and he smiled at her.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
The fighters had returned again, and again his team moved as quickly as they could, hauling 400 lb missiles, heavy cables, hull patches, parts, and tools up and down the birds. The exhaustion was starting to tell on his team. But the work needed to be done fast, and perfectly every time. Each time they returned, there was more battle damage to be repaired, more friends being hauled out of cockpits with burns, impact or shock injuries, and more parts to be replaced – both living and mechanical.
They had damaged the enemy carrier though, with Delac leading Green Wing in an assault that was followed by the destroyers and the heavy cruiser Thelet. Her fighters were airborne now though – it was vital that the Delos’ own birds be back up immediately or the Gorn fighters would do to them what they had just done to the Gorn. It seemed like an eternity before the fighters were finally back in their launchers and the familiar sound of their launching echoed throughout the bays.
Sitting on his tool box, panting and trying to down an energy drink, Corin watched the swirling combat outside his ship. The holo-display showed six Gorn Thunderbolts being annihilated by Delac’s Tomcats before they could even get a shot off. Three of the Hornets from the heavy cruiser Dinen charged into six Stings from the Troy, and while the dogfight raged, six Gorn Tomcats launched their own missiles at the Delos moments before being obliterated by a plasma-torpedo shotgun fired by the Dinen.
Watching only a single Sting struggle away from the fight, Corin wondered about the Gorn. Three entire wings, destroyed. 24 pilots and gunners, gone just like that. The Gorn maintenance crews waiting for their birds to return, for their friends to jump out of cockpits with their tales to tell of valor and courage. But of course, they would never hear those stories. He knew one of the Team Leaders in Black Wing and wondered if one of the three lost Dosadi Hornets was his. They would have to tell the tales for those who no longer had a voice. The Gorn pilots were brave and fought hard. They deserved no less.
And again he found his thoughts returning to Nollos, her smile, the ferocity with which she did her job and drove her team, and how much he missed her.  He hoped that Eletha was staying safe. But the empty fighters were returning again – there was no time to waste on personal thoughts.
“On your feet!” he roared, “Break time’s over you lazy kits! Get the reloads up from ready storage NOW! You! Kit! Get that crap off the deck! Wilkes! You had better get those fucking tools where they belong or you’re going to be eating them when Delac lands – Secure that shit.”

* * *
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Colonel Jons had just regained his seat after safely maneuvering his much taller partner around the dance floor to a dance that had been popular on Earth before they even discovered warp drive. He was glad that he didn’t have to try to dance with a Gorn. As he reached for his wine, he noticed T’Skay drench several people sitting across from him. He wondered what it was the aide whispering in his ear had said. Whatever it was, it obviously wasn’t good as T’Skay almost ran out of the ballroom.
He tried to think how many ships the Dosadi could have brought with them – it couldn’t have been very many. The Romulans would never let a large fleet through their territory, they hated the Dosadi more than anyone after the Razing of Romulus.. Would they? What would it take for them to do so…?
The flashes outside the big windows were getting closer. That clearly meant that things were not going well for the Gorn. The green lines of phaser blasts were visible now and the streaks of missiles and fighters racing between invisible starships glittered against the deep black of space. What size fleet had the cats brought with them? The Gorn fleet was massive, with fighter support from both a carrier and the station. He began to wish he had brought his own battle armor and weapon with him. The closest thing to a weapon he had available was a steak knife. Rebecca interrupted his thoughts again.
“I said, thank you for the dance, Colonel.”
“Huh, what? Oh, of course, I’m sorry, I was distracted. The pleasure was entirely mine, madame. The Gorn set an excellent table, do they not?”
“Yes, they do – what is this wine?”
“Ah! It is actually a drink from my home-world. A fermentation of a vine-fruit that is close to your grapes but with a much crisper flavor, I think you’ll agree.”
“Oh definitely.” She glanced up as a number of rapid-fire flashes lit up the windows. Colonel Jons recognized them as exploding fighters and grimaced at the deaths that represented.
“Well, battle or not, it’s quite pretty from here.” she said. “Like fireworks!”
The Colonel made no reply, saying a silent prayer for the souls of the dead – of whichever side.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Wilkes, dripping sweat and splattered with lubricant and coolant got Corin’s attention, “Corin, we’re down to our last reloads in ready storage, we’ve used up about half our total missile reloads and if they don’t start giving us more power for re-charges, it’s going to take a lot longer to get the birds ready to go again. We’re running low on hull patches and coolant. They’re pushing the birds harder then they were ever designed to go and they’re getting shot to shit.”
Corin studied the holo-display. The fleet was closing with the battlestation, and several more Gorn ships had been forced to disengage. The Delos staggered as several weapons struck home. Most of the ships had begun taking damage but so far Nolin was maneuvering his ships like a master, forcing the Gorn to continually engage different ships without the opportunity to concentrate their fire.
“Corin, they’re on their way back again.”
Sighing heavily, his tail drooping Corin replied, “Get the last reloads up from ready storage I’ll tell the bridge we need more made available. Figure out something on the power, we don’t have it to spare. Use the coolant and the patches until they’re gone, and then piss in the damn tanks and cut plates off the hull if you have to.” He turned to a comm-panel and began punching buttons.
As Corin finished his report to the bridge, the first fighters began to slam down the deck, the scream of displaced air matching the groaning of the retarding fields and the exhausted teams jumped to their tasks again.
The music was still playing throughout the bay, but the weary crews were too tired to sing. Pilots staggered out of their cockpits to lay flat on the deck while frightened, tired kits tried to give drinks and snacks to the sagging adults. Almost half of the pilots had become casualties to one degree or another and the Delos was out of replacements. Laying on his back next to his shattered helmet, his face bloody and trying to recover some sense of balance, Delac was still issuing orders through his com-set. “Tell the medical officer that he needs to start triaging the pilots. We’re all beat up. We need to keep the birds manned and flying, that’s all there is to it.”
Delac watched the holo-display while he tried to catch his breath. Another Gorn ship exploded. As thick, green lines raced across the display from the battlestation to their sister-ship the Eleth, he exclaimed “By all the gods!” The phaser-IV’s slammed into the carrier along with a cloud of weapons from the Gorn fleet. In return, the Eleth’s fighter groups were shooting the hell out of anything that moved.

* * *
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
“What on EARTH?!” Rebecca exclaimed as the lights in the ballroom dimmed and the entire room flashed bright green for a moment.
Furball spun around in his seat and looked out the big crystal windows, finally realizing what had been happening behind him.
Colonel Jons picked up his wine glass and admired the crystalline sapphire color of the drink. “That, my dear, is a Federation designed fusion-powered heavy Phaser Cannon Mark IV, with an impact energy of about 20 megatons. The fact that the station is firing them means that the Dosadi have managed, somehow, to burn through a rather large minefield, shoot through T’Skay’s massive battle fleet and get close enough to the station to be in range of those weapons. I believe your phrase for it is ‘Guess who’s coming to dinner?’” and he smiled.
The young woman looked up, her mouth hanging open. “It just can’t be. There must be some other reason. Come, dance with me! It’s still a party, right?” The Colonel was stunned. Did this woman inhabit some other universe? He allowed himself to be urged onto the dance floor. They were still dancing when the lights dimmed to a battle-red and a full squad of twelve armed and armored Marines began to take up defensive stations in the ballroom. There was light applause from the bewildered diplomatic guests as six Thunderbolt fighters launched past the windows, angling up into space.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Corin was still watching the holo-display as he argued with the Manpower officer on the bridge. The Delos was still taking hits although it sounded like her shields were holding most of the time and the damage was minimal. The ISS Dinen in an act of valor beyond anything he had ever seen had undertaken a nearly single-handed attack on the battlestation, absorbing a constant pounding by the phaser cannon and managing to down the station’s number-six shield in the process. She was now racing up and away from the station, all six of her shields utterly collapsed and damage scattered across the entire vessel. Corin simply could not understand how the ship had not been destroyed.
But while they were shooting the heavy cruiser, they were NOT shooting anyone else. The Gorn fleet was essentially combat-ineffective with only one vessel still actively maneuvering against them. They had closed to within transporter range and the fighters were sitting in their launch tubes waiting for the next strike assuming their pilots didn’t collapse from exhaustion while sitting in their cockpits.
“Wilkes! Take your crew down to the boarding pad. It’s time.”
Clearly exhausted, Wilkes got to his feet, gathered up his four crewmen and made their way down to the boarding pad. He approached the Team Leader, a big male named T’Awn. “Team Leader, if you wanted to get your team ready, we’re within range now. The order could come at any time.”
“Understood Crew Leader. We’ve got a few minutes – one of my crews is on a damage control call right now, but I’ll signal them to return.” He began to speak into his com-set as Wilkes caught Sooth’s eye. They made their way a short bit apart from the rest of the Marines.
“Are you ready? Are you OK?” he asked her.
Her blue eyes were wide and she was trembling slightly. “I think so. I can’t decide if I’m more excited or terrified.” she chuckled. “I think terrified.”
He studied her for a moment. She looked supremely dangerous in her camouflaged armor, with a heavy plasma rifle in her hands, her armor festooned with ammunition, knives, and explosives and a combat helmet tucked under her arm. But what he saw was a beautiful young being, someone who had become more dear to him than anyone or anything in the universe. The fact that she looked like a large cat had nothing to do with what his heart felt. He wrapped her in his arms in a powerful hug – not a gesture the Dosadi used but one Sooth was well familiar with by now and returned with gusto. A few of the other Marines chuckled at this odd display and exchanged knowing looks.
Wilkes turned away from her and began preparing the transport pad, opening sensor arrays and looking for weak points in the Gorn jamming fields designed to scatter transporter beams.

* * *
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Rebecca was becoming irritated. The dim lighting was acceptable, but when the heavy fiber-coil window shields slid into place, cutting off the view of the stars and the Marines stationed in the ballroom began to flip tables over, it was simply too much. The gas-tight doors had come down, effectively trapping them all in here and was this really necessary?
Still dancing with Colonel Jons she whined, “I say, I don’t see why they have to dirty up OUR party! Why, these Dosadi won’t bother us! We’re civilians! See? Even the Dosadi ambassador is still enjoying his dinner!”
Disgusted, Jons glanced at the ambassador. He was digging into his steak with a huge, fang-baring smile on his face, chuckling every now and again. The Colonel would have sworn that the man was purring. Returning his attention to the empty headed Federation bureaucrat he said, “Madame, the Dosadi consider civilians to be a particular delicacy. If this station cannot fight them off, you may find yourself being served at THEIR next party.”
“Eek!” she said, dumfounded. Sheltered her entire life by the power of the Federation Starfleet, she had almost certainly never been in any physical danger in her life. The concepts she had been exposed to tonight had shaken her to her very core.
Moments later the station began to shake and ring as though the entire structure were being slammed by a giant hammer. Her eyes wide, she tried to grasp what was happening. Colonel Jons said “I’m sure that Starfleet won’t allow anything to happen. Shall we continue our dance? We should set the example, after all!” and he urged her back into motion.
They continued to dance as the sound of distant explosions began to be heard over the music. The Colonel felt that things were getting a bit surreal. He could hear the sounds of infantry combat through the hull plates and knew that Marines were fighting it out. He hoped that the Gorn defenses were as strong as they looked. But, he noted, there were ragged gaps in the Phaser Cannon fire coming from the station and he was not hearing much, if any, anti-fighter fire from Gatling phasers. That did not bode well.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Wilkes held up two fingers to the Team Leader “TWO minutes! TWO!”
The big cat signaled his team and they crouched into assault formations, each crew of four and their leader ready to clear their side of whatever space they materialized in. An assault transport was the riskiest possible military operation. Defenders would have a fraction of a second to see where they were going to appear, and another fraction of a second before the Dosadi could react. Training – both quality and quantity –  meant the difference between life and death.
Sooth tried to stop her hands from trembling as she knelt, looking through her close-quarter optics and covering what would be her sector as soon as they materialized.
“SIXTY SECONDS!”
Her mouth was dry and she desperately wanted to pee. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She could hear her teammates breathing in her ear-piece.
“FIVE SECONDS!”
She reminded herself of her training, deep breaths to calm herself and steady her heartbeat. Scan your sector. Engage any targets. Her crew would move to the Crew Leader’s right and clear that half of the room, then sweep around clockwise and meet up with the other crew. Easy.
“ENERGIZING!!!!” She felt the world turn inside out. Wilkes shamelessly stole power from any system he could find, working the slides on the console to find a weak-point in the timing of the Gorn jamming fields. There was a large open-space on the sensors with what looked like a low population density. He aimed for the center of that spot and slammed the beam down as quickly as the system could manage it, praying to a God he had long forgotten that this would give Sooth that extra fraction of a second and keep her team intact…and then everything was obscured by a new wave of jamming. Breathing hard and with a sick knot of fear in his gut, he stepped back from the controls and headed back towards the fighter bay.
Colonel Jons opened his mouth to suggest that the two of them return to their seats when he heard the loud hum of a transporter beam. The music would mask the sound from anyone not within a few feet, but to him it was like an alarm horn. Shoving the empty-headed young woman down and away, he dropped into a fighting crouch as a blue-grey and tan mottled Dosadi Marine appeared directly in front of him, the muzzle of a plasma rifle inches from his face.
With the lighting speed of the highly-experienced combat-veteran that he was, he grabbed the barrel of the Marine’s weapon and dragged them towards him. In a gun fight when you had no gun, the safest place was right on top of your enemy.
Sooth blinked to clear her vision from the fastest transport she had ever been through and felt someone grab her rifle. As she pulled back, dragging the tiny violet-skinned humanoid towards her, she heard her team opening fire. The two of them tumbled, with the little man kicking into her belly and launching her up and away. Maintaining her hold on her weapon, she landed on her back and swung the barrel – and the man, still clinging tightly to her weapon but seemingly crawling up it – back down, firing several rounds towards what could only be Gorn Marines as she did so. She had no idea if she hit anything or not and the sounds of plasma rifles and rail guns were drowned out by her own cursing and by that of the strange little man in the black and silver uniform. As they struggled they rolled across a young human female who was screaming and crying in terror. Flat on her back, Sooth was finally able to slam the butt of her rifle up and under the man’s chin and then followed with a smashing blow to his face, knocking him off of her. As she rolled onto her stomach and began engaging the Gorn on her side of the room she felt a searing pain go up her back as her armor slammed up into the back of her helmet.
It was an agony like nothing she had ever felt before. There was more noise, and screaming and it was getting hard to see. Probably the smoke, she decided. She continued to fire at the knot of Gorns across from her, unsure how many were still returning her fire. There was an explosion near her, people swearing in Dosadi, and she realized her helmet was gone and with it her com-set.
Struggling to reload her plasma rifle, she noticed the floor was covered in blood. That was going to be a serious mess for some kit to clean up. She finally got the magazine into the weapon, and decided that she should start to sweep clockwise. Her team was supposed to go clockwise. Rising to her knee, she shot several Gorn troopers who had been firing in a direction that made no sense to her. She felt good about her marksmanship; she saw them fall. The plasma rifle was a devastating weapon and she was quite good with it.
She tried to turn more to her right. It was getting very quiet in the room, perhaps they had got them all. Even the lights had been shot out, she thought. She felt another impact in her left shoulder but it didn’t really matter. She had armor. She could barely see another pair of Gorn troopers in the dim light and engaged them both, wrestling with the heavy rifle since her left arm didn’t seem to want to work any more. Probably because Wilkes was laying on it. Whenever he did that it always fell asleep like this. And sleeping with him was always so nice. He was warm, and she was so very cold for some reason.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Wilkes was trying to hurry back to the fighter bay. He had heard them launch again and knew he and his crew would be needed there within minutes. He saw Corin and M’Ralin manhandling a Countach missile out of the ready locker and then a Gorn phaser sliced through the hull and into the bay, splitting the 20′ missile in half and throwing both men into the bulkhead like rag dolls.  Firefighting gas was discharging into the bay as burning coolant, lubricants and propellant sprayed in all directions.
It was the nightmare all over again, except now, Corin wasn’t there – Corin was hurt, his head a bloody mess. It was all Wilkes. He was the only Leader left. Everyone in the bay was down and the fire was spreading fast. And finally, Wilkes understood. He understood the Dosadi philosophy, he understood his own life, and everything made sense in one blinding shock of clarity. Our lives are a story, a story that always ends for everyone. What mattered was when you came to the end of your tale, how you wrapped it up.
Yelling over his shoulder as he ran, “FOLLOW ME!!” he led his crew into the burning bay against the smoke, the flames and the venting atmosphere. “Get them out of here! MOVE!” The ready-locker was open, its ballistic door blown off by the phaser blast, a half-dozen missiles exposed to the flames. If those went off inside the bay, there wouldn’t be anything left of anyone. He grabbed a fire-fighting kit and began blasting the flames away from the locker, his back to the warheads.
But he was running the Red Queen’s Race – having to run twice as fast just to stay in one place. If he could just hold the fire off long enough for his crew to get the wounded out of the bay, they could blow a hull-plate and vent the fire into space or something. But there was no time – the door was closing to isolate the bay and it was getting so hot. His uniform was beginning to scorch and blister and he could feel his face burning. God it was hot. The fire-fighting kit wouldn’t last forever and it felt like the flames were getting closer. If only he could see if they had gotten everyone out, he could leave and they could let the door close. But it was too hot, he couldn’t even keep his eyes open and god it was hurting so bad. He hoped Sooth was OK. He coughed as he inhaled a lung-full of toxic smoke and that was the last thing Wilkes knew.
CHAPTER 16
“What we leave behind is as important as how we’ve lived. After all, Number One, we’re only mortal.” – CPT Jean Luc Picard (Human) aboard USS Enterprise
“Speak for yourself, sir. I plan to live forever.” – Commander William Riker (Human) aboard USS Enterprise
GORN BATTLESTATION AIRDRIE, IN ORBIT OVER AIRDRIE
JULY 2268
Colonel Jons came back to consciousness with a start. The first face he saw was that of Consular Officer 4th Class Rebecca Roberts. “Colonel? Oh, please be OK. Please!!”
He tried to sit up but gave up on that idea almost instantly. When he tried to speak, he found that was nearly impossible, producing a mumbled groan. From long experience he realized he had taken some fairly massive facial trauma. That meant weeks in regeneration, but it was certainly better than being dead. He struggled to make her understand that he needed to know what had happened, what the situation was and she finally got some glimmer of what he was after.
“Oh! It’s terrible! Everyone’s dead and everything’s blown up and it’s horrible and we’re all going to die!!”
Since Jons could hear people moving around and wasn’t hearing weapons fire, he was reasonably certain she was incorrect. He managed to gargle out “Dottthadi?”
“They left. It was so awful! You almost crushed me when you grabbed that one! She shot a bunch of Gorn. She was terrible! I thought the Gorn were going to win and then she just started killing all of them!”
His eyes bugging open despite the pain, he struggled to ask “Wwooman?!”
“Yes, it was a girl. Her helmet got blown off when something exploded near us. It’s a good thing the Dosadi were all around where it blew up, it HURT!”
Grenade, he decided. And it would seem he was continually underestimating the females of other species. That was a habit he was going to have to break. “wwoooman.” he slurred again, slowly shaking his head back and forth.
“Oh it’s OK, Colonel. I think she died. They shot her a lot because she was killing them.”
Slowly turning his head to one side, he could see large chunks of Dosadi battle armor scattered around the floor, big pools of congealing blood and a shattered blue-grey and tan combat helmet as well as several empty plasma rifle magazines. Bits of medical kits, and bits of people were mixed in with the scorch marks and other debris. He could also see the bodies of over half a dozen Gorn Marines laying grotesquely where they had fallen. His eyes welled up at the losses. “Fucking Dosadi” he thought to himself. Trying to speak clearly he gurgled out “Wwheere?”
“I said already. They left. After they killed everyone they talked to the ambassador and a few minutes later they all left. Even the ambassador!”
Struggling with his damaged mouth he gasped out “bodieth?”
“All OVER!” Seeing the expression on his face a small, dim light went on in her brain and she said, “Oh. The Dosadi, They took them with them. I think there were seven of them killed. I know three were. You could tell. Some of them got on me.” She shuddered and then vomited at the memory and began weeping uncontrollably.
Finally a medic made his way over to them, “Sorry to take so long , Colonel. There were heavy casualties.” He relaxed. At least he would live to see his home and family again.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
AUGUST 2268
Eletha sat nursing two of her kits, listening to the soft whirs and beeps of the medical equipment attached to the diagnostic beds. The other two were playing quietly around the equipment, but being good.  The deeper thrum of the pulse monitor began going faster and she leaned over the form in the bed, still covered in healing-gel, the burns visible even through the disgusting blue-green of the gel.
Wilkes’ eyes opened and darted left and right, struggling to make sense of what they were seeing, struggling against the restraints. Eletha said quickly, in Standard, “Shh! You’re going to be OK. Don’t fight. You’re in the hospital and immersed in gel. Your lungs and skin were badly burned. This will help you heal but you must relax and let it work. It’s going to feel very strange, but don’t try to breathe – your lungs are full of gel. But you don’t need to breathe. It’s OK. You’re going to be fine.”
His mouth opened and closed again, his eyes puzzled.
Eletha pulled a small circular communicator out of her belt and spoke into it. Wilkes was clearly struggling to say something but there was simply no way that was going to happen.
A few minutes later, Corin came into the room sporting a rakish eye-patch and with a sizable chunk missing out of his right ear.  He leaned into Wilkes’ field of view and smiled. “Well, it looks like there’s something left of your tale after all! I’m glad I’ll be around to hear it, thanks to you as I understand it.”
Wilkes struggled again and Corin said “Be still, Crew Leader. I know – you want to know what happened. Relax and listen to the tale and each part will be in it’s proper place.” Corin hitched his butt up on the edge of the bed so that Wilkes could see him through the gel. Having been in the gel himself once before he knew how distorting it was to both sight and sound. He hoped they’d be able to regenerate his eye and ear without another trip into that horrible muck.
“I’ll begin where my memory ends. The phaser hit came from the battlecruiser Zion and cut straight through the Delos’ east hangar pod. It was just our bad luck that it hit when we had the ready-locker door open. In any case, the explosion knocked myself and M’Ralin and his entire crew out of the fight. M’Ralin didn’t make it, I’m afraid, but the rest of his crew did, thanks to you. Your crew was able to get everyone out before the door closed, even those that were buried under debris.
“And there you were, standing in a plasma fire like one of the gods themselves, forcing the flames away from the ready-locker while the air-tight door came slamming down like Loreth’s blade. Now let me just say that you are the luckiest being that I have ever encountered. Apparently one of the hull plates let loose right after the door closed and blew you – and the fire – and a bay full of atmosphere out into space. Directly in front of Lt Voreth’s crippled Thunderbolt on recovery. He said he almost ran you down, but instead, his gunner had the forethought to snag you with their grappler beam on the way past and into the landing deck. You were exposed to vacuum for about 15 seconds is all. Which, of course, is plenty long enough to give you more scars than anyone should be allowed!
“The reports I got back from the Marine party you beamed down were also astonishing.” Wilkes eyes were narrowed, focusing on Corin with everything Wilkes had.  “According to them – and the transporter logs – that was the fastest transport on record. Speaking of which, Admiral Nolin wants to speak with you personally about an unauthorized redirection of power from the fighter bays to the boarding-pad. However, they were also the only team that materialized in an intact formation until we took out the Gorn jamming fields so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.
“There’s some hard news though, Wilkes. The Marine team materialized almost in front of Furball – how you managed to find him none of us will ever know, but they were surrounded by no less than eighteen Gorn Marines. A bunch of the Gorn grabbed the traitor and ran, but engaged our team on the way out while the remaining dozen shot it out with the team. They were getting slaughtered when Sooth, who had been grappling with some Sword Worlds diplomat clubbed him like a baby seal and just started picking the Gorn off like she was on a shooting range. The Gorn seem to have taken that personally.
“They shot the hell out of her, Wilkes. When the team recovered wounded, her armor had been almost completely shot off. But while they were shooting her, she just continued killing them one after another. Battle records show that she was directly or indirectly responsible for killing eight of the twelve and wounded two of the six guarding Furball. They fought with great honor, Wilkes. Not a single civilian was hit by our fire, but they paid the price. Five dead including the Team Leader and six injured, three massively.”
Seeing Wilkes struggling in the gel, Corin finally realized what he had failed to say “No! No! Ahh! I’m a fool, Wilkes, she’s alive. She was one of the critically injured! I said when they recovered wounded they got her.”
Wilkes’ eyes were still wild and Eletha said quietly, “Tell him.”
“She’s not conscious, Wilkes. The medics don’t know if she ever will be. She lost a massive amount of blood and they’re having to regenerate a good size chunk of her shoulder and a lot of her back. Her skull was fractured in several places, one ear was shot off…” Wilkes eyes were closed. It was impossible to really cry immersed in healing gel, but it was obvious to the two aliens that that was what was happening with his mouth open and his chest struggling against the gel. The Dosadi believe knowledge is power and have no culture of breaking bad news gently. There was a faint hissing sound as the bed administered an anesthetic and Wilkes lapsed into a drugged sleep.

* * *
DUCHY OF THE SWORD WORLDS, HYDRAN KINGDOM
OCTOBER 2268
Finally healed and back on his own holdings, Colonel Jons was indulging himself with a glass of wine by a roaring fire while a winter monsoon doused the fields. Thanks be to GOD he was done with regeneration and able to again enjoy his wife’s cooking and little creature comforts like this.
Sorral was safely married off to her young Lieutenant and his wife had already taken advantage of the new influence that pairing had brought them. Truly the woman was a marvel. He allowed himself to gaze into the fire and thought about that. He knew women – the good ones at least – were capable managers of house and purse. But he was forced, now, to accept that there was much more to the gender than domestic pursuits. That young human aboard the Succession for instance. He had never in all his 75 years encountered someone able to helm a starship like that.
Rubbing his hand along his newly regenerated jaw, he remembered the Dosadi Marine who had crushed his face. He had reviewed the ballroom sensor logs that T’Skay had sent him and she had been very young. Her battle armor had no stripes of rank on it whatsoever – she was a raw Troop but had reacted flawlessly, beating him fairly and then carrying out her duties with a single-minded focus like none he had seen in many bloody battles. He recalled watching the tapes as she calmly fired her weapon despite repeated hits from Gorn fire and then reloading and continuing to fire even after a grenade hit and one shoulder had been blown nearly off. He had actually wept when she finally toppled forward into a pool of her own blood, but then, the Colonel was a very emotional man.
It was a pity she had died, but the Federation woman was right. There was no way anyone could survive that many wounds. He would have liked to have met her under different circumstances. Woman or no, she had been a Warrior and definitely worthy of the title Marine.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
FEBRUARY 2269
Corin walked along with Wilkes as they headed towards the Delos’ launch bays. “So, you’re returning to the Hood?” he asked. His new eye itched and the new skin on his torn ear was still hairless and left it feeling cold.
“Well, it’s time, Corin.” he laughed, “My orders were to the Delos for a year, not forever. That’s not how the Exchange Program works. They had to extend it to allow me to recuperate here.”
“Yes, but you’re not seen as a Federation officer any more, Wilkes. You’ve proven yourself. You’re a Dosadi – just an uncommonly ugly one.” He smiled at the human, “Look at yourself! A Warrior Pendant, an Honor Tattoo around your eye and an earring. I’ve seen Federation entertainments – they’ll think you’re a pirate.”
Wilkes laughed, “I’ve already cleared being able to continue to wear both as a ‘Foreign Decoration for Valor’”  But I’ll tell you this, it’s not forever, Corin. We just wanted her to get a taste of MY culture before we settle someplace. Captain Karmes was fine with taking Sooth on as a Security Officer, despite her injuries – and you’ll get another human in exchange!”
Corin groaned as they entered the shuttle bay. “Hopefully THIS one can learn to speak Dosadi. Your accent is still atrocious.”
Wilkes and Sooth both laughed as Wilkes took the handholds on Sooth’s wheelchair and began to push her into the shuttlecraft. She was still a patchwork of fur, scars, and bald new skin. She turned her head towards Corin and said, “Once I get out of this damn thing and we get back here, I hope to hear that you and Eletha are mated.”
“It’s too soon for that, yet, Sooth.” Corin said and as the shuttle door slid closed he said more softly, “But in a year’s time? Who knows? That’s a long journey yet.” and he turned to go back to the East Living Pod.

CYCLE 2 – TRIAD
CHAPTER 1
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” – Plato (Human), Earth.
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER, USS HOOD, UNDER WAY
JUNE 2269
He was holding his arms out to Sooth as she moved towards him across the bay and she suddenly dissolved into blue-white plasma, surrounding him with agony. He tried to scream, tried to beat the flames back with the fire-fighting kit but nothing was happening. He couldn’t move – he couldn’t breathe. The flames solidified into paralyzing blue-green slime, filling his lungs, drowning him. He tried to shout that she needed help, that she was hurt that…
Ensign Thomas Wilkes woke with a start, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath and on the verge of tears, feeling Sooth’s arms pull him close, “Shh.” she spoke softly in Dosadi, “It was just a nightmare. I know. It’s OK. Let it go.” Still shaking, he buried his face in the soft fur of her chest, letting her heartbeat and the soft whirring sound of the USS Hood’s ventilators wash away the sound of the flames from his nightmare. They had gotten considerably less frequent in the year since the battle at Airdrie, but they would never go away entirely.
If it wasn’t him waking with a scream or in tears, it was Sooth crashing awake and trying desperately to get clear of him. More than once he had found himself thrown across the room while she screamed curses in Dosadi at him. His trips to Sick Bay to get the deep scratches resulting from her kicks patched up had become something of a running joke to the late night Med-Techs. Usually good-natured, but there was always the occasional twit making comments like ‘More rough-sex with the cat lady?’ No matter how far human society and culture evolved, there would always be idiots.
Not that their relationship hadn’t caused a lot of running jokes and crude commentary anyway. Starfleet was remarkably tolerant of different cultures, even of people enjoying relationships with people in those other cultures. But usually it was something a bit more…well, HUMAN. Vulcans looked like slightly mysterious people. Orions – particularly the women – were just humans with a bit more color and exciting appetites. Betazoids were indistinguishable from humans…but a cat?!  Wilkes had been disciplined once for beating to a pulp a Lieutenant from the astrogation section after the man made a comment about whether or not there was a litter box in their quarters.
It didn’t help that Wilkes continued to wear the Warrior Pendant, nor the tattoo around his eye. He had taken the earring out while on duty, but he flatly refused to take the Pendant off, and Captain Karmes had allowed it besides. It really didn’t matter much to Wilkes what the few fools thought, or said. The vast majority of the crew aboard the Hood were good people and most saw him as an interesting eccentric and Sooth as a fascinatingly exotic teammate. Although he refused to discuss specifics of what had happened during his tour aboard the ISS Delos, stories still spread. Some true, some false.
The Federation was at peace and military skirmishes like those that the Hood had participated in at Toulagai were very rare and of little importance to those not directly involved. Usually the risk to Starfleet crews was from the unknown, the undiscovered, or the undetected. Most of their time and most of their missions were spent on voyages of exploration and science, not of battle and conquest. It was a sharp contrast to the smaller, fringe empires like the Dosadi who spent a lot of time squabbling over resources or territory.  More than one person had commented that the Federation encouraged these little fights as test-beds for their weapons, tactics, and technology.
To the Hood’s Engineering section, Wilkes’ heavy combat experience with Green Wing was a welcome source of real-world expertise and the Chief Engineer had rewritten a number of the Standard Operating Guidelines (SOGs) and procedures based upon his recommendations. In Security, Lieutenant Wu had placed Sooth in charge of training and they now ran frequent boarding and damage-control drills based upon her experiences. But like Wilkes, outside of her duties, there was no real discussion of what she had seen, or experienced, especially not those horrible few minutes at Airdrie, nor the many agonizing months of healing and therapy afterward.
That morning, the Security Team had just finished a repel-boarders drill and Sooth and her new partner Petty Officer Kalea Mahi’ai were stowing their gear in the womens’ locker room. As the drill leaders, they were the last in to get cleaned up. Putting the heavy armor into the rack, Kalea said, “I’ve been in Starfleet three years and I don’t think I’ve worn this crap as much in the whole three years as I have since you came aboard, Sooth.”
Sooth smiled, “I was surprised how little Starfleet wears armor. We wear it all the time in the Imperial Fleet – it stops a hand phaser cold and even a phaser rifle takes a solid hit to get through it. I don’t understand why Starfleet Security still uses hand phasers at all.” She ran her hands across her head and ears, “Ugh. Helmet fur.”
Kalea explained, “Starfleet doesn’t do a lot of combat – at least not without plenty of warning. You can’t stun someone with a plasma rifle or a rail gun.” She winked, “We’d rather do our enemies in by peaceful means…”
Laughing, Sooth stripped off her uniform and headed into the shower, “Must! Get! Clean!” Always a fast learner, by now her Standard was quite good, although still with a noticeable accent.
A few moments later, Kalea followed her in, teasingly saying, “And here I thought cats didn’t like water.”
Sooth bared her fangs at her, but her ears were up and she said, “One of these days I have GOT to see one of these cats everyone says we look like in person.”
“When I was a little girl in Waimea – back on Earth –  we had a kitty, she was so soft and fuzzy.” Pausing a moment the little Hawaiian said, “Sooth, can I ask a really personal question?”
“Yes.” Sooth began applying shampoo – a sizable task on a five-foot being covered in fur.
“Well, how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m 18 Earth-Standard years. Dosadi are considered adults at 16, Earth-Standard. And we usually live to the late 80’s if we die of old age, which isn’t often.” and she chuckled.
There was a pause, filled only with the sound of running water and Kalea continued, “But don’t you want to have kitte…I mean a baby some day?”
Sooth laughed, “We call them kittens, well, that’s the closest Standard word to it. And yes, I do. Now, anyways. I didn’t used to.”
“CAN you? With Wilkes, I mean…I’m sorry, that’s really personal. I shouldn’t have asked you that. My dad always said I was as curious as a ca..um.”
Sooth smiled, “I don’t mind. We don’t know yet. There’s something about chromosomes and haploid numbers and after that it got technical.” she shook her head, spraying water in a dozen directions, “There’s at least one doctor who thinks it’s possible, on Earth.”
“Um….would it look like you, or like Wilkes?”
“I have no idea. Just so long as they have fur…” she flicked her arm towards Kalea, the water sheeting off her fur in a blast.

CHAPTER 2
“Corporation: An ingenious device for obtaining profit without individual responsibility.”
– Ambrose Bierce, Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL ROMULAN WARBIRD VENGENCE, UNDER WAY
JUNE 2269
Relaxing in the guest quarters aboard the Romulan warbird Vengeance, Colonel Sir Jons Seins, Knight Commander of the Hydran (Sword Worlds) Marines picked up his PADD and let the device do a fast scan for listening devices or monitoring fields. Finding none, he frowned. There was simply no way that the Romulans would leave a foreign officer unmonitored. They had simply changed the fields to something that he couldn’t detect.
Removing a small hourglass shaped decoration from his uniform, he set it on the desk and activated it. The Klingon device, a flat hourglass shaped bit of metal, began emitting weird multicolored lights and a loud hissing sound. Smiling to himself, Jons thought “Whatever they’re using, that will block both audio and visual.” and he activated his PADD and began reviewing his notes from this mission. Ostensibly he was returning from what was left of Romulus after delivering tons of Hydran medical supplies and Federation quadrotriticale grain to help with the humanitarian crisis that had engulfed the planet after the Dosadi raid that had devastated an entire continent almost 3 years ago. However, in addition to his overt mission, Jons had conducted a bit of business – business that would be extremely profitable for his own family and for his Duke and which, if played properly, could lead to just the right amount of instability between the various Star Empires of the known galaxy.
Scanning the information on his PADD, he examined a sort of ‘wish-list’ from the Romulans. Information on the Federation’s latest cloaking-device detection technology as well as some of the more subtle refinements to phasers and shields topped the list. The Romulans were on the ropes and needed all the help they could get, Jons thought to himself. And they were willing to pay handsomely. Add to that the construction contracts for firms he had an interest in and things were working out rather nicely. His wife was an absolute marvel at managing the massive web of directorates, stock interests, and the various commodities that made up interstellar trade. For instance, the Federation had no trade with – and in fact had an active ban on trade with – the Romulan Star Empire. So, many Hydran companies acted as a sort of neutral third party, brokering deals both legal and illegal – from the Federation’s point of view anyway. Hydran financial rules were extremely strict about privacy and virtually guaranteed that private business stayed private. One’s duty demanded that confidences be kept. They did business with everyone – Klingon, Federation, Avatan, Romulan, Gorn, Orion, it didn’t matter. Business was always non-aligned.
There was a soft chime from the door and Jons quickly killed his PADD, deactivated the sensor jammer and replaced it on his uniform. “Come.” he said.
“My Commander wishes you to know that we will be de-cloaking soon to rendezvous with your cruiser. You will want to make ready to disembark.”
“Very well, Centurion. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 3
“We cannot destroy kindred: our chains stretch a little sometimes, but they never break..”
– Marquise de Sevigne’, Earth (Human)
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, UNDER WAY
AUGUST 2269
The USS Hood was making way towards Earth, a rare event for Starfleet cruisers. Usually they were on the frontiers patrolling or exploring or showing a Starfleet presence. However, there had been rumors of espionage by the Romulans and Captain Karmes and his first officer, Commander Kagiso Botha had information too sensitive to transmit over sub-space, encoded or not. They were to be met by the USS Enterprise as apparently Captain Kirk and Commander Spock had been actively involved in counter-espionage against the Romulans as well. Meanwhile, the USS Yorktown was taking over their patrol duties in this sector.
The visit would allow them to exchange several officers as well, trading several experienced section leaders for raw new officers fresh out of Starfleet Academy and promoting several other officers aboard-ship. Others would muster out of Starfleet, their tours finished, and new recruits would join the ship as enlisted crew fresh from training at Great Lakes Facility or it’s sister site at St. Petersburg, Russia. Further, the trip meant a rare opportunity for Earth-side leave for those who had family there.
Among those requesting such leave was Ensign Wilkes, to see his parents living in the hamlet of Leyburn in Yorkshire, England. Sitting in the Chief Engineer’s tech-manual cluttered office he said, “Sir, I’ve got more than enough leave accrued. My medical leave aboard the Delos doesn’t count against me.”
Chief Engineer Ethan White leaned forward, his elbows on his coffee-stained desk, “Thomas, it’s not whether or not you’ve got the leave coming to you. Your section chief and I are both worried about…well, your plans for the future and how they will impact both your service to Starfleet and your family on Earth.” The little Australian was clearly uncomfortable with the topic.
Wilkes was irritated and decided to make the man come right out and say it. “My plans, sir?”
Looking disgusted, White said, “Yes, your plans, Wilkes. I know you’re planning on meeting with Dr. Mantoux in Marseille. Have you really thought through what trying to have a…a…a whatever with her will be like?”
“It’s a child, sir.”
“Don’t be an ass. I know that. But what kind of child you young drongo!? Is it going to be more human, or cat? Do you have any idea the difficulties that child will have growing up no matter what it turns out to be? Neither human, nor Dosadi, just a..a..bitser, a half-breed.”
“I thought we had gotten beyond that sort of thing these last few centuries, sir.”
White glared at him. “Of course we have, Wilkes. I’m not being a bad guy, nor a racist, nor a tyrant. But no matter where you go there will be those who will see any child of yours and Sooth’s as a monster. Even people who are tolerant of aliens are going to be unsettled. Children of two different cultures – especially those as different as Dosadi and human, always have it hard. And when you’re talking mixing two entirely different species and two entirely different basic biologies…You’re asking for a nightmare. Assuming it’s even possible and assuming the pregnancy doesn’t kill her anyway. Did you think about that?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve talked about all of those things. Dr. Mantoux feels certain that he can produce at least one viable embryo and that he can devise a protocol so that she can carry it to term, and that it will be a healthy, happy, child.”
“Are you sure his name isn’t Frankenstein?”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. I’m sure you know that Starfleet regulations do not allow me to interfere with decisions of this nature in any way, but I can and DO strongly advise you to consider what it is that you are attempting, how it will impact your lives, your families, and her. I like Sooth and I resent you trying to make me out to be some sort of intolerant bigot. I’m almost three times your age, Wilkes and I’ve seen more cultures on more planets than you can even imagine. You think that the whole world’s against you and you’re in love and that’s all it’s going to take. I hope like hell that you’re right, but I can tell you life is not a fairy tale, nor one of the damn space operas that’s so popular right now and it rarely turns into happily ever after.” He kicked his feet up onto his desk and growled out,  “Now get out of my office before I kick your ass on general principle. And give my best to your parents. If your mother gives you any of those Yorkshire curd tarts she makes and you fail to give me some, I will see to it personally that you spend the rest of our trip back to the Toulagai sector cleaning the spare dilithium crystals with your tongue.”
With a laugh, Wilkes stood up and said “Yes, sir. I’ll tell  her, sir.” and stepped back into the corridor. As he walked back to his quarters, he did think about what the Chief Engineer had said. His parents were ultra-conservatives, still living in the same village they had been born in. Neither had ever been off planet, or indeed out of England,  and both were still active members of the Church Of England, which despite all indications several times in the past, still existed. They had been excited to see him join Starfleet, but as fans of popular entertainments were sure that he would be killed by space pirates, kidnapped by bug-eyed aliens, or forced into slavery in the kingdom of the insect people. He had tried to keep his letters home neutral and hadn’t mentioned the severity of his injuries at Airdrie, nor a lot of details about Sooth.
He was beginning to worry about that last part. They knew he was in love with someone. They knew he was going to make a life with her. They knew he wanted children with her. What they didn’t know was that she was Dosadi. He had always thought he’d find a way to tell them later. Well, it was later and he was out of time. He decided he’d just bull his way through it. After all, this was the 23rd Century, not the 18th.
Sooth was considerably more worried than he was. Like all Dosadi she was fascinated by history and had spent quite a lot of time reading up on human culture. Her friends among the crew had given her plenty of information about human mating traditions – and she knew that Wilkes’ parents were big on traditions, something she approved of.
Dosadi mate for life. Sex between unmated couples was common and seen as a sign of a deep and lasting friendship. But once a Dosadi took a mate, their interest in anyone else pretty much went away. They were monogamous by choice and by tradition. There was no real ceremony to recognize the change in status, it simply became a fact of life. Wilkes was her mate and had been since before Airdrie – but in the human world, there were ceremonies to go through, rituals to complete, and the ever present forms to be filed. And she had absolutely no idea how she would, or could, fit into any of those traditions and rituals.

* * *
NORTH YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND, EARTH
SEPTEMBER 2269
Riding the shuttlecraft down from the Hood to Heathrow, Wilkes was holding Sooth’s hand. To his eyes, she was beautiful, the silver of her earring and the cream and tan of her fur against the midnight black of her cloak with it’s solid bronze stripe of rank. But she was trembling. Come to think of it, he decided, he was a little nervous himself. He wondered how his parents would react to his appearance.
He had put on several pounds of muscle since he had signed up. The last time they had seen him was when he had posted to the Hood. Freshly graduated from Starfleet Academy, his mother had loaded him up with biscuits, a Yorkshire curd tart, and plenty of tears. His father had given him a solid handshake and a clap on the shoulder, a massive display of emotion for the big Yorkshireman. And now, he was wearing the uniform of a Starfleet Lieutenant (Junior Grade), a Dosadi Warrior Pendant around his throat, a silver earring in his left ear and a tattoo around his left eye. There were still some faint scars visible on his face and neck. Perhaps not quite what they were expecting. Glancing at Sooth he thought not at all what they were expecting.
When they stepped off the APV at the village station, his parents’ eyes widened.
His mother, short and a little overweight clapped her hands to her mouth and said, “Or my god, ‘es turned pirate!”
His father, a tall, solidy built man and ever unflappable said, “Don’t be daft. Nah then, son, oo’s this…lass?” he finally decided.
Taking her hand in his, he said, “Mother, Father, I would like you to meet Sooth… my mate.” Trying her best, Sooth put her hand on the hilt of her sword and executed a reasonable curtsey.
There was a complete silence stretching out into several seconds. His poor mother finally said, “Tha’s marryin’ a….cat?’
Sooth’s ears and tail drooped instantly and Wilkes was quick to correct her, “Mother, Sooth is a Dosadi, she’s also a Marine and a decorated combat veteran.”
His father said, “Aye, the lass looks proper tired too. Le’s ge’ home fer tea.” Fortunately home was a short walk from the station in the tiny hamlet and Wilkes’ mother was desperately trying to make up for her faux pas while his father, his usual talkative self, contributed perhaps six syllables.
A short while later, Wilkes was in the yard with his father so ‘our lasses can ge’ ta know each other a bi’.’ and he started trying to explain what had happened to him. His father, always reticent, simply listened as his son began to talk, and it all came spilling out. The terror he felt at Toulagai and the horrible guilt after Corin had saved him and let Nollos die. How Sooth had been there for him, how they had fallen in love. About Eletha’s kits, and the fire and the horrible events over Airdrie and what had happened to Sooth. He talked about the healing-gel and what he felt like when he thought she was dead, and almost worse, helping her through the pain of regeneration and the endless therapy and his own scars. He told of seeing his friend M’Ralin’s blasted body, and the pilots who didn’t make it, of friends killed or burned or wounded and about how he felt like a chip in a stream being tossed about by waves he had nothing to do with. He told his father about the nightmares they both still had and finally, the dreams they had for the future. Finally, there was nothing left to say and he lapsed into silence, feeling washed out and empty.
His father looked across the rolling green hills of England and said, “Rate. Sounds propah nasteh. An I didn’ take t’lass t’be nesh.” Stretching he said, “Le’s ge’ back an see how our lasses or gettin’ on.”
Wilkes laughed so hard he almost cried. He finally gained enough control of himself that he hugged his discomforted father and they walked back into the house.
As they came into the sitting room where the tea was still set out, his mother jumped to her feet and held him tight, crying “Oh, Thomas, I ‘ad no idea i’ was like tha’!! Thee didna’ say tha’ was hur’ tha’ bad!! Nor tha’ bloody nightmares!”
Holding her tight, he looked at Sooth. Her ears dropped a little and she said, “She had the right to know, Wilkes.”
“Mother, did she tell you HER part of the story?”
“Nae, Thomas.” She sniffled and looked at her son. “Thee ha’ better tell the whole thin’.”
Wilkes sat next to Sooth and began to tell his tale again, this time with Sooth contributing her side of the story as well, sparing nothing. The Yorkshireman and his wife sat silent, listening as their son and his mate told of horrors and of wonders. Of friends and comrades who would never return, of shipboard life and quiet times shared together. Wilkes tried to explain how it was to try to adapt to Dosadi patterns, and Sooth explained the meaning of the Dosadi awards he now wore. She talked of her family and her culture and her struggles to adapt to life aboard the Hood. They talked for hours while his parents listened, and watched the two of them.
As they talked, his parents stopped seeing an alien in their sitting room and instead began to see a person. And the more they watched the two of them exchanging little touches and contributing to each others tale, the more they saw what their son saw.
The sun had long since set when they finally finished talking about their hopes for a child.
His mother finally spoke, “Tha’ canna’ have a child ou’ o’ wedlock! Tis a sin, an thee has sinned enough.”
Wilkes broke down in howls of laughter, much to his mother’s annoyance, and Sooth swatted him several times, “Wilkes! Stop that! Respect your mother!”
“I’m sorry! It’s just that with everything we’ve been through and all the problems ahead of us…sin isn’t high on my list of things to worry about, mother.” Sooth swatted him again and his father glowered, saying,
“T’lass has better sense than thee, Thomas.”
“Mother, I’ve not been to church since I was a boy, and Sooth isn’t even a member of the Church!”
“Tha’s nowt, Thomas. I’ll call t’vicar in t’morning.” Fortunately for Wilkes, the Church of England was not the sort of denomination that discriminated. Which is why two days later he found himself slightly bewildered, wearing a dress uniform standing next to Sooth in a borrowed wedding dress saying vows in front of a church full of very curious locals.
One of the natives leaned over to his neighbor and whispered, “I nae though’ I’d see a ca’ in a dress bein’ married before God.”
His neighbor looked at him and said, “Nae, thee no dou’ expected a sheep.”

CHAPTER 4
“Espionage, for the most part, involves finding a person who knows something or has something that you can induce them to secretly give to you. That almost always involves a betrayal of trust.”
– Aldrich Ames – Earth  (Human)
PARIS, FRANCE, EARTH
SEPTEMBER 2269
Colonel Jons was sitting at a street-side table at Cafe Le Sancerre on Rue des Abbesses in Paris. Away from the more popular tourist locations, it suited his purposes. Though he was wearing civilian clothes, it is simply not possible for a short, violet-skinned man with white hair to be non-descript in a human city. Aliens were not uncommon in Paris, but they still stood out from the crowd of everyday Frenchmen no matter where they went.
Enjoying a strong black coffee and reading a real paper copy of Le Monde he watched the city go through its morning rituals. Jons felt that coffee was one of humanity’s lasting contributions to the universe and inhaled the aroma gratefully. As he was glancing over the cricket scores – a sport he followed avidly when he was in human space – a tall Frenchman in a dark suit seated himself across from him.
“Bon jour, Colonel Jons.”
“Just Seins today, Robert. And Standard, please. My French isn’t what it should be.” He folded the paper and set it down, smiling at his guest.
“Very well, Seins. Is this a…good place to talk?”
“You know as well as I that as things stand these days, one place is as good as another.”
“I see. What brings you to Paris?”
“I’m here for the shopping, of course.”
The tall man smiled, “You diplomats, always shopping. Of course, Paris is famed for it’s shopping. Are you looking for anything special? And is this trip for yourself, or for a friend?”
“The same friend I was shopping for on my last visit – and perhaps for myself as well. I have a list, of course. Some coffee?” He reached for the pot and poured the man a cup. At the same time he smoothly dropped an isolinear chip into the saucer as he clunked the spout of the pot on the edge of the cup, masking the sound of the chip falling.
The Frenchman enjoyed his coffee, the two of them turning their discussion to the cricket matches and France’s chances against England in the football World Cup this year.
“Well, Seins, it was as always pleasant to talk with you. I wish you luck with your shopping. Are you in Paris for many days?”
“Perhaps another week, and then I must make a short trip to Marseille to conclude some business for my Duke. There is a duty that I must perform.”
“You Hydrans and your duties…” the Frenchman shrugged and stood up. “Bon jour.” and he made his way down towards Rue Ravigan. As he left. Jons noticed a tall black woman who had been window shopping across the street immediately turn to follow him.
Frowning to himself, Jons thought for a moment. Robert would, as was his habit, make a loop around the block to see if he was being followed. He would have to cut through the park before taking the Metro. Habits would get a man killed in this business, Jons thought disgustedly.
Leaving a few credits on the table he got up, pulled his cap more tightly onto his head and headed directly to the empty park. Finding a place where his small stature would leave him concealed but without making him look like he was trying to hide he relaxed as though he were simply enjoying the morning air. He didn’t have long to wait. A few minutes later, Robert came walking past as though he hadn’t a care in the world. As he headed down to the Metro station, the woman following him was hurrying to catch up before she lost sight of him. Focused on Robert, she didn’t see Jons and he quickly took advantage of her inattention, the flat-bladed Hydran knife killing quickly and silently as he stepped backwards with her into the shadows of the greenery, another sad victim of a robbery gone wrong.
Quickly relieving her body of anything of value, he found the Starfleet communicator he expected – These could be tracked. Standing up he moved rapidly into the Metro station, purchased a pass and got on the train. Leaving her communicator hidden under a seat cushion, he got off at the next stop, dumping her valuables into an incinerator bin. But not before checking her ID and noting that she had been one Commander Kagiso Botha. He frowned to himself. That name sounded familiar. Having to kill on these sorts of missions was an unpleasant duty, one that should not need to be undertaken. Robert was becoming too careless. A carelessness that could expose his Duke, and that could not be tolerated.
Although Robert’s position within Starfleet’s Research Branch was extremely useful, that utility was being outweighed by the danger he was creating with his carelessness. Jons decided that his duty to protect the Hydran’s penetration of Starfleet outweighed Robert’s usefulness. There were others to be considered as well.

CHAPTER 5
I am glad of all details, whether they seem to you to be relevant or not.”
– Sherlock Holmes – Earth (Human)
USS ENTERPRISE, IN ORBIT OVER EARTH
SEPTEMBER 2269
In the briefing room aboard the USS Enterprise, Captain Karmes was furious. “Kirk, you said you’d be able to monitor her, that there was little risk, that she would be safe.” Chief Engineer White sat by his side in stoney silence.
Kirk frowned and Spock explained, “Captain, with the information that we had available at the time, Commander Botha should have been safe. Indeed, we remained unaware of her fate for some time as her communicator signal continued on its path along the Metro. Whoever the enemy agent is, they are highly adept. Commander Botha was a skilled officer. They left no physical traces upon her communicator and we have not yet recovered any of her other possessions.”
Karmes was not mollified, “How did you lose sight of her? Aren’t there public sensors in Paris for God’s sake? How in the hell can a Starfleet officer be murdered in broad daylight and no one sees or hears anything? And who was she following?”
Continuing, Spock explained, “She was following up on a lead we had developed from one of Captain Kirk’s contacts within the Romulan Star Empire.” at this, Karmes cocked an eyebrow at Kirk who simply smiled back at him. “Indeed, the information you and Commander Botha brought acted to confirm and focus our suspicions. There is indeed a penetration into Starfleet Research. Your information has allowed us to localize that leak to the Advanced Sub-Space Fields facility at Marseille. That lead led her to the individual she was following. Unfortunately, she did not identify that person before she was killed and he seems to have expended considerable effort to avoid the public sensors in Paris. Her last communication was that the man she was following was apparently meeting his contact at the Cafe La Sencerre in Paris.
“Shortly after that, the sensor logs are fogged.”
“Fogged? How do you fog a sensor log?” White asked.
Leaning his elbows on the briefing room table, Kirk spoke up. “Klingon technology. It’s called a dazzler. It produces a combination of white noise on a number of spectrums that effectively jams sensors over a short distance. This is highly classified, but it can be set to do anything from completely blocking all sensor detection in a small space to degrading what is captured in a large area to such a degree that everything looks…well…foggy.”
Continuing, Spock said “The fact that the individuals involved move freely among the Federation planets while spying for the Romulans and utilizing Klingon technology provides several clues, as do the sensor logs that we do have.
“I was able to reconstruct an image from the logs that should provide a further clue.”
He pressed a button on his console and the view screens displayed a badly blurred image of a very short person in what could only be a cap.
“You’ve got them then! All you have to do is check the logs of the sensors leading up to where they got fogged and find this guy.” Karmes exclaimed.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, Captain. That is exactly what I am doing. However, as you expand the search radius and time frame from this datum, the number of sensor logs increases exponentially requiring a detailed reconstruction of the damaged logs and an analysis of…”
White, studying the blurry, blobby image interrupted. “Hydran.”
There was dead silence in the room for a moment. Kirk said, “Explain.”
“Look at the height – but the build is too heavy to be a child. And the cap, he’s covering his hair and skin color. He knows he’s being monitored. And the Hydrans trade with everyone – Klingon, Romulan, Federation…
“That, Chief Engineer White, is a very logical conclusion.” Spock said.
Karmes said,, “So all we have to do is find the Hydran who was at that cafe’ at that time. Should be easy, right?”
Spock raised his eyebrow and tapping on his console said, “Captain Karmes, there are currently 11,237 Hydrans known to be on Earth. In Europe alone, there are 4,602, due to their business dealings on the European continent. Attempting to localize each of these and cross-reference their travels with the Cafe La Sencerre will take a considerable amount of time and require a massive analysis of sensor logs. That is likely to take more time than we have as the individual we seek will no doubt leave the planet once they have collected the information that they are here for.”
“How much time, Commander?”
“At least 6 days, 11 hours, 13 minutes and 42 seconds, Captain Karmes.”
“Any idea when the information is supposed to be handed over?” he asked.
Kirk spoke again, “My contact is expecting that they will receive the data in no more than five days time at Toulagai.”
“Toulagai? There’s supposed to be a Romulan cruiser being given safe-passage to the starbase there right about then. They’re negotiating for emergency medical and food supplies for Romulus. The Yorktown’s going to be escorting her.
“Wait, there can’t be that many Hydran ships going that direction from Earth – We can monitor those ships!”
“Unfortunately, the Hydrans are prolific businesspeople and there is at least one ship every day heading to, or from Toulagai which serves as a sort of hub for many of their dealings. We have taken the precaution of alerting Commodore Selek to be on the lookout for espionage activities and sabotage”
“But if we can find this Hydran before they leave, we can undo the whole thing, right?”
Spock commented, “Precisely, Captain Karmes. We are in a race against time.”
At that moment the bosun’s pipes sounded and Commander Scott’s voice was heard, “Scott to Kirk”.
Kirk slapped the button in front of him, “Kirk here, Scotty.”
“Aye, Cap’n, We’re startin’ the refuelin’ an resurfacin’ the dilithium chambers now. We’re right on schedule.”
“How long, Scotty?”
“’Tis a five day job, Cap’n. Starfleet’s handlin’ it tho so I’ve sent most o’ my crew ta leave.”
“Keep me posted, Scotty, Kirk out.” He looked up at Captain Karmes, “Looks like it’s your turn to be the only ship in the quadrant this week, Bob.”

CHAPTER 6
Life is short, the art long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult.”
– Hippocrates – Earth (Human)
MARSEILLE, FRANCE, EARTH
SEPTEMBER 2269
Wlikes and Sooth left Dr. Mantoux’s office near the waterfront in Marseille, Wilkes holding her arm.
Marseille has always been and still is one of the most cosmopolitan cities in all of France. Seeing an alien, even one that looked like a five-foot cat walking arm in arm with a human attracted virtually no attention from the locals. Talking as they walked, Sooth said, “That was…uncomfortable, undignified, and…yuck. Let’s just walk for a while. I don’t want to go back to the hotel.”
“Sure, anything you want. I’m sure it was nasty.  But at least its over now, right?”
“Or hopefully just starting. And YOU had the easy part you big monkey!” she glared at him, ears swiveling back and her eyes narrowing.
“I know, Sooth. After three days of being poked, prodded, sampled, and inspected, I can only imagine how you feel right now.”
“I thought medicine was supposed to be all hands-off. This felt like something from a hundred years ago.”
Wilkes gave her arm a squeeze. “Dr. Mantoux is one of the only Dosadi anatomy experts on Earth, Sooth. And he’s no fan of technology – except when it serves his purposes. His whole office is the biggest study in contrasts I think I’ve ever seen. But he’s also one of the best xenogeneticists in the Federation.”
“I know. I think he said ‘the finest sensors ever invented are eyes, ears, nose and touch’ about a dozen times. But I was going to kick him the next time he said ‘well that’s interesting.’ while he was…working on me. I felt like something being dissected!”
“It’ll be worth it right? IF it works?”
She was quiet for a while as they walked, and Wilkes was starting to fret. “What if it doesn’t, Wilkes? What if it was all for nothing?”
“He said that the recombinant process went well, that at least one…”
“What if its a monster?” and she began crying.
Stopping on the sidewalk to take her into his arms, he smoothed her fur and said, “Shush. That’s not possible.”
“Still sobbing she said, “Its going to be horrible and you’re going to leave and…”
“Holding her shoulders he made her look at him, “Sooth, that’s all the goofy hormones he’s pumped into you. Remember, he said no excitement for the next couple of days to make sure the zygotes can implant, right? Remember he said you were going to be all over the map emotionally but to try to keep calm? Remember?”
She sniffed, ears, tail, and whiskers all drooping and he continued, “Besides, Sooth, whatever child comes from you will be wonderful and I’ll love it because it’s part of you. And it will be beautiful whether it’s got my green eyes and pink skin or your soft fur and tail. And I’ll never leave you, Sooth. I swear it. I would die without you. I never felt so empty as when Corin was telling me what happened to you and I thought you were dead. It was the most awful feeling ever.”
Nuzzling her forehead under his chin she said, “I’m sorry, Wilkes. It’s almost time for dinner, can we get something to eat?”
“Sure, there’s bound to be a cafe or a pub or something here somewhere. Let’s just walk a bit until we find one.”

* * *
Standing in the deepening shadows of a waterfront warehouse, Jons waited patiently for Robert. As he watched the sun begin to set over the breakwater, Robert came up with his typical casual attitude. But, Jons noticed, he was actually doing a fine job avoiding the public sensor nets. Perhaps, he wondered….but no, the decision had been made.
“Bon soir, mon Colonel!” Robert said cheerily as he saw the little Hydran.
“Bon soir, Robert. Standard, s’il vous plait.”
“Tres bien.” Robert chuckled. “Really, Colonel, we must work on your French on your next visit.”
Jons smiled at him, “Were you able to fill my shopping list, Robert?”
“Of course. It’s really quite easy, you know.” he held up a small pouch clinking with isolinear data chips. “And you have my usual fee for acting as your concierge?”
Extending his hand, Jons held out a single shining isolinear chip to the tall Frenchman. As Robert grasped it, he turned his hand sharply and Robert exclaimed “Ouch!”, drawing his hand back, sucking at a small cut on his finger.
His eyes opened wide. Struggling, he gasped out, “No! Wait!” and sagged to his knees.
Jones looked at him sadly, “I’m really quite sorry, Robert. Duty demands that we part on these terms.” As the dying man struggled to stay upright he continued, “Have no fear, Robert. Arrangements have been made, your loved ones will be cared for. Duty requires no less.” He continued to watch, dispassionately as Robert collapsed from a massive cerebral hemorrhage and died.
Bending down, he retrieved the little bag of chips and placed it in a small diplomatic pouch.  Standing back up he thought to himself, “There, that has been discharged. Time for something to eat.” Staying out of the sensor nets for the next few blocks, he decided to enter a small pub set back among the usual waterfront warehouses and the like. It had the look of a rather uncultured sort of place and that suited his mood tonight.
Finding a booth in a dim corner, he ordered the strongest coffee they had and began to peruse the menu.

* * *
Holding the door for Sooth, Wilkes looked around the dim little pub. He saw a number of French football posters and jerseys on the wall and the few patrons he saw looked large and disreputable. Glancing down at his own English Three Lions shirt, a gift from his father, he said “Um, Sooth, this might not be the best choice.”
“I’m sure it’s fine Wilkes.” The delicious aroma of cooking meats was making her ravenous and she walked in and sat at one of the small tables in the middle of the pub. Neither of them noticed the little man sitting in the booth and for once, preoccupied with his meal, his PADD and the pouch of data chips, he failed to take much note of the two latest arrivals. Just another Dosadi and a human, certainly nothing to pay particular attention to.
As they were working through their meal, Wilkes was becoming more and more uncomfortable. The pub had been slowly filling with young roustabouts, all wearing the French tri-color in one way or another. Sports teams were one of the few vestiges of nationalism left in the Earth of the 23rd century and football was still king. Soccer hooligans were still a frequent cause of public disorder. “And here I sit in a French pub wearing English football colors. NOT smart.”
Wilkes became aware that the young toughs were making more and more overt comments about him and about Sooth. So was she.
“I wonder if le chatte would like some milk?” One of them had leaned in close. Wilkes was trying to get a feel for how many of them there were and he decided about a dozen. Sooth was looking at him, ears back, eyes wide looking for cues as to what to do in this situation. On Dosad, she would simply fight them in the challenge ring, one at a time…except she was supposed to avoid any excitement for the next few days…
One of them, the real wit of the group, pointed at Wilkes’ Warrior Pendant, tattoo and earring, “Mes amis! What are we doing? It is the fearsome Capitain Midnight! The space pirate from the serials! Merde!!” to raucous laughter.
Speaking to Sooth Wilkes said, “We should leave. Now.” Standing up he tried to put some credits on the table to cover the bill only to have The Wit grab his arm.
“But you are leaving? So soon? Non, monsieur Tommy! We will get some milk for your pussy…but wait what is this? You BOTH wear the collar?!” he poked at Wilkes’ Warrior Pendant and Wilkes jerked his arm back, Two more were interfering with Sooth’s attempt to stand, ignoring the deepening growls coming out of her.
“Don’t.” he said quietly.
The Wit exclaimed, “But which of you holds the leash?!”
Jons finally looked up from his PADD and wishing there was some way to copy the vast amount of data on the chips. The pair who had walked in earlier were being harassed by some local dimwits. Smiling to himself he thought, “Evidently these boys don’t know much about the world outside of Marseille. The young man is muscled like a fighter and putting hands on a Dosadi was a fast way to lose those hands. He could see the back of the…female? And the human’s face indicated he had just about reached his limit. He was surprised the Dosadi hadn’t gone completely berserk by now.
Frowning, he realized that there were more than a dozen of the toughs. Not really any of his business he supposed, but that was hardly winnable odds for anyone. He simply wasn’t in the mood to watch a pair of innocent tourists get beaten. Replacing the loose data rods in his pouch and pocketing his PADD he heard a hissing snarl and saw the first two of the toughs go flying as Sooth kicked back and up out of her chair at the same time Wilkes was smashing The Wit’s face into the table.
Making his decision he took a small hand-stunner out of his jacket and quietly made his way over to the group that was starting to pile on the two embattled patrons. As he was crossing the floor he noted that most of the customers were evidently used to this sort of thing and did nothing more than move their chairs and beer out of the way.
Wilkes wasn’t quite panicked yet. There were too many, but they were holding their own so far. But he had to stop this – Sooth shouldn’t be doing anything like this, Dr. Mantoux had said to keep calm for days, not jump into a bar brawl! He needed to clear this mess fast. Fortunately, a bunch of untrained local fools weren’t much of a match for a Starfleet officer and a Dosadi Marine. But numbers do tell and they were landing blows and sheer numbers were isolating him from Sooth and hemming him in.
Jons moved along the outer edges of the struggling group. A touch here, a jab there, a gentle stroke of the hand along the back of the neck with the hand stunner…
Wilkes was confused. They were running out of opponents but there was no way they had taken out that many yet. Sooth was in a blind rage, tangled up with two of them, bits of red-white-and-blue shirts and work dungarees flying off them in waves in time to her hissing, snarling, spitting curses. And then, panting, he found himself and Sooth without anyone to fight but a little violet-skinned man in a dark suit with a shock of bright white hair.
Jons held his hand up, displaying the hand-stunner and showing that he meant no threat to the still amped up young human. “I thought, perhaps, to even the odds.” and he smiled. He reached his empty hand down to Sooth to help her to her feet, “A gentleman should never fight a lady any…” and he looked straight into Sooth’s face. The two of them froze in a comic-opera scene and said at the same time. “YOU! But you’re DEAD!”
CHAPTER 7
“We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
– Aesop – Earth (Human)
MARSEILLE, FRANCE, EARTH
SEPTEMBER 2269
Sooth, confronted with the face from her nightmares exclaimed, “I killed you!” as Jons said,
“I saw you die!”
Wilkes said, “What the hell?!” and a pair of gendarmes came charging into the bar.
Jons, recovering his composure first, held up his now empty hands and spoke to the gendarmes, “Monsieurs, I am Colonel Sir Jons Seins, business attache’ to the Hydran Embassy with full diplomatic credentials. I can explain everything.” and proceeded to do just that. When he was done giving his account of the little brawl, the corporal asked the barman, “What do you want done with these?” nudging The Wit’s unconscious form with the toe of his boot.
“Not a damn thing as far as I’m concerned.”
The corporal looked at Wilkes and Sooth, “From what the Colonel says, you can bring charges against them if you wish.”
Anxious to avoid any further excitement or difficulties, Wilkes said, “No, thank you. They got what they deserved. Just, maybe, get them out of here?”
The young corporal, glad to be relieved of having to fill out paperwork said, “As you wish.” And with a  smile he and his partner began rousing the protesting group of young toughs and throwing them into the street.
Jons turned to Sooth, offered his hand and said, “M’lady, will you two please join me at my table? I had often wished to have met you under different circumstances and it would seem that wish has been granted through circumstances too strange to be anything but Providence. I would consider it a privilege to replace your meal – I assure you the Embassy can afford it.”
Sooth was dumfounded as she allowed herself to be lead back to the table in the corner. Wilkes was so completely confused he didn’t even know where to begin. As they sat, Jons at his most charming, said,
“I must insist upon coffee for all. It is Earth’s greatest contribution to the galaxy and I find it has a calming effect after these little excitements.”
“Thank you, I usually take tea, but coffee is good too.” Wilkes said. Sooth couldn’t take her eyes off of Jons.
“Oh, I can remove all preference for tea. There is a little cafe in Paris, La Sencerre, that makes absolutely the best coffees anywhere. I’m afraid it has become a habit of mine when I am in Paris. But please, you now know my name and I do not yet know yours?”
Wilkes, somewhat more composed said, “I’m Lieutenant J.G. Thomas Wilkes, USS Hood, and this is my mate, Crew Leader Sooth, also USS Hood.”
“A Dosadi? Assigned to the Hood?” Jons studied them both for a moment, “And you, you wear the Warrior Pendant, and both an earring and an Honor Tattoo, yet you say you are in Starfleet? I am unaware of any human ever being granted the right to wear those decorations. And how did Crew Leader Sooth find her way to Airdrie if she serves in Starfleet? And you say she is your mate? That is also a first to my knowledge.”
Wilkes, aware that he was talking to a foreign diplomatic officer, was trying to be sure that he didn’t give out any confidential information while he explained the outline of his Starfleet career, his tour aboard the Delos and his relationship with Sooth. Jons, however, was a skilled interrogator and during the course of their conversation learned much about Federation training, relations with the Dosadi Imperium, and even tactics.
Turning to the still silent Sooth he said, “M’Lady. I must congratulate you on your skill in battle. In my culture, women stay home and take care of more tranquil pursuits. I confess to being shocked at learning that the Marine who defeated me in hand-to-hand combat and shattered my face was a woman.”
Sooth, having had time to regain her mental balance said, “I thought I had killed you. I’ve never fought anyone who moves the way that you do – I couldn’t get you off my rifle! Things got very confusing after that.”
Recognizing that the very young woman had not yet come completely to terms with what had happened to her he continued, “I can only imagine, my dear. The wounds you suffered were…severe.” he finished delicately. He paused, gave a very gallic shrug and added “I can tell you that the Gorn are, to this very day, astonished at your actions. The tapes of the ballroom fight have, in fact, entered into Gorn training routines. You conducted yourself with great honor and a tremendous attention to your duties. I am proud that you were my enemy and hope that now, you can be my friend.” And he extended his hand.
Sooth looked at it, and Jons explained, “An Earth gesture. Its history is to indicate that one is unarmed and wishes to be friends. Each of us in the course of our duties has killed many of the other’s friends and comrades. I think, perhaps, it is time for that cycle to end.”
Smiling, Sooth reached out her own hand to his and clasped it gladly.
Jons said, “Alas, I must return to my duties. My ship leaves for home within the hour. I wish the two of you every success – And hope that you will tell me when M’lady here gives birth to your child. Perhaps some day we can all meet at La Sencerre in Paris and I can convert you from tea, to coffee.”
Wilkes laughed and said, “I’d like that, Colonel. I…I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
CHAPTER 8
“Tempus fugit”
– Most races, here translated into Latin.
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, IN ORBIT OVER EARTH
SEPTEMBER 2269
The following morning, Sooth and Wilkes packed their bags and prepared to report back to the Hood. By the time their shuttlecraft finally landed in the bay, it was evening and Sooth said, “We should get dinner now. I’m starving!”
Wilkes, squeezing her arm answered, “I think that’s a good sign  – maybe you’re eating for two.” She purred and rubbed up against him, drawing a few glances from the other returning crew. One raw recruit opened his mouth to say something about the odd sight and a more experienced hand in Engineering red put his hand on his shoulder, “Don’t, boot.”
“I was just going…” he tried to explain.
“Just don’t. You come see me after you get your gear stowed and I’ll explain a few things to you. Until then, you just listen and learn, right? Trust me. It’ll save you a lot of heartache.”
As the young recruit opened his mouth to answer, the engineer raised his finger and said “Just listen and learn boot. That’s all you gotta do.” and turned to get his gear out of the racks.
As they left the shuttlebay, Wilkes said, “Damn, I really should report in to Chief Engineer White before we eat. We’re supposed to report all contact with foreign nationals as soon as possible. Besides, I don’t want mother’s Yorkshire curd tarts to spoil…You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the mess hall.”
Knocking on the Chief’s office door he heard a muffled “Come!” and walked through the door. “Lieutenant J.G. Wilkes reporting, sir.”
White looked at him, “That stripe is still so new it squeaks.” Catching sight of the package he asked, “Is that what it had better be?”
“Yes, sir.” Wilkes smiled. “Mother and Father both send their best.” and he placed the package on the desk. “We got married, sir.”
“I’ll be damned. In a church and everything? Like in the fairy tales?”
Wilkes laughed, “Yes, sir. Well maybe not quite a fairy tale. I don’t think most of the inhabitants of Leyburn were quite ready for a Dosadi in a wedding gown. Come to think of it I’m not quite sure I was ready for that.”
“Tell me the story, Wilkes.” he ordered as he dug into the package. “Ahhh! And biscuits and jam to boot! Your mother is a wonderful woman, Wilkes.”
“Yes, sir.” and he launched into the full story of his leave, the wedding, their struggles with Dr. Mantoux’s therapies and concluding with the story of the bar fight. “So this Hydran diplomat, some Colonel, wades into the brawl with a hand-stunner. We ended up having dinner and coffee together and he kept going on about this cafe in Paris, La Sencerre, that has like the best coffee in…”
White sat up, his face chalky. “Say that again.” he interrupted.
“Which?”
“The cafe. What was the cafe?”
“La Sencerre, in Pari…”
“You sure he was Hydran?”
“Yes, sir, he had bright violet skin and white…”
“Come with me, right now, Wilkes.” And he slammed the com panel on his desk, “White to Karmes, meet me in briefing room three, it’s urgent. We need to get in touch with Enterprise.”
Wilkes was trying to decide just how badly he had screwed up in talking to the little Colonel. He followed the Chief Engineer to the briefing room at a trot only to find that Captain Karmes and his new First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Thalev, a blue-skinned Andorian complete with antennae, were already there. “What the hell, White?” Karmes demanded.
“Trust me, sir, I think I’ve found him.”
Looking around the room and at the viewscreen, Wilkes was seeing more rank in one place than he had ever wanted to, two of them living legends.
White ordered him, “Tell them what you told me about the discussion you had in that pub in Marseille. Make it fast and accurate.”
Sweating and standing at rigid attention Wilkes began where Jons had reached down to Sooth, trying to think what it was he said that had gotten him in this much trouble. “..and so he invited us again to the Cafe La Sencerre in Paris for coffee.” he concluded and shut his mouth tight.
“What was the officer’s name again, Lieutenant?” Kirk asked. Wilkes thought to himself, “Holy shit. James Freaking-T Kirk is asking me a question. “Colonel Sir Jons Seins business attache to the Hydran embassy, sir!”
Spock said, “I have him, Captain.” and the Colonel’s picture flashed upon the viewscreen.
“Yes, sir! That is the man, sir!”
Karmes said, “Relax, Wilkes. You done good.”
Spock continued, “That is our man, Captain. A perfect correlation between his movements and the death of Commander Batho and he was also in Marseille and not visible on the sensor nets when Technician Robert Durand suffered a massive stroke and died on the waterfront. Technician Durand, as you’ll recall, has been identified as having unlawfully duplicated a large amount of top secret research.”
Karmes said, “Now we just have to find him.”
Wilkes spoke up quickly, “Oh, he’s gone, sirs.” and immediately regretted it as two Captains, and three Commanders turned and stared at him.
Spock asked, “And how do you know this, Lieutenant?”
“Sir! Just before he left he told us his ship was leaving on the hour.”
“Dammit!!” Karmes slammed his fist onto the table.
Kirk just said, “Spock?”
“Working, Captain.” There was silence for a few moments and he continued, “The Hydran cruiser Succession left high-Earth orbit for Toulagai Starbase some 20 hours ago, Captain. At normal cruisng speed, they will arrive there in 28 hours, 14 minutes and 11 seconds, in time to rendezvous with the Romulan cruiser Hyperion.”
Karmes slapped a button and the red-alert klaxon sounded throughout the ship, “All hands, this is the Captain. Emergency beam-back for all crew, we leave immediately”
Spock interjected, “Captain Karmes, you will need to exceed your ship’s design capacity for some time in order to beat them there.”
White smiled and said, “Scotty’s not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve, Commander Spock.”
Kirk said, “Godspeed, Bob.” and that was that.

CHAPTER 9
“Time is more valuable than money. You can get more money, but you cannot get more time.”
– Jim Rohn – Earth (Human)
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, UNDER WAY
SEPTEMBER 2269
The Hood was shaking, badly, as she rocketed towards Toulagai. Down in Engineering, things were starting to fail and Wilkes and his team and the rest of the Engineering staff were scrambling to replace failed junctions, arcing circuits and dead power systems. On the bridge, Captain Karmes was watching the clock tick down as well as the range to Toulagai.
“Comm, any contact with Commodore Selek yet?”
Vibrating slightly as his chair shook, Lieutenant Gordon Williams said, “No sir. We’re still being jammed. It’s a really strange field sir, It keeps increasing as we close, and then holding steady and then increasing again in fits and starts. It’s almost like we’re jamming ourselves sometimes.”
“Dammit, figure that shit out!” He tapped the controls on the side of the command chair, “Karmes to Engineering, White, how are we holding up?”
“Well, Bob, we’ve been past Vne for about 26 hours now and we’re definitely paying the price. But she’ll hold together until we get there. We’ve broken out the duct tape.”
Karmes laughed, “Oustanding. We might just make it. Defense, energize the weapons, but leave the shields down, just in case.”

* * *
ROYAL HYDRAN LIGHT CRUISER SUCCESSION, UNDER WAY
SEPTEMBER 2269
Aboard the Succession, Colonel Jons was becoming concerned. “You say there’s a jamming field?” He had, as was his practice, already inspected the Marines aboard and conducted a pair of drills.
“Yes, Colonel. But it’s a damn strange field. One minute it seems to be coming from in front of us, the next from behind. Whatever it is, it’s totally blocked sub-space communications. It’ll interfere with transporters too.”
Jons studied the tactical display in the battlesphere. Toulagai was closing fast. The Romulan ship had been in parking orbit on the far side of the starbase for the better part of a day now and had another day before she would leave. There was no real rush. So why was there a jamming field? This was strange, and Jons didn’t like strange.
In orbit between his path and the Hyperion was the pearly-white shape of the USS Yorktown.
Turning to Captain Rince he said, “Prepare a shuttleraft. Full diplomatic markings. Make sure there is nothing even remotely resembling a weapon aboard it. When we arrive at Toulagai, you will drop me in the shuttlecraft and immediately warp out for home. Explain that you have an urgent mission to protect a freighter or some such. Be creative. I will make my own way past the Yorktown to the Hyperion.”
Captain Rince stood and bowed, “Understood, sir.”

* * *
FEDERATION STARBASE 26, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Commander Jackson scowled at the screens in the sensory. “So this shit has been going on how long?”
Petty Officer Bennett said, “Almost a full day now, sir. We thought it was on our end for hours and wasted a lot of time running diagnostics. It’s not coming from our systems.”
Gnawing on his cigar he said, “Wonderful. So where IS it coming from?”
“Apparently from 220 mark 185, sir. It keeps surging, it’s not like any jamming field I’ve seen before but it’s definitely playing hell with sub-space. We can’t even use transporters right now.”
“What’s out that way?”
“Nothing much, the usual freighter and neutral traffic. Well, we got a part of a signal yesterday but it got cut off. Something urgent about the Hood.”
“And this just happens to show up while we’ve got a Romulan cruiser overhead, a bunch of diplomats negotiating a treaty and a warning from Starfleet about sabotage and terrorists and hobgoblins. I don’t like coincidences, Bennett. Something is not good and you’re going to find out what it is.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get me the Yorktown.”
“Um, sir, I said the field was really playing hell with sub-space. Communications are really spotty.”
“Bennett, I didn’t say I wanted to hear the story of your life, I said Get me the Yorktown.”
“Yes, sir.” Bennett scrambled to try to establish some sort of contact with the heavy cruiser 42,000 kilometers overhead.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER, USS YORKTOWN, IN ORBIT OVER TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Lieutenant Yoshida, sitting at the Yorktown’s helm console tried to make some sort of sense out of the snow and static on the view screen. It looked like Commander Jackson – no one else smoked cigars – but that was about all she could make out. That and a few words.
The screen went dark and Captain Kamov asked, “Anyone get anything out of that?”
After a few seconds of silence, Yoshida said, “Just something about the Hood and terrorists and sabotage and something about diplomats sir.”
“Well that’s more than I got, so we’ll go with it. So if anyone sees the Hood bringing in a bunch of terrorist diplomats to sabotage the negotiations with the Romulans, you let me know.”
There were a few chuckles around the bridge and the navigator spoke up, “Sir, ship dropping out of warp at 000 mark 015.”
“You have got to be making a joke.”
“No sir – I’ve got her, she’s Hydran sir…the light cruiser Succession.”
“See if you can raise her, assuming we can get better comms than we did with Toulagai.”
“Yes, sir”
A few moments later the defense officer said, “Sir, she’s launching a shuttlecraft….Ah, it’s got full diplomatic codes. Must be for the conference.”
Kamov sat back in his chair. “Really. A diplomat.”
The navigator chimed in, “Sir, the Succession’s warping out. I got a partial signal, something about ‘urgent’ and ‘protect’ and she’s gone. The shuttlecraft’s making for the Hyperion.”
“Scan it. Use all the power we’ve got. Find out if there’s anything so much as a firecracker on board that thing.”
Moments later the defense officer said, “No sir, one occupant, Hydran, no luggage.”
Kamov ignored the little joke and started tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. They watched the little shuttlecraft, flashing it’s diplomatic recognition markers closing with them as it made course for the Romulan cruiser.
There was the flash of a ship dropping out of warp and the navigator nearly shouted, “Sir! The Hood!”
“Of course it is.” He frowned. Things were not making any sense here.
“Sir! Her weapons are charged! She’s making straight for the shuttle!”
“Are they insane?” Kamov asked. “Raise shields until we get comms.”
The Defense officer turned towards Captain Kamov, “Sir, the HOOD is the source of the jamming!”
CHAPTER 10
“Many intelligence reports in war are contradictory; even more are false, and most are uncertain…. In short, most intelligence is false.”
– Carl Phillipp von Clausewitz – Earth (Human)
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, APPROACHING TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Taking the tactical situation in an instant, Captain Karmes issued rapid fire orders, “Helm, get us to that shuttlecraft and put a tractor beam on her. Comms, raise the Yorktown.” The shuttlecraft was almost directly in front of them, closing fast on the Yorktown, with the Romulan Hyperion just visible behind the shining white disc of her primary hull.
“Sir, there’s no way – the field just soared in strength and it’s surging back and forth a lot faster. It’s like its see-sawing back and forth between us and the Yorktown.”
“What the hell are they on about?” Karmes asked,
“Sir! They’ve raised shields!”
“Oh shit. Raise ours. And dammit get me to that shuttlecraft!”
The Helm officer, Ensign Diego said, “Yorktown’s moving to intercept us.”
“Get around  – get between that shuttle and the Hyperion no matter what you have to do, then get us to tractor range. And someone burn through that damn jamming!!”
The Hood curved gracefully up and over the twisting Yorktown and then back down, now having traded places with the other cruiser, still between them and the shuttlecraft.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Kamov issued his own orders, “Yoshida, don’t let them get close to the shuttle. Someone’s taken over the Hood – that must be the terrorists they were warning us about. Charge weapons but do NOT fire yet – see if we can get a tractor on that shuttle.”
“Sir, the shuttlecraft is moving away from us, it’s out of range. Still closing with the Hyperion. Sort of.”
“What the hell? We’re trying to protect them!”
“I guess they don’t know that, sir.”
“God dammit, will someone get me communications with SOMEONE! This is the 23rd fucking century and I’m having to use signal lights!!!”
“We could try that, sir.” the comms officer said.
“Shut up, Swede.”
The two starships began a bizarre twisting dance around each other and the shuttlecraft as both the Hood and Yorktown tried to close to within tractor beam distance to the shuttlecraft, which was trying to keep out of range of both while still slowly closing with the Hyperion, in a two steps forward, one step back sort of way.

* * *
FEDERATION STARBASE 26, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Commodore Selek, watching the tactical display as well as the live sensor feeds said, “Remarkable.”
Jackson just shook his head.
Again, the news nets were alive with the images of starships fighting it out overhead.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
White contacted the bridge, “Captain, we can NOT continue maneuvering like this. We stressed the hell out of her and now we’re taking everything that wasn’t…” Collision alarms sounded throughout the Hood as the Yorktown cut them off again, her secondary hull scraping along one warp nacelle. “God DAMN! Captain, finish this before we fall apart!! Williams! Get…” and he cut the connection.
Karmes made the sort of rapid decision that Captains get paid to make – and sometimes make wrong. “Weapons, I need you to take the most accurate shot you’ve ever taken – Low power shot, just hit one of their thrusters. Anything to give us the advantage we need. Low power, right? Just enough to damage the thruster.”
“Yes, sir…” he bent to his task

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
“Targeting!!!” The Defense officer screamed and Yoshida rolled the big cruiser around her secondary hull as the green of a phaser lanced past, striking a glancing blow at her shields.
“Dammit! They are terrorists! Weapons, aim for their phaser emitters – just enough to take out the emitters. Make it happen!”

* * *
ROYAL HYDRAN SHUTTLECRAFT, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Jons watched the  pearl-white ships fighting like two cats over a mouse. It was somewhat more..interesting…from the perspective of the mouse, he thought.
He was slowly making progress towards the Hyperion, but he was constrained by having to keep both ships out of tractor-beam range. This necessitated frequent rapid retreats or dodges in odd directions. He watched the Yorktown cut the Hood off again with a brilliant spiraling descent directly into the other ship’s warp nacelles, forcing her to fall off and away.
He smiled to himself, that had to be Yoshida at the helm. She had been on an exchange from the Yorktown. She was still keeping him safe, he chuckled quietly and returned to his course towards the Hyperion, but now he had phaser-blasts to dodge as well.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
There was smoke on the bridge of the Hood. Karmes wasn’t quite sure from where, but wasn’t happy about it. Lieutenant Wu spoke up, “Sir, we could try an assault transport – Take their bridge and end this. Or hell, just use their com-sets and TELL them what’s going on.”
“With shields up?”
“That’s what assault transporters are for, sir.”
“Don’t be a twit, Wu. I meant can you make it work right now.”
“Yes, sir – Let me trade some phaser power for transporters and at this close a range, we should be able to burn through the shields and the jamming and put a team aboard her. We’ve drilled for this sort of thing extensively.”
“Can you do it without killing anyone? These are our shipmates too. This has gotten WAY too out of control.” The Hood rocked as another shot raked across the primary hull’s shields.
“Yes – we can issue hand phasers as well as rifles.”
“Make it happen. Fast.”
“Already at battle stations – I’ll issue the orders now.”
“Dammit, Helm, get around them!!” another collision alarm sounded and the Hood rolled away from the climbing Yorktown just in time to avoid an impact.
Sooth pulled her helmet down over her head and activated her com-set. Her team was already standing on the assault pad, ready to go. “Just like the drills, right everyone?” Her blue-grey and tan mottled battle armor a stark contrast to Starfleet’s gold and red. Crouching down, she again had a brief flashback to the few moments before she transported in to Airdrie. Shaking her head to clear the vision, she checked on her team. Kalea was visibly shaking, her hand phaser wobbling.
“TWENTY SECONDS!!”
Reaching her hand over, she whispered, “I get the shakes too.”
“FIVE SECONDS!!”

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
The ship shuddered from another phaser impact and the world turned inside out. They materialized in a hallway a few decks away from their target on the bridge. Several startled crewmen working on an engineering junction froze at the apparition. Kalea’s crew instantly phasered them down with a heavy stun setting as the Yorktown’s intruder alarms added their weird howl to the mix.
Sooth yelled into her com-set “MOVE!” and was answered with the staticy scream of a jammed com-system. Shaking her head to kill the noise, she reverted to hand signals and voice.
Petty Officer James Jones, a huge member of Kalea’s team said, “We probably should’ve told those guys what was up instead of shooting them. I think we drilled too much on combat…”
Sooth said, “A little late now. Let’s go!! Battle Drill 2-Alpha EXECUTE!” and they began to race for the accessways to the bridge.
Which, of course were guarded. The first few Security crew were in standard Fleet uniforms with hand phasers and stood absolutely no chance against Sooth’s armored team. But the Yorktown crew were also among Starfleet’s best and reacted quickly, despite their inexperience with the bulky, heavy battle armor. The Hood team had managed to assault up to the deck below the bridge before they were stopped cold by another pair of armored teams; With phaser rifles.
Pinned down, Sooth tried yelling at the Yorktown security teams, poking her head up and shouting “DAMMIT CEASE FIRE! WE NEED TO TELL YOU WHATS GOING ON!!” only to be answered by phaser-fire and “FUCK OFF, CAT!”
Shaking her head, she resumed trying to low-crawl over to Kalea’s injured team.
In the bridge, Captain Kamov was getting reports from his own security teams, “Sir, it looks like it’s the Dosadi that took over the Hood. They must be going after the Romulans and the Hydrans again.” He saw an image on his viewscreen of an armored Dosadi Marine, the distinctive blue-grey and tan mottled armor making the identification easy. They were  engaging one of his security teams, hitting two with a phaser rifle before being driven back into cover. The view went dark as an errant shot hit the pickup.
“They’re insane. This makes absolutely no sense.”

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Aboard the Hood, Wilkes had a sudden flash of insight. “Holy shit, I got it.” and he ran across the main engineering deck to the Chief Engineer who was working with First Officer Thalev on re-routing power around several damaged systems. Thalev advising, “No, that system remains a priority – we need to…”
Wilkes interrupted, “Chief, I know how to make this stop.”
Both officers looked at him, “This better be good Wilkes.” The Hood groaned again as she maneuvered tightly.
“Sir, we take a shuttlecraft – make sure there’s no weapons on it at all – I stick a grappler on the rear-end like a Thunderbolt and we fly THAT out. Snag the Hydran shuttle and take it to the Yorktown!”
Thalev said, “That is brilliant. They won’t fire on an unarmed shuttlecraft, the addition of the fourth craft will break the stalemate and once you grapple the other shuttle, they will likely tractor you themselves.”
“Make it happen, Wilkes!”
“I need a pilot, sir. I’m a mechanic, not a flyer.”
Thalev said, “I am a pilot. Quickly now.” and the two grabbed Wilkes’ team as they ran towards the Hood’s shuttlebay.

Boarding the modified shuttle, Thalev noticed Wilkes carrying a large, folded piece of cloth. “What is that, Lieutenant? I notice you brought it with you from Engineering, but I have yet to see you do anything with it.”
Smiling as he sat at the grapple controls, Wilkes put Sooths’ cloak on, feeling enfolded by her scent, and said, “Lucky charm, sir.”
“That’s not Starfleet uniform, Lieutenant.”
“No sir. I’ll happily report for punishment for being out of uniform if we survive.”
Thelev chuckled, “I can accept that, Lieutenant. Ready for launch.”

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Finally working their way through several of Kamov’s security teams, Kalea, Sooth, and their three remaining mobile team members had their backs to the turbo-lift doors while some of the wounded kept a steady stream of fire going down the curving corridor.
“Well,” Kalea gasped, in severe pain from a phaser burn that had clipped through the side of her armor. “This is going well.”
Sooth grinned at her, the expression invisible beneath her helmet, “Better than some of the drills. The Yorkies are good.” Her own armor had half a dozen different deep scores in it. It’s OK, I’ve got a plan.”
“Oh goodie. Those always work out so well.”

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Captain Kamov noted the shuttlecraft launching from Hood. “Scan that! Now!”
“Two occupants sir, nothing else. One Andorian, one human. It’s just an empty shuttle.”
“What the hell? Can we keep it away from the other shuttle?” The Yorktown’s shields rang from another phaser hit from the Hood.
Yoshida shook her head. “Not and keep the Hood away too. I can try to get us close enough to tractor it though.”
“Do it!”
The Yorktown elegantly traded distance from the Hood for a closer position to the shuttlecraft, the distance closing rapidly. But, the Hood moved to intercept them and she had to back off to keep the Hood away, then sliding her starship towards the two shuttlecraft.
“Captain!” the defense officer shouted, “The other shuttle – it’s got a grapple on the Hydran!”
“So, that’s their game! Yoshida, get us in tractor range NOW – Security team to the shuttle bay!”
“Hood’s backing away sir, and powering down their weapons. But the Hyperion’s coming on fast.”
“What? Has everyone gone completely bat-shit insane?” The turbo-lift doors opened and everyone turned in surprise. The two Security guards dropped into a crouch, phaser rifles at the ready focused intently on the lift.
And the lift was empty. A moment later a blinding flash and deafening roar stunned the bridge crew into insensibility. Had they been able to see, they’d have observed Kalea and Sooth dropping out of bridge maintenance access-tunnels, weapons at the ready. Instead as their ears stopped ringing, they heard hand phasers discharging.
When Captain Kamov could finally see again, his security guards were unconscious on the floor, their helmets torn off and phaser stun impacts clearly visible on their faces. Armor was proof against a flash-bang grenade, but not if you were staring straight at it. “What is the meaning of this!!”
Sooth ordered, “Everyone away from your consoles – move quickly to the far side of the bridge, please sirs.” Moments later the turbo-lift opened again and Sooth’s three remaining Hood security men stepped out.
Kalea, struggling to catch her breath with the burn to her side ordered “Block the doors open and take up positions to cover the access tunnels – let’s not have them do unto us what we just did unto them.”
Angry, Kamov barked at Sooth, “Have the Dosadi declared war on the Federation then, Marine?”
She remained silent as the com system came alive, “Bridge! Shuttle-bay! We got them both!  Bridge? Bridge?”
Sooth ordered “Have your crew stand down, please sir. Your vessel is now under the command of Captain Karmes and the USS Hood. I need to explain what’s going on.”
“I’ll do no such thing, pirate.”
Kalea turned to one of her team, “Can you do it, Jimmy?”
“Yep.” The beefy Security Guard took his helmet off and stepped to the command chair. “Good to see you again, sir.” he greeted his former Captain.
“Petty Officer Jones? You transferred out six months ago. What is the meaning of this!?”
“When I was aboard Yorktown, I was pretty good at imitating your voice sir. Sorry about this.” And he punched the com button on the command chair. “All hands, this is the captain.” he said in a fair imitation of Captain Kamov’s voice. “There has been a severe misunderstanding with our sister ship. Stand down. Medical teams, treat the casualties. I repeat, stand down.” and he cut the connection.
The Com system came alive again, “Bridge, shuttle bay – you REALLY need to get down here. Bridge? Jesus, is this thing even working?”
Kamov faced Sooth. “Well Marine? Shall we go down to the shuttle bay then? We tractored both the Hydran shuttlecraft and one from the Hood into our bay. Time to make a decision. There are still no coms with anyone. What are you going to do, Marine?”
Sooth looked at Kalea. The little Hawaiian woman shrugged back at her with her uninjured side.
Sooth swallowed hard. She really wanted to throw up. Kamov pushed her again. “Time’s slipping away, Marine. Do we go down and find out what’s happening in the shuttle bay or stand here and chat? The Romulan cruiser was closing with us last time I knew. What’s your choice, Marine? You need to decide. You need to decide NOW.”
Sooth really didn’t have enough people left to do anything but hold the bridge. Maybe. If Jones’ ruse had worked, maybe she could ‘escort’ the Captain down to the shuttle bay and why wouldn’t he shut up? Finally she snapped, “Shut UP, sir.”
He smiled a rather predatory smile and she decided, “Kalea, keep everyone here. I’m going to walk the Captain down to the shuttle-bay. If you don’t hear from me – you know the word – in five minutes, do whatever you have to do to get to Captain Karmes.”
“Right.”
Gesturing with her hand phaser, she and Captain Kamov got into the turbo-lift. On the way, she began to explain to her captive audience what she had been told by Lt. Wu.

CHAPTER 11
Truth will out.
– Proverb, many species.
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, MANEUVERING, TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
The big bay at the aft end of Yorktown’s secondary hull had barely completed the landing cycle before Jons was out of his shuttle, screaming bloody murder.  “I am a diplomatic officer on a diplomatic mission. You have absolutely NO right to kidnap me or interfere with my mission. I will see to it that you are all broken in rank. This is an act of WAR!”
As he paused for breath, Thelev and Wilkes piled out of their own shuttlecraft.
Catching sight of Wilkes in his rather outlandish mix of uniforms Jons said, “I will be damned. A handsome, heroic pirate flying to the rescue in a shuttlecraft.”
“What?” Thelev asked.
“Nothing, just a conversation I once had with someone I thought quite silly at the time. I may have underestimated her. A bad habit of mine.” Looking more closely he recognized him. “The dashing Lieutenant Wilkes, is it not?”
The Yorktown bay crew looked at both groups in bewildered silence. One tech by a com panel frantically continued trying to signal the bridge.
“Good to see you again, Colonel.”
“How is your lady?”
“Doing well, sir and safe aboard the Hood. We still have high hopes.”
Thelev had finally had enough, “Well, if you two are finished playing just-folks, perhaps we can get to the bottom of this mess.”
Colonel Jons smiled, “Why Commander, there is no mess. I am a diplomatic officer of the Hydran Kingdom, in a fully marked, unarmed shuttlecraft on a diplomatic mission according to treaty, custom and law and you have unlawfully detained me. I hereby require and demand that you release me and my ship or be considered in violation of several treaties and Starfleet regulations besides.”
Thelev said, “Colonel, our belief is that you are a murderer and a spy in possession of illegally obtained classified information belonging to the Federation.”
“That’s nice, Commander. And it means nothing. I have full diplomatic immunity and you have no proof of anything whatsoever, not that it would matter if you did.”
Captain Kamov stepped into the bay with Sooth just behind him, her helmet off and her armor still smoking along the gouges, a phaser-rifle slung across her back and her hand-phaser holstered at her side. “Ah, you must be Colonel Jons.” he introduced himself and before Jons could begin his demands again, Kamov continued. “Colonel, I must apologize for the atrocious conduct of my officers and those of the Hood. There has been a tremendous misunderstanding due to the highly-charged situation here and back on Earth.”
Slightly taken aback, Jons said cautiously “Of course. With your permission then, I shall be on my way.”
Wilkes was stunned. Both by the appearance of Sooth and by the utter failure of their mission. He was going to get away with it.
“One moment please, Colonel. It has come to our attention that a biological weapon has been placed aboard your shuttle by terrorists on Earth who have some strange objection to the Hydran Kingdom’s well-known business dealings.”
“Ah, I’m quite sure that there is no such…”
“Nevertheless, Colonel, for the safety of yourself and my ship, I must board and search your vessel for contaminants or disease organisms. As you know, I am allowed to do so by Starfleet regulations to ensure the safety of my vessel now that yours has been opened inside mine, exposing my crew to who knows what.”
“Captain, that is a violation of treaty an…”
“No, no, Colonel, We are only seeking a terrorist device, nothing else shall be disturbed.” As he was speaking two Yorktown crewmen in Science blue boarded the shuttlecraft.
Colonel Jons looked from them to Captain Kamov. He knew when he was outmaneuvered. But he still held the high card in the end. “Why thank you, Captain! I appreciate your concern for my safety, and that of our clients. No doubt this entire…misunderstanding was simply the result of misplaced zeal?”
“I’m sure that will be the case, Colonel.” Kamov smiled as the two men came out of the shuttle holding the diplomatic pouch.
“Found it, Captain.” the leader said.
“Captain, “Colonel Jons interrupted, “That is a diplomatic pouch and as such, sacrosanct. It must NOT be opened or examined in any way.”
“Have no worries, Colonel, We wouldn’t want to allow that device to get loose.” he turned to the team holding the pouch, “Put it in a disposal chute immediately.”
“Ah.” Jons sighed watching the diplomatic pouch disappear into the opening, heading into the anti-matter reaction chambers. “Well then.” and he looked at Sooth. “M’lady.” he shot a quick smile at Wilkes, “Safe aboard the Hood?”
Wilkes shrugged as Kamov asked, “What on EARTH are you wearing, young man…Lieutenant?”
The Colonel laughed, “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, good Captain. If you would release me, I find my mission concluded and myself without a destination at the moment and I am quite famished. If I could perhaps take these two officers to your mess hall for dinner?”
Captain Kamov said, “Of course, Colonel. Allow me to provide you with two security guards to ensure that no one further interferes with your diplomatic movements.”
Glowering from Wilkes to Sooth he said, “And when the Colonel has quite finished with you both, you will come see me. Bring your supervisors. And Marine, you will get your team the hell off my bridge immediately.”
They both echoed “Yes, sir!”
Kamov stalked out of the bay, the bay crew still staring in utter bewilderment.

CHAPTER 12
An ambassador is an honest man who is sent to lie abroad for the good of his country.
– Sir Henry Wotton – Earth (Human)
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, IN ORBIT OVER TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
Back aboard the Hood, Captain Karmes was gnawing on his fingernails. A bad habit. The Hyperion had backed off again.
“Sensory to Bridge.”
“This is the Captain.”
“Captain, we’ve figured out the jamming. It’s coming from the Hyperion. They’re using our own deflector array to jam our transmissions. That’s why it was surging back and forth. They’re sending tight-beam directional pulses that our deflector takes, focuses and amplifies and then rebroadcasts. It had to look like WE were the ones doing the jamming.”
The Yorktown had been motionless and silent for several minutes now, as had the Hood. Karmes studied the scorches across her hull and grimaced at the thought that his weapons fire had damaged a sister ship. And at the damage done to his own vessel and crew. “Can you get through it?”
“There’s no need to sir – it’s fading away. We should have coms back very soon. I think they stopped.”
“FINALLY!”
“Captain, incoming from the Yorktown.”
“On screen!” Moments later the main viewscreen snapped in to a view of Captain Kamov and the obviously battle-damaged bridge of the USS Yorktown. “Bob, I am going to kick your ass for that. And I’ve got several of your crew over here half a dozen of whom are injured and one young…’officer’ who looks like he walked out of a space opera.”
“Did you get him?”
“You mean the very honorable Colonel Jons? Yes. But of course, he has full diplomatic immunity so we can’t touch him. It was terrible though – my men found a terrorist device aboard his shuttlecraft and we had to throw it into the disposal chute. The Colonel looked…upset by its loss.”

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, IN ORBIT OVER TOULAGAI
SEPTEMBER 2269
In the Yorktown’s mess hall, Wilkes was trying to adapt to the sudden change of mood. Sooth was still in her armor, and communicating with Kalea, making sure that her team was squared away medically and out of Kamov’s way.
Colonel Jons went to the replicator and ordered three French Roast coffees. As he returned with the drinks to the table he began, “It seems we have done this once before.” and smiled, ignoring the two security guards watching over him.
“I don’t understand that, Colonel. How is it we keep running into each other? It’s a big universe.”
He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, “French Roast? I think not. French Toast is closer.” Looking at Wilkes he said, “It’s a smaller universe than it seems, Wilkes. And history seems to have a pattern to it; a sort of fugue where there are periods of time where the same names keep cropping up in events great and small over and over again. For instance, you of the Federation – Your Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and the rest of the crew of the Enterprise. It’s something of a joke in the rest of the galaxy, really. If there is something going on, they will be involved.
“I’m really rather shocked they weren’t here.”
Wilkes coughed, “Um, they were refueling at Earth, but they were the ones who found you out, sir.”
“Ah. Of course. You see? Another echo.”
“But sir, we’re not great important officers or historical people who do great things. I’m basically a mechanic and Sooth’s a Marine!”
“An avalanche can be started by the fall of a single pebble, Wilkes. There are others caught up in our fugue as well. Do you know who the helmsman of this vessel is?”
“No, sir.”
Sooth spoke up, “It’s a Lieutenant Yoshida. We got their names when we captured the bridge.”
Wilkes looked at her, “When you did WHAT? No wonder he’s pissed.”
“Be that as it may, you were both doing your duty. But the point remains – Ensign Yoshida helmed the Succession during the battle over Toulagai. Which, incidentally is the ship that brought me here to…Toulagai. And when a Starfleet heavy cruiser showed up during that battle to complete the route of the Klingons it was…The USS Hood.”
Wilkes thought about that. It was a bit more than he was prepared to digest. He needed something a bit simpler. “Sir, you murdered Commander Botha. And you’re going to get away with it.”
“Lieutenant, I murdered no one.”
“You killed her in Paris!”
“Let us say that I did so, Lieutenant. How is that murder? Is it murder to kill your foe in battle?”
“Of course not, but that’s a war!”
“There is no difference, Wilkes. A battle can involve hundreds of ships and thousands of people, or it can involve dozens of governments all maneuvering for power, or it can involve two people following their duty. The battles that are fought by intelligence officers every day are smaller and much quieter than a battle between starships, but they are no different.”
“That’s diplomatic bullshit, sir. Did she know she was in a battle?”
“Had this event occurred, she surely should have. Again, let us imagine the situation. An officer of one government is following her duty, attempting to apply force against another government. Should she not take steps to protect herself? If she fails to do so, that is not the fault of the one who takes advantage of her inattention or inability. Battles are not fought fairly, no matter the size.”
Sooth actually agreed with him. “That’s true. It is always your responsibility to protect yourself and those under you.”
Jons toasted her with his coffee. “Quite.”
Wilkes wasn’t done yet. “But you betrayed the Federation. You stole technical data.”
Jons took a sip and raised his eyebrows. “Betrayed? Wilkes, I owe no loyalty to the Federation. My duty is to my Duke and my King. Again, HAD I actually obtained data that they did not wish me to have, that would not be a betrayal, that would be me carrying out my duty to my Duke and my King, would it not?”
Wilkes tried to digest this. Could a spy be honorable? “Wilkes, the world is not as clean and simple a place as you think. Great Powers like the Federation, the Klingons, and the Romulans use smaller powers like pawns in a game. They dare not fight openly so they fight proxy wars using our blood, and our planets, only occasionally becoming involved themselves. Were they to fight openly, casualties would be in the trillions with entire star systems laid waste – unimaginable.
“It is not right, it is not fair, and it is not nice. But the spies of the galaxy help maintain a…a balance of terror. As long as each Power knows everything about the others, and knows that the others in turn know everything about it, they know they cannot win as long as the technology stays roughly equal. If one Power were to gain a major advantage, they might use that advantage to trigger that final war.
“The current terrible weakness of the Romulan Star Empire, thanks to a brilliantly executed raid by our Dosadi friends here, is one of the most frightening and destabilizing things that has occurred in decades. The Romulans are wounded, afraid, and desperate.  I fear that they will react like any cornered, wounded animal.
“Had I done any of these things you think that I have done, I ask you to consider what I have just said and think about the lives that would be lost in a general war across the galaxy.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Colonel. You’re trying to make yourself out to be a good guy in all this.”
Colonel Jons laughed, “Aren’t we always the hero in our own story, Wilkes? Enough politics. The lady is going hungry and the good Captain is waiting to have a discussion with you both.” and he stood up to order food for the three of them.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, UNDER WAY
OCTOBER 2269
Two days later, Wilkes, back in proper uniform, was completing his report to Chief Engineer White. Finishing the whole exhausting tale, he finally lapsed into silence.
White continued munching on some of the biscuits Wilkes’ mother had sent along. “Damn, these are good…So, a Dosadi, a Hydran, and a Brit walk into a bar…”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. Dumb joke. What are we going to do with you Wilkes?”
Wilkes cleared his throat, “Captain Kamov was um, rather unhappy in general, sir. I think I was just a convenient target for being out of uniform.”
“True. Sooth took over his ship, but at least she was in the proper uniform. And we’re damn lucky nobody on either side died, especially with some of the more severely injured. But there’s more to this than being out of uniform.”
“Sir?”
“Wilkes, in a very short time you’ve been involved in several major battles, espionage, a battle between two Federation starships, cultivated a relationship with a known spy, married a foreign national of another entire species and caused your dear mother no end of heartache.” he munched away.
“You’re like a bomb going off wherever you go, Wilkes. Fortunately, now that we recognize your shall we say, explosive potential, we may be able to harness it. But the last is the most serious charge. For giving your mother so much grief – and for being out of uniform, you will pull two hours extra duty every working shift for the next two weeks, said duty to involve either cleaning tools, equipment, or battle armor for Security.”
Breathing a sigh of relief Wilkes said, “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll kick your ass later. Get out, and give Sooth a squeeze for me. I really am sorry things didn’t work out with Dr. Monteaux’s regimen.”
Looking down Wilkes answered, “Doesn’t look like it, sir. He said the whole hormonal thing was going to be a delicate balance for a while and to avoid excitement. I’m afraid a bar brawl, a battle, and an assault boarding and capture of a starship doesn’t quite qualify as peace and calm.” He left to go back to their quarters, now more sad than relieved.
CHAPTER 13
To nourish children and raise them against odds is in any time, any place, more valuable than to fix bolts in cars or design nuclear weapons.
– Susan Sontag – Earth (Human)
OFF THE COAST OF T’ELESH, DOSAD
MARCH 2270
Corin was leaning into the oar next to Wilkes, bending his back as they drew hard, racing away from the setting sun.
Wilkes panted, “I didn’t even know there WERE lakes this big.”
Corin laughed, “There’s a lot more to our planet than trees, Wilkes.” The longship was making good time, the six pairs of oarsmen adding to the lateen sail hung slightly forward of amidships.
“I think I need a helmet with horns on it.” he gasped out as they lifted, pushed, and drew again.
Corn laughed and asked, “Why?”
“Never mind. Are you sure Toralin can do it?”
Another stroke and Corin said, “He’s a medic. And if he can’t, he can call a transporter. It’ll be fine. Trust me, it’s better to be here than there.” Another stroke and he continued, “Besides these things take time, we’re only about an hour out from T’Elesh at this pace.”
“It’s just too damn soon.”
“What do you know about it?” Corin laughed. “If you can worry that much you’re not pulling hard enough, put your back into it!”
An hour later, the helmsman curved them alongside the pier and people began to pile out and tie the ship fast. Corin stood up from his bench and stretched. Making his way to the tent covering the center of the boat, he peeked his head in. “Can I see?”
Eletha waved him in and he looked down. “Well thank all the gods they’re not pink. But…four? I thought one?”
Wilkes looked up with a huge smile on his face, whispering so as not to wake Sooth, “We’ve known for a long while, but we didn’t know how many…would make it. They’re still too small. They’re early.”
Corin cocked his head to one side trying to get a good look at the little kits. Their ears were small, and more rounded than he was used to. And their tails were tiny – almost bobbed. One with reddish, spotted fur opened her bright blue eyes and mewled.
“That one’s Heather.” Wilkes said, and we’ve got “Nollos, and Rollin, and Corin. I got to pick one name  but I’m not saying which.” he chuckled.
Corin smiled, “There’s a float to take you to the medical bay. Wait…Rollin?”
With a quiet laugh Wilkes explained, “For my father.”
“AH, of course…” and he stepped back out on deck, leaning over the rail. Watching the waves, he heard the float load the new little family up and start making it’s way up the hill and into the city. Eletha came and leaned on the rail next to him, her tail draped over his.
“Well, they SORT of look like Dosadi.” he said, enjoying the quiet lap of the waves against the hull.
“They know it won’t be easy, Corin. Nothing either of them has ever done has been easy. But they’ve gotten it done, haven’t they?”
He smiled at her, “That’s quite true. They have done rather well, haven’t they?” He could hear her kits scampering around the ropes and oars. At three, and finally weaned, they were given a lot more freedom to explore. Watching Eletha look to check on her kits he thought to himself. “Not quite yet, but soon, I think.”
She looked back at him and laughed “I know what you’re thinking, Corin. It does seem to be getting to that part of our stories, doesn’t it?”
He shook his head, “It’s scary how you do that.” And he turned, leaning his back on the gunwale, looking up the hill after the float. “And now there’s four new stories to tell.”
Turning and leaning her chin on his shoulder she said, “That’s a long journey yet.”

CHAPTER 14
A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
– Lao Tzu
DUCHY OF THE SWORD WORLDS, HYDRAN KINGDOM
APRIL 2270
Relaxing in his study, listening to the wind and rain against the tall, narrow windows of his study, Colonel Jons enjoyed a glass of wine and the warmth of the fire. Turning to the dispatches delivered by  the day’s courier, he quickly sorted them out. Smiling he held up one marked as a personal message data chip and smoothly inserted it into his PADD.
The action led him to remember how pleased the Romulans had been that the Yorktown team had neglected to scan the PADD he was carrying and therefore failed to detect the isolinear chip he had inserted back in that pub in Marseille. It was, after all, his habit to succeed at his duties, and one had a certain reputation to maintain, after all. And of course, they had learned much about the capabilities of the Constitution Class Starships from monitoring the duel between the Hood and the Yorktown.
He touched the display screen. The usual headers indicating that it had been scanned by both Starfleet Intelligence and the Hydran embassy security office flashed by and he began reading the letter. Tapping a symbol, the PADD displayed a holographic image of Sooth, proudly holding her four new kits with Wilkes standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “That’s quite an armful.” he thought to himself, remembering the birth of each of his own children.
“I wonder what it would be like with four at one time…” he mused and continued reading the message, full of the sort of little bits of daily life that are only of interest to those directly involved. It closed with a post-script, “PS: I still think you’re a spy. But I’ll admit I’ve been thinking about what you said about a balance of terror. I still don’t agree with you, but it makes a bit more sense now.”
Jons chuckled, wondering what Starfleet Intelligence would think of that particular comment. The lad stood as a unique bridge between the Federation and Dosadi cultures and was deliberately communicating with a spy. He would no doubt come in for extra scrutiny in his dealings….he sat back and watched the fire for a little bit, letting his mind run.
There were possibilities here; business, intelligence, and indeed, personal as well. The boy and his wife were quite likeable, after all. But then, Colonel Jons was a very emotional man.

CYCLE 3 – PIVOT
CHAPTER 1
The truth is balance. However, the opposite of truth, which is unbalance, may not be a lie.
– Susan Sontag (Earth)
UNKNOWN
JANUARY 2271
“Will it work?”
“If it arrives at a target location as I have described, certainly. The R0 should start out at 15 and increase from there. With a latent period of nearly a week, an extremely high transmission rate along multiple vectors, and an asymptomatic period of two weeks, it will likely spread off-world rapidly. Long before anyone knows there is a need for quarantine. But it is essential that the initial release occurs where there will be a maximum number of highly-mobile individuals exposed.”
“And the lethality?”
“Better than 20% initially, and likely to rise. It is polymorphic by design. But after the initial phase, this is unpredictable. There will be further losses due to the breakdown of civic order and services, of course.”
“Specificity?”
“Genetically targeted to a single species, as requested. Hybrids may or may not be susceptible depending upon chromosomal makeup.”
“Treatment?”
“Unlikely to have any efficacy from one generation to the next. It is highly polymorphic, maintaining only those few traits we desire as constants.”
“When can we have a dispersion device?”
“It will take some time to go from hypothetical concept to tested realization. No more than 5 years. However, you understand getting the product through screening will be nearly impossible, do you not? The Federation are not fools.”
“You will focus on your area of expertise and I shall focus on mine.”

CHAPTER 2
Never mind searching for who you are. Search for the person you aspire to be.
– Robert Brault – Earth (Human)
T’ELESH, DOSAD
JANUARY 2271
Lieutenant Thomas Wilkes was standing at the window of the roundhouse he and Sooth shared with their four children on the rare occasions both of them were on Dosad and wanted some alone time. The Dosadi didn’t really ‘own’ houses so much as they shared them, and respected those who wished to be alone for whatever reasons.  Naked, he stared out at the night through the deep opening. He enjoyed the sound of the driving rain, the feeling of the cool eastern wind across his skin; He enjoyed just being alive. After the chaos of the first few years of his Starfleet career, it was nice to enjoy a couple of years of peace and quiet. And it was just so NICE to be home with Sooth and the kits. With him being posted to the USS Hood and Sooth being stationed aboard the Dosadi assault carrier ISS Delos, it seemed all too rare that he got to enjoy a real family life. Sometimes it sucked being a sailor.
The clouds scudded across the blue-grey sky, the wind making the weird Dosadi trees rustle their corn-husk-like long-bladed leaves and twisting the draping pseudo-vine structures that hung down from the branches. He always thought they looked haunted when the wind blew like this, and tonight was no exception.  He could smell the cool dank of the distant big lake on the wind and, if he listened closely,  hear the soft whisper of the waves against the shore. The weather suited his mood tonight.
He was getting close to the end of his tour with Starfleet and needed to make some decisions. Sign up for another tour? Take Sooth and the kits to Earth and take a job as an Engineer there? Try to find something to do here on Dosad – the Dosadi weren’t big on power-systems and technology most of the time, but there was enough of it needed that he could probably find something that kept them fed and housed. Not that the Dosadi didn’t seem to always make sure that folks had someplace to stay and something to eat anyway. As long as you had any sort of utility – even as a competent babysitter or storyteller, there would be a place for you somewhere.
Or maybe he should join the Dosadi Imperial Fleet, then he and Sooth could be stationed on the Delos together. As usual, he thought about that a lot. It made sense. But, he simply wasn’t ready to walk away from Starfleet and the Federation, and there were advantages to being a Federation citizen. He sighed and heard Sooth say,
“For a big, bald monkey, you’re pretty sexy.”
Turning and smiling at his wife he answered back, completing the familiar ritual, “And for a big house cat, you’re pretty sexy yourself.” She laughed and held her arms out to him.
Later, curled up around her in their bed and holding her close he sighed again.
She nuzzled back against him, “You worry about the journey ahead too much, Wilkes.”
“Or not enough. Half the time I think I’m just stumbling from one near-disaster to the next and relying on luck to get through them.”
Purring, she said, “I think they call that ‘life’, Wilkes. You can plan and prepare and worry and wonder and none of it will change what the gods have in mind for tomorrow. All you can do is be the best you can be every day and see where your road leads. Enjoy where you ARE” she said, wiggling back against him,  “without worrying so much about what’s up ahead.”
“Oh believe me, I very much enjoy where I am.” he gave her a squeeze. “But I don’t know what to do about so many things. Do I rejoin Starfleet? Join the Imperial Fleet? Stay here? Take us all back to Earth? Jons wants me to work with him on opening up trade between Hydra and Dosad, but he’s a spy!”
“I’m not ready to leave the Imperial Marines, Wilkes. And Starfleet would probably throw you in the brig if you worked with Jons. I like him, I think, but I don’t trust him.” she giggled.
“No, that’s the weird thing.” He rubbed her ears softly, “Jons sent me a note just before I left for leave. Chief Engineer White called me to his office to give it to me. There were two really creepy guys from Starfleet Security there and they said they wanted me to.”
“Why would they want you to work with a spy?” She arched her neck.
“That’s what I said, and I thought they wanted me to spy for them so I told them, ‘I’m an Engineer, not a  spy.’
They just laughed and said they didn’t want me to be a spy. Just work with Jons, but let them keep monitoring devices wherever we met, or worked together so they could keep an eye on HIM, and let them track all our communications. Said I didn’t need to really do anything at all.”
She thought about it for a moment, “Maybe they think they can catch him being a spy and…Can they even do anything to him? He’s a diplomat.”
“Kick him out permanently maybe. I didn’t get it either, but I said I’d at least meet with him and see what he’s got in mind. We should probably tell the Council that he’s a spy before he gets here.”
“Well it’ll have to wait until after our hunting trip tomorrow.” She giggled again, “And I want to be there when you tell N’Orel that you’ve invited a spy to Dosad.”
Wilkes tickled her and things degenerated rapidly from there.

CHAPTER 3
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man, Thief.
– Nursery Rhyme – Earth (Human)
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS HOOD, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2271
Chief Engineer White sat at his paper-strewn desk aboard the USS Hood while two Starfleet Security officers spoke with him. Though wearing the uniforms of Lieutenant Commanders, their real ranks and branches of service were classified. They wore whatever uniforms were convenient to their purpose. The first asked,
“Will he do it?”
White looked him up and down again. The man gave off an air of casual lethality, as though killing were as automatic a function as shaving. “He’s a good kid, Commander ‘Jones’. I still object to your attempting to recruit him.”
His partner leaned forward, “We’re not recruiting him, per se, Chief. We don’t really want him to have anything to do with any intelligence operations at all.”
“Then why, Commander ‘Smith’, do you want him working with that Hydran operative?”
Smith and Jones looked at each other for a moment, and Jones finally spoke with a quiet, flat voice, “White, you seem to have influence with Wilkes, so we’re going to level with you. We don’t have a lot of contacts with or penetration into Hydran operations. We get good dope on the Klingons from Dosadi intelligence as you well know… “
“Don’t remind me.” White interrupted.
Smith smiled while Jones continued, “Indeed, the Korat have quite a reputation. But the Hydrans are plugged into everyone. If we can get a peek into their operations…it could completely alter the balance of power. In our favor. If Wilkes works with Jons, we’ve got a tie-point. We can try to plant a trace on him, we know where to find him and can see who he talks to, business contacts, contracts, who he interacts with – not only find out who might be turned on our side, but who we might be able to turn on THEIR side. “
He paused a moment, clearly wrestling with what he should say, “Further, there is value in being able to quietly pass messages from one Service to another, outside normal diplomatic channels. There are times when information must be exchanged, but in a way that is…deniable.”
“Jons isn’t stupid, Jones. He’s going to know that Wilkes is working with you. That puts him at a lot of risk. I don’t like that.”
“Of course he’ll know! And he’ll know that we know that he knows. The fact that Wilkes will be completely in the dark will be what keeps him safe. He can’t betray knowledge he doesn’t have, and Jons will quickly find out that the boy is clueless. He’ll suspect something, but he won’t know anything other than that we’re watching.”
Disgusted White asked, “You still really enjoy these games, don’t you?”
Jones laughed, “Of course. It’s really the only game there is. You used to be quite good at it yourself.”
“I said, don’t remind me.”

* * *
DUCHY OF THE SWORD WORLDS, HYDRAN KINGDOM
JANUARY 2271
“Will he do it?” the short, sallow-skinned man with black hair asked.
“I believe so. Starfleet Intelligence will want to use my contacts with him as a way to keep tabs on me.” Colonel Jons said.
“Is he an operative then?”
“No, M’lord. He is just what he seems. A ridiculously fortunate, rather likeable young human who joined Starfleet to see a wider universe. We’ve done rather extensive research on his background. His home village is smaller than my own lands.” he chuckled.
“What is he doing married to a Dosadi? That stinks of Starfleet meddling.”
“I’m not entirely sure how that came about, but I intend to find out. He told me, and his dossier confirms, that he was posted to the ISS Delos a few months before the battle at Toulagai, but as you know, we have no real penetration into Dosadi operations. Yet.”
“And you think you can dodge both Starfleet and the Korat and gain something useful out of this? Is the payoff worth the risk? You’re an extraordinarily effective agent. I’d hate to see you caught like a mouse in a trap.”
Jons bowed, “M’lord, a clever mouse can get away with the cheese and escape both trap and cat. It simply takes focus and attention to your duties. And a certain panache, of course.” He smiled.
“Very well. But I shall take it very much amiss if you lose your utility to the Kingdom. Your duties require that you remain active, and effective, Colonel.”

* * *
T’ELSH, DOSAD
JANUARY 2271
“Well, N’Orel, will he do it?”
The big cat looked at the Klingon and said, “I’m not sure, K’mpok. He’s got good instincts for a human. He knows the whole thing stinks like rotted meat and he is suspicious. He doesn’t know what is wrong with the situation, just that something is not right.”
“Can his woman push him into it?”
“That still makes my fur stand up. It’s just…not right. But I doubt it. Dosadi are, as you know, fiercely loyal to their mates and if he thinks it’s a bad idea, she won’t try to dissuade him.”
The Klingon trader thought for a little while, watching the sun rise over the distant lake. “Perhaps if something was to be offered to her so that she thought it was a good idea she might advise him as we wish. A woman’s voice is the last a man hears every night, after all.”
N’Orel laughed. “And what would you offer a Dosadi? Gold? Slaves? Lands? We are not interested in such things.”
“Power. Connections and a stronger family.”
N’Orel shook his head, “We’re not Klingon, K’mpok. But there may be something to family. Perhaps if she knows we of the Korat see it as a good opportunity, she will work with us rather than against us. I will arrange to have one of our people speak with her. They’re going out hunting this morning, so it will have to wait for their return. There is no rush. The Hydran won’t arrive for several weeks yet.”
“majQa.” he smiled.

CHAPTER 4
It’s a shallow life that doesn’t give a person a few scars.
– Garrison Keillor – Human (Earth)
T’ELSH, DOSAD
FEBRUARY 2271
The sun rose with long spokes of shadow and light through the clouds. The waves lapped at the hull of the longship as Sooth and Wilkes stood waiting, small rucks at their feet.  Wilkes, watching people getting aboard, taking seats at oars and generally making ready to sail said, “You know, I’m still surprised at the amount of cooperation you Dosadi have. On Earth we’d have to hire a boat or hire a crew or something. Here you just ask folks if they want to do something until you get enough to do it. And how come old Tarleth lets anyone take his boat out?”
Sooth laughed, “I keep forgetting that most of your experience with us is aboard the Delos. Military structure is different. At home, we’re a pretty cooperative culture compared to humans and we don’t really have the same feelings about ownership your people do.
“Tarleth usually helms this longship because he knows it better than anyone else. He just didn’t feel like going out today, so S’arleth will because she wants to sail. Lots of people helped build it, why would it be his alone?”
“But what if she just doesn’t feel like coming back? Or sinks it?”
“Well, I guess he’d get another one built, but why wouldn’t she come back? And if we sank it, we’d help build another one. It would be dishonorable not to.”
“Um, say, she decided to move across the lake and wanted to keep the boat and just…didn’t come back with it.”
She looked askance at him, “She has too much honor for that, Wilkes. Besides, everyone crewing today would want to come back here anyway. If she tried to keep them there, they’d probably throw her overboard.”
Wilkes shook his head, “I love it, but you would never fit in on Earth. People aren’t like that – we always want more stuff.”
Bending down to pick up her ruck she said, “I know. I never understood that. Why do so many people there have so many things. And your history! It’s all about taking stuff from other people even when you can’t use it yourself, or trying to make other people do what you want or believe what you believe. Why not just mind your own business?”
Grabbing his own ruck as Corin and Eletha came walking down the dock he said, “I guess that’s why I like it so much better here. I love being a Federation citizen but there are so many rules and regulations. It’s sure better than what it sounds like it used to be, but I get tired of being monitored all the time and all the other restrictions.”

Corin, arriving in time to hear Wilkes’ last comment, paused with one leg on the dock, one across the gunwale of the longship and asked, curiously, “And so, to get away from being monitored and away from restrictions, you joined STARFLEET? Wilkes, I always thought you were crazy. Now I know you are.”
When Eletha shoved him, he almost fell overboard.
Several hours later, as they were lounging mid-deck while others took their turns at the oars, Wilkes was watching the sail cut across the clouds and the ice-blue sky. “So tell me more about this hunting trip, Corin. Sooth’s been pretty cagey about not telling me much of anything. I notice we didn’t bring any phasers, or stunners, or anything.”
“Where’s the honor in hunting prey with a long-range weapon? I suppose I could call the Delos and get them to fire a phaser barrage too…but I don’t think it would be much fun, nor prove any courage of mine. No, when we get to where we’re going we’ll make our own weapons: spears. You humans use technology for everything. We could easily take a power-float across the lake, or fly, or if we could trade enough for it, call a transporter. Easy and boring! But when it’s just YOU?” He licked his lips, lost in some mental image of his own.
“You’ll love it, Wilkes. Naraks are related to us – they stayed solitary hunters and got bigger, stronger, and meaner while we evolved to be more cooperative, speak, and to use tools to make up for a smaller size.”
Eletha interrupted, “Hang on – I’ll show you an image.” She held up her PADD and a holograph popped into being above the display.
Wilkes mouth dropped open, “A sabertooth tiger!”
“A what?” Eletha asked.
“It looks a lot like a pre-historic Earth carnivore called a sabertooth tiger. No tail, huge size, giant teeth, and just unhappy about life in general.”
Eletha tapped on her PADD for a few moments, “Oh yes – here.” and a second image appeared next to the narak. “It does look similar. But you’ll note that the narek is longer, doesn’t have the big shoulders, and the teeth aren’t quite as long.”
“Long enough!” Wilkes laughed. “We’re going to hunt those with spears?!”
“Oh yes.” Corin licked his lips again. “ They’re delicious. When you face one, just you and it, let me tell you that’s when you will come face to face with who you are, Wilkes. There’s nothing like it. Your strength, courage, and skill against his. A lot of people don’t come back from these trips. But, if we don’t thin them out, they tend to come down to the cities and start preying on younger kits. We like them to stay a bit more up in the mountains where they belong. But the bigger ones have the best territory there. So, we clear some out there and the younger ones have a chance rather than coming down to where we are.”
“So we’re going to gear up, climb into the mountains and hunt a sabertooth tiger with a spear. Are you sure we can’t call the Delos?”
“Gear up? Who said anything about gear, Wilkes? Traditionally, you should be naked when you start. You get to wear clothes because you’re all bald. Anything else you want, you have to make along the way…”

It was early afternoon when S’arleth beached the longship at a narrow strand at the foot of a range of hills. As the four of them were disembarking, she grinned evilly and said, “We’ll come back and pick up whatever’s left of you in two days.”
As they stood on the beach, Wilkes looked into the distance, seeing the mountains rising up enough in the distance to have snow, even during this warmer season. The hills started out with scrub, moving into the same kind of trees that he always saw as haunted. Further, up, they looked greener. “How far up do we go?” he asked.
“How high depends upon the naraks! Usually we do this as individuals, but you don’t know enough about our planet yet. So, we’re going to stick together and teach you as we go.” Corin hoisted his pack, looking up ahead with a big smile and eager excitement.
Looking up as well, Eletha spoke, “But don’t think it’ll be a team event when we find one! Whoever spots it first gets it!”
As they started off, Wilkes shook his head again at the Dosadi thirst for challenge and trial. Teasingly, he asked Sooth, “So, feel good to be rid of the extra weight and hassle?”
Looking down her once-again flat chest she sighed happily, “You have NO idea. I’m so glad they weaned so early. I really do not know how human women put up with that nonsense all their lives.”
Wilkes looked at her wryly and she continued, “I know what you’re thinking monkey-boy! Kalea told me all about human males’ fascination with those.” She flicked her tail and sped up the hill while Corin and Eletha laughed at him.

Late the following morning, he was surprised both at how far they had traveled and how much higher they were. The night had been chilly – fortunately, he thought, he had 3 self-heating furry blankets to keep warm with.  Puffing with exertion, he shrugged his shoulders against the ruck’s straps and increased his pace again to keep from falling behind.
As they crested a small ridge, Corin paused and said, “You’re doing well so far, Wilkes! You haven’t broken anything, fallen off a cliff, eaten anything poisonous,  or been eaten! Even your spear’s pretty good, although I’ll admit the point is a little strange.”
Wilkes hefted his heavy spear. “I studied some anthropology at the Academy and that included a workshop in how to make stone tools. The instructor wanted us to learn that primitive didn’t mean stupid. I wonder if he had you guys in mind….”
Eletha laughed and asked “It just looks different than any I’ve seen before.”
“It’s my own modification. Stone points look the same from one tool-using culture to the next. That’s just a fact of how edged weapons work and how stone fractures no matter what planet you’re on. Like your classic Dosadi knife – that’s basically a Celtic leaf-blade. A knife is shaped the way it is because of what it has to do – there’s just not that many variations that are possible.
But you can put in a few twists – I left some large spurs on mine so that it acts like a flechette going in…and coming out. It should do a lot more damage than a normal point.”
“Well, you should get a chance soon. “ Corin said. “This is perfect territory for naraks. I think you know enough to not get into any trouble for the next little bit. Let’s all split up for an hour or two then meet back here and we’ll see how we did! Just remember to keep your eyes, ears, and nose open. They like to hunt too.”
“Thanks.” Wilkes said dryly. The group split up and went in four different directions. As he walked, Wilkes headed down into a draw, trying to listen and smell for anything unusual. The problem was that as an Earthling, everything was unusual. The net result was that he was constantly starting at shadows and over-reacting to harmless sounds. Getting disgusted with himself after being startled by what appeared to be the Dosadi version of a chipmunk, he decided to relax for a bit.
Sitting down with his back to a large rock, he put down the spear he had been pointing at the chipmunk and laughed at his own fears. To the chipmunk he said, “Well, I suppose if I brought YOUR head back it wouldn’t be much proof of my courage, so consider yourself fortunate, ‘munk.” The little furry critter stared at him with beady eyes, then with a flick of it’s ridiculously long, narrow tail, disappeared.
Not a moment later, he quickly reached back down for the heavy spear and leapt to his feet, spinning around with his weapon at the ready. Standing upon the rock he had been relaxing against was a large, male narak, looking down at him. In person, it was bigger, uglier, and smellier than he thought possible.
The narak studied him, trying to decide just what he was. Dosadi didn’t have a class of primates Wilkes’ size or color or smell. That niche was filled by several species of mid-sized tree-dwelling rodents not unlike flying squirrels. Growling, the creature decided that whatever it was, it was meat, it was in his territory, and it must be lunch.
Wilkes tried to swallow in a very dry throat as the thousand-pound sabertooth – it didn’t matter what the Dosadi called it, the thing was a sabertooth tiger – gracefully jumped off the rock, out of the reach of his spear, and began a slow, growling approach. “Well, I wanted a challenge.” he thought to himself. Steeling his nerve he said, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”
The narak paused, trying to evaluate the strange noises his lunch was making. Deciding they weren’t much of a threat display, he resumed his approach, slinking closer, getting ready to make the sudden, short rush that would allow him to wrestle lunch to the ground and slash its throat open with his fangs.
Wilkes circled away, watching the terrain for any advantage that he could take. Getting the big rock to his back, he crouched low, spear at the ready and challenged the narak, “C’mon, kitty…Take your best shot.” He hoped his voice wasn’t wavering too much and that the damn thing didn’t notice his knees were shaking. Then he thought to himself, “Great, I’m a zillion miles from home, about to be killed by a pre-historic monster and I’m worried about impressing it before it eats me.”
The narak had had enough. This prey wasn’t behaving normally at all. In any case, he was hungry, and it looked small, weak, and smelled frightened. Crouching low, he narrowed his eyes, gauging the distance to Wilkes and sprang into the attack.
Wilkes watched the narak crouch, its rear-end working as it dug its hind claws in for traction. “Now I know what the mouse feels like…” but he steeled himself, holding the heavy spear in a tight grip, parallel with the ground, ready to adjust his aim. There was a blur of motion as the half-ton predator raced towards him. Wilkes butted the haft of his spear against the rock, desperately trying to aim the point into the thing’s center-mass when the impact nearly knocked him off his feet.
The spear shaft splintered and broke, but he managed to keep one hand on the part of the spear still stuck in the narak as it screamed in agony and rage, trying now to slam on the brakes and back away from the horrible thing in front of it. Wilkes quickly brought his other hand up to grab the shaft of the spear as the narak began thrashing, great gouts of blood coming out of its throat from the spear lodged in its chest.
Wilkes struggled to rip the barbed spear-point back out of the narak as a massively clawed and muscled front paw slammed into his right arm. “MOTHER FUCKER!” he screamed in anger. He pulled back hard while kicking the thing in the face with his right leg and was rewarded with another gout of blood as the spear came free, ripping with it a good-sized chunk of the narak’s internal workings.
Both of them bloody now, they again began to circle each other, the narak gurgling bloody froth and Wilkes dripping blood from 3 deep gashes across his right arm. When he had the creature with its back to the rock, Wilkes charged, screaming like a banshee. The narak, badly hurt and confused, tried to back away but had nowhere to go and Wilkes again drove the stone-tipped spear deep into the thing’s chest, twisting as he did so. In moments, it was over.
Panting from the fight, Wilkes realized he had to do something about the gashes in his arm before he bled to death himself. Besides, other predators could smell blood and there was a ton if it around here now.  Pulling his shirt off, he used the spear point to cut it into strips and clumsily tied several pressure dressings on the tears in his arm. He wouldn’t be using THAT for a while. It was already starting to stiffen. As he looked around for the right sized sapling for another spear shaft he saw Corin.
The big Dosadi was crouched on top of another rock above the one the narak had been on, and was putting his PADD away as he stood up. “Well done, Wilkes!! I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite that approach before, but it worked!”
Dumfounded, Wilkes asked “What are you doing here? I thought you went North?”
“I did.” he chuckled as he made his way down the rocks. “I was following this one’s trail. I knew I was only a minute or so behind him, and then I saw you.”
“Just now?”
“No, just when you jumped up – I caught sight of the narak and wondered what he was looking at when you stood up. But Wilkes…’here kitty, kitty, kitty?’” he laughed.
A suspicion came over Wilkes. “Wait…You saw all that….what were you doing with the PADD?”
“Why Wilkes! Whatever would I be doing with a PADD?” He laughed, “Mind your own business. Time to learn how to butcher these. There’s a lot of meat here we can take back as well as the skin and the teeth and claws can be traded as well. You’ll want to make a drag or it’ll be too heavy.”
“We’re taking it back? By hand?!”
“Of course. Why would you waste it? And since you had the honor of battling it, you get the honor of bringing it home!” Seeing Wilkes’ look of dismay he laughed, “Don’t worry, we can help, that’s allowed. Now, take your stone point and make the first cut here…” And he bent to his task.
Two days later, all four of them were back aboard the longship, Wilkes laying amidships trying to get the kinks out of his back, shoulders, and his injured arm. The other three had indeed helped, but Wilkes had to push himself to his limits carrying the majority of the meat and skin. As he lay there, he heard uproarious laughter coming from the tent that covered the center of the boat. Groaning, he got to his feet and poked his head in to be greeted by a cry of ‘Again! Play it again!’
There, projecting off of Corin’s PADD was a small holographic image of himself, and a moment later he heard his own, slightly wavering voice saying “Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”

CHAPTER 5
The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife.
– Ferengi Rule of Aquisition #48.
T’ELSH, DOSAD
MARCH 2273
Jons and his wife Marin stepped off the shuttlecraft into the humidity and heat of a Dosadi mid-day. As they paused trying to acclimate themselves to a new world, a gruff voice behind them rasped in Klingon “VIH pa’ vo’ lojmit!” (roughly, ‘move out of the door!’). Stepping to the side, they watched a large Klingon trader stride past them and away from the landing pad. The Colonel shook his head and offered his arm to his wife, looking around his environment.
“Colonel Jons!” he heard his name called and finally caught sight of Wilkes. Smiling at the young man, he waved and he and his wife made their way over to the edge of the cleared field where their shuttlecraft had set down.
“Lieutenant Wilkes, I would like to introduce you to my wife, the Lady Marin.”
Both an officer and a gentleman, Wilkes bowed and said, “It is a great pleasure. I was only expecting the Colonel, so this is indeed an extra treat! May I present to you both, Force Leader Corin and his mate, Lieutenant Eletha.”
After the introductions, they began to walk from the landing field towards the cluster of roundhouses that made up the closest portion of the city. Wilkes said, “I really am delighted to see you both Colonel, but I am surprised. Hydrans aren’t exactly common on Dosad, you couldn’t know how you’d be received here; Why take the risk?”
Jons looked up at the taller man and explained, “When a man seeks battle, he brings only himself and his men. When he seeks peace and commerce, he brings his wife.”
Laughing, Wilkes said, “My wife’s a Marine. I think that might confuse the issue…”
“Speaking of which, where is the Lady Sooth?” he asked.
“She’s at home with the kits, which sounds a bit more like your culture, Colonel.” he smiled.
“Please, Lieutenant, I hope to do business with you – I am Seins to my friends.”
“And my first name is actually Thomas, but the Dosadi only use one name and in Starfleet we generally only use last names, so I’m Wilkes most of the time. Feel free to call me either. “
Eletha spoke up, “It was good to meet you both. Corin and I are going to go find where our four kits have gotten to before they get into too much trouble for one day. They’re getting to the age where if they can’t find some sort of mischief, they’ll make it themselves.”
As they entered the roundhouse, Jons looked around bemusedly. The building would befit a peasant family on his own lands, but as a diplomat, he kept his thoughts to himself.
Waving them inside, Wilkes said, “Make yourselves comfortable, please – there aren’t that many rooms here so it shouldn’t take me too long to find Sooth.” grinning he said, “Watch your feet though, our kits are getting curious enough to explore anything and anyone.” and he indicated the four pairs of very bright eyes and focused ears peering out of a low sleeping pad. “I’ll be right back – please excuse me.” and he walked through the door leading further into the interior.
Marin immediately went over to the little ones and crouched down to say hello. The smallest one, a spotted reddish-furred female dodged Marin and peered up at Jons. “What are YOU?”
Delighted, Jons kneeled down and said, “I am a Hydran little one. My name is Seins. What is your name?”
Sniffing and examining him with all the curiosity of small children everywhere, she said, “I’m Heather!”
As Jons was opening his mouth he heard a knife clearing its sheath behind him and an obviously very young voice demanding, “Get away from her! What are you? What are you doing?”
Moving his hands away from his body, the Colonel slowly stood and turned to face his attacker. Sizing him up he found a young, male Dosadi, perhaps seven or eight standard years old with knife in hand and suspicion written all over his face.
“Ah. You have great courage, my friend.”
The youngster answered, “You better not be hurting them! I won’t let you.”
“And you have honor as well, protecting those smaller than yourself. But do you have wisdom too? The greatest warriors are the wisest warriors. You should know all you can about your foe before committing to battle.”
The lad was feeling a little out of his depth. He was almost the same size as the little violet-skinned man in the strange clothing, but he wasn’t acting afraid of him or his knife. But he’d backed away from Heather and he was showing empty hands and hadn’t moved since he turned around. Why was he just smiling at him?
“Well…I didn’t have time. I had to make sure you weren’t hurting them. Now I can find out though.” holding his knife at the ready he said, “I am Kaileen, the son of two warriors, Eletha and T’Laren and um. So who are YOU?”
Hearing the conversation, Wilkes and Sooth had poked their heads around the corner and were watching interestedly but taking no action yet.
“I am Colonel Sir Jons Seins, Royal Hydran Marines, and I have been in a hundred battles leading thousands of men, fighting with everything from my own two hands to phaser rifles to starships and I have emerged alive each and every time.” He smiled, still not moving, “Now, you have drawn a weapon on me; in my culture, that is a challenge. I believe it is on Dosad as well, is it not?”
The boy swallowed hard. Corin and Eletha stepped inside and Eletha, every bit as suspicious as her son asked, “Colonel, what are you doing?”
The Colonel said, “Getting acquainted with this young warrior. He seems to want to test himself, m’Lady. You make allowances for training, do you not?” and he smiled and winked at her.
She frowned and Corin put his hand on her arm, “We do indeed Colonel. Kaileen, you are responsible for your words here. Speak freely, but remember that.”
Looking at the various adults watching him intently, seeing the younger kits looking up with wide eyes and the little Colonel just smiling at him, he felt backed into a corner by his own pride. But the man wasn’t very much bigger than him. And he’d been training. Standing tall he said, “I’m not afraid of you. You might have been hurting Sooth’s kits so I was in the right. If you don’t like that, then we can fight.”
Eletha was just shy of growling, but Corin squeezed her arm and said, “Well, Colonel! Not on Dosad an hour yet and already heading to the challenge ring!”
Grinning at Corin he said, “The lad’s courage impressed me. He deserves the chance to test that, don’t you think? and speaking to Kaileen he said, “Shall we test each other without causing injury? I would be honored to face you in the ring.”
His voice quavering a little the boy answered “Sure, that makes sense. I didn’t know you were a guest.”
By the time the little group had gotten to the local field, the word had spread that there was something unusual going on and a decent sized crowd had gathered. Looking at several pairs of Dosadi matching across the wide grassy area he asked, “Are there always challenges going on? I had read up on Dosadi culture, of course, but I didn’t think it was that common.”
Corin explained, “There’s always people settling some argument or other, or just training, or just matching for fun. This is actually pretty slow today.”
Wilkes said, “It’s a great way to get all the anger and bad feelings out after a fight, and it makes making up even more fun.” and he grinned at Sooth who swatted him.
Surprised, Jons asked, “You…fight with your wife? Physically?”
“All the time. She’s a Marine, remember? She wins more often than I do. We have rules on what sort of contact, whether we wear pads or not, weapons or not, and so on. But it’s awesome training as well as a lot of fun.”
His wife clearly appalled, Jons shook his head and said “The more I encounter other cultures, the stranger they seem to me. On my world, men who raise their hands to their wives are the most despicable creatures, barely one step above those who hurt children.”
Eletha, clearly unhappy interjected, “I’m glad to hear that Colonel, and I’ll hold you to it. He’s never had a real match before and he’s still very young.”
“You have my word, m’Lady. The young man is at about the same age my own son was when we started his training.”
A few minutes later, Kaileen and Colonel Jons squared off in a circle of grass, with blunted knives in their hands. Crouching low, his knife weaving in front of him, Jons began circling opposite Kaileen.
Kaileen watched him closely as they moved, studying him. He wasn’t very much bigger than the other youngsters he trained with, but he moved strangely. Deciding to try out his very best technique, he feinted with his right hand, swapping the blade to his left as he slashed up and into Jon’s wrist.
As the blade came up, Jons dropped his knife, grabbed Kaileen’s wrist in a two-hand hold and dropped flat onto his back, planting his feet firmly in the boy’s belly and launching him through the air behind him, then rolling back onto his feet and picking up his own blade before the lad had even hit dirt.
Sooth chuckled, “I know THAT move. If he kicks instead of pushes, it hurts. Even through armor.”
Kaileen landed fairly well, and rolled back onto his feet to some cheers from the watching crowd. Shaking his head, he tried to figure out just what had happened. Taking a moment to plan, he circled the other way, Jons staying in place this time and pivoting in a circle. He wasn’t going to stick his arm out like that again. This time, he ducked in low, coming up with his knife held close and his other arm swinging up to block Jons’ knife-hand.
Again dropping his weapon, Jons rolled in towards the boy, crouching even lower and tucking his shoulder under the rising knife-arm and grabbing his wrist. Standing quickly while using his arm as a lever, he again threw Kaileen away. This time the boy landed heavily, but still got back to his feet quickly.
The crowd cheered his tenacity and encouraged him to ‘get back in there and get him!’ with many of the watchers offering helpful suggestions. This time, Kaileen used more caution, circling, feinting, analyzing.  Keeping his stroke short, he sliced at Jon’s hand, only to hear the ringing clash of steel on steel followed by the roar of the small crowd. Feeling more confident, he continued his strikes, each time being blocked by Jons’ blade.
After what he considered his best attack yet, Jons’ knife quickly rolled around his blade, and Jons stepped in, twisting his wrist until he was forced to drop the blade. Surprised, he grabbed for Jons’ arm and again found himself flying through the air. Getting back to his feet again, frustrated, sore, and now disarmed, he tried to think what to do. Nothing he had been taught seemed to have any effect upon the little man. Keeping his distance he continued to circle, trying think it through.
Finally, he stood upright and said, “I don’t know what to do.” disappointed, but not defeated he asked, “Will you teach me how you do that?”

With a laugh, Jons announced “I am undone! This one will be dangerous – he thinks and he is not afraid to learn from his enemy.” Sheathing his own blade, he told Kaileen, “I would consider it an honor to teach you the Hydran style of combat. When you’re small, you have to learn to use your size to your advantage.”
As they exited the ring, Eletha was trying to be very unobtrusive while checking her son for injuries, much to his consternation.

CHAPTER 6
reH tay’ ghot tuqDaj je. (One is always of his tribe./A person and his house are always together.)
– Klingon aphorism
T’ELSH, DOSAD
MARCH 2273
Wilkes, Sooth, Jons, Marin and the four kits were enjoying an evening walk after sharing a meal. Marin and Sooth were lagging slightly behind, engrossed in their own conversation, punctuated with frequent giggles. Observing the kits, now three years old and growing fast, scampering through the greenery, Jons spoke to Wilkes, “Look at yourself, Wilkes. A respected family man and trader on an alien world. You’ve come a long way from your home village on Earth.”
Wilkes shook his head, “I don’t know what I am any more, Seins. I’m a Starfleet Engineer with a power specialty, but Chief Engineer White just had me take OOD training, I’m…”
Jons interrupted, “OOD? I am not familiar with that acronym.”
“Operational Ordinance Disposal” – basically it means I know how to disarm and de-power any weapons system out there from a Federation photon torpedo to a Klingon disruptor to an old-style dynamite bomb. He said since I had a tendency to blow up everything I got involved with I should learn how to keep things from exploding. I think he was kidding…It was one of the toughest courses I’ve ever taken and it took almost 6 months! It’s a good thing Sooth had ground-side duty here on Dosad then.
“But, as I was saying, I’m an Engineer, I’m a bomb tech, I’m a husband, I’m a father, I’m a trader, I’ve gotten to be a pretty good oarsman on Tarleth’s longship. I have to keep reminding myself of whatever I’m doing at the moment! I just thought I’d sign up with Starfleet, do a tour or two aboard a starship, and then end up back on Earth somewhere. This isn’t anything like I imagined my life being like.”
Colonel Jons smiled. “I wonder if anyone’s life turns out the way they imagine it will be. Let’s see! Sooth?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Huh?” she looked at him, interrupting her chat with Marin.
“Did you ever see yourself growing up to be an Imperial Marine, and a mother to 4 unique kits?” he smiled. That smile slowly faded away as an awkward silence stretched out.
Wilkes said, “That’s kind of a touchy…”
Sooth spoke up, “No, it’s OK, Wilkes. I did see myself becoming a Marine, Jons, but I didn’t think I’d ever be a mother. I never wanted to be anything but a Marine since I can remember. I promised myself I’d never be weak again. Ever.”
Always the intelligence operative, Jons asked “Is that a story you want to share? I would be interested in hearing it, if so.”
They all continued to walk for a few paces and Sooth continued. “I’m trying to think where to start. My earliest memories are really confused. I don’t remember my parents at all and no one knows who they were. What I do remember is when I was found, I…” she paused for a moment. “I was two when the USS Zheng He found me. They were a Federation research vessel. Way out from anywhere, really. But their sensors spotted some debris. So they stopped to see what it was. They found some pieces of a Dosadi freighter. Just a couple, spinning out in space, a long way from any other pieces, I guess. Bits of hull mostly. One of them had an escape pod still attached. It had never been launched.
“I was inside it. Since it hadn’t launched, there was no power, nothing. I remember that. It was so dark and cold and it stank. The air was really, really bad by then. I remember them telling me when I asked about it that I must have been in it for about two weeks and couldn’t have gone very much longer. The water had run out a couple days before they found me and the air was almost all bad.
“They told me I tried to attack them when they opened it. But I was too small and too weak to do anything. Just like I must’ve been when…Wait, I forgot. They said they were able to determine that our ship had been attacked, probably by pirates. There were phaser burn marks on the hull near the pod. So they think we got attacked and someone, my mom probably, put her kits into the pods and launched them but she died before she could launch mine. They said there was blood on the walls.” She shuddered and then went on,
“I stayed aboard the Zheng He for almost 3 years. The whole crew sort of adopted me but one of the astrophysicists and her husband were like my mom and dad. Even though they were human. They told me the whole story when they handed me off to the crew of a Dosadi destroyer they finally ran into on their way back to the Federation from their research expedition.
“I had figured out most of it already. I will never, I mean I swore it to myself way back then, I’d learn how to fight better than anyone and I’d never, ever be that weak again. I’d never be helpless. So, I was aboard the Raleen for almost a year before we got back to Dosad. I spent all the time I could with the Marines. They were so amazing! That’s what I always wanted to be.
“I didn’t think I’d ever have kits though. It just didn’t seem right to me, but then I met Wilkes, and my feelings changed pretty fast.”
“Ah.” Jons said, absorbing her story. “That explains much.” Changing the subject in the silence after she finished he said, “On another topic, Wilkes, I have some more documents for you.”
“Wilkes laughed, always the business man, eh, Colonel?”
His wife spoke, “Business is a duty that is often rewarding, Wilkes.”
Jons laughed, “This is why a Hydran’s wife manages the purse, Wilkes. And m’Lady here is probably the best there is. The Klingons and Romulans have both developed a taste for Dosadi hardwoods and incense. K’mpok will take any of both that you are able to come up with and is willing to pay handsomely. We can extract a tidy profit in the process.”
“I don’t see a problem with that. There’s been some clearing going on around a couple of towns and several folks have started growing incense woods just for trade with us. Even N’Orel has gotten in on it and I’m not exactly his favorite person. He, um, doesn’t like spies much.”
“Done well, trade can change people’s perceptions for the better. I have data rods for you to give to both K’mpok and N’Orel.” Jons left unsaid that he knew Starfleet Intelligence would be making duplicates of both.
Wilkes chuckled, “There always seems to be documents going every which way. I had no idea trade involved so much documentation. And I thought engineering had mounds of paperwork…”

* * *
PARIS, FRANCE, EARTH
MARCH 2273
Federation President Chab jav Lorg stood looking out the windows of his office, gazing down at the streets of Paris.
The middle-aged woman sitting in front of his desk spoke again, “Mr. President, we are getting information from many sources that the overture is genuine.”
Turning, he asked, “Noora, how do we know the Klingons aren’t setting us up? We’ve tangled with them too many times for me to trust them straight away.”
Noora Ahmed, the head of Starfleet Intelligence answered her President, “We’ve developed a rather unique source of information that gives us insight into the intelligence operations of many different powers and they all seem to be saying the same thing: That the Klingons are seeking a normalization of relations with the Federation. They could prove to be invaluable allies, Mr. President, and the resources that could be freed up if we no longer needed to maintain such a strong presence along our borders…”
Scrutinizing his intelligence chief, he asked, “And which services are saying this wonderful, hopeful thing?”
Hesitating, she finally answered, “The Hydrans, the Dosadi, even some sources we have within the Klingon Empire itself. The Orions are concerned that it would negatively impact their operations – peace is bad for piracy, as you know.”
“And have they made any official overtures?”
“No sir, this is all either from intercepts, or from information discretely passed from one service to the next. It’s all very deniable by all involved if it doesn’t work out.”
The President considered this. “And you can respond that we’re interested in the possibilities in the same fashion? I don’t want to read some trumped up story in tomorrow’s papers that I’m negotiating away the Federation to the Klingons.”
“Yes, sir. This won’t get out. But the word will get back to the Klingon High Council.”
“And Noora, promise me one thing. James Kirk isn’t involved in this is he?”
She laughed, “No, sir. Not this time.”

CHAPTER 7
We knew we were talking about spies. I knew he knew I knew. I was digging my own grave.
– Christine Keeler, Earth (Human)
OMRASHAR, ROMULUS
FEBRUARY 2274
Shar knew his time was running out. Logic dictated that he should have left Romulus months ago when it became apparent that his cover story was wearing thin. But there remained a respectable chance that he could fully penetrate the plot he had discovered, despite the risk. The Tal Shiar were most capable.
The gamble had paid off to some degree, however. The Romulans were involved in a broad-reaching plot that involved several powers. Exactly which ones, he was not yet sure. But what he had learned today required the greatest risk of all.
As he hurried down the street, his mind continued to work, trying to deduce what role a shape-shifter could have and what the full breadth of the plot was. There had been tantalizing hints, bits of incomplete data, and now this. But the pattern stubbornly refused to resolve. Detecting a pair of Romulans who were evidently tailing him, he began to realize that his time had run completely out. He computed his chances of making it to his contact at the construction company as 4.5%, +/-.
Reaching this conclusion, he quickly turned and entered the shop of a Hydran trader. “You must get this to your intelligence service, and to mine. This rod is a duplicate that can be surrendered…”
The door opened again and the bigger of the two men spoke “Don’t move Vulcan. We are the Tal Shiar and we know who you are.”
The little green-skinned man with the golden hair made one of the rods disappear up his sleeve and spoke quickly, “He attempted to give me this! I do not want it!” Handing it to the two men he continued, “I do not know him and want nothing to do with him. I will cooperate fully.”
Taking the rod and confident that they had caught the spy in the act, the leader smiled. “We appreciate your help, Hydran. This will give us all that we need.”

* * *
LONDON, ENGLAND, EARTH
MARCH 2274
Colonel Jons, at the Hydran Embassy in London, spoke to Assistant Attache’ Lanad Mien. “This device must be implanted on the child tomorrow when they will be in London itself. That is where the best chance will be – and it must be done in such a way that no suspicion will befall us and no harm to the child. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. But won’t you have more opportunity to do so yourself?”
“Are you an idiot? I am watched nearly constantly. My actions at all times must be above reproach and above any suspicion at all. Now attend to your duties with care, Mien. This is a delicate task, and it is yours alone.”
“Certainly, Sir Jons. You may rely on me.”
“I shall. I find I’m quite looking forward to this visit. It is always nice when duty and pleasure interact, is it not?” He smiled and headed out the door to his waiting transport.
Some four hours later in the very early afternoon, he stepped out at the transport terminal in Leyburn, North Yorkshire, England only to be swarmed by a pack of young Dosadi children. Laughing, he scooped up the littlest one and rubbed her fur the wrong way. “Heather! You’ve gotten bigger.” he accused. Meanwhile, the locals just stared at the wide variety of aliens now regularly showing up in their sleepy little village.
Catching sight of Corin and Eletha standing behind Wilkes and Sooth he said “Why, you two are here as well? I was surprised to see your four in this pack of kits.”
Corin said, “Wilkes said that we were all invited for this religious holiday. His mother has apparently been cooking quite a feast. We were afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it.”
Turning to Wilkes he asked, “I researched the Easter festival before leaving Hydra of course, but I must admit I still don’t fully understand some of the traditions associated with it Are there duties we will be expected to perform?”
Wilkes, holding Sooth laughed, “Not really. My parents are still followers of the old religion so they’d be THRILLED if we all went to services with them tonight, but all that involves for us is sitting there and listening and trying not to fall asleep.” he winked as Sooth swatted him. “It’s just a short walk from here to their house, if you can disentangle yourself from the kits.”
As they walked, Wilkes tried to explain how a large rabbit, chocolate chicken eggs, and pretty hats came to be associated with the resurrection of an ancient religious figure. At the same time, Kaileen, Heather, and the other kits were constantly vying for his attention. By the time they reached Wilkes’ parents house, Jons had become even more confused about Easter, but, diplomat that he was, gave no sign as to how very odd he thought the whole thing was.
Upon being introduced, Wilkes father stood and shook the Colonel’s hand without any comment while Mrs. Wilkes kept up a steady stream of polite questions until Kaileen finally managed to disentangle him. “I have the board all set up just where we’re at. I moved my knight to Queen’s Level 3.”
As Jons studied the Tri-D chess board, Mrs. Wilkes asked, “An are ye comin’ t’service tonigh’, then?’
Glad that Wilkes had given him some warning what to expect – and wondering if the large rabbit would make an appearance – he answered, “I would be honored to attend, if unbelievers are welcome, Mrs Wilkes’.
“Aye, all are welcome. An’ ye ma’ call me Heather, of course.”
Bowing slightly Jons simply said, “Thank you, Heather. I hadn’t realized that the little one shared your name.”
Beaming with pride she said, “An a finer granddaughter one could na ask for.” and headed off back into the kitchen.
Colonel Jons had attended many State dinners, diplomatic functions, and Royal Banquets, but he found nothing to complain about at Mrs Wilkes’ table. The food was quite tasty, if simple, and tolerable to his Hydran digestion as well as that of the Dosadi, he noted. The conversation was what one would expect of a family dinner and he made sure to keep to topics that would be welcome in such a setting. But as always, part of his mind was occupied with his other business.
There had been hints of factions within the Klingon empire who wanted to derail the potential negotiations with the Federation. Hints of internal turmoil in the Empire and biological agents and genetic modifications. So many clues, but no real thread to bind them together.
Turning his full attention back to the table, he scanned the dinner guests. Two older humans, one young man, three adult Dosadi, four young Dosadi, four…hybrids, and one bemused Hydran Marine. Smiling to himself, he was struck again by how a fairly ordinary young human had somehow managed to become a bridge among several different cultures, seemingly without effort. Was it luck? A quirk of personality, or truly the design of God? His God was very different from the God of the rabbit and the Jesus figure, but it made no real difference.
After dinner, over tea, the conversation turned to the plan for the next day. “And so the trip to London tomorrow is just for entertainment, then?”
“Aye, an a bi’ o’ shoppin’ o’ course.” Mrs. Wilkes answered.
Wilkes chimed in, “I haven’t had a chance to show Corin, Eletha, or Sooth much of Earth yet so it should be fun to let them see one of our big cities. They’re, of course, pretty different than Dosadi cities. And Mom’s going to take the pack of kits down to see Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and the like. They’re very famous landmarks here.”
“I always enjoy London when I get a chance to visit here. Usually my business takes me to Paris or Zurich.” Jons took a sip of his tea, “The children should love it.”
Some time later, while sitting in a pew in the Church of England, he overheard a confusing bit of conversation between two of the locals.
“Aye, I warned tha’, an now ther’s cats in the pews.”
“Aye, an ye’d still rather they were sheep, na doub’.”

CHAPTER 8
“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men Gang aft agley,”
– Robert Burns – Earth (Human)
LONDON, ENGLAND, EARTH
MARCH 2274
“That’s gotta be them comin’ now.” the little man said to his two companions.
“Aye, how many talkin’ cats are there in London, now?” the bigger one said and chuckled.
“Shutup.” the third man whispered. “We want the little spotted one. Just nip ‘er up right quick, distract ‘er an slap the widget on, then we get paid. S’posed to be easy – curious as a cat.” and he laughed quietly at his own little joke.
As the strangely mixed group of humans, Dosadi and Hydran strolled along the Victoria Embankment of the Thames, enjoying the bits of greenery, and the for-once decent English weather, little Heather ranged further than any of the others. Investigating a bright reflecting spot of light, she came upon three humans.
“What’s that?” she asked the smallest one, pointing at the object in his hand that was sparkling in the sunshine.
“Aye, ’tis magic, now isn’t it?” he smiled back at her.
“Really?” she leaned closer to try to get a better look. The other two had slowly worked around behind her as she examined it. He closed his hand and said,
“If you want to see how it works, I’ll show you, but we need to go inside. If you really like it, I’ll give it to you.”
She started to follow, and stopped, looking over her shoulder. On Dosad, children are safe around anyone and are essentially raised by everyone. But her daddy had warned her not everyone was like that and that there were bad people out in the universe. He and mommy had to fight them sometimes. And something didn’t seem quite right.
She took a half-step away from the man and his bigger companion grabbed her, cutting off her startled cry with his hand as the four of them quickly went into the public loo, carrying the struggling kit who was raking claws up and down the big man’s hand and arm.
A short distance away, Kaileen’s sharp ears had picked up that half-mew cry. Not quite knowing what it was he decided to find out – it had sounded a little like Heather.
So had Jons, who had lagged behind the rest of the group while trying to tempt a squirrel with a small treat so he could get a better look at it. Making a fast visual count of the little group he noted that the two most adventurous of all eight kits were out of sight. Frowning to himself, he headed up the grassy slope, trying to locate where he had heard that noise.
“Bloody ‘ELL” the big man said dropping the struggling Heather inside the building, and backhanding her hard across the face, knocking her away and into the wall. “The little bitch cut me up good!”
She got back to her feet, hissing and trying hard to do what she had seen Jons and Kaileen doing so often in the challenge ring. As the little man reached for her arm she ducked under it and clawed at his leg, ripping pants and skin with all the fury her four-year-old body could muster.
Enraged, the man kicked her hard, flinging her into the wall. Stomping on her limp body, he heard a knife being drawn and another hissing scream.  He spun around in time for Kaileen to drive the Hydran boot knife that Jons had given him into his femoral artery and through to his groin. Screaming and falling to the floor in a fountain of blood, he grabbed at the wounds, trying to stop the pain.
Kaileen tried to turn fast enough, but three adults on one child is not a fair fight. He managed to slash the big man’s arm, but in doing so was slowed enough for the third man to grab him, the bigger man using his own knife now.
Hearing the sounds of the fight and with a sick feeling in his stomach, Colonel Jons raced into the small room. Seeing the silvery injector on the floor he instantly understood what had gone so badly wrong here. For once losing his cool, he scooped up the boy’s knife and neatly gutted the bigger man who was still holding his knife in Kaileen’s chest, then dropped down and under the third man’s clumsy grab. In a moment, he drove his knife up as high as he could reach, puncturing the man’s intestines and diaphragm. Had he been able to, he would have screamed in agony as he thrashed out his last minutes on the floor.
A glance was all it took to know that there was nothing he could do for Kaileen, and he moved rapidly over to Heather’s crumpled and bloody form, pocketing the injector as he did so. A small, shuddering breath gave him some hope and he quickly took out the small first aid pouch he carried as a matter of course. “A quick hypospray of Tri-Ox and a wound spray on the big bleeder the man’s boot had opened in her leg. Try to stabilize the internal injuries with the wand.” he thought to himself. While he was working on her, Mrs. Wilkes and Corin were the first of the group to rush into the small public building. Mrs. Wilkes, horrified, covered her mouth with her hands, tears already welling up in her eyes.
“Call a medical transport, NOW.” Jons ordered.
Corin pulled his com-set out of his belt and began calling for help. Eletha, crowding into the cramped space, knelt down and picked up her son’s body, cradling him close to her and burying her face in his fur.
Wilkes, shouldering his way in to see if he could help, figured out quickly how the fight had gone down. Seeing the bigger man trying to pull his intestines back into his body he calmly walked over to him and stepped on them, scooping more of the organs out with his boot. As the horrified killer gasped his last agonized breaths, Wilkes said, “There is a very special place in Hell for you. I wouldn’t want you to be late.”
When the medics had left with everyone else, Jons was still explaining what he had found to the police inspector. “I was looking for both children when I heard a noise and went to investigate. When I arrived, this man here was dead from the knife wound to his leg. The second man there was obviously dying from the hole in his chest, and I was too slow to save the boy. He had slashed up into that man’s stomach, but the man had enough left to stab the boy in the chest. But he obviously saved the little girl from whatever horrible thing these three wanted with her.”
Examining the knife-wounds and the angles of entry the inspector said, “That seems about right. All these wounds are coming from someone a lot shorter than these three thugs. And the blood all over you, sir? ‘Ow did that ‘appen again?”
“As I explained, I had to move the gutted one to get at the girl so I could treat her. They’re rather messy when their guts are out.”
“Aye. That’s true enough.” Shaking his head he continued, “Damn shame though. The boy saved her and managed to kill all three of them. That’s how it’ll be in my report, Colonel. Thank you for your time. If I need anything more, I can contact you through the embassy.”
“Yes. In fact, I need to go there now, briefly. Then I will be at Hospital. But the embassy will know how to reach me.”
A short while later, Assistant Attache’ Lanad was shocked to see Colonel Jons, still covered in gore, slam into the office. “Sir!”
“Shut UP. Do not SPEAK. Did you…” Jons paused to take a long breath. “Did you hire someone to take care of the duty that I entrusted to YOU? DID you?!”
“Sir, I…”
“DID. YOU. HIRE. SOMEONE?!”
“Yes, sir, I…”
“You inept ASS!! You are a DISGRACE to yourself, your family, and your King!! Your idiocy has cost me someone very dear to me, possibly two and COMPLETELY fucked up one of the most important operations we HAVE!”
“But I…”
“SILENCE!” Jons was breathing hard. Slapping Kaileen’s knife on the desk he said, “I will give you ONE minute to make your peace with God. Then you will use this. If you take longer than sixty seconds, I will turn your entire family into paupers. I will crush them.”
The man looked at the knife, looked at Jons and made his decision. Picking up the knife, he knelt on the floor and drove the blade into his own heart, collapsing on the floor.
Jons kicked him once, retrieved the knife and left for the hospital.
CHAPTER 9
“Education is the path from cocky ignorance to miserable uncertainty.”
– Mark Twain – Earth (Human)
LONDON, ENGLAND, EARTH
DECEMBER 2274
That Christmas, President jav Lorg was again interviewing his intelligence chief in his Paris office. “I don’t understand, Noora. This has been proceeding quite smoothly, We’re almost ready to go public with the negotiations – The Klingons were even willing to have them held here on Earth! And now you’re telling me something’s wrong?”
Almost squirming in her chair, Noora Ahmed said, “We’re not sure. The Intelligence world isn’t about absolutes, Mr. President. But we’re getting indications that the Dosadi and the Hydrans are not happy with a potential change in the balance of power. But that conflicts with all our other assessments, so we’re not ready to assign it a high degree of certainty yet. We’ve also gotten hints about a bio-terror plot within the Klingon Empire and something in the Romulan Empire that sounds bad. Something to do with shape-shifters in their latest government. But that sounds pretty mythical, so we’ve only given that a low-order probability. We’re also hearing that they’re so weak that they’re interested in normalizing relations. I just don’t like it when I’ve got this many contradictory signals all popping up at the same time.”
He drummed his fingers on his desk. “So what have you got that you DO have confidence in?”
“Not a lot, sir.”
“That’s not acceptable. The Klingon Special Ambassador is coming HERE in one month’s time. You will make every effort to resolve all these little mysteries within the next two weeks, is that clear? And you will give me the answers that I require.”

* * *
T’ELSH, DOSAD
DECEMBER 2274
Back on Dosad, Wilkes and Sooth where having dinner with Corin and Eletha, with the usual rollicking band of kits causing mischief throughout the roundhouse. No one had yet really gotten used to the hole that Kaileen’s death had left in all their lives, but death was a normal thing to the Dosadi, and Kaileen’s death had been heroic and useful. Heather had healed quickly as children of all species seem to do, her indomitable cheerfulness keeping grief at bay.
Sooth had taken to carrying on her armor the Hydran knife that Kaileen had so cherished. Wilkes had asked her about that once. “So isn’t it painful to have that with you all the time? To be reminded of that?”
“No, I don’t look at it like that. His knife reminds me that he was a great person, with a big heart. That he gave his utmost to protect those dear to him, and that no matter the odds, he was not going to let size or strength or anything else stand in the way of doing what had to be done. His story is being told all over Dosad, and that’s a sort of immortality, isn’t it?”
“What’s that you’re putting all over it?”
She smiled, “It’s an extract from one of our plants – it’s an oil that keeps metals from rusting. Helps keep them sharp. And it seems to cause most other species to break out in a horrible itchy rash.” She chuckled.
“Oh THAT stuff. It’s like warp-powered poison ivy – keep it the heck away from me.”
But that evening, everyone was enjoying an all-too-rare moment when all four of them were home on Dosad. As was normal in that culture, there were a few extra guests at the table, which only added to the enjoyment and the stories being told around it.
During a pause in the conversations, little Heather came up to Sooth and offered her a small package.
“What’s this, kit?” she asked.
“Grammy Heather taught me how to make it. And she said Christmas is when we give presents to remember those who died for us and its s’posed to be something really special.”
Opening it up, she found a pink heart, just about the size of her kit’s hand. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“It’s a sticker! If you put it on your helmet, it’ll keep you safe, too. We prayed over it and she even had the vicar bless it so it’ll work!” Heather continued with all the earnest belief of a child.
There were indulgent smiles all around as Sooth tried to explain, “Oh, Heather, it’s lovely, but, my armor is all those special colors so that I’m hard to see. If I put this on it…” seeing her daughter’s expression, she changed her mind in mid-sentence, “…um, on the side, it’ll keep me safe and bad people won’t be able to see it, but I’ll know it’s there.”
Wilkes was trying to hide a smile, as were Corin and Eletha. A pink heart on battle armor would be something to see – and would likely attract the Captain’s attention as well.
Heather said, “You have to promise me, mommy. Grammy Heather said you never break a promise.”
Trapped, Sooth said, “Oh, Heather, I promise. I’ll put it on my helmet when we go aboard again.”
Getting a kiss and a lick from her smallest kit, she carefully set the sticker aside, wondering how she was going to manage to live up to that particular promise.
One of the visitors, N’Orel himself, asked “When do you all report back aboard?”
Sooth answered “We’ve got almost 6 weeks until we’re done refitting the Delos with all her new fighter upgrades. So we get a little vacation, and it works out perfectly – Starfleet’s given Wilkes detached duty until the Delos can rendezvous with the Hood after that. He just works in Engineering with us.
Eletha chuckled “Starfleet lets you spend more time on Dosad and the Delos than your own ship, Wilkes! And didn’t you spend six months on Earth doing all that training? Do your shipmates even know you any more?”
“You kidding?” Wilkes laughed back, “Chief Engineer White and Commander Thelev seem to know pretty much everything I ever do anywhere.”
N’Orel asked again, “Then we’ll have time to conclude our current dealings with K’mpok?”
“Sure. No problem with that at all. We should be able to wrap that up in a couple of weeks.”
“And when is the tame Hydran spy coming to visit again?”
That got chuckles from pretty much everyone around the table. Before Wilkes could answer, Eletha spoke, “We’ve communicated quite a lot since Kaileen’s death. He seems to blame himself for not getting there fast enough, or for what he taught him. I keep trying to explain to him that no one sees it that way – Kaileen was a warrior. Jons gave him the tools he needed to protect others. Anyway, I’ve told him to come visit soon and to bring his family. He said he’s very busy on Hydra with other business but he’ll be here in a month or so. Since he didn’t say what it was, I assume it’s spying.”
More chuckles and even N’Orel tried to hide a smile.
At the pause, one of the dinner guests pulled out a flute and began to play a bouncy tune, only getting a few notes into it before Eletha’s little girl Ceena picked up a small drum and began to keep time. In a few minutes, everyone was either playing or singing along.
Hours later, after songs, stories, and more than a little bit of the green Dosadi version of whiskey, folks began to drift off to find someplace to sleep. As Corin curled up around Eletha, nuzzling her as she dropped off to sleep, he wondered just when he had decided that they were mates. It had to have been shortly after Sooth’s kits were born. And again he thought about Nollos. They were so different.
Holding her tightly to him, listening to her breathing getting deeper, he felt that was a good thing.  Things were finally settling down in everyone’s lives.

CHAPTER 10
“Before you attempt to beat the odds, be sure you could survive the odds beating you..”
– Larry Kersten – Earth (Human)
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, IN ORBIT OVER TOULAGAI
JANUARY 2275
Aboard the USS Yorktown, Captain Andrey Kamov gave the orders to put his ship in a parking orbit over the Starbase at Toulagai, right alongside the Klingon D7 battlecruiser Rage that awaited them.
As always, his chief helmsman, Lieutenant Commander Akemi Yoshida handled the big Constitution-class heavy cruiser like it was her private sports car.
Kamov instructed his bridge crew: “I want you all to keep a close eye out. This starbase is cursed. Every time something weird is going on, it happens here.”
That brought a few chuckles from the bridge crew. But, for once, everything proceeded smoothly. The two ships moved out of orbit and began to head into Federation space, the Yorktown leading the way. The rendezvous with the USS Hood was only two days away at a nice easy pace.

* * *
PARIS, FRANCE, EARTH
JANUARY 2275
In his Paris office, President jav Lorg was less than happy with Noora Ahmed. “The Ambassador is four days away from the most important negotiations of our time. We may end the most destructive relationship in the galaxy and you cannot tell me if they’re serious, what our allies think about the situation, nor what the Romulans intend.”
“That’s not entirely true, sir.”
“Then clarify because that is what I got from your report.”
“Mr. President as I’ve told you before, intelligence is never about certainties. At this time our best analysis tells us that the strongest faction in the Klingon Empire is serious about these negotiations, but that there is significant opposition within the Empire. We have been unable to substantiate any of the leads about bio-weapons being used within the Empire. Although our main diplomatic channels indicate that the Dosadi and the Hydrans are thrilled with the upcoming negotiations, we believe that their actual feelings are that such an alliance would make them…secondary. Useless, if you will. Currently they both enjoy the status of strong trading partners and allies. Were things to settle with the Klingons, they would serve no real purpose in that area of space.
“As to the Romulans, nobody really knows. They are still in chaos after the Razing of Romulus, however, we believe that all their efforts are focused internally. They lack the strength to make any serious effort to affect our actions. And I still believe that stories of shape-changers are just that. Superstitious nonsense used to explain failed coups or bad decisions. ‘It wasn’t ME! It was a SHAPE-CHANGER!”
The President chuckled, “That’s funny. But there’s still a lot of mealey-mouthed qualifications in that report, Noora.”
“That’s the best we’ve got, Mr. President. I think we’re on the right course, but we need to be careful.”
“What two ships are handling the escort duties for the Ambassador?”
“Yorktown is bringing him to the mid-point and Hood is bringing him the rest of the way to Earth, Mr. President. In fact, Yorktown should have just left Toulagai.”
“Thank god. No Enterprise. If something horrible is happening, Jim Kirk and his crew are usually involved. That makes me feel better.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s do this. Send Kamov and Karmes the same assessment you just gave me. Can’t hurt to have them informed so they can take precautions.”
“Yes, sir.”

* * *
T’ELSH, DOSAD
JANUARY 2275
N’Orel’s ears went flat back against his skull as he read the report on his PADD.  Searching quickly through the pile of data rods in his lockup, he extracted two. Inserting them into the device, he began to instruct the device and its computer tie-in to perform an analysis.
Minutes later, he used his com-set to contact K’mpok. “The ambassador your Empire is sending to the Federation. Is he en route?”
“Of course. I received a report just a few minutes ago.”
“Then explain to me why I just received a report from a source within the Orion pirates that his d’k tahg is available for sale? There are a number of disturbing reports about your ambassador and where he has, or more significantly, has not been.”
“You know a disturbing amount about the happenings in my Empire, N’Orel.”
“Don’t be a child. We both know we each have many spies watching the other. I am sending you some data now. Examine it immediately.”
There was a pause of a few minutes. “N’Orel, this is not possible. This is a myth.”
“I would wager that your system came up with the same percentage that mine did, K’mpok. The old data the Hydrans shared with us from the Vulcan spy would seem to confirm it.”
“But for what purpose?”
“There can be only one purpose.”
“Such a war would kill trillions, N’Orel. Even a Klingon victory would be Pyrrhic.  We would rule an empire of the dead and damned.”
“Or the Romulans would.”
“No, as you well know our war plans involve them as well. In their current weakened state, they could be wiped out quickly leaving us free to deal with the Federation, but with their resources to draw upon. And I know you’ve shared that information with your Federation friends, so don’t bother to deny it.”
“We must stop whatever that is from reaching the earthlings. Sending a message would be pointless – who would believe us?”
“You realize how that will look to both the Federation and to the crew of the Rage? They will think your people are trying to prevent the peace they seek.”
“But there will be time to explain…afterwards. And at such a level as this sort of information can be exchanged.”
“I will do what I can with my government. It will not be much. There is…some internal conflict. Good luck, N’Orel. We may not meet again, you know.”
“Indeed, but that’s a long journey yet, K’mpok. And the gods alone know its end.”

* * *
DUCHY OF THE SWORD WORLDS, HYDRAN KINGDOM
JANUARY 2275
Sitting in his office, Colonel Jons was struggling to make sense of a number of conflicting reports. The data from Romulus had only gotten worse since the tip they got from the Vulcans last year. And the information coming out of the Klingon Empire was even more confusing.
Unless he missed his guess there was an active attempt at genetic engineering going on within at least one faction within the Empire and rumors of biological weapons being created. Such weapons were beyond insane – no rational culture would use them as once they got loose there was no telling what could happen. Mutations, alterations, and of course, reprisals in kind. That way led to the extinction of all interstellar culture and probably all life in the galaxy.
Sliding another data rod into his PADD, he felt himself go icy cold. The report told of a highly-specialized device being constructed on one of the rim worlds. Designed as a semi-stasis container about the size of a briefcase that could release it’s contents under a slight positive pressure so as to be unobtrusive.
Such a device could only be used for one thing: Bio-terrorism.  Could the Klingons be planning such an attack upon the Earthlings? How would they even get it through the usual scanners? There was no way to get it onto the planet.
Moving to another report, he noted that the Klingon Ambassador had just left Toulagai for Earth. With any luck, those negotiations would bear very profitable fruit. And then it hit him. They could get such a device onto Earth the same way he once got a large amount of data OFF of Earth – Diplomats were not searched by custom and by interstellar law.
But if the Ambassador himself were part of the plan, sending a message would be futile. Given time, he could present the information to the right people and make things plain, but there was no time. The Ambassador’s ship must be stopped first, or the galaxy would go up in flames. The Earthlings would blame the Klingons if their ambassador released such a weapon on Earth, and stop at nothing for revenge. Had the Klingons gone insane? There was no time.
Opening a com-link he contacted his headquarters. Unfortunately, the only ship currently available was the light cruiser Succession. He knew the Rage to be a D7-class battlecruiser and she was escorted by a Federation heavy cruiser. The Succession stood little chance of winning such a fight. With luck, he could get the Federation captain to listen to him.
Minutes later, the Succession left orbit at high warp.

CHAPTER 11
“Only a fool fights in a burning house.”
– Klingon aphorism
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER, ISS DELOS, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2275
Aboard the ISS Delos as it raced to catch the Klingon ambassador’s D7, Wilkes was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not really trained for this kind of combat, Sooth, and don’t you have armor designed for a human? At all?”
She laughed, “We don’t use a lot of human Marines, Wilkes. You’ll get used to it – just stop fighting it and wear it like all the clothes you people wear all the time!”
“Sooth, we’re not built the same as Dosadi…”
“Mmm. I know.” she smiled a wicked little smile at him. “C’mon, relax and let it hang on you as naturally as you can, stop hunching your shoulders and be glad you don’t have a tail to deal with. Jons said there’s a bio-bomb on board, that means you have to figure out how to turn it off. But no one will believe it except us, that means we have to do an assault boarding, and that means you have to wear armor.”
Looking at the helmet in the crook of her arm he smiled, “I absolutely love that you still have that pink heart on your helmet.”
She looked down and stroked it with one finger, “I promised. I got extra duty for that, but Force Leader  Inveth said I could keep it since I promised. I really should at least paint over it though.”
“Why? Why do you even bother with camouflage paint? With all the enhanced sensors that everyone uses does it even matter?”
She laughed again, “Take a look. Put your helmet on then use your chin to hit the big button on the right.”
Doing as he was told, he clicked the button and watched his faceplate turn to a nauseating, cycling fuzz around where Sooth was standing. “Gaaaa!” He quickly chinned the button again, turning off the enhancements. “What the hell was that?”
The patterns and colors and paints are designed to mess up the computer sensors so they get into a feedback loop. It forces our enemies to use regular vision. I never understood why Starfleet never used the technology. Those bright gold and red uniforms are pretty, but man they’re easy to hit!”
He paused for a moment and then said, “What’s it like? All the combat I’ve been in was ship to ship. I never even saw the people I was fighting.”
“It’s the most terrifying exhilarating, horrifying, exciting, terrible, fun thing I’ve ever done. I always feel like I have to pee, and sometimes throw up, but you feel so alive. The contest between you and them is…I don’t really know how to explain it. But I love it.”
“What if I screw it up?”
She laughed again, “Wilkes, everyone thinks that. Besides, all you have to do is stay close by me and I’ll get you to the bomb thingy and you figure out how to turn it off. And if you have to shoot someone, make sure they’re wearing something other than our battle armor. Oh, or Hydran battle armor. They’re easy to identify – they’re really short and their armor is beige.”
“BEIGE? Why in God’s name did they pick beige?”
“No one knows. They claim that it’s hard to see aboard a ship and that as a neutral color it blends in well with everything – but I don’t think it fuzzes sensors like ours does.”
“What do the Klingons wear?”
“The Klingons are crazy.” she chuckled, “They don’t really wear armor much except what’s in their standard uniforms, which are sort of half-armor. If you see anyone who’s really tall and really ugly, shoot them. Don’t shoot the short people or the cats.”
Now it was Wilkes’ turn to laugh. “Right. No kitties, no shorties. Shoot the uglies.”

* * *
ROYAL HYDRAN LIGHT CRUISER SUCCESSION, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2275
Colonel Jons was dressed in jet-black battle armor with the crossed swords indicating his rank emblazoned on the upper arms in silver. Completing his inspection of the two squads of Marines aboard, he turned to their Captain and said, “Well, Captain, they look ready. I wish we had been able to get the whole company back aboard though, but there just wasn’t time.”
“Thank you, father. I was trained by the best, you know.”
Looking at his eldest son in his dark grey armor he said, “Flattery? I should put you on extra duty. I would imagine your Marines could come up with an adequate punishment for such foolishness.” There were a few chuckles among the gathered troops and the Colonel continued, addressing them directly. “This is not going to be easy. We must overtake a Klingon warship – our allies – get past their Federation escort – also our allies – board them, locate and secure a camouflaged biological weapon about the size of a briefcase, secure their ambassador, and then defuse the bomb. All without starting a war with either of our allies.
“If we can secure the device, we can prove what we say. If we secure the ambassador alone, we may be able to prove it. If we fail to do either, we are without hope. Our Duke will deny us in order to save the Kingdom. We will be treated as rogues and traitors, our families will be destroyed and our names will become a badge of shame.
“There is no option for us but success. Can I count on you men to do your duty to the utmost? Beyond any limit of pain, endurance, or stamina that you can imagine?”
There was a loud chorus of “YES, SIR!!” and he said,
“Excellent. We intercept the Rage within an hour. Make your peace with God and prepare yourselves. Know that if we succeed, those of us who fall need not worry about our families. Dismissed!” And he turned to leave the beige-clad men alone before battle.

* * *
IMPERIAL KLINGON BATTLECRUISER RAGE, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2275
Ambassador Voreeth was standing by the defense officer’s position aboard the Rage, watching everything. The Captain hated this habit of his and made no secret of his loathing of both his person and his mission. Not that either mattered. His honor would lead him to carry out his mission no matter what his personal feelings.
When the Succession dropped out of warp he said, “Captain, the Hydrans are known to be against these negotiations. We must not allow them to interfere in any way.”
Snarling the captain said, “You don’t need to remind me of my job.”
“Sir, they’re attempting to hail the Yorktown.”
“Jam them!” the ambassador ordered. The Captain nodded and the defense officer turned on the powerful jamming fields.
“Captain, they may attack us at any moment. The Hydrans are well known to be treacherous when anything threatens their business interests.”
Nodding curtly he issued his orders, “Energize the defense fields and raise shields. Power the weapons but do not target anything. At the first sign of hostile action, we’ll engage.”

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS YORKTOWN, UNDER WAY
JANUARY 2275
“Sir, you’re not going to like this.” Ensign Singh said from his console at the Sensory station aboard the Yortktown.
“What is it?” Captain Kamov asked.
“The Hydran light cruiser Succession just dropped out of warp and is closing fast.”
Lieutenant ‘Swede’ Johansen interrupted, “Captain, they’re requesting an urgent conference about something, but we just got cut off by heavy jamming from the Rage.”
“What the hell? Why would they start jamming now?” He wondered if the Klingons had gotten the same warning from their intelligence people that he had received from Starfleet.
“They’ve raised shields and are powering weapons.” the defense officer said a little too loudly, “Succession too!”
Shaking his head Kamov ordered, “Raise ours – Helm, move us into position between those two, Swede, try to raise both of them. We need to talk, not shoot. The Hood’s supposed to only be an hour or two out , try to raise them too. Maybe we can scare them off, not that there’s a lot a light cruiser can do against two cruisers.”
As Yoshida moved the Yorktown into position, Singh spoke up again, “Oh snot. Captain, the Delos just dropped out of warp, she’s running at us at high speed. Shields up and loaded for bear.”
“She’s a carrier – has she launched any fighters?” Kamov was NOT happy. His two cruisers were ill-equipped to deal with either fighters nor the many missile launchers aboard the Dosadi assault carriers. But she was alone – that was totally against Dosadi doctrine. What the hell was going on here?
“No sir – she’s oh, snot. The Rage just took a shot at her.”
“Yoshida?”
“Captain, I can be in one place, not two.”
“Dammit, I am NOT going to get caught in this shit AGAIN.”
“The Klingons are engaging both the Hydrans and the Dosadi, sir – what do we do?”
Yoshida spoke up, “Captain, the Rage is maneuvering around us in order to engage both vessels – I can’t stay between them and anyone. If I block one ship,they engage the other. Should I pick one to protect?”
“Dammit, no! Weapons, aim for the weapons pods on the Delos. Shoot to disarm only.”
“Sir! The Hood just…”
“Hot damn, can we get them to…Fucking jamming!! AH, hell, they’ll figure it out. Yoshida, try to block the Succession, maybe Karmes will get between the Delos  and the Rage.”
“Sir,” the stress in Yoshida’s voice was obvious, “Sir…ranges are getting really, really close this is too tight.” Collision alarms sounded throughout the Yorktown.
Singh yelled out “Transporter beams!!”
“Where?” Kamov went pale, “Security – full armor, stand by to repel boarders!”
“Aimed at the Rage sir! From both vessels I can’t tell what they got through but ECM levels just spiked through the roof and the Rage is maneuvering for range and maintaining fire on both.”
“Get us in close – we’ll beam in reinforcements for the Klingons.”
Singh commented, “Sir, they might not see it like reinforcements…”
“They’ll figure it out fast enough when we start shooting the same people. I can’t believe they’re stupid enough to think they can jump an ambassador in Federation space and get away with it. That’s ballsy even for the Dosadi. And it’s totally nuts for the Hydrans. Something stinks here.”
A short distance away, the USS Hood had come to the same set of conclusions. The five starships were all maneuvering for position, except now the Succession and the Delos seemed content to play keep-away, trading shot for shot with the Klingons but not engaging either the Hood or Yorktown.

CHAPTER 12
“They’ve got us surrounded again, the poor bastards.”
– Unknown American Soldier, Battle of the Bulge, Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL KLINGON BATTLECRUISER RAGE, MANEUVERING
JANUARY 2275
Wilkes was beyond terrified. Their team was pinned down in a corridor near where they thought the ambassador’s quarters might be. He was trying to use a tricorder to locate the device but was not finding it. The sound of Klingon disruptor fire over his head was making it difficult to concentrate, as was the plasma rifle fire from his own side.
Sooth shouted at him, “Wilkes! We can’t stay here! You have to tell us where to go!” She ducked moments before a disruptor bolt lanced through the space where her head had been, impacting on the wall and splattering him with molten metal.
“I can’t find the fucking thing!! Maybe it’s not even here!” A round object came flying towards them and one of Sooth’s Marines caught it and hurled it back the way it came. Wilkes saw it explode in a blinding flash before it got to the Klingon troops. Working the dials on his tricorder, he had an inspiration. Switching the device from scanning for biological organisms, he had it look for large power-sinks. If the thing had a semi-stasis field on it, it would suck power like nobody’s … ahhh! “I got it! I got it! Two decks down, 30 meters east of here!”
She shouted orders to her two crew leaders, “Aletan, breach through the damn deck and we’ll drop down, then set security there. Kurn, cover fire here, drop down last, then you blow that deck and swap jobs. Anyone see the Hydrans or the other team?” Wilkes saw her pop up and shoot a Klingon he realized was just about to shoot him. Putting her hand on his shoulder she said calmly, “Wilkes, remember to duck, OK?”
And then she was back on her belly, firing rounds at the Klingons. Seconds later there was a hissing flash and a meter square section of deck dropped straight down, closely followed by the first Marines. Wilkes dropped down with them, trying his best to take aimed shots but suspecting his accuracy was poor since even he could see the muzzle shaking.
They repeated the process and quickly dropped down to the deck where the device was located. Almost immediately Wilkes heard a shattering explosion overhead. Looking up into the swirling dust and raining chunks of deck he asked, “What the hell?”
A young Marine answered him, “We left a little surprise for if our friends wanted to follow us down.” and he laughed. Let’s go Wilkes! You’re holding us up!” He got to his feet and raced off with his crew. Wilkes followed as quickly as he could, trying to refine the readings on his tricorder as he ran, the bulky, heavy armor, helmet, and plasma rifle making it seem like an impossible task.
30 meters is not a long distance to run. But it can seem like an eternity when you are wondering if you are going to be shot with every step. Wilkes screamed “This one! This one! Here!” and the Marines stopped and fell back, setting up a perimeter as he tried to get the door to open. While he was fiddling with the unfamiliar controls, a disruptor bolt hit just next to his hand and he dropped straight down to the floor, nearly wetting himself in reaction.
Sooth laughed, “That’s better, Wilkes, but duck FIRST next time!” she sent another couple of rounds down range. “Aletan, blow the door! Ah, shit, cover me!!”
Wilkes heart stopped as she jumped to her feet despite the weapons fire, ran the short distance to Aletan’s crumpled form and dragged him back into what cover there was. As she rummaged through the wounded Marine’s ruck for the rope-charges he saw two new gouges in her armor and then his eyes were drawn to the bright pink heart adorning the right side of her helmet. There was a surge in the ship’s gravity and the lights went out, red battle-lanterns automatically switching on and adding an eerie glow to the battle.
“Sooth!” Crew Leader Kurn yelled, “We can’t hold them much longer, this is not a good position.”
As she opened her mouth to reply there was the high-pitched scream of rail-guns mixed with the deeper  sounds of Klingon curses and shouts of rage and pain. Seconds later, Colonel Jons and a squad of Hydran Marines came running into their position shouting “Friendlies coming in!!”, being tracked by the Dosadi Marines every step of the way.
“What kept you?” Sooth laughed.
“We couldn’t find the damn thing. Ended up scanning for Dosadi. Are you all that’s left?”
“We never found our other team. You?” she began attaching the charges to the door.
“My son is leading the other squad. Our beam-downs were scattered.”
“Your son? I didn’t know…Later.” she attached the detonator and  said, “Get clear!”

* * *
Chief Petty Officer Kalea and her squad of Federation Security from the Hood had finally managed to convince the Klingons that they were there to help, not invade. The Yorktown security team had been dispatched to the fighting near the ship’s bridge where one Dosadi team was pinned down. As they trotted to the fighting going on in crew quarters, she thought again how much she hated assault transports. She always felt that beaming through raised shields, no matter how much power there was behind the transporter, left something of her behind.
Coming upon the crushed remnants of a group of Klingons who had obviously been taken by surprise, they moved cautiously into position, her team mixed with Klingon warriors and she shook her head at the oddity. She had spent most of her career learning how to fight against these people, not alongside them. Shrugging her shoulders, she ordered her team to begin laying down cover fire.
Taking the lead position, she tried to study the enemy positions without being too exposed. They were not in the best of spots, she thought. They were in an angle where the Klingons could fire from two directions into their formation and there wasn’t much cover. A moment later, her mouth hung open as she caught a brief sight of a bright pink heart on one of the Dosadi’s helmets.
Sooth! What the hell was she doing here? Sooth wasn’t a terrorist. This wasn’t right. Making a fast decision on a gut instinct, she ordered her squad to cease fire.
Crewman Okoro shouted back, “What the hell? We got clear shots!”
“It’s SOOTH! Something’s seriously screwed up here.”
“You sure? From when we took over the Yorktown?”
“Yeah. Pull back.”
As her team pulled back, the Klingon leading their team yanked her to her feet, “FIGHT you coward!! You said you came here to help and now you turn tail and run at first sight of the enemy?”
“They’re not the enemy. I don’t know what’s going on but until I do, we’re not engaging anyone.”
“What’s going on is that they’ve invaded my ship, killed my brothers, and are trying to kill more! What more do you need to know?! Are all humans as cowardly as you are??”
“We’re not cowards. But there is more here going on than I understand. Only a fool fights without knowing why.”
The Klingon backhanded her, knocking her to her knees even through her armor and weapons were raised on both sides.
Clearing her head, the little Hawaiian ordered “NO! Stand down – all of you! Pull back out of the line. We need to get Captain Karmes or Kamov or someone.” Her team stepped to the side as the disgusted Klingons took their places and began engaging the diminishing Hydran and Dosadi unit.

* * *
The breeching charge blew a hole into the quarters on the other side and Jons charged through, followed by Sooth and then Wilkes while the Marines who were still mobile tried to contract their perimeter even more.
The first thing Wilkes saw was a brown satchel surrounded by the blue, ionized glow of an isolation field. The second was a tall Klingon in a uniform he assumed was that of an ambassador, holding what could only be a trigger in his left hand and smiling. Both Jons and Sooth had their weapons trained on him and he had a disruptor pointed directly at Sooth’s face.
“Come join the party, Marine.” You will all drop your weapons now please, or I will trigger the device. Obviously you know what it is.
Jons thought it through, coolly calculating the odds. They needed a wild card. Something to break the standoff. “Okay. We shall.” and he dropped his rail-gun. Surprised, but following his lead, Sooth did the same, her plasma rifle clattering loudly on the floor.
The Klingon indicated Wilkes and said, “Well, Marine? Where’s your weapon?”
“I dropped it outside.” he said and took his helmet off so he could see better. The damn thing was really uncomfortable. “I’m not a Marine.”
Surprised at the human face under the Dosadi battle armor, the Klingon’s eyes and his disruptor wavered towards Wilkes. Seizing the chance, Sooth’s arm was a blur as she reached over her shoulder, drew Kaileen’s little boot knife and threw in one smooth motion.
The Klingon’s eyes snapped back to her and the disruptor swung onto target as he was ever so slightly distracted by the bright pink splotch on the right side of her helmet. The disruptor bolt, instead of going directly through her faceplate, impacted mostly on the side of her helmet, blowing it to pieces and scattering chunks of gore across the back wall as Sooth dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.
The knife flew straight into the Klingon’s skull, sinking past the hilt as though the entire structure of his head had somehow gone soft. Jons, ever watchful, saw the Klingon mash the trigger-device he held and simultaneously erupt in a horrible keening scream the likes of which he had never heard. The thing’s features rapidly shifted through portions of a dozen different races accompanied by a hissing boiling sound while blisters erupted and popped in a disgusting display as it collapsed into an amorphous heap.
Wilkes was on his knees cradling Sooth’s mangled head and screaming curses. Jons grabbed him, punched him across the face and yelled “WILKES! Defuse the bloody bomb! He triggered it! I’ll take care of Sooth! Get the bomb or none of this matters!!!” and he shoved himself in between Wilkes and his mate, ripping open the med kit on her battered armor.
Shaking his head, Wilkles staggered to his feet, stepping back from the horror show on the floor, thankful that Jons was blocking most of his view. He actually felt rather calm now, he decided. He didn’t particularly care what happened from here on out. He walked over to the case, sitting on the desk with the trigger device hanging by it’s wires. The isolation field made it appear blurry. He could see the power cables leading into the field, so that meant that it had an external power-supply.
He could cut the power, but the field would remain for days and he doubted they had much time left. He wished that it had one of those handy digital countdown displays that all the bombs in the space operas always had. So dramatic. This was pretty boring. Just a brown case in a blue field and nothing he could do to defuse it. He couldn’t get at any of it. It would just…He wondered what it would do. Probably not blow up. That wouldn’t spread the organism around much and people would suspect something. Must just release a gas or something. Like a lethal fart. He laughed.
Jons looked up at Wilkes’ back, seeing that he was just staring at the bomb and laughing. That was not a good sign. Shaking his head, he returned to trying to save Sooth’s life. He could tell they were running out of time by the rapidly slackening fire from the Marines outside. He wondered if there were more than one or two left alive.
Wilkes held his hands to his head, trying to crush out the memory of that last horrible instant when the disruptor fired. If he could just put enough pressure on his skull, he could…Oh. He turned and said, “Jons, throw me her phaser.”
“Wilkes, now is not the time to play Marine. Defuse the bloody bomb!!!”
“I am. Throw me her phaser.”
Deciding not to argue, he pulled her hand-phaser from it’s holster and threw it to Wilkes. The lad caught it neatly enough and turned to his work, as Jons focused on his, trying to stop the massive bleeding and keep her damaged airway open. A good sized chunk of her cheek and skull had been blown off and disruptors had a disturbing tendency to cause damage to adjacent tissues… and then he heard the screeching siren of a phaser on overload.
“Wilkes! What the hell are you doing! That’ll kill everyone!”
Wilkes sat down and smiled. “No, it won’t, Jons. I can’t do anything to the bomb. It’s in an isolation field. If I cut the power, the field’s still there for a long time. So I’m giving it more power.”
“Blowing up a phaser power pack by it won’t affect it in the slightest you young fool!!”
“I’m not blowing it up. It’ll stay at this rate until it’s empty in a couple seconds. But all that power is flooding in to the isolation field, making it stronger and stronger and stronger.”
Two Klingons charged through the hole in the door, one after the other, “Hands up! Don’t move!!”
Jons said, “We give up! But she needs a medic, badly!”
Hesitating at the scene in the ambassador’s quarters, the Klingons were confused for a moment. “You! Deactivate the phaser! Immediately!”
Wilkes said, “Please…just help her. Please.” And the loud screaming sound faded away to nothing as the power pack exhausted itself, the bluish isolation field now a forbidding black.
“Please.” Wilkes said again.
The Klingon covering Jons called for a medic while the other one came closer to Wilkes and said, “What is that…mess?”
Jons spoke again, “Whatever that was, it was in the shape of your ambassador. It was NOT Klingon.”
Poking at the pile of goo and clothing with his boot, the Klingon noted a badly melted and pitted piece of what must once have been a knife. “What did you do to…it?”
Jons continued,“The wounded Marine there threw a knife into it’s skull and it sort of dissolved. We have the combat tapes in our helmets, of course.”
“And what is THAT?” he indicated the black oblong block of the isolation field.
“That is a biological weapon inside an isolation field. The thing triggered it. We don’t know how long until it’s set to release the field and detonate. That is what we came here to prevent, but we were too late.”
“A biological…” the field suddenly dissipated and there was a loud and rapid rush of air expanding and then contracting back, knocking everyone in the room around. “It detonated!!”
Jons sagged, “It was all for nothing. It released the plague.”
Wilkes, still sitting on the floor staring at Sooth’s body said in a voice completely drained of joy and hope, “No it didn’t. That was just from all the pressure inside the isolation field.”
Threatening him with his disruptor the Klingon said “Explain! Now!”
“Sure.” Wilkes continued like he was lecturing a class.  I couldn’t turn off the isolation field. It wouldn’t dissipate until the timer inside killed it and released whatever was in the box. But I could give it more power. And that kind of field is fixed-dimension on the outside, right? But if I add power to it, the field has to expand somewhere. Since they’re fixed to isolate a region bounded by the set external dimensions, the only place for it to expand is internally. So, when I added power to the system, it had to expand internally. The field kept expanding against whatever was inside as the entire energy contents of a fully charged hand-phaser poured into it. That crushed little pea on the desk used to be about half a meter on each side. I’m guessing there must have been nearly a million pounds per square inch inside that field. Anything that was anything inside it was crushed. Dead. Harmless.”
Jons laughed, “Wilkes! That’s brilliant!”
“Big. Fucking. Deal.” he said and put his head on his knees and cried, much to the disgust of the Klingon standing over him.

CHAPTER 13
“Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”
– Robert Heinlein, Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL KLINGON BATTLECRUISER RAGE, DISABLED
JANUARY 2275
Wilkes was still sitting in the Klingon Sick Bay when Captain Kamov called, demanding his report. As he went through everything he knew, he continued holding Sooth’s hand while she lay in the diagnostic bed, her head encased in big chunk of equipment. When he finished his description of how he destroyed the device he just stopped talking, still focused more on Sooth’s motionless shape.
Kamov studied the silent Lieutenant for a moment. The Klingon vessel was being considered a plague ship until Starfleet and Empire medical experts identified what was left of the organisms crushed inside the bomb and cleared them as uninfected. But the Captain was a bit of a romantic, and he thought of his own wife, safe at their home on Starbase 11 and what it must have been like for Wilkes.
“Lieutenant.” he said quietly. Wilkes didn’t respond, so he raised his voice more, “Lieutenant!”
“Oh, sorry, yes, sir?”
“Well done, Lieutenant.  We’re sending some volunteers over to help with the casualties. There are some experts in this…sort of injury. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
That got a small smile, so he continued, “And Lieutenant?” he pointed at the blue-grey and tan mottled Dosadi battle armor he still wore, “One day I am going to see you in Starfleet issue and on that day, I will know the universe has truly gone mad.”

* * *
Sooth opened her eyes. And everything was black again. There was no light. Nothing. No sound. She was back in the pod – it was just like…no. Her hand. Someone was holding her hand…Wilkes! Everything came back in a rush, her memory ending with a blinding flash of light and pain. She wondered what had happened – how was she even alive? The Klingon had shot her in the face with a disruptor at point-blank range. Did Wilkes defuse the bomb? Something was wrong with her head she couldn’t move or move her ears or eyes or smell or….She squeezed his hand, feeling the strong, confident squeeze back, and then his other hand petting her arm.
Whatever had happened, it was going to be all right.

* * *
Colonel Jons came and found them the next morning. Still in his scorched battle armor, he sat heavily, exhaustion showing in his eyes and movements.
“I think we’ve got the mess mostly sorted out, Wilkes.”
“What happened? Are we going to be able to go back to the Delos? Were you able to convince them?”
Sighing, he said, “Let me back up and fill in the details. As you know, our ships were shooting the Klingons, they were shooting us and the Federation was trying to keep everyone from shooting at each other. When we beamed through the Rage’s shields, we were able to keep the individual teams together, but the teams were scattered. Force Leader Inveth and the other half of the Dosadi Marines materialized near the bridge and attempted to assault through heavy opposition to take control of the ship.” He put his hand over his eyes and sighed heavily. “The carnage was…heavy. They were badly outnumbered since the Klingon’s primary security posts are just aft of the bridge. The team ran out of ammunition but continued their assault. The fighting turned hand-to-hand when Inveth lead a charge into the Klingon line. They were actually within sight of the bridge at the end, but none of them survived. Klingon casualties were horrific and the damage to the ship’s internals was heavy. Some Federation security personnel were involved as well.
“My son’s squad appeared close to the engine room and being unable to locate the device, assaulted there. They actually managed to briefly take control of main engineering and disabled the warp drives before they too were overrun and annihilated. Once main power was down, the jamming fields collapsed as did the Rage’s weapons systems and the commanders were able to talk instead of fight. That was shortly before we breeched into the ambassador’s quarters and is the reason why we weren’t killed outright as well when the Klingons overran our position.”
Wilkes looked up, “Your son?”
With a small, sad smile Wilkes said, “Yes. He performed his duties with great courage and honor, Wilkes. Because of their actions, our mission was a success.” he paused, thinking back over the events of the past year. “The scales always balance, Wilkes. Remember that. There is always balance.” he was silent for a moment and then continued,
“The Rage is still disabled, but the Hood is providing power and damage control teams and medical teams for the wounded. You and I are the only two who remain whole from the assault force.” he shook his head. “The Klingons are furious, but the combat tapes from our men and especially from you and I support everything we told them.
We’ve been unable to identify whatever the…thing was. The best guess from Doctor Bhutto is that there was a chemical on the knife Sooth threw that was highly toxic to the…whatever it was. It reacted corrosively.
At the moment, it looks like there will be no war. Whatever other consequences there will be, I do not know. Obviously there will be no negotiations with the Klingons. As to us, it is likely to take a few days for the organism to be identified and us to be cleared to leave. Until then, we are somewhere between guests and prisoners.”
Wilkes digested all of this and asked, “Colonel, how much of this mess was because of your spying?”
Bemused, Jons looked up and said, “MY spying? Wilkes, ALL of this was the direct result of YOUR spying.”
“I’m not a spy! I’m an engineer!”
Jons laughed, “Wilkes, you are the most famous spy in the known galaxy. You have a nickname you know.”
“I am n…what?”
“People in the intelligence services refer to you as the accidental spy.” he laughed again. “You have allowed more information to be exchanged more freely between rival agencies than we’ve been able to do, ever. Normal channels are rather round-about and are usually one directional.
“But you? Wilkes, you’re a Federation citizen and Starfleet crewman who is married to a Dosadi Marine, business partner to a Hydran Marine and who trades with Klingons, Dosadi, Hydrans, Romulans and Orions – and anyone else! You are like a giant shared clearinghouse for information both accurate and inaccurate. Your background has been heavily researched and your every movement is monitored by every intelligence agency in the galaxy. But you are seen as too valuable – and under too much scrutiny – to co-opt.
“It is ironic but the people who most deal in information are the most unable to share that information – especially information that must become known to the highest levels of government but must remain out of the public eye. You provide a…a fulcrum. A balance point between all the various agencies. A sort of neutral third party.”
Wilkes tried to think this through. “I…” he thought again. “Jons, I don’t get it. I’m just me. I don’t want to be a spy, I just want to live a normal life, raise our kids and I don’t know, retire and play cards or something.”
“Wilkes, that’s all most anyone really wants. But sometimes God has different plans for us. I told you once before that spies were not what you think they are. You look at the carnage and the loss and the pain all around you, “ Jons waved his arm across the packed Sick Bay “and you think how awful this all was and now you start to think that you were responsible. And you are.”
Wilkes looked up, stricken, and Jons continued, “But Wilkes, what you are also responsible for, as are all the spies who uncovered the truth behind this plan, is saving the lives of uncounted trillions of people across the galaxy. People who will live normal lives and raise their children and retire and who will never know that my son was killed in a filthy Klingon engine room in the middle of nowhere, or that your mate had part of her face shot off, or that dozens of brave men of many different species fought and died so that they could go ON living normal lives and raising their children. They will never know, and they will never say thank you because they will never know.
“Wilkes, had it not been for the information exchanged between all these different agencies, we would not have known about this plan. The Federation would have seen a devastating plague released on Earth by the Klingons – while under a flag of truce. What you saw here today would be repeated across thousands of planets with women and children caught in the cross-fire. Instead of dozens of dead, trillions would die. Whole races exterminated, planets made uninhabitable, and very likely the entire fabric of the interstellar community undone as a result of that war. The spies of the galaxy are responsible for saving those lives as well.”
“Who’s plan was this, anyway?” Wilkes asked after trying to comprehend all of Jons’ information.
“We don’t know yet. The Klingons appear stunned and completely in the dark. Maybe the Orion’s. Or the Romulans. We’ll probably never know.”
“So this all might happen again?!”
“Wilkes, there is always something going on – usually many somethings – that threatens the peace of the galaxy. And it’s a spy’s job to find those out and stop them.”
“So you’ve always been a spy?”
“Me? Wilkes, I said YOU were a spy, even if only an accidental one. I’M a Marine.” Smiling he stood, patted Sooth’s leg and said “Take care of your mate, Wilkes. I have another duty to attend to before I rest.”  Stopping as the door cycled open he said, “Oh, and Wilkes? Once she’s done with regen and rehab, my wife and I would be honored if you would bring your family to visit us. For both business and pleasure, of course.” and he left the room.
Wilkes thought about that. There was still a long journey ahead for all of them apparently.

CODA I
RAID! – The Razing of Romulus
CHAPTER 1
“No plan of operations extends with any certainty beyond the first contact with the main hostile force.”
– Field Marshall Helmuth Carl Bernard Graf von Moltke – Earth (Human)
T’ELESH, DOSAD
OCTOBER 2280
Commander Thomas Wilkes looked around the roundhouse that he and Sooth still shared on Dosad. The suppertime chatter among their friends made a pleasant background noise to his musings. He realized that he had somehow managed to find his way in the universe, despite his reservations from so long ago. He had a wife, four children, and more friends than he had ever thought possible – many of whom were here, sharing a meal and their company.
Angie – he corrected himself: Captain Stone was here; Her starship, the USS Potemkin was in orbit overhead and she had made it a point to look him up. He had always thought she would make Captain by 30, and she had almost made it, earning command of the heavy cruiser slightly before her 32nd birthday.
His friend, business partner, and fellow spy, Colonel Jons was there with his wife. He grinned at the thought that he was a spy. He really wasn’t as he made very sure to stay away from anything even remotely resembling espionage, but it was fun to tease the Colonel. He knew that a half-dozen different intelligence services used his business with Jons to pass information back and forth and that he was constantly being monitored, but he stubbornly refused to take part in any sort of spying at all.
Continuing his mental inventory, he looked past Corin and Eletha and their batch of five kits. Sooth was preoccupied with their own four kits, no doubt looking for Heather who had apparently wandered off – again – with Jons’ adopted son Tir and Eletha’s daughter Ceena. Tovath had joined them late, and Wilkes had no idea where his mate or their three kits were, but they spent a lot of time with friends as well. He was sure there were more people wandering around the house, but he had lost track. The green Dosadi whiskey may have been a contributing factor, he decided.
He had also never been happier, and that seemed to be an on-going thing. There were so many friends missing though, he thought. Nollos and M’Ralin, T’Laren, Kaileen, and…He tried not to dwell on the numbers of friends who had been killed in 17 years of Fleet duty with both the Dosadi and Starfleet. Sooth saw him looking wistful and gave him a wink and one of her beautiful smiles.
“I’m sorry, Colonel, I was letting my mind wander. What did you just ask me?”
Jons smiled at him. “I said, You’ve come far, my friend, in the years that we’ve been encountering each other.”
“There were an awful lot of times I didn’t think I was going to, Seins.” he glanced up as Heather, Tir, and Ceena rejoined the group. “And I surely never thought my future held anything like this.”
Jons’ wife Marin chimed in, “One never knows where one’s duty may take them, Wilkes. But there are always rewards for completing your duty, although they may not seem obvious at the time.” Glancing at Ceena and Tir she cleared her throat, “And sometimes Providence provides us with the strangest opportunities to both follow one’s duty and strengthen the bonds between friends and partners.”
Wilkes caught what she was implying immediately, as did Corin and Eletha, although the two youngsters in question seemed oblivious. Corin took a drink of his whiskey to hide his grin and Eletha tried not to giggle at the thought. Tir was almost two years older than Ceena’s 14 and a good foot shorter. He had deep tan skin and nearly white hair which made a neat compliment to Ceena’s tan and cream fur.
Eletha asked, “On your world, when do you consider someone to be an adult? On Dosad, it’s usually about 16 Earth-standard years, but there are those who go through the ritual testing a little earlier, or later than that.”
Marin explained, “For our young men, they begin their career with an apprenticeship or by joining the military anywhere from 15 on up, but never later than 18. Our young women are considered adults when their fathers arrange a match for them. The usual age is 14-18 and almost never older than 20. And of course, negotiations for a match can begin some years earlier.”
Corin swallowed backwards and began coughing, trying to get the fiery liquid out of his windpipe.
Wilkes thought that if Corin and Eletha took their children now and fled to one of the rim worlds, they might just get away from Marin, but they had better leave right away. Trying to cover his amusement he commented, “Of course on Dosad, we don’t arrange matches like your people do. People find their mates through trial and error, mostly.”
Marin smiled at him and said, “Indeed. But one can always encourage the trials and help to minimize the errors, can’t they?”
Ten year-old Heather, bored with the topic of conversation decided to chime in. “Jons, you’re a famous Warrior, Tell us a story about a battle!”
Captain Stone added her opinion as well, “Yes, Colonel. I’ve only heard bits and pieces of how you and Wilkes and everyone started running into each other. Wasn’t it at that little battle at Toulagai about ten years ago?”
Jons thought a moment, “Well, actually, the seeds for that particular battle were sown two years earlier during the Razing of Romulus.” He looked across the group, “Corin, I believe your brother was a combat controller aboard the carrier Loreth,was he not?”
“Yes, he was.” Corin agreed. “How did you know that?”
Jons grinned, “I’m something of a historian myself. The Dosadi have a reputation as master tacticians, so I make it a point to study your battles in great detail. Shall I start my tale there?”
Captain Stone said, “Sure! I’d like to hear the story. I always knew there was something special about Wilkes, I just didn’t know how special” She chuckled, “I never expected to find him married for one thing, much less running a major business. So tell me how this all started!”
Heather said again, “I want to hear about the battle!”
Always his favorite, Jons ruffled her fur and said, “Then I shall tell the story, little one.” He paused, thinking a moment and began:

* * *
DOSADI-ROMULAN BORDER
OCTOBER 2266
Hanging in space, some ten light-years from the Dosadi-Romulan frontier, the assault fleet awaited the command to move into the attack. In the center of the fleet of seven starships was the assault carrier Loreth – named for the Dosadi angel of death. Surrounding her were a patrol of fighters and her escorts.
The light cruiser Avric, the heavy destroyer Dosin and two small frigates; The Eleth and Raseth. Slightly further out were two brand new ships – the Coasd and the Eladi. These were new Aegis anti-seeker corvettes. Fast, maneuverable escort vessels designed specifically for duty on the Romulan front where drones, plasma torpedoes and other seeking weapons were as common as the interstellar dust.
On board the Loreth, the carrier’s captain was mentally reviewing the events that had brought about this raid. The Dosadi and the Romulans had been feuding for months during the Romulan’s brush-war with the Gorn Empire and their Federation allies. It hadn’t gone much past the occasional border spat or light raid on an outpost until the very first Dosadi assault carrier, the Thorin, came out of the docks.
Barely fifteen light-years out of port, she was attacked by a Romulan force that far out-gunned her. During a fifteen minute battle, she was completely destroyed, although she gave a good account of herself causing heavy damage to the invaders as well. This battle had also exposed new Romulan allies to the Dosadi, and spies inside the Empire supplied a name: The Cardassians. humanoids with reptilian features, their cruisers were armed with a wide array of phasers. Analysts within the Dosadi Imperium felt that if the two Cardassian cruisers had not been present, the ship would have been able to fight her way out of the ambush.
Three days later, the Dosadi struck back. The Romulans were posting a brand new X-class heavy cruiser to their shared frontier. One of only four that the Romulan’s possessed, it was a prime target for retaliation so the Romulan’s had supplied a destroyer to escort her. It hadn’t helped. Attacked by  the heavy destroyer Dosin and two frigates, the Ceasar and her destroyer escort were completely destroyed within ten minutes and the Dosadi vessels escaped with only minor damage.
Since tit-for-tat Romulan retaliation was expected, the Dosadi High Command had decided on a bold strike to knock the Romulans so hard that they would have to sue for peace. Even now, a large force of thirty ships was engaged in a running battle with the entire Romulan Home Defense Fleet, drawing it further and further away from Romulus while saboteurs were disabling the Romulan Starbase protecting her Senate and military High Command. With its power, weapons, and shields useless, a quick strike by the raiders would cripple the Romulan Empire  – especially its military – for years.
Finished with his mental review, Captain Norin surveyed the bridge of the Loreth. In the center of the tight hexagonal  compartment everything was in perfect order. To his left, Loric, his communications officer was straining to pick up the signals coming from the diversionary attack. They were kept weak to avoid gaining attention from the Romulan battle stations and listening posts on the frontier. Loric’s tail was lashing back and forth, a sure sign that he was totally focused on the faint sounds he was working so hard to tune in. Norin let him work – he would speak up when something came in.
“Captain!”, he said, turning around. “The signal has arrived. Proceed immediately across the frontier and on to Romulus.”
Norin smiled, displaying an impressive set of fangs. “Excellent. Signal all vessels. Rig for silent running. All ahead ¼ until we’re out of range of their listening posts. Then best speed to the assembly point following plan course Seven.”
Slowly, and with extreme caution, the fleet began to cross the border. This area of space was studded with mines, Romulan battle stations, listening posts, and patrol vessels on-guard against just such a move. A diversionary attack by the Loreth’s squadron of Federation-designed A-10 Thunderbolt attack fighters – small short-range ships designed for speed, agility, toughness and the ability to deal immense amounts of damage at very close range – should have distracted this sector’s defense center long enough for the fleet to cross the area. The fighters would need great skill to make it to the assembly point as they were operating at their extreme range limit.
Even with all their care, halfway across the border, the light cruiser Avric struck a mine. While the damage was only superficial, the detonation might alert the Romulans to the fleet’s presence. With luck, it would be assumed to be just another fighter.
But, their luck held. Twenty minutes later, the fleet was out of the danger zone and beyond the effective range of the border forces. Shortly after that, they met up with the six A-10’s waiting near their pick-up point. All were out of fuel and drifting, damaged, but repairable in short order. Aboard the Loreth, mechanics swarmed over their hulls.
The plan was to follow a complex route designed to avoid Romulan traffic, so the fleet slowly built speed up to Warp five. Even that was a strain on the little corvettes, designed for close defense of a fleet and agility, not a long high-speed run. 30 hours later, they reached their assembly point and began preparing in earnest for the attack. Weapons were charged, systems checked, fighters fueled, loaded, and their pilots ready in the cockpits. Maintenance crews anxiously checked internal systems and weapons mounts for any flaw as they were moved into their launchers.
Long range sensors were able to detect no ships in the space around the Romulan’s home planet. The plan appeared to be functioning perfectly – had the starbase not been disabled, it’s long range sensors would already have sounded the alarm and weapons would already be tracking on the raiders. The order was given and the fleet leaped to flank speed and assumed attack positions, ready to bombard the planet. As the range dropped and sensor power increased, a terrible reality was disclosed.

CHAPTER 2
“A good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan next week.”
-General George S Patton Jr – Earth (Human)
Waiting, in a very close orbit around the planet were seven ships of the Romulan Starfleet and the same two Cardassian cruisers that had attacked the Thorin. The raiders would have to eliminate these ships before they could move in to bombard the planet. Seven Dosadi raiders against nine Romulan and Cardassian defenders. And they would have to be fast, before the Romulan repair crews were able to bring the starbase back online.
Captain Norin assessed the ships facing him and calmly issued his attack orders. “Launch Green Wing’s F-14 Tomcats and have them hold station around us as a close-in defense. Launch the Countach missiles at 300,000 kilometers.” These were fast, powerful anti-ship missiles designed to cause massive internal damage to any vessel they struck. “Prepare to turn to 030 mark 015 on my order.”
The defending vessels were making their initial moves as well. They split into two forces with the heavier force splitting ‘north’. In it were the X-class heavy cruiser Pompey and two of the Romulan’s finest light cruisers – the Rubicon and the Tiber. Well known to the Dosadi as experienced, vicious and effective ships. Escorting them were two fast destroyers, Legion and Centurion. Worse news yet for the Dosadi, two of the Romulan’s brand new anti-missile destroyers, the Preatoria and the Augustus. It would be unlikely for any Dosadi drones to find their marks this day.
Sethos, the combat controller aboard the Loreth (Corin’s brother, Jons explained) spoke, “Captain, range is now 80,000 km. The Cardassian-based force has executed a high-energy turn and launched eight fighters. They will intercept our current course in two minutes.”
“Launch the remaining fighters. Have Red Wing’s Thunderbolts stand to the rear but close enough to attack when an opportunity presents itself. Have the SWACS (a special shuttlecraft designed to aid communications, tracking, and control of a battle) make best speed away from the battle space on course 135 mark 255 but stay within control range. Blue Wing’s Phantoms will fly escort in conjunction with the two F-4’s from the Dosin. White Wing’s Hornets and Green Wing will launch a 75% drone spread at 40,000 km and move to attack the cruiser force. Turn control of the Gatling phasers and the anti-drone-drones over to the Aegis system. Let’s see if it’s worth what we paid the Federation for it.”
“Aye, sir”
Anxious seconds passed for both fleets as tightly packed formations bloomed into complex patterns and sensors began playing across space. Ranges dropped as ships feinted slightly or simulated weapons releases to try to force an early response. Neither side was making any mistakes – these were some of the most skilled and professional warriors in known space.
Norin watched the large, solid holograph in front of his command station, watching the little sparks of light with ghostly vector arrows crawling towards each other. “On my mark, have the Avric, the Eleth and the Raseth make a feint to the left and then proceed to attack the starbase. If they can, avoid becoming entangled with the defenders. As soon as they launch, release the fighters to attack.”
Within seconds, the Dosadi’s compact formation bloomed across space at high speed with the frigates and the light cruiser peeling off to the left. The carrier and her corvette escorts arced to the right while the destroyer Dosin increased speed and began dumping reinforcing energy into her forward shields.
Instantly, the Romulan cruisers belched out seven plasma torpedoes. Ugly red balls of high-energy plasma bound into a seeking weapon, the torpedoes were capable of crippling a ship with a single hit. And they were exceedingly long-ranged – although they ‘bled’ out energy the further they flew, weakening. Unfortunately for the Dosadi captains, they couldn’t afford the time to try to out-run them Instead, they had to close the distance. On board every ship, defense officers scrambled to find something with which to evade, deceive, or destroy these devastating weapons.
Aboard the little frigate Raseth, racing along on the Avric’s starboard side, there was no chance to do much of anything.
Shortly before the Romulans fired, her navigator informed his captain “Sir, the cruiser force has turned to intercept our course, 180 mark 315…” He was interrupted by the defense officer’s near scream,
“Weapons lock from…” He never finished the sentence. The heavy phaser-1s, disruptors and a sprinkling of lighter phasers bracketed the tiny ship even as her helmsman tried to force the shuddering little ship into an evasive descending spiral as her shields folded one after another and explosions rocked her from bow to stern. While not crippled, she was beyond any effective action for a bit. The Romulans had drawn first blood.
Aboard the light cruiser Avric, a similar situation was developing. The cruiser, however, was quite a bit more capable of dealing with the weapons targeted on her. Her forward shield was badly battered despite the extra energy reinforcing it, but it was holding. Unfortunately, five of the seven deadly plasma torpedoes were tracking on his ship. The luckless Raseth had drawn the other two.
The Raseth’s captain tried desperately to save his ship. “Execute a high-energy turn!” This was a panic maneuver which caused the ship to trade all forward energy into a spinning, skidding turn that dumped excess energy into the shields as reinforcement – it also left the ship nearly dead in space. “Launch the Wild Weasel!’
The smoking little ship shook under impossible stresses as she first spun 120 degrees to try to present an intact shield to the rapidly closing plasma globes, and then all her remaining energy was transferred into her shields. The giant doors in her side slid open and a shuttlecraft – the Wild Weasel – crammed with electronic gear to attract the torpedoes, began its slow run away from the ship.
It didn’t get very far. About seven seconds after launch, two Type F torpedoes slammed into it, vaporizing it very thoroughly. While less damaging than the horrific Type R torpedo, the detonations were still powerful enough to cut the Raseth’s number three shield in half and shake the ship like a terrier with a rat.
While considerably less critical, the situation on board the Avric was similar. Her defense officer calmly issued his orders “Fire forward and pod phasers at torpedo of choice – just make sure you aren’t killing the same one. Request supporting fires from the Coasd and Eladi.”
“Eladi’s out of range, sir, Cosad responding.” Seconds later, phaser energy from the anti-seeker corvette Cosad raged across the oncoming torpedoes, aided by the squadron of F-18’s flying CID (close-in defense or ‘sid’) and the Avric’s own fire. Only one of the torpedoes survived to hit the vessel and the ugly red energy swarmed over her shields swamping the reinforcement and doing light damage to all six shields.
The Romulans were having problems of their own. Dozens of anti-ship missiles from the Loreth and her fighters were swarming into their fleet. Unfortunately for the Dosadi, the Romulan anti-missile destroyers were doing exactly what they were designed for. Only a fraction of the missiles closed with their targets, and those were dealt with by their point-defense phasers.
The Dosadi began firing disruptors, overloaded phasers, and photon torpedoes – their heavy weapon of choice; a deadly, fast weapon supplied by the Federation. Much lighter than the plasma torpedoes of the Romulan’s, but much faster to reload and impossible to dodge or intercept. The Loreth added a surprise weapon of her own – a pair of Hellbore torpedoes. Modifications of the photon torpedo, these weapons would englobe a target vessel and then collapse onto the weakest shield whether it was facing the firing ship or not; As the X-class cruiser Pompey found out. Her number two shield, protecting her right front sextant, collapsed under the pounding of the incoming Dosadi fire.
That was all the opportunity the Dosadi needed. Fighters, the frigates, and the heavy destroyer Dosin began pumping devastating fire into the Pompey’s unprotected hull. Despite the best efforts of her crew to turn the giant cruiser away, in seconds the proud ship was a smoldering wreck. She could move, but had little left in the way of weapons or power. Casualties were heavy throughout the ship as she vented atmosphere and energy into space, fires racing across her hull.
Norin was trying to keep track of what the Romulan fleet still had to hit back with. “Combat, analysis of that volley. Any torpedo launchers hit?”
Sethos looked up from his screens, “Hard to say, Captain.; Looks like we crippled the Pompey’s phasers and most of their disruptors. I don’t see any damage to any torpdeo launchers on any vessel though. I think they’re all still working.”
“Shit. Make those a primary target for anyone taking shots at the cruiser.”
Raled, the fleet defense officer interrupted, “Sir, the Romulan fighters have just launched four more Type-F torpedoes, their destroyers have launched two additional Type F’s. All are targeted on the Dosin. The Cardassian force is closing rapidly on the Avric and the Eleth. Raseth’s out of it.”
“So much for evading and going straight in to the attack.” Norin sighed. “Have our fighters launch their Lynx missiles at the Romulan and Cardassian fighters.” These were high-speed lighweight drones designed to destroy enemy fighters. You could fire them at ships – in fact to enemy sensors they looked identical to the heavier Countach missiles – but they did very little damage to something as large as a starship. “After launch, recover and re-arm as fast as we can. Continue rapid firing of our own missiles at targets of opportunity.”
The captain of the Dosin wasn’t worried in the slightest.  Her captain was in a very overconfident mood. The initial exchange had cost the Dosadi a badly damaged frigate. In return, they had nearly destroyed the heaviest vessel the Romulan’s had present. This was the second X-Class cruiser kill the Dosin had to her credit. The heavy destroyer pivoted gracefully on one ‘wing tip’ (in reality a weapons pod), and plowed directly over the two torpedoes, conserving her weapons for offense. Most of her number six shield, protecting her left front sextant, folded under.
The captain of the frigate Eleth was a little more aware of the gravity of the situation. Watching the tracks in the holographic display, he spoke to his combat controller, “Sameeth, where exactly are the rest of those targeted?”
“Working…Uh, three on the Avric, and uh, two for us. The Cardassians are locking weapons on our number six shield, and the two light cruisers have locked onto our number two shield.”
“Oh shit. Fire all weapons at the Rubicon. Helm, emergency stop! Shuttle bay – launch the wild weasel NOW!” Crewmen all throughout the frigate raced to their duties as the ship literally slammed on the brakes, trading all her momentum for shield reinforcement; delicate lines of lethal energy tracing from emitters on her weapons pods into the growing bulk of the Romulan cruiser bearing down on her.
The bridge of the mighty Avric was a much calmer place. She detected the three inbound Type-F plasma torpedoes and the enemy disruptors locked onto her number two shield and began to deal with them in turn. Her captain issued his orders: “Helm, hard left, Emergency stop. Shuttle bay – launch Wild Weasel number one immediately.”
Again, the tiny shuttles made a desperate dash for distance, drawing the seeking weapons to their electronic bait, and again, didn’t get far. The Avric wasn’t bothered in the slightest, but her escort the Eleth wasn’t quite so fortunate.
The tiny ship trembled under the close explosions of the torpedoes, her hull groaning in protest. Crewmen looked up from their stations at the eerie sounds. Then the weapons ports on the Romulan light cruiser erupted into life and the frigate’s number 2 shield went down and long rents appeared in her hull as the enemy weapons struck home.

CHAPTER 3
“Another such victory over the Romans, and we are undone.”
– Plutarch – Earth (Human)
“I think we survived it.” her captain said as the damage reports began to stream into the ruined bridge. But seconds later, the Cardassians gave the lie to that statement as he watched a golden nimbus surround the two cruisers. A fraction of a second later, six phasers ripped through what was left of his number six shield. Crewmen tried in vain to route energy to shields, to brace damaged hull plates – but the entire time, phasers were cutting chunks off the ship while the few systems left were being blown into non-existence. The Eleth imploded, taking her crew of 300 with her. An angry red flower began expanding out of where a graceful and deadly starship had been moments before.
The crippled Raseth, caught unawares by the explosion of her sister ship, had her number four shield destroyed and even the Avric’s number five shield showed a constellation of red warning lights.
The ranges between the fleets continued to drop. Neither commander was giving an inch in a lethal game of chicken involving trillions of credits worth of starships and thousands of crewmen. In the next 60 seconds of combat, all hell broke loose. A battle like this had never been recorded in the history of known-space. Maneuver, tactics, deception – all went out the window as ships closed to within knife-fighting range.
The Dosadi carrier force turned to intercept what was left of the Romulan cruiser strike force while the Loreth’s deck crews worked frantically to refuel and rearm at least some of the fighters. Across every ship in both fleets damage control teams raced to repair what they could and bring shields and especially weapons back to full power. Medical teams were overwhelmed with casualties. Ships raced towards each other in a macabre tango, joined by the flashing lights of beam weapons, torpedoes, and the actinic glare of missile engines. Deep within each ship, dim screens in darkened compartments showed glowing dots, vectors, and expected courses as exhausted, overwhelmed officers struggled to manage the ships, dozens of fighters, hundreds of seeking weapons, and thousands of direct-fire systems comprising the battle.
Aboard the Loreth, Sethos shouted “Captain! They’re launching a full strike. I read sixteen plasma torpedoes, a full spread of phasers, drones and disruptors – 75% on the Dosin, 20% on us, 5% on the Cosad.”
Receiving the same information from his combat controller, the captain of the Dosin was a little less overconfident than he had been a scant two minutes ago. Seeing enough firepower to annihilate any three cruisers being focused on his ship probably had something to do with that change in attitude. “Helm, hard about. Execute a high-energy turn. Do we have a wild weasel prepared?”
“No sir.”
“How many torpedoes are targeted on us again? Verify!”
“Nine sir.” came the weak reply.
“Fire all weapons at the cruiser Tiber and abandon ship.”
Just then, the captain of the Avric sprang his surprise on the Romulans. Out of concealed tube on the bow of his ship, five Type-F plasma torpedoes leapt towards the enemy fleet. This was the first time the Dosadi had ever used plasma torpedoes and ironically, the Romulan’s weren’t prepared to deal with these weapons at this time.
The Loreth scrambled all of her fighters – ready or not – in a furious attempt to get the highly explosive craft off of her decks. They were just getting clear of the bays when the two fleets unloaded everything they had on one another at point-blank range.
No one was ever completely sure what exactly was exchanged between the two groups of warships. Surviving sensor records were limited and damaged and eyewitness reports were unbelievable. What was clear was that the Dosin exploded immediately causing a sympathetic rippling detonation of 20 drones – both Dosadi and Romulan. The wave of energy from these explosions washed across the cruiser Rubicon, already crippled by Dosadi fire, and caused her to break in two and explode, adding to the shockwave of lethal energies. Her escorts, the Praetoria and Augustus, trying to provide covering fire against the incoming missiles had nothing left to absorb this wash of death from an unexpected quarter; Both imploded in a silent flash of light and flame. On the other side of the Dosin, the Loreth, her shields in tatters from close engagement with the Romulans, crumpled into another silent and ugly explosion adding more megatons of energy to the growing fireball.
The battered Pompey, struggling to get her sensors on-line and trying to raise power for shields never even knew what hit her. The expanding wave smashed through her unprotected warp drive releasing all her anti-matter into one gigantic and uncontrolled explosion as the warheads on all her weapons let loose at once. The  Tiber, trying to protect the Pompey was much too close to escape. The Dosin’s last volley had crushed her forward shield, leaving her hull completely exposed to the multi-megaton explosion from the Pompey and she imploded as well, taking the destroyer Legion with her.
The Dosadi had no time to gloat. Surviving captains could see the on-rushing shock-wave of energy – more than had ever been recorded outside of a super-nova – but had very little time to do anything about it. Ships twisted at impossible angles, hulls groaning as engines strained to do more than they were ever designed to do.  The little corvettes, despite being nearly undamaged were never designed to deal with energy levels like this. Flying close by the Loreth, the shock-wave washed across both vessels and all six shields failed. The bows of the ships were driven backwards until, mercifully quickly, they too imploded into into ugly blossoms of destruction. The tiny fighters, who’s main defense was speed and agility, had no hope whatsoever. Their pilots, unlike officers within starships who saw only sensor images of what was occurring outside their ships, could see what was coming with their own eyes. As the fireball spread through their formations, nothing was left but a spray of subatomic particles. Only a single A-10 pilot had managed to run fast enough to hide in the blast-shadow created by two of his squadron mates. Burned and with several broken ribs, he struggled to fly his smoking, crippled fighter towards the SWACS and both began to limp away from the battle space.
Nominally, the Dosadi came out ahead in this brutal exchange, trading five ships for six. Still surviving were the crippled frigate Raseth and the light cruiser Avric. Her formerly pristine blue-grey hull now scorched and pitted, she was down to two fully functional shields. Closing with them were the two Cardassian cruisers, the Kree-Lar and the Pama. Flying lead for them was the Romulan destroyer Centurion.
Again, the two groups of ships began a twisting and sinuous ballet as they maneuvered to bring the most weapons to bear against the enemy’s weakest defenses. The Avric was shutting down any unneeded systems and pumping energy into her plasma torpedo launcher. Even before the two forces reached an optimal firing point, her captain fired the seeking weapon at the advancing Cardassians and accelerated to close the gap behind the torpedo. Unable to ignore the dangerous plasma weapon, the Cardassians had to expend a considerable portion of their available firepower to shoot it down.
Blue Wing, the Loreth’s only surviving fighter group had been flying in an outer escort position and had been able to escape the deadly conflagration. Seeing the Cardassians using their point-defense systems to deal with the torpedoes, the obsolete F-4 Phantoms surged into the attack. The captain of the Centurion, though now unable to be covered by the Cardassian’s close-in weapons decided to take on this ‘easy prey.’ She was badly mistaken. All five F-4’s released a cloud of Lynx and Countach missiles. While the Lynx anti-fighter missiles really couldn’t do all that much to the destroyer, her frantic sensor officers had no time to try to determine which was which.
The tiny fighters, twisting and rolling around the defensive phaser fire, dove on the big Romulan destroyer, following the missiles. The Centurion attempted to take out the missiles and the Pama tried to assist, but it wasn’t enough. The Centurion’s captain, confident in her anti-drone systems re-directed some of her phasers at the annoying little fighters. They were difficult targets to hit, and even more difficult to destroy. As ten of the drones began to close with her ship, leaking through her defenses and the Phantoms released yet more of the powerful missiles she came to the sudden realization that she was going to die.
Despite the best efforts of the Romulans, four of the Countach anti-ship missiles and eight of the little Lynx missiles impacted on the Centurion. Two even managed to hit the distracted Pama, though they did no real damage. The Centurion, her shields destroyed and her weapons expended or destroyed was a sitting duck. The F-4’s dove to point-blank range and cut her to pieces. She went from being a fully armed and able destroyer to a smoking, out of control hulk, burning and drifting as she spun off-axis. Blind, disarmed, and nearly powerless the ship was essentially destroyed. Refusing to give up, her badly wounded first officer attempted to fly the ship from Auxiliary Control, still trying to defend his home planet.
The Centurion began a wobbling, smoking turn towards the crippled frigate Raseth. The Phantoms however, weren’t done with her. They flew their fighters directly towards picked targets and obliterated everything that was still functioning. While the Centurion didn’t explode, what was left wasn’t recognizable as a warship. Instead, it was a wreck, belching atmosphere and energy in long tongues of fire through gaping rents in her hull. Energy sparked and arced across what remained of her warp engines providing the only light from the drifting, spinning hulk.
While Blue Wing was finishing off the Centurion, the valiant little Raseth made her last stand. Sweeping left as fast as her mangled warp drives could push her, she attacked the cruiser Kree-Lar. The enemy warship was many times her size and power even had she been undamaged. Holding his broken left arm, his tail a bloody stump, and sitting in the smoking ruins of his bridge, her captain held his fire until they were nearly on top of the Cardassian ship. He issued his final orders to what was left of his bridge crew. “Wait until they’re about to fire, and then let loose. It’s time to meet the gods!” He had been carefully hoarding his power, dumping everything he could spare into his weapons systems. Two of the powerful photon torpedoes were on the verge of exploding in their tubes and all three of his remaining phasers were going to melt down if they weren’t fired soon.
A chime sounded from the combat controller’s station, the little frigate shivered and the sound of firing weapons rang throughout the ship. One of the torpedoes mis-fired and had to be ejected, exploding near the port bow. The remaining weapons tracked straight and true and crushed the forward shield of the Kree-Lar, swamping through to scatter damage across the battle cruiser’s bow.
The Avric fired a moment later, unloading all of her powerful forward batteries into the Pama. Already damaged, she was unable to deflect the energy pouring into her and reeled under the pounding. Her crew raced to fix what they could.
The Kree-Lar’s return volley obliterated the Raseth’s bridge and most of the remaining systems as well. As her warp drives began to go super-critical, her Chief Engineer tried to juggle the collapsing energy fields to direct the hulk into the Cardassian cruiser and prepared to ram as what was left of her crew attempted to abandon ship.
Four of the sleek Cardassian fighters had managed to destroy the five exhausted, battered fighters of Blue Wing and rolled in to hound what was left of the Raseth. They were still on their attack run when the frigate exploded. The detonation also annihilated the Kree-Lar’s number five shield and caused more damage to her control and weapons systems while the poor Pama, caught with her failed number three shield facing the explosion was reduced to a burning, nearly out of control cripple.
The Pama’s captain, being informed by his Science Officer (she was a legend among the Cardassian fleet) that his ship was no longer able to provide effective resistance turned what was left of his cruiser and began to limp towards safer space. Damn the Romulan’s and their starbase!
The Kree-Lar could not, in honor do this. The ship still had weapons and power and was now the only thing between the Romulan home-world and the Avric. Her captain made his plans. “Loh Ril, make a high-energy turn and target all remaining weapons on the enemy cruiser. Anyone who fires without my explicit order will be killed instantly. All remaining power to reinforce the number one shield. Open a channel to that cruiser.”
As the image of the Dosadi commander appeared on his cracked and partially melted viewscreen, he took the measure of his opponent. It didn’t give him a lot of confidence that this would work. “Ah, Commander. I am Gul Hib Ran of the Cardassian Union. The Romulan starbase is now coming back on-line and as I’m sure you know, all of our weapons are fully charged and targeted on your vessel. We are also preparing to fire two of the weapons you call Type-R torpedoes. This will damage both our vessels unnecessarily.
“You have fought an excellent battle. A battle you can call a victory. If you turn now, and head for your home space, we will not fire at you. Why risk death when victory is within your grasp?”
The captain of the Avric turned to his combat controller and his medical officer, Dr. Sitnam. “Any ideas?”
Lieutenant Commander Fir, the combat controller said “We haven’t seen any plasmas from the Cardassians yet and there’s no energy signature of any being charged. The starbase shows zero energy and the communications we’ve monitored show chaos across all levels.”
The Doctor nodded, “He’s bluffing. He hasn’t got anything left or he would’ve blown us out of space.”
Captain Corlick turned back to the viewscreen. “Right. Prepare to die, lizard.”
Gul Hib Ran sighed, he hadn’t though that would work. “Glinn, prepare to fire.”
“Yes, Sir!” The young officer obviously still had faith that his Gul, who had so miraculously gotten them out of every other scrape would do so again. The Gul knew better.
The Avric closed to 20,000 kilometers and the Kree-Lar pivoted on her axis, attempting to present her best shield to the light cruiser bearing down on her. Both ships unloaded. The Avric fired four of the overloaded photon torpedoes, six overloaded disruptors, seven overloaded phaser-1’s two anti-ship drones, and a Type-S plasma torpedo (Not as big as a Type-R, but bad enough).
In response to this devastating fusillade, the battered Kree-Lar could only scrape up a phaser-3, and a single overloaded phaser-1. Slicing through the Avric’s weakened number two shield, the deadly energy ripped the cruiser’s power and control systems. While not critical, the Avric was hurting.
The artificial gravity was off-kilter on the Kree-Lar. Gul Hib Ran regained his feet and tried to wave away the smoke. Two drones went careening wildly away as his defensive officer managed to interfere with their tracking. Seeing the plasma torpedo closing with his defenseless ship he knew he had only one option left. If he could board the bridge of the Avric he could take her over.
“Engineering! We need power to the transporters now!”
Through the crackling static of the badly damaged intercom system he heard “Transporters out, Gul – so is maneuvering and warp power.”
“Prepare to receive catastrophic damage!” He had just gotten this order out when the Type-S torpedo impacted just forward of the bridge. The Kree-Lar hung in space for a brief instant and then gave up, adding one more explosive gout of light and burning gas to this wreckage littered area of space. The volume around Romulus would be full of debris for months afterwards as the planet’s gravity pulled in the detritus of combat.
Captain Corlick had miscalculated – he hadn’t expected the Kree-Lar to detonate. Damage from the cruiser’s death scattered all over the Avric’s hull, damaging everything lightly. But she was still able to fight. And now she had a clear shot at the Romulan home planet. He gave his attack orders, “Close with the starbase. Charge all weapons and prepare to launch bombardment. Charge the plasma torpedo as an enveloping torpedo  until I give orders otherwise.”
On Romulus, the High Command was in an understandable state of panic. First, an unprecedented Dosadi fleet had waltzed into their space and directly attacked the Home Defense Fleet. Suspecting a trap, the majority of the fleet fought a running battle while a small rear-guard stayed behind, just in case.
Right on cue, thirty five members of the Praetor’s Guard Legion had revolted. The starbase’s powerful energy generators were disabled, their controls melted chunks of metal. Without power, her shields and weapons were useless. The traitors were finally slain, but repairs would take time – and meanwhile, the base – and the planet –  was defenseless.
Then, worse news. A Dosadi assault fleet had dropped out of warp and was closing with their rear-guard. Thank all the gods that the two Cardassian Ambassadorial escorts were still in orbit. The Praetor had issued his one and only order: Stop them at all costs. You are expendable.
Since their scanners were also powerless, they had no real idea of what was happening out there in space. Scanners weren’t needed, however, when nearly a dozen starships suddenly explode. That lit up the sky for over an hour afterwards – but was it good news or bad? As scanner power began to come up from emergency sources, the tactical situation became clear. Only five ships remained. Then two. Then one. The ISS Avric. They could only watch in impotent rage as the Avric moved into close orbit and began to pound the Romulan home-world back into the Stone Age.
People made desperate dashes for shelters, running past useless heavy weapons and shield generators, trying to find someplace to hide from the multi-megaton weapon impacts. It made no difference where they went. They died. Forty-five minutes later, that entire section of the continent was a smoking ruin and the Avric stood off, launching a few remaining shots from long range. No one had ever seen a starbase explode before, but the damaged generating systems went critical, and then detonated with a force in the gigaton range. Later estimates of casualties were in the hundreds of millions.  Millions more would die from the long-term effects of the nuclear-winter like clouds of debris blown into the atmosphere. Although the Romulans, like the Dosadi, are a warrior race where ‘civilian’ isn’t really a recognized concept, it’s hard to classify most of these deaths as anything other than civilian by our reckoning. But the Romulans were now leaderless and unable to provide any effective action against the Dosadi.
The Avric made course for home, picking up the SWACS with it’s terrified crew and what was left of Lt. Delac’s A-10 fighter. A very long trip home followed, trying to make their way past the now quite agitated Romulan defenses. Fortunately, a Dosadi light cruiser, even damaged, is very difficult to destroy. After four days of hiding when they could, fighting when they had to, they made it over the border and back into home space.
The news hadn’t yet reached Dosad. All they knew was that their fleet had been badly mauled by the Romulan Home Fleet, making a somewhat less than even exchange. Their only carrier, one of their five light cruisers, a heavy destroyer, two frigates, and two brand new corvettes had simply disappeared. So, when the Avric’s battle damaged hull pulled into orbit around Dosad – alone – the Dosadi Military was shocked. They were even more shocked when they received the log and sensor tapes of the battle. While the raid had achieved all of its goals, it had also been cripplingly expensive. Sure, the Romulans were no longer able to bother the Dosadi, and would probably lose the war with the Grand Alliance, but the Dosadi too were pretty much beyond offensive action.
Captain Corlick was promoted to Admiral and stands an excellent chance to succeed the Emperor.

* * *
Jons took another drink of his whiskey. I happened to be on Romulus that day. Fortunately for me, I was in Dinalla when Ki Baratan exploded. Even across the ocean, the effects were felt rapidly. It was…horrible.”
Corin was silent and Eletha said, “That’s more details than I had ever heard about that battle. “
The Colonel said, “I had access to the Romulan sensor archives from their orbital platforms, including intercepts.”
Heather, enthralled with the story just said, “Thank you, Jons!” That was echoed by the many guests.
Captain Stone said, “That was quite the story, Colonel. Thank you – but I don’t see how that relates to Wilkes, or anyone other than Corin?”
“Well, the Assault Carrier concept was still quite new at that time, Captain. The Dosadi were the first to  design and build a specific class to carry massive numbers of fighters. Their doctrine was that the ship be able to fight as a cruiser as well as carry the fighters. This battle exposed a number of flaws in that concept, flaws that were corrected in the next carrier – the ISS Delos, which was the ship Wilkes was posted to when it arrived at Toulagai. Where I was also present aboard the Hydran light-cruiser Succession. Somewhat ironically, that ship was helmed by a young Starfleet officer, an Ensign Yoshida.”
“I’ve heard of her. She’s an instructor at Starfleet Academy now.” Angie interrupted him.
“So? I must say I’m not surprised. She is without peer in my experience.”
This time it was Ceena who asked for a story. “Colonel, that was the battle where my father was killed. My mother and Corin have both told me the story, can you tell it the way you told that last one?”

Sooth spoke up, “Ceena, he’s just told a long story! It’s not fair to ask him for another right away!”
“No, no – I’m an old warrior, M’Lady, and we LOVE telling tales of old battles and valor. I’d be happy to share another tale.” Nodding to Captain Stone he said, “I’ve been able to obtain quite a few Federation records on this battle as it has a particular interest for me. I was able to get the entire set of bridge records from the USS Hood, thanks to Commander Wilkes’ intercession.”
It’s an odd story of what pride and foolishness can drive otherwise sane beings to. But, let me start aboard the Hood…

* * *
CODA II
Free For All At Toulagai
CHAPTER 1
“Diplomacy is the art of saying “Nice doggie” until you can find a rock.”
– Will Rogers – Earth (Human)
Captain Karmes sighed as he shifted his weight in the command chair. The bridge of the heavy cruiser USS Hood was, as always, functioning smoothly. The tactical plot on the main view screen showed the destroyer USS Samurai and that Dosadi light cruiser he’d been…’escorting’…the ISS Alisar. He’d had just about all the guff he was gonna take from that overgrown fur-ball, orders or no orders.
Five minutes ago, the Alisar had hailed the Hood and informed Karmes that there was a major fleet action occurring in Federation space. Then, without so much as a ‘please’, he’d demanded that the Federation ships  follow his vessel and provide assistance to his embattled countrymen (or would that be countrykitties?, Karmes thought to himself). Karmes didn’t have any choice but to stay with the Alisar as she accelerated to her maximum speed. Starfleet couldn’t very well leave the Alisar wandering about unescorted – allies or no. But he’d been sorely tempted.
As they raced towards the altercation, his communications officer had been able to tell him some of the basics from intercepts: That idiot Gorn Admiral T’Skay had evidently been making a few ‘dead cat’ jokes at an Embassy party in the Federation sector of Toulagai. The Dosadi ambassador, showing typical control had immediately attacked him. Things had degenerated from there. The Gorn, 8′ tall and looking like a tyrannosaur with bug-eyes were also Federation allies as well as being friendly with the Klingons and Hydrans. Trying to defuse this situation was going to take some delicacy. As he was trying to puzzle out what to do, his thoughts were interrupted by his comm officer again.
“Sir, incoming message from Admiral Noguchi at Starbase 6.”
“On the main screen, Lieutenant.” This should be good, he thought. Noguchi was a very professional officer and usually good for some extra information about missions. There was an initial burst of interference and then Admiral Noguchi’s face appeared. He was clearly NOT happy. “Captain Karmes,” he began without any of the usual pleasantries,
“You and the Samurai are to immediately accompany the ISS Alisar to the starbase at Toulagai. Once there, you are to engage the following ships of the Klingon Imperial Fleet: The battleship Reaver, the light cruiser Devisor, and the corvettes Deceit and Assassin.”
Karmes wondered why so much Klingon heavy metal was at Toulagai. Things had been fairly peaceful between the Federation and the Klingons lately, but that was still a lot of firepower. And now he was going to be shooting at them – except a heavy cruiser and a destroyer weren’t much of a match for a battleship, a light cruiser, and two corvettes!
Noguchi was still talking. “Be advised that also present are the following units of the Royal Hydran Navy: the carrier Kingdom, the light cruiser Succession, and the heavy frigates Horval and Hydrus. Gorn Fleet elements engaged are the heavy cruiser Tyrannus, destroyer Tooth, and the corvettes Honor and Confederacy.
The above units are engaged against the following ships of the Dosadi Romulan Assault Fleet: The assault carrier Delos, the command destroyer Shagrat, heavy destroyer Dosin, and their escorting corvettes, Nareth and Lavet Cair.
You will proceed to Toulagai at best possible speed and engage ONLY the Klingon elements. You are NOT under ANY circumstances to fire at any Hydran, Gorn, or Dosadi ships. If possible, place yourself to protect ships of these peoples and anyone firing at them, including the Dosadi.”
Karmes’ jaw was hanging open. Stunned, he asked “What the hell happened?”
Noguchi looked upset. “That isn’t any of your concern, Captain. You are to use all available speed. I needn’t remind you how critical these alliances are to the Federation. Do not do anything, no matter how tiny to upset them And most especially no jokes.”
Johnson, the Hood’s navigator asked, “Jokes?”
Noguchi pounced, “Yes! JOKES! Humor! Don’t even crack a SMILE!”
“Uh..yes, sir. Understood, sir.”
“Noguchi out.” and he cut the connection, vanishing without even waiting for a reply.
At Toulagai, the four fleets had already squared off. Admirals Kremble, T’Skay, and Drake of the Hydran, Gorn, and Klingon fleets respectively, had assembled their battle plans. They were in three sections, line abreast some 750,000 km away from the maneuvering Dosadi ships and closing fast. Admiral T’Skay spoke with the Hydran commander, “If we can just keep that Klingon in line with us, the Dosadi don’t stand a chance. We’ve got them out-gunned almost 3:1.”
Kremble stood up. She asked, “Why does the Klingon worry you?”
T’Skay made a face. And when what looks like a bad-tempered dinosaur makes a face, it definitely has an impact. “He’s an inexperienced political appointee that hasn’t the foggiest idea what he’s doing. He’s got no experience even with a single ship, much less a fleet action. And those Dosadi are so damn tricky…”
Fleet Captain Nolin was also giving his final orders. His staff was sitting around him in the tight hexagonal bridge of the assault carrier Delos. These ships are fast, heavily armed, and dangerous. However, the Delos was the third the Dosadi had built – and the only one surviving. Because they were so dangerous, they tended to attract a lot of unhealthy attention from enemy forces. He issued his initial orders, “The carrier force will break right at 045 mark 315 and launch the initial fighter strike at 300,000 km. Immediately after launch, we’ll pivot right to 090 mark 045 and launch the assault with Red Wing and half of White Wing. Keep the other half in reserve. Shagrat and Dosin will accelerate to .8C and move left at 270 mark 0. After 50,000 km, spin right 180 degrees in the plane and cross past us – try to get the Gorn to follow you. Then, cut left to 000 in the plane and charge the Klingon battle group. We’ll signal weapons release. That Klingon’s inexperienced and we can press him until he breaks. If we can get the Gorns to cut across their formation and the Klingons to cut across them, the confusion should let us break them all into tiny little pieces.”
Like most fleet actions, the initial maneuvering was uneventful. Crews at this level were simply too skilled to fall for simple feints. But like an intricate game of tri-dimensional chess, there were layers within layers and traps within traps. What looked simple could often turn out to have a nasty surprise hidden within it. The Gorn, following their battle plan didn’t bother chasing the two destroyers, but cut straight towards the carrier. LCDR Delac, the Green Wing commander sat in his F-14 Tomcat waiting for launch. As usual, there was a lot of chatter about who was gonna blow up what. No matter the species, nor the time-period fighter pilots were all alike. If anything, space fighter pilots were even more egotistical and crazed than their ancient planet-bound ancestors. The tiny ships were tough, fast, and maneuverable, but one solid hit from a starship’s regular weapons battery would turn them into nothing more than an elegant spray of sub-atomic particles. The Dosadi were well known as aggressive and highly skilled pilots – and in this battle they had a definite edge in fighters. The Hydran Sting fighters weren’t up to the same level as the Dosadis’ Federation-supplied Tomcats, Hornets, and Thunderbolts, and their pilots were considerably less experienced.
Finally the launch order came through and the tiny fighters were fired out of their launch tubes much like a torpedo, the acceleration unnoticeable as the little ships’ gravity compensators kept the pilot from being turned into jam from the g forces. As he began scanning the enemy fleets he heard someone curse over the open channel, “Eleth! You can see them from HERE!” He checked his scopes to be sure that the second half of his squadron was deploying properly and ignored the young pilot’s comment. His silence would be more eloquent than any rebuke.
The three flights spread into a sort of pincer, His group as the lower with the other half of Green Wing making the upper portion. three F-18 Hornets of White Wing and six A-10 Thunderbolts of Red Wing were coming straight up the middle. As they closed to within 80,000 km, they could easily see the bulk behind the big Klingon battleship. It made an easy target. The destroyer group and the other half of Green Wing fired their missiles and torpedoes and continued to close the distance. Delac held his group’s fire until they were within 20,000 km and added their own weapons to the spray of death headed for the battleship. “Break!” he called and all the fighters spun in place and powered their way back to their carrier.
Watching on his sensors, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The Klingons, with enough anti-drone power to stop a drone wave from every ship his fleet possessed were breaking formation! They were cutting across the heart of the enemy fleet – AWAY from his ship!

CHAPTER 2
Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds
– George Santayana – Earth (Human)
Aboard the Klingon flagship, their Admiral had panicked. Despite his officer’s assurances that they could track and deal with the hundreds of blinking red lights cutting quickly across the hexagonal grid showing the space around their battle group, all he saw was death. All the lines were closing rapidly with his ships and none of his ships had fired yet. His battle manager tried to calm him down, “Sir! Courage!” he was disgusted. “Our close in defenses are designed to work close-in..Sir! There is no need to…” The captains of the two corvettes were even more disgusted, considering breaking orders and attacking on their own, but that was simply not the Klingon way. A warrior people who made the Dosadi look calm, the Klingons loved any sort of challenge. As Admiral Drake issued his orders to turn away from the closing missiles, his view screen came to life with Admiral T’Skay’s enraged visage.
“What are you DOING you IDIOT?!” he hissed “Stay in formation!”
Drake, terrified at the complicated tactical plot he really didn’t understand shouted back “I can’t, you fool! I’ve got hundreds of drones and two plasma torpedoes targeted on me! I cannot allow this ship to be disabled!”
“That’s what your fucking corvettes are for, you ass!”
“There’s too many of them! They’re too close!” T’Skay could see his nerve break, “Emergency stop! Eject the wild weasel!” he cried out.
“NO! Damn you!” T’Skay yelled. He broke the connection and set about trying to save his own fleet. The giant Reaver and the Devisor both slammed on the brakes and ejected shuttlecraft. The two corvettes, confused by the sudden maneuver began trying to figure out where they were supposed to be now. The Deceit swung straight down and away from the imposing bulk of the motionless Reaver. Her captain was damed if he was gonna try and stay close to that idiot. The Assassin spun first right, then left, then charged into the heart of the drones, trying to shoot them all down as that was what the little ships were designed to do. Nobody had told him about the wild weasels currently attracting all of the seeking weapons.  The first weapons began to slam into the fleet as dodging ships cut across the flight path of the powerful weapons, allowing them to re-acquire the ship instead of the electronic bait of the shuttlecraft. The explosions rattled Klingon shields, but did little else. When the two mid-sized Type-S plasma torpedoes the Shagrat had fired exploded on the little wild weasel near the Devisor, they actually had to drain batteries to reinforce their shields.
All around them, captains tried to maneuver their ships around the sudden obstacles as well as the seeking weapons that nobody now knew where they were targeted. Several Klingon and Gorn fighters, unable to dodge quickly enough were caught in the drone wave or the explosion of nearby torpedoes and were destroyed. The neat formation was a shambles.
After recovering her fighters, the Delos carrier group turned left and moved to join back up with the Shagrat  and the Dosin, The Gorn and Hydrans, still mobile but no longer in formation turned after them. They were closing rapidly on the destroyers which were running slowly after launching the two powerful plasma torpedoes.
Aboard the Dosin, Captain Falos came to a decision. The Dosin was brand new – a replacement for the original ISS Dosin which was destroyed at Romulus with glory to her name forever more. The enemy fleets, unmolested, would close to within 40,000 km of the Delos. That was much too close – especially from the rear. He studied the large solid hologram that made up the center of the hexagonal bridge of the heavy  destroyer. The points and shadowy vector lines indicating ships, weapons, courses, speeds, and likely paths looked like a skein of yarn that had been scrambled. He turned to his helmsman.
“Everett, come about 180 mark 00 and prepare to fire.” The Dosin rolled up above the plane of battle on her back, and dove back at a slow, deliberate speed. She was now between the carrier group and the Gorn fleet. “Sareth, open a channel to the commander of that corvette…”
When the Gorn captain’s reptilian face appeared, he signaled his weapons officer and screamed “DIIIEEEE!!!” Phasers, disruptors, and photon torpedoes arced across the gap between the two ships. The tiny Honor fired back with all she had, joined by supporting fire from the heavy cruiser Tyrannus. However, a corvette is no match for the firepower of a heavy destroyer. Her number six shield folded under almost immediately as she attempted to roll away from the charging Dosadi ship and the impact of the heavy weapons shredded her from nose to tail.
As the Dosin swept close over the burning, shaking corvette, she continued to engage the destroyer Tooth. The Gorn fleet’s return fire annihilated the Dosin’s forward shield and tracked across her. In seconds, the formerly blue-grey hull was a smoking ruin, her left weapons pod hanging limply, belching atmosphere and flame.
Wilkes whispered to Sooth, “That’s the pod where M’Ralin’s parents were stationed.”
Jons was still talking, “Her primary hull was nearly severed in two. All auxiliary power was out and the warp engines had holes blown completely through them with bright arc-light flashes of energy spitting out of them. But, as Captain Falos had gambled, they didn’t dare hit him again. His ship was too badly damaged and a heavy destroyer exploding in the middle of the tightly packed Gorns would be a disaster. He sat in the middle of his smoke filled bridge and wondered what was happening outside. The holographic display was out, several bridge stations were on fire and most of the sensor pods were completely blown off the hull. It would take time before damage control teams could restore her ability to move at all, much less fight. But the Gorns were out of firepower for a while and no longer closing with the Delos.
The Shagrat, her torpedoes now re-energized began a sweeping left turn and fired at the now scattering Gorns. The Delos and her escorts begin rapid-firing drones at them to encourage their confusion. Finally, their formation was so disrupted as to be out of the fight for another few minutes. Fleet Captain Nolin turned his attention to the as yet unmolested Hydrans. Their carrier had yet to launch any fighters.
Although three of the A-10 Thunderbolts from Red Wing were still busy harassing the motionless Klingons, his Tomcat fighters from Green Wing were all rearmed and available. As he was planning how best to deal with the Hydrans, his sensor officer shouted “Captain! The ISS Alisar, the USS Hood, and USS Samurai have just left warp! They signal that they will engage the Klingons!”
At the mention of her dead mate’s Thunderbolt’s attack on the Klingons so many years ago, Corin leaned in to Eletha and gave her a quick Dosadi kiss. Ceena was paying rapt attention as Jons continued his story:
“Excellent.” he licked his chops. Two cruisers and a destroyer against a battleship, a cruiser and two corvettes wasn’t exactly equal odds, but the Klingons had already been battered and were confused. He could ignore them from here on out. “Launch Green Wing and the second half of White Wing. Have them concentrate on the carrier. Let the Hydrans close to 60,000 km then do a high-energy turn and fire everything we’ve got at them. Have the Nareth and the Lavet Cair hold their fire until they close with targets of opportunity. How long until the Shagrat rejoins the formation?”
“Two minutes, sir” the combat controller responded. “Dosin is making best speed at course 110 mark 090. She’s at least under control again. Mostly. Heavy casualties though, particularly her weapons crews.”
The sensor officer interrupted, “Sir. The Hydran frigate Hydrus just released eight type-F torpedoes.” Nolin looked at the wavering red spheres racing towards  his ship.
“Slow to .18C and prepare to release a wild weasel. Execute a high-energy turn and fire all phasers from the Delos and Shagrat at the carrier Kingdom and all torpedoes at that frigate on my mark. She’ll be low on energy”
“The carrier is launching a full fighter strike.” the sensor officer spoke again.
“Send White Wing after them. Have Green Wing go for the carrier…FIRE!” The fleet’s powerful phasers and torpedoes tore the heavy frigate into pieces. She began to drift, hanging at a broken angle and burning, out of the plane of battle, spinning slowly. The Kingdom, much better able to defend herself, took minor damage. Their return volley didn’t even scratch the Delos.
However, the Hydran ships were now releasing clouds of plasma torpedoes, the ugly red balls of energy swarming towards the big Dosadi carrier – and she was now powerless to defend against them. She maneuvered in a tight spiraling climb, spreading the hits across all six shields. Damage control teams raced to repair the hits as the big ship shuddered slightly from the leak-through. Shields three, four, and five covering her entire rear half had collapsed.
The little Nareth cruised up to the Gorn destroyer Tooth, still recovering from the Dosin’s action, and reduced her to a smoking ruin. The corvette was designed for close-in defense against seeking weapons and her large numbers of gatling point-defense phasers tore through the Tooth’s unprotected hull like a chainsaw on soft pine. Much like the Hydrus, the Tooth was out of control and burning. Her bridge was a burning hole in the hull and her weapons systems and ability to navigate were gone. With her engines unbalanced, she began to spin across the plane of battle like a top.
The gallant Lavet Cair, her sensors fully engaged with attacking the relatively gigantic Kingdom failed to detect six Hydran anti-ship missiles launched from the light cruiser Succession until they were almost upon her. With her weapons discharged from her bold attack, there was nothing her captain could do but watch them race in. Her shield was destroyed immediately and the remaining missiles impacted on his vessel with thunderous explosions. Most of the damage was confined to the right warp engine, but both weapons pods were seriously damaged. He began desperately trying to put some distance between himself and the Hydran fleet.
Aboard the carrier Kingdom, Admiral Kremble wondered why she had to get saddled with an incompetent Klingon officer. Klingons were normally a real asset in a fight. She watched her battle-sphere showing the combat raging around her vessel. The Dosadi Thunderbolt assault-fighters had almost destroyed the heavy frigate Horval without loss. “
Tir whispered to Ceena “That’s when my dad was killed. One of the Thunderbolts shot straight into his battle station.” She squeezed his hand, listening to Jons’ story.
“The Dosadi Hornet fighter groups were exterminating the last of her Sting fighters with almost no damage to themselves and the Dosadi captains seemed to have no sense of self-preservation. A CORVETTE had attacked her, taking up most of her defensive fire and energies. Three of the Federation-designed Tomcat fighters were rolling in on an attack course and she had nothing with which to stop them. Two of her heavy frigates were crippled, her air wing was destroyed and her flagship was damaged and defenseless. The Succession was the only ship she had left that could fight effectively and she desperately needed to recharge weapons and batteries.  She issued the order to disengage. To hell with T’Skay and his dead cat jokes!
Meanwhile, the forgotten Klingons had their hands full of Federation and Dosadi cruisers. The initial weapons exchanges had crippled the corvettes Assassin and Deceit,  drastically reducing the Klingon’s ability to deal with seeking weapons. The Devisor had been damaged and the forward shield on the Reaver – by far the most powerful shield in the entire battle – had been almost destroyed. In return, Drake had managed to put a few dings on the hull of the Alisar.  As he swung the Devisor and Reaver around to try to deal with the two Federation vessels, his battle manager reported that the Hydrans were warping out, badly mauled. The Dosadi were still fully functional with only two damaged vessels – The Dosin and the Lavet Cair.
Moments later, he added the bad news that the Gorns were also retreating, taking with them the smoking ruins of a corvette and the destroyer Tooth. The Tyrannus had been seriously damaged as well. Repeated attacks by Dosadi fighters and seeking weapons from the Delos and Shagrat had been more than she could deal with. Suddenly, his battle display was nearly empty. Just his few ships and five enemy vessels and 18 fighters. Vector and course lines began curving around towards him as he attempted to take the two crippled corvettes under tow. Three of the hated Thunderbolts were racing towards him as well. There was no way he was going to sit here and take this.
Fifteen minutes later, the Hood reported back to Starfleet Command.
“What’s the damage, Karmes?” Noguchi demanded. He was obviously braced for the worst.
“My vessels are undamaged. The ISS Alisar has some light damage. The heavy destroyer Dosin has sustained heavy damage but is now able to navigate under her own power. The corvette Lavet Cair was also heavily damaged, but has since regained full navigational control and some weapons. Gorn casualties are as follows: Tyrannus: damaged. She’ll need to spend a couple of weeks in space dock before going out again. Tooth and Honor are both crippled, possibly beyond repair.
“The Hydrans took somewhat heavier damage. The Kingdom was lightly damaged, but her entire air wing was destroyed. Both heavy frigates Horval and Hydrus were nearly destroyed. Succession was undamaged.
“The Klingons escaped with slightly less damage – Both corvettes badly crippled and the Devisor was lightly damaged.” He braced himself for the verbal explosion to come after giving this report.
Noguchi looked stunned. “What about the Dosadi Air Wing?”
“No damage. The Delos took very light damage.”
“What the hell happened, Karmes?!”
He sighed, “The Klingon Admiral Drake broke formation and stopped right in front of the rest of the fleet. His ships were out of the entire battle until we engaged him. At that point, the ISS Dosin charged the combined fleet at close range, crippling one ship and damaging another and scattering the Gorns and separating them from the Hydrans. The confusion from those events was all it took for the Dosadi to engage them as individual elements and defeat them in detail. They never operated as a cohesive fleet. Each group did well enough, but no one battle group was a match for the firepower the Dosadi could bring to bear. Furthermore, the Dosadi were masters at utilizing their shields. Virtually every ship they had lost almost all six shields. The vast  majority of enemy fire was absorbed, deflected, or decoyed away.”
“You didn’t fire on anyone but the Klingons?”
“No sir. We were only engaged for a few minutes before the Gorns, Hydrans, and Klingons all disengaged.”
“Christ. Return to your escort duties. Get the Alisar back where she belongs ASAP. Noguchi out.” Again, the Admiral cut the connection without any of the traditional courtesies. Captain Karmes sat back in his chair. They were going to have his head examined when the full report and the sensor logs from the Starbase got back to Starfleet Command. It had surely been an exciting show for the crews aboard the Starbase. A major fleet-action nearly within orbit was a rare thing. Especially when they weren’t shooting at YOU.”

* * *
As Jons finished his story, Corin said, “Hood reported that we took no damage to our fighter groups? Boy did they get that one wrong. Almost all of them were damaged to some degree or another and one of the Thunderbolts was essentially destroyed.”
Jons said, “Ah, but remember, the Hood was tied up with the Klingons and had no way to know that level of detail. Their sensors showed all your fighters recovering. It’s difficult to assess enemy casualties. I would bet that your commanders did not know that almost 200 of my Marines were killed aboard-ship. That was…a very bitter day.”
Smiling at Ceena and Tir, who were still holding hands, he continued, “Fortunately, people are sometimes able to get past the need for vengeance and see the value in peoples who were once their enemy.”
Captain Stone said, “I’ve studied the Hood and the Samurai’s engagement with the Klingons. Captain Karmes was a brilliant tactician.”
Jons smiled, “I never actually met Captain Karmes. The closest I came was some time later when he was responsible for Captain Kamov and the Yorktown detaining me at Toulagai over a…misunderstanding.”
Wilkes rolled his eyes, “Is that what you call that, Colonel?”
Angie laughed, “I’ve read the reports from the Yorktown over that, Colonel. It is the only time that one Federation starship has boarded and captured another.” She looked at Sooth. “I bet you didn’t know that Captain Kamov’s report was very complimentary towards you, Sooth.”
Surprised, she said, “Are you kidding? He read me the riot-act when Wilkes and I reported to him. I had to bring Lieutenant Wu with me and Wilkes brought Lieutenant Roberts. He was SO mad. I think he would have thrown us both in the brig if he could have. Some of the things he said to Wilkes!”
“I think he had calmed down when he wrote it. It was a very straightforward analysis of your tactics and conduct. He noted that after your initial failure to communicate with his crew you made a number of attempts that were all rebuffed. He also said you were extraordinarily creative and disciplined and that he was grateful that you and your team were well-trained enough that your shots were not lethal.”
“Huh! I didn’t know that.”
Eletha was cuddling her two newest kits, Corin’s sons. At four years-old, they were well past being weaned, but starting to yawn at all of the stories. The rest of the group had started a number of discussions over people’s various roles in the two battles and someone had lit a stick of incense in memory of the dead.
Little Nollos, always one of the quietest of Sooth’s and Wilkes’ kits had been sitting with her brother Rollin, listening to the stories. She asked, “Was that the battle where mother and father both almost died at the same time?”
Captain Stone cocked an eyebrow at Wilkes, “Almost died? What’s this?”
“Angie, it was pretty awful. No, Nollos, that battle was a few months later at Airdrie.”
Stone said, “Airdrie? You never told me you were at Airdrie. That’s a required study at the Academy now, did you know that? The ISS Dinen’s defense against the phaser cannon and the oh my god. Sooth, was that YOU in the ballroom fight? You’re a legend!”
Jons spoke up, “I’m not sure M’Lady would care much for that particular tale. Although it was when we first met, though informally of course.”
Sooth smiled at him, “No, it’s OK Jons. It was a long time ago. I almost never have the nightmare any more. And I AM sorry about crushing your skull.”
Jons dipped his head in respect, but he was smiling.
Captain Stone just stared at them both with her mouth hanging open. “Wilkes, YOU almost died too?”
“There was a fire in the launch bay.” He shuddered. He still had his nightmare a few times a year. “I was trying to keep it out of the ready-locker and the hull blew out. I got lucky. I got blown by one of our fighters on recovery and the gunner was quick enough to snag me with a grappler. Most of my skin was burned off along with one of my lungs and one of my friends was killed right in front of me and my best friend” he looked at Corin “was badly injured.
“I was the one who transported Sooth onto the battlestation. I’m the one who dumped her in front of over a dozen Gorn Marines.” Sooth put her hand on his and nuzzled his ear, whispering something the others could not hear.
Nollos asked, “Jons, would you tell us that story too? Mother and father don’t talk about it very much.”
Captain Stone said, “I’d enjoy it as well if you’re not too tired, Colonel. You seem to have an inside track on summarizing these things. You should write a book!”
Heather piped up, “That’s because he’s a spy!”
He smiled as most of the guests chuckled, “Thank you, Captain. Perhaps I shall.”
Marin grinned as well, “I’ve been telling him he should do so for years. There are many possibilities inherent in telling tales both in print and in the more popular entertainments. And with the current market for true-adventure stories in the Federation, it could be very profitable.”
The Colonel looked at Wilkes and Sooth, “Shall I tell the tale? I can understand if it is not one you would care to hear.”
Wilkes said, “No, it’s OK. I can deal with it. I’ve tended to avoid anything on that fight for years. It’s about time I learned what was going on outside of our little piece.”
Jons said, “Very well. As you’re aware, this battle has been well documented and studied throughout the main space-faring nations. Admiral T’Skay, the Gorn admiral at both Toulagai and Airdrie became something of a friend of mine. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to introduce you. In any case…My tale begins the night the Dosadi arrived at Airdrie…

* * *

CODA III
The Long Night
CHAPTER 1
“There’s an old saying, Fortune favors the bold. Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”
– CPT Benjamin Sisko, Deep Space Nine (Human)
“The diplomatic party on board the Gorn battlestation Airdrie was in full swing. Admiral T’Skay was even beginning to relax and enjoy his triumph. His engineering of the Dosadi Marshal Furball’s defection was the only thing that had kept his rank and position intact after the disaster at Toulagai. The Marshal had been a top commander of Dosadi ground troops but had been dishonored in a recent battle against the Avatan (a centaur-like race with four arms and a single-eye that wrapped completely around their head; An eye-flap could be opened in a sort of wave on opposite sides of their heads, moving their field of view around their heads. Very strange critters) and rather than accept his loss of face and status, he elected to betray the Dosadi Imperium to the Gorn. With suitable baiting by T’Skay, of course.
Thinking of Toulagai brought a frown to T’Skay’s bug-eyed tyrannosaur-like face. While he had managed to bring his mangled fleet home, the ghosts of more than 500 dead crewmen still haunted his dreams. And the Hydrans hadn’t been entirely pleased with the mauling they had received either. All because of that stupid Klingon Drake. Well, and perhaps his own dead-cat jokes. No, those were funny. It was mostly the Klingon’s fault, T’Skay decided. One day he’d have his revenge.
A burst of applause snapped him back to the present. Evidently Marshal Furball (a translation of the name he now bore after his disgrace at the battle of Corlon) had finally decided to sit down and shut up. He could understand why the cat-people didn’t care much for ol’ Furball. They usually preferred direct action to talking endlessly, but this one loved the sound of his own snarling voice. He gulped down the rest of his mead and held his cup out to be refilled. A motion outside of the ballroom’s huge crystal windows drew his attention. He looked up to see several warships sail majestically past – the battleship Blackfoot and her escorts, the corvette Loveland, heavy frigate Ewa, and the battlecruiser Ottowa. Nosing along behind the big ships was the little minesweeper stationed at Airdrie, the Harvey. He chuckled, a rumbling and ominous sound; Just let the Dosadi try something THIS time.  Even supposing that they managed to slip a few ships through the Romulan Empire – no lovers of the big bipedal cats that looked so much like Terran cougars – AND elude his border patrols, then they’d still have to deal with the battlestation’s massive phaser-IV cannons, a large minefield, the battleship task force, and a carrier task force centered around the brand new Troy.
That thought brought a full-blown smile to his toothy face. The Troy was escorted by two more battlecruisers – The Towson and the Zion, two heavy destroyers – Azusa and Ceres, the corvette Macon and the heavy frigate Centralia. He was beginning to hope that they really would try to recover Furball.
Still, he reflected, he’d be happier if Furball were safely at a starbase deeper in Gorn territory. The Romulan’s were still at war with the Grand Alliance and definitely operated under the ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ principle. They might just let a small raider force slip through. Or, as they were sill struggling to recover from the Dosadi pounding of Romulus, maybe they could sneak a few ships past or buy off a local commander. And the idiot paper-pushers had over two months to process his application for asylum. Lots of nonsense about ‘delicate alliances with the Federation’ and not wanting to ‘antagonize’ the kittycats. Cowards. If they had any strength at all, they’d be in the Fleet.
He had just taken a large bite out of the even larger steak in front of him (being quite sure to show as many teeth as possible to the Dosadi Ambassador scowling at him) when an aide tapped his large, green, scaly shoulder.
“Sir, Sensory reports that they are receiving heavy jamming on all channels from the direction of the Romulan border.”
T’Skay was about to tell the aide to go tell Sensory to wipe off its screens when a nagging doubt hit him. He wiped off his ample mouth with it’s rows of sharp teeth and motioned to the man to take him to the station’s sensory center.
When he arrived, he was not pleased. All scopes showed heavy jamming on the bands traditionally used by Dosadi attack forces. In fact…He stepped forward and shoved a young officer out of his chair. He readjusted the sensors and began feeding the data into the computer. “There!” he thought. “I remember that pattern when the Dosadi launched that drone wave at… TOULAGI. Nolin! He was HERE! It had to be Admiral Nolin.” He dredged his memory. “That meant the carrier Delos. Nolin never left that hulk. Probably married the damn thing. Let’s see, she was escorted by two of those damnable anti-seeker corvettes with the equally damnable Federation Aegis defense system…What were they? Oh yes, the Nareth and the Lavet Cair. The Nareth had chewed the destroyer Tooth nearly to pieces. Perhaps they never repaired the Lavet Cair after the Hydran’s cruiser Succession almost blew her out of space while she was attacking their big carrier, the Kingdom. No, the big cats had an almost religious devotion to ships. If there were something left of it, they’d rebuild it.” he continued to access the library computer as he ran through his thoughts.
The aide had just about decided that T’Skay had blown a mental gasket. He and the other officers in the Sensory watched as several screens began displaying Dosadi warships, schematics, battle histories, capabilities and specifications. He was still staring at the diagram of the assault carrier ISS Delos when T’Skay grabbed the front of his tunic, easily lifted the quarter-ton officer off the ground and said, “Listen closely. The station is under attack by the Dosadi. At least this carrier force. The civilians are NOT to be alerted. Put all military personnel on Grade 1 Alert. Notify the fleet to prepare for action and make sure that there are at least FIVE fully armed Marines near Furball at ALL times. Got that?”
“Ye..Yes Sir!” he stammered. T’Skay dropped him and went back to his dinner. The station commander should get him if things got too critical. Meanwhile, he had to keep up appearances. The officers in the compartment he just left shook their heads and went back to trying to clear their screens. Three minutes later, they managed to burn through the electronic noise. Sitting there were three Dosadi attack fleets. At this range and still suffering from the effects of the jamming, it was difficult to determine their types, but they were certainly large. Aboard the Gorn battleship Blackfoot Commodore Sethet ordered his ships out to reinforce the minefield. The Dosadi had come in much faster than was standard procedure for anyone facing a minefield – clearly risking damage to their ships for the element of surprise. Within minutes of dropping out of warp, they were already beginning to sweep paths through the minefield – far enough out that the station’s phaser cannons weren’t even an annoyance.
Frowning at the speed that the Dosadi were pressing the attack, he ordered “Lieutenant! Get me a complete breakdown on the attacking forces.”
A few moments later, his battle manager responded, “They seem to be organized in two task forces sir. The first force, to our left, is in two groups centered around the assault carrier Delos and the battleship Dorsai. In station around them are the corvettes Nareth and Lavet Cair and the heavy cruiser Dinen. Leading this force is the minesweeper Tarot. The second force, on our right, is a larger force being led by the minesweeper Telesh. This force is centered around the assault carrier Eleth and the heavy cruiser Thelet with the corvettes Toulagai and Turanti escorting. These are some of their newest ships, sir, I’m shocked to see them already participating in an attack. Acting as auxiliary minesweepers for this group are the command destroyer Shagrat and the scout destroyer Sheol with the heavy drone frigate Borlin providing close fire support.”
The Commodore stared at him, why the man had just listed off half a million tons of warships! “Is that ALL?” he hissed, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“Yes, Sir!” the man replied brightly, still focused on his displays. Evidently the sarcasm was lost on him. The Commodore briefly debated with himself on the merits of firing the man out of a photon torpedo tube, but as he was a good battle manager, he decided against it.
“Comm, make sure that T’Skay knows the size of the fleet the kittycats brought with them.” Then he began to deploy his own fleet. Hopefully, the minefield would do something; at least slow them down enough for his fleet to pound them while they couldn’t maneuver.
Deep inside the Delos, Admiral Nolin was pleased. This attack was going very well. The Romulan’s had been more than willing to ignore his fleet’s run through their territory – a sizeable bribe and the prospect of a lot of damage to the Gorns seemed to help with that. All four forces had dropped out of warp exactly on station a half million kilometers from the Airdrie battlestation and closed with the minefield behind their minesweepers. Surprisingly, the station was slow to react to his jamming. All of the threat screens showed clear. While the numbers and sizes of ships surrounding the battlestation were depressing, there were no more than his intelligence had led him to expect. Ambassadors made good spies, after all. He decided he might as well have some fun. Turning to his electronic warfare officer, he said “Lieutenant, do you remember the jamming pattern we used at Toulagai?”
“Yes sir. It was a logarithmically modulated Lisajou pattern with a rolling random prime shift. Why?”
“I want you to use it now.” Nolin smiled. He knew T’Skay would see it. “You see, the Gorn Admiral we fought at Toulagai is in command here. I want him to know it’s ME.”
The man chuckled. “Yes SIR!” he bent to his panel, purring as he began to adjust dials and buttons. Nolin turned to the Air Commander, “Seleth, launch our fighters when we’re 100,000 km from the minefield. Have the Eleth hold half of hers. We’ll sweep through at .18C and return fire only if fired upon. All we want is Furball. Let’s not upset the Terrans any more than we have to. They seem to like these lizards.”
“Got it, sir.” he turned and began issuing orders to the seven squadrons of fighters he was responsible for. The entire fleet had finished forming up into spearheads and had begun clearing paths through the big minefield. As the fighters launched into space, Delos’ wing commander, Commander Delac was quite content. The six Tomcats of White Wing and three of the six from Eleth’s Gold Wing were on station and Green Wing’s Hornets and Red Wing’s Thunderbolts were getting where they needed to be. With the 15 fighters still aboard Eleth, this was the most fighters he’d seen on one place. He knew the Gorns had a carrier here and anticipated racking up a few more kills for his Wings. “How did they manage to fit something that ugly and that big into a fighter?” He wondered.

CHAPTER 2
Brute strength is not the most important asset in a fight.
– Klingon Proverb
Using his enhanced visuals, he could see the tiny motes that were the minesweepers and their remote-control shuttlecraft. Using electronic enhancers and sensors they were able to mark the positions of mines they detected and by appearing to be a major warship, detonated any that they didn’t. Of course, that destroyed the shuttlecraft, but it was no great loss. They were making good progress – his scopes were showing more and more red dots as the four ships found more and more mines and cleared lanes through the field. They were also showing a number of promising targets on the far side as the Gorn fleet maneuvered for position. None of the ships directly in front of his group’s ships were showing any inclination to move out from under the station’s heavy phaser cannon. The ships opposing the Eleth’s fighters, on the other hand, seemed to want to play.
“All units, White Wing, Gold Wing, and Green Wing, target initial missile strike on the heavy frigate Ewa. Spread as follows: 25% of both your Countach and Lynx missiles. Gold Wing, target all your Lynx missiles at the battlecruiser Ottowa.” he watched his screens as they showed them targeting the big ships.
An obviously young voice mewled over the circuit, “Why LYNX missiles? Those are anti-fighter drones!”
Delac sighed. Green pilots. Ah well, they had to learn sometime. “Confusion effect. Their sensors can’t tell the difference. Cut the crap and target as ordered.” He watched to be sure that he did and noted that the Dinen had just launched the additional three F-18 Hornets  of Black Wing that she had carried from their garrison duties.
Back in Airdrie’s dining hall, T’Skay was getting irritated. This stupid dinner had barely started – and he had to be here – but he wanted to be in the station’s combat control center to direct the destruction of the Dosadi. They had certainly managed to slip a LOT of ships through the Romulan Empire! But, he couldn’t afford to panic the 600+ civilians aboard the station, nor show weakness in front of the dignitaries here. He looked up in time to see a small, bright flash. Evidently one of the mines had exploded. “Good!” He thought. Hopefully it caught Nolin sitting right on top it if.
Just then, six Marines marched into the room and took station near Marshal Furball. The Dosadi traitor looked at them, and then at T’Skay. T’Skay had to fight the urge to bury his head in his hands; That idiot aide hadn’t even ordered them into dress uniforms. He dredged up a smile. After a few seconds, he looked back out the window in time to see a large, white flash slowly turn into a ragged red blotch against the dark of space. “That was no mine!” he thought. He quickly made his way back to the sensory station. On his way there, he noticed that he was passing a lot of Marines – all in full combat gear. This did not bode well.
“What just happened?” he demanded as he walked into the darkened room. The aide turned to face his Admiral. “Sir, I regret to inform you of the loss of the minesweeper Harvey and her crew of 200.”
T’Skay sat down heavily. “How?”
The Aide continued, “Commodore Sethet has taken full responsibility.  He ordered the Harvey to make a mine-laying run to place a secondary minefield 60,000 km behind the primary in a diamond pattern in order to block one of the routes the Dosadi are clearing. Upon her closest approach to the Dosadi spearheads, she fired a volley at the heavy cruiser Dinen. The return fire from Dinen, Dorsai, and Delos overwhelmed her shielding and completely vaporized the ship before Captain S’Krelt could abandon her.”
“Why lay another minefield? Isn’t the primary holding up? I saw at least one mine go.”
“No, sir. The Dosadi advance has slowed greatly, but the mines are only destroying the occasional shuttlecraft. Their mine-sweeping crews are extremely adept. In the past ten minutes they have penetrated 35,000 km and harassing fire from our fleet is accomplishing nothing.”
“Make their minesweepers primary targets for further volleys” He shook his head and headed back to that damnable party. “Well,” he thought, “that’s another 200 on your head, Nolin.”
On board the heavy cruiser Dinen, Captain Hurtal relaxed a little. Everything was still going according to plan. Destroying the Gorn minesweeper was an unexpected bonus. His communications officer interrupted his thoughts,
“Sir, incoming message from Admiral Nolin.”
“On the screen. At once.”
“Captain, what happened? You were ordered to fire to disable, not destroy. Your torpedo fire destroyed their warp reactors, and the ship.”
“You’re displeased, sir?” Hurtal certainly was. He was expecting high praise!
“Captain, the Gorn’s are nominally our allies and are certainly Federation allies. We can’t risk losing their support, and their technology. We’re only here to get Furball back. I want to cause as little loss of life as possible.”
Hurtal frowned, his ears drooping. “Sorry, sir. Lucky shot.” he had ordered the warp reactors targeted specifically and was impressed that his weapons officers were able to hit the target at this range. However, it wouldn’t do to let Nolin know that now.
“See that you don’t get that lucky again…captain.” the threat was implicit. The viewscreen went dark and Hurtal sagged in his seat, dejected.
Nolin turned back to the solid holograph showing the battle’s development. The colored dots, lines, vectors and symbols crawled across the space. “As soon as the Eleth force gets through the field, have the Thelet, Borlin, Sheol, and Shagrat break off and make a high-speed run. Have them follow a spiral course, alternating above and below the battle plane and end at the station. Engage targets of opportunity. Their job is to try to attract as much attention as possible.” The battle manager turned and began to issue orders to the fleet.
Aboard his Tomcat fighter, Commander Delac decided that the range was right for his first real missile strike. “All units, Green Wing, White Wing, Red Wing, launch all drones and recover. Black Wing, fly CID (Close-In Defense).” He watched as the missiles activated their engines and leapt off towards the tiny lights that were the enemy ships. The Dorsai helped by firing a hellishly large Type-R plasma torpedo and two of the mid-sized Type-S plasma torpedoes as well. “That should slow those lizards up!” He thought.
Back aboard the Gorn battleship Blackfoot, Fleet Captain K’Elek wasn’t exactly worried. He had his fleet going nice and slow just to counter such a strike. “All ships, launch wild weasels and hold positions.”
Throughout the Gorn ships, the tiny shuttlecraft began to fly away from the five bigger ships. Their defense officers watched the Dosadi weapons track in on two of them and destroy them utterly. The other three shuttles were recovered via tractor beams.
The captain wasn’t worried when the Dorsai and the Delos launched several more of the tiny missiles. When three of them suddenly split into four each, he began to worry a little bit. They had to recharge the Weasels before they could be used again. Still, the corvette Loveland seemed to be handling them.  His warfare officer turned to him and said, “Sir, the ISS Delos is launching nine more fighters. Our analysis of the last volley shows that it was over 70% dogfight drones and pseudo-plasma torpedoes. We estimate a better than 80% probability that this next wave will be a full strike. Evidently they were attempting to draw out our drone defense.”
As the captain was thinking sourly that they had succeeded in doing just that, the defense officer broke in, “Sir! The Loveland is under attack! Incoming disruptors, photon torpedoes and hellbores!”
“Dammit! Respond! Fire every weapon the fleet has at the Dinen!” He watched as the powerful weapons streaked away from his ship and into the enemy formation, angling for the heavy cruiser that had just pounded the Loveland. “Analysis?”
The warfare officer’s expression made the answer clear before he spoke. “Poor, sir. 75% missed. Slight damage to the Dinen’s forward shield and she probably drained about 70% of her available reserve energy. Loveland, on the other hand, has been badly damaged. The Dosadi volleys destroyed all four of her anti-drone launchers.”
The captain grumbled, “Do those damn cats sleep with their weapons?”
Delac watched as the fighters from the secondary strike the Delos deployed moved into position and activated their targeting systems. “All wings. When the fleet turns right, accelerate to 80% speed and pick targets of opportunity. At a range of 20,000 km, fire drones and continue closing. At closest possible approach, fire phasers. All units concentrate on the forward shields – and try and hit the same shields this time, right? Don’t push your luck either. Get in, take your shot, get out and come back. It’s too early in the fight to go meet the gods.” Watching the corvette the fleet had fired on turn away and limp back towards the battlestation, he mentally marked it off hits threat list. With the enhanced visuals displayed by his combat sensors, he could see the fires and the loose warp energy coruscating across her hull as well as the mangled launchers of her primary weapons systems.
The fighter groups deployed nicely, their tight formations blooming into the wings that the Dosadi favored. Two minutes later, they released their drones, following the missiles in. Delac monitored the chatter between the leaders and their pilots. “Blast visors down.” White Wing’s leader ordered. Delac echoed it and focused his attention on the battlecruiser Ottowa that White Wing and Red Wing were homing in on. Space became full of dodging fighters, the arc-light glare of missile engines, green phasers lancing up from the enemy ships, volleys of chaff and the occasional explosion as a drone was destroyed by the defenders. White Wing’s Hornets dove close on the big cruiser, their Gatling phasers spitting death and destruction. Close behind them Red Wing’s Thunderbolts each fired their single photon torpedo from point-blank range. As Delac and Green Wing’s Tomcats added to the mayhem and began to race away, the Dosadi fleet opened up with every weapon that would bear. The Gorns seemed to feel obligated to respond and returned the phaser fire.
Something wasn’t right. Delac tried to sort through the confused reports clogging the command channels. He sorted out that the Ottowa had sustained heavy damage, especially to her weapons and power, and that the heavy frigate Ewa had been very badly damaged. But  – the Dorsai had been badly hurt. As his Tomcat accelerated back to the Delos, he moved his scanners from the burning Ewa to the battleship. There were open fires across all three of the massive warp engines and gaping holes in the impulse engines as well. This was very bad. The Dorsai was scheduled to provide most of the heavy fire support for the entire battle. Nobody had ever damaged a battleship before…
Despite the successful hits on the Dorsai, Commodore Sethet wasn’t quite pleased. The damned Delos had reloaded her fighters again and the entire Dosadi fleet had made it through the minefield without further damage. The Blackfoot’s force had its anti-drone capability halved and both the battlecruiser Ottowa and the heavy frigate Ewa were shot to shit. And there would undoubtably be more drones. The cat-people used them like shields, forcing his ships to shoot down the endless waves of missiles, leaving them vulnerable to the fighters’ own weapons.
Back in the ballroom, the crowd had become aware that there was something going on outside. Everyone was oohing and aahing at the bright flashes and streaks of light as the battle raged. T’Skay winced at every flash. After one particularly bright flash (caused by the warp conduits aboard the Ottowa fusing), he looked down to see the Dosadi ambassador giving him a silent toast from across the room. He wondered if the Federation would really care if he ate that damn pussycat. Marshal Furball, his back to the windows, still wasn’t aware of the battle. The egotistical idiot thought everyone was oohing and aahing at HIM. Disgusted, T’Skay got up and returned to the sensory station.
“Sir.” the ranking commander reported, “The battleship  um,” he glanced over his shoulder, “Dorsai has been badly damaged! She’s stopped dead in space!”

CHAPTER 3
“There is no honor in attacking the weak.”
– LT Worf – USS Enterprise (Klingon)
For the first time in a while, T’Skay smiled. “Excellent! What damage have we sustained?”
“Not so good, sir. The corvette Loveland has been badly damaged and lost all anti-drone capability beyond our ability to repair. The battlecruiser Ottowa reports heavy damage to weapons and power systems and many casualties. She is retiring to the station to repair along with the Loveland. The heavy frigate Ewa has also suffered heavy damage. She is attempting to regain navigation control and retire to the station to repair what she can. Fleet Captain K’Elek has ordered the battleship Blackfoot to fall back to the secondary defense line and Fleet Captain S’Aleen has ordered the Troy and her escorts forward to engage. He reports all fighter wings aloft and ready to fire. Also, he has the corvette Macon laying a secondary minefield some 50,000 km behind his current position.
A secondary destroyer force has broken off from the main Dosadi fleet and appears to be curving away from the Troy. This force is centered around the heavy cruiser Thelet and includes the Shagrat and the Sheol. The Borlin is flying in what appears to be a fire-support position. Both the Dosadi heavy cruisers appear to be supporting an additional three F-18 Hornets each.”
T’Skay digested this information and studied the tactical plot. “Very good. Use three of your data transfer channels and beam the text of Dead Cat Jokes volumes one, two and three to the Delos. Let me know what response they make.”
“Um, yes, sir.” The commander watched T’Skay’s back as he began to stalk out of the sensory. He didn’t get far before a young Lieutenant from the Planning Committee blocked his path, “Sir! The Dosadi have two SWACS shuttles just sitting out there! Completely unescorted!”
T’Skay was surprised. The Dosadi were religious about making sure the highly valuable craft were well behind the battle lines. It wasn’t like Nolin to make that kind of mistake, “Where?”
“Sir! If you just give me one or two corvettes, I can sneak past the Dosadi fleets and destroy both of them!”
T’Skay shoved the man out of the way and searched the solid space of the tactical holograph until he found the small blue dots representing the shuttlecraft. They were almost half a million miles away and the only paths through the minefield were blocked by a battleship and an assault carrier. He turned back and said, “Are you making some sort of joke?”
“No sir! If you’d only…”
The Admiral turned to a Marine at the doorway. “Corporal. Have this man taken and fired out of a plasma torpedo tube. At once.” He left the sensory making disgusted noises. The Marine took hold of the foolish Lieutenant and dragged him off, and there was much rejoicing.
Captain Lanet, guiding the Dosadi Raider Force from the bridge of the ISS Thelet watched his tactical display closely. Although the course of his diversionary force was technically curving away from the Troy, in reality, the distance was closing as the Troy’s own motion was making up the difference and more. Watching the shadowy colored globes that indicated his weapons’ effective ranges, he waited until the green dot of the Troy just brushed one. He spun in his chair, “Weapons! Target that corvette with the phasers and fire all torpedoes at the Troy. Launch a Pseudo-S and F followed by a real Type-F. Have the Borlin and White Wing fire their Lynx drones ten seconds later. As soon as they launch their Wild Weasels, destroy them with phaser fire, then fire a second wave of drones. If no more Weasels are launched, then fire the remaining plasma torpedoes. Have the Shagrat and Sheol fire theirs in sequence.”
Aboard the Troy, the warfare officer was just realizing that the carrier group had been closing the distance to the destroyers when they began to fire. Following the Gorn’s standard battle doctrine, they dropped their Wild Weasel and dealt with the second wave of drones with pulsed phasers and Gatling phasers. He was quite pleased. The Dosadi weren’t at all as dangerous as they were reputed to be. The new computer systems were performing flawlessly. Each target was assigned a threat rating and a complete data readout was coded next to it, along with vectors indicating actual course and speed as well as projected path. It appeared that the new Aegis fire control system that they had purchased from the Federation made drone defense child’s play.
His sweating missile defense officers might not have agreed with him on that. Especially when drones began to leak through the system on the third wave. There were more weapons in-bound than there were defensive systems available to deal with them. Fleet Captain S’Aleen watched the pulsing red lights indicating the incoming plasma torpedoes. They kept coming closer. His defense officers tried to juggle phasers from drones to plasmas with little success. The Troy began to shudder and shake as the missiles started to strike home. Shield status bars dropped and changed color rapidly from green to yellow to red despite the best effort of his engineering officers to pour more reinforcing energy into them – energy that simply wasn’t available. As the shields collapsed, the four Dosadi ships began to pump photon torpedoes and disruptors into his ship. There was a loud clanging sound as two hellbores slammed into the Troy and that was the last thing S’Aleen knew for a few moments. Shaking himself back into consciousness he picked himself up off the floor and tried to clear the air from the firefighting gas that had automatically flooded the bridge. The warfare officer was dead, so he shoved him aside and began trying to restore power and communications. “Engineering! Where the hell’s my power?!”
The intercom crackled, shorted, and then finally connected. “Warp controls are fused! That last hellbore hit us right in Engineering! I can’t find the Chief Engineer and everything’s on fire!” The captain cut off the panicked engineering crewman and signaled damage control to make the warp controls their first priority. This was not good.
Seconds later, the Troy began to die. The Sheol and the Borlin peeled off from the Thelet and began to close with him. The huge carrier struggled into reverse. Her escorts, realizing too late that they had failed to stay as close to the carrier as they should have, tried to race to the rescue. They could only watch in frustrated rage as more plasma torpedoes and drones arced towards the crippled ship. Bright green lines lanced out from the destroyers and traced across the giant, ripping it to pieces.
S’Aleen pounded on the engineering panel in the burning wreckage of his bridge, trying to get some power, ANY power out of his dying warp engines. More torpedoes began to crunch dully on the outer hull, blowing entire sections out and leaving blackened holes throughout the once mighty Troy. One shot hit her so hard, the keel actually bent, leaving a significant portion of the nose of the ship at a slight angle.
Behind the dying Troy, the little corvette Macon wasn’t doing too much better. She was laying mines, as ordered, but she was being chased by the heavy cruiser Thelet and the command destroyer Shagrat. Her crew did a heroic job, but she was vastly out-gunned. Her shields collapsed almost immediately and various portions of the ship began to melt from the heavy incoming fire. They never hit her hard enough to destroy her and she never quit laying mines until the bay doors were damaged so badly that it became impossible.
One their third strike of the evening, Delac routed the Delos’ fighter groups around the mines the Harvey had tried to lay and began having them sweep in on the now unescorted Blackfoot.  “Red Wing, hold position at third in. White Wing, target your Lynx missiles on those incoming fighters off the Troy. Green Wing, use two volleys of Lynxes, target those Thunderbolts from the battlestation and the Stings from the Troy.” Briefly he wondered if the Federation sold the same fighters to everyone. And he STILL didn’t understand how the lizards shoved something that big and ugly into a fighter. The Sting was the Gorn’s own design, one the Hydrans used as well, but the Thunderbolts had been designed for much smaller creatures.
The tiny fighters began to dive on the huge battleship, dodging her defensive fire and releasing their missiles from almost on top of her. Unfortunately, the officers aboard the Blackfoot were some of the best in the Gorn Confederacy. Not a single drone fired struck it’s target. Despite this amazingly skilled defense, the fighters had other weapons as well. As each fighter released it’s missiles, it dived onto the huge ship and strafed it from no more than twenty feet above the hull – and occasionally less. More than one startled Gorn gunnery officer saw a thirty-foot Dosadi fighter flash past his gun port, far too close and far too fast to hit.
“All wings, return and recover. Don’t stop dodging until you’re out of range. They might still have some weapons or be able to recharge them. Get out while you can.” He scanned the Gorn ship for damage. It wasn’t a knockout blow, but it was definitely a morale boost. After all, by now the crews had been on constant battle alert for over an hour. Delac and his pilots had finished three strikes without loss and done a tremendous amount of damage.
Like the Troy, the Gorn’s inexperienced fighter pilots had bad luck. The battlestation’s Thunderbolts got mauled by the Tomcat’s anti-fighter missiles, their Gatling phaser assault packages useless at the long range. The Troy’s Tomcats, hit by a plasma shotgun fired by the Dinen at least managed to fire all of their missiles at the Delos. The six hapless Stings only managed to score two hellbore hits on the cruiser Dinen and moments after they fired, they were engaged by her three Hornets and destroyed in a brief, 20 second dogfight. Only one of the Stings managed to escape. As he landed his smoking fighter on board the equally smoking ship, the captain gave the order to abandon all but a damage control crew to the station. Seconds later, the Troy managed an emergency warp jump out of the system, leaving a tail of six shuttlecraft packed full of wounded and frightened crewmen.
Her remaining escorts, formed a line defense and began to back steadily under the station’s heavy phaser cannon. The heavy frigate Ewa, plagued by hellbore fire from the Dinen followed the Troy a moment later.
T’Skay’s dinner was going from bad to worse. His aide had waited until he had just swallowed a large gulp of meade to inform him that the Troy and the Ewa had been forced to flee. The resulting spray of liquid drenched half of the table. His only comfort was in watching the foolish lieutenant he had ordered executed float slowly past the dining room windows. Of course he was dead. Shoving the aide out of the way, he stomped down to the sensory to take personal charge of the battle. When he arrived, things weren’t looking any better.
“Status?” he snapped.
“Not good sir,” the commander replied. “Our fighter group was mauled. They were simply out matched. We’re down to the six A-10 Thunderbolts stationed here. There are eight in-bound shuttlecraft containing wounded crewmen from the Troy and Ewa and they’re flying right across the paths of the Dosadi spearheads. Ottowa is on station and beginning repairs. I’ve rerouted the Loveland to make a diversionary strike on the Delos group while the Blackfoot provides support. We’ve inflicted no further damage to the Dosadi, but the Dorsai still hasn’t moved. We may have hit her power and engineering sections harder than we thought.”
“Not likely.” T’Skay grumbled, “They’re laying to and repairing. They’ve enough firepower advantage right now that she’s not needed. Any damage to the Dosadi fighter wings?”
“The Stings from the Troy managed to destroy three F-18 Hornets that had been launched by the Dinen.”
“So we traded eighteen fighters for three?”
“Um, seventeen, sir.”
One of the men monitoring the battle spoke up, “Both Dosadi carriers have just launched their full compliment of eighteen fighters each. They’ll be able to fire in five minutes.”
“If you can get the Loveland in position fast enough, have her try and damage the carrier before the fighters can fire. Maybe we’ll keep ’em tied to home.”
The captain of the Nareth watched as the fighters all deployed again. This was their fourth strike of the battle and they had to be exhausted. He noted the red course indication of the obnoxious little corvette that had been hit earlier. If the fleet got sandwiched between that thing’s Gatling phasers and the battleship’s heavy weapons, things would not go well. “Comm, request permission for weapons release on that corvette.”
A few seconds later he got his answer, “Granted sir, Delos has targeted two photon torpedoes on her forward shield as well.”
“Excellent. On my mark…”
Back on Airdrie, T’Skay watched as the red and green blips and course lines representing the two fleets closed. The amber lights of the Dosadi fighter wings were closing too quickly with the Blackfoot. They were ignoring the Loveland to go for the battleship. Typical.

CHAPTER 4
“Spock, I’ve found that evil usually triumphs… unless good is very, very careful.”
– Dr Leonard McCoy, (Human) on Omega IV
“Weapons exchange.” somebody remarked. The Loveland’s light winked out.
The Nareth rocked as her shields struggled to absorb the phaser fire the Gorn corvette pumped into them. The Blackfoot began to fire every heavy weapon aboard into the Dinen which was already shuddering under the slaps of the Ottowa’s plasmatic pulsar device.
The fighter groups were diving on the Blackfoot again, and again her defense officers were equal to the task. But as with the last attack, they simply had nothing left to spare to fend off the fighters themselves. The mighty ship shuddered and groaned as the phasers and torpedoes sliced into her hull from point-blank range.
As the captain of the Loveland began to receive reports of incoming torpedoes to match the pounding his ship was receiving from the Dosadi corvette in front of him, he reached a conclusion. “Abandon ship!” he cried. Thirty seconds later, his ship exploded. His quick action enabled seventy of his crewmen to reach escape pods or transporters in time.
The shuttlecraft containing the crew of the Troy and the Ewa were in a unique position. As they struggled to fly to the battlestation, they were caught between the fires raging between the two fleets. The passengers, already crammed into the tiny craft were thrown against the walls and floor as the pilots dodged phasers, torpedoes, and hellbores. Several times they were nearly run down by Dosadi fighters.
Back in the station’s dining hall, the party paused as the thick green beams of the station’s phaser cannon lanced out. Marshal Furball finally realized what was up as the lights dimmed from the heavy power consumption and the entire room turned bright green for a moment.
On the receiving end of that firepower, the Eleth rocked hard. Every ship in the Troy’s escort group had begun firing their torpedoes at her, and the Phaser IV impacts hadn’t helped. The Gorn weapons officers had acquitted themselves well – over 80% of the weapons fired had struck home. Four of her six shields were gone and she had taken minor damage to several systems.
Her fighters, on the other hand, were having a hay-day. Not one of the five ships in front of them was able to use their phasers again so quickly. They had exhausted their supply of Wild Weasels early in the battle, trying vainly to absorb the incoming plasma torpedoes and drones. The Thelet’s three Hornets were already diving on the heavy destroyer Ceres and two Type-S plasma torpedoes were closing fast.
As with the Blackfoot, her drone defenses were almost flawless. Only four of the missiles found their mark – and again, the Gatling phasers and photon torpedoes were harder to dodge. When the fighters whipped around and under the ship and raced back towards their carrier, the Ceres was crippled, and her sister ship the Azusa was damaged, her shields collapsed. The heavy frigate Centralia, hit by the Eleth’s torpedo fire was crippled beyond use and even the tiny, battered Macon had been reduced to a smoldering ruin.
T’Skay was trying to come up with a winning strategy, but his available firepower was dwindling rapidly. “Sir, another seven inbound shuttlecraft. Transporters have recovered eighty more wounded crewmen. The Centralia, Ceres,and Macon report that they must disengage.”
“Wonderful.” How many refugees do we have on board now?”
The man checked a screen, “Two hundred on board, four hundred in-bound.”
T’Skay sighed. It was no longer possible to hide the battle from the civilians, nor the fact that the Gorn were getting beaten. If the hundreds of wounded crewmen hadn’t tipped them off, the phaser cannon fire surely would. “Declare a state of emergency and signal the Confederacy that we are in dire need. Put all Marines at battle stations. Launch our remaining A-10’s.”
Throughout the giant station, lights dimmed to red and Marines began to sprint freely through the hallways. A squad of twelve ran into the ballroom and began to take up stations at various points throughout the room. There was a smattering of applause as the station’s six remaining A-10’s launched past the window.
The next ten minutes were not the best in T’Skay’s life. The Dorsai lurched into motion, her damage 60% repaired. The Delos task force closed to within 30,000 km of the station, crippling the Blackfoot as they went past her. The only bright spot was the continuous pounding by the station’s phaser cannon had forced the heavy cruiser Dinen to turn away, her shields in tatters and light damage scattered across her hull. T’Skay had no idea how they were managing to absorb the hits. In truth, the Dinen’s crew had diverted every bit of energy they could spare to reinforce the shields and by clever maneuvering had managed to spread the hits evenly across all six shields and every portion of the heavy cruiser. Her defense against the phaser-IVs would become a standard case study in academies of just about every space-faring species.
T’Skay finished scanning the battle display and asked the Sensory commander, “What’s our current status?” The station’s lights dimmed and there were muffled explosions and shouts.
“Very poor, sir. The station is now coming under direct fire by the Dosadi ships. Our number six shield has completely folded and all other’s are lightly damaged. They are apparently timing their shots and defensive maneuvers and energies with our rotation – far better than I would’ve thought possible. We simply do not have enough weapons to attack them all and they’re taking turns covering for each other. If they weren’t coming here to kill me, it would be beautiful.
The Blackfoot is crippled and unable to power weapons or move. A number of direct hits on her engineering section have completely destroyed her warp controls. The Azusa is also crippled. Ottowa was nearly destroyed by those last three Hornets from the Eleth, but her Captain says she can still fight; I’m not sure how, or with what. The battlecruiser Towson is only lightly damaged, but she is in a very poor tactical position with seven Dosadi ships in close proximity, on all sides. Battlecruiser Zion is in the best shape, she’s undamaged except her forward shield which is at half strength. She is currently maneuvering against the corvette Turanti.
Wilkes interrupted the story briefly, “It was the Zion that fired the shot that hit our bay a little later.”
Jons nodded and continued, “The aide reported ‘The Dosadi have sustained no further significant damage.’
T’Skay wasn’t one to waste time moping. “Well, it doesn’t look like the Navy’s gonna be able to fend them off much longer, eh? Stand by to repel boarders.” He was at least going to go down fighting.
Gas-tight doors throughout the station slammed shut and fibercoil window shields slid into place. In the ballroom, Marines began to turn tables over, taking cover behind them. Furball looked up as the shields lowered into place, seeing the mass behind the Delos and her running lights. Only Nolin would be insane enough to leave running lights on during a battle. In the age of sensors, the Dosadi still painted their ships a blue-grey for camouflage. In contrast, Federation vessels were a glossy pearl-white with spot-lights on their registration numbers and names.
Strangely, people were still dancing – although many of them were complaining about the tipped over tables and the loss of the view. One woman, a Federation diplomatic functionary spoke to her dancing partner, a short, dashing, violet-skinned humanoid with white hair wearing the uniform of a Colonel in the Sword Worlds Marine Force, “I say, I don’t see why they have to dirty up OUR party! Why, these Dosadi won’t bother us! We’re civilians! See? Even the Dosadi ambassador is still enjoying his dinner!
The colonel glanced at the ambassador, obviously enjoying his meal with a huge smile on his face and the occasional throaty chuckle. He may have been purring. This particular colonel had been aboard the light cruiser Succession during the battle at Toulagai. “Madame, the Dosadi consider civilians to be a particular delicacy. If this station cannot fight them off,  you may find yourself being served at THEIR next party.”
“Eeek!” Pampered, sheltered her entire life by the power of the Federation Starfleet, the woman had probably never been in danger in her entire life. The very concept shook her to her core.
Shaking his head, Colonel Jons said, “I keep meaning to look that woman up. She had the strangest notions for how things worked in the galaxy. But, to continue…”
CHAPTER 5
“I shall have him! I’ll chase him round the Moons of Nibia, and round the Antares Maelstrom, and round Perdition’s flames before I give him up!”
– Khan Noonian Singh – aboard USS Reliant (Human)
Sitting in the bridge of the Delos, Nolin turned to his battle manager and said “Bombard the station. Have the destroyers force down the shield facing them, then Turanti, Toulagai, Borlin,  and Sheol will finish disabling the Azusa, Towson, and Zion. Make VERY sure that they know to fire to cripple, not destroy. I will personally skin the captain of any ship violating that order.”
There was smoke, dust, and endless noise in the Sensory. The commander called to the admiral, ‘Sir! Zion reports heavy damage. They were unable to cause significant damage to the Turanti due to fighters, drones from the assault carriers, and harassing fire from several vessels.” The station rocked again and rang like a bell hit by a giant’s hammer, “They’ve broken through several shields and we’re beginning to take serious damage. Power generation is down 50% and we’ve taken  hits on both torpedo launchers. Three phaser-3’s and one of the phaser cannon have been destroyed.
“The good news is that the Eleth and the Delos are both damaged and have stopped dead in space in order to reinforce shields. Both carriers are damaged slightly and have four collapsed shields each. The Dinen is still moving away, but the Dorsai is closing fast.”
A young crewman spoke up “Zion is under heavy fire. Five incoming plasma torpedoes and four drones.” As T’Skay turned to give an order, a breathless and bloody Marine sergeant ran into the room.
“Admiral, over fifty Dosadi Marines have boarded the station. Auxiliary Control was destroyed and we’ve repulsed raids on all six phaser cannon.”
“Take me to General G’Relt.” T’Skay followed the sergeant out the door. Seconds after they left, a hellbore torpedo struck the Sensory, knocking the both of them several yards down the hallway and leaving the corridor blocked with debris and beginning to vent atmosphere as alarms sounded.
Once they finally made it to the general’s command post, it was evident that things were not going well. The general’s side-arm showed signs of recent use. “T’Skay, things are not good.” he reported. “We’ve got 600 civilians and close to a thousand wounded crewmen on board. We’ve only got about 250 Marines total and the Dosadi already have a toe-hold with the better part of a Platoon. We’re trying to coordinate our transporter scramblers, but we’ve taken a lot of power and command and control hits. So far, the fighting’s been concentrated in civilian areas – the Mall and the restaurant sector.
In fact, at that moment, in the Gorn version of a woman’s lingerie’ shop, several Dosadi Marines were having a bad time of it. They had materialized in the middle of the room and were set upon by a 350 lb behemoth flogging them with something like a purse while several Gorn troopers across the hallway kept them pinned down with occasional pot-shots when they could get a clear shot past the rather upset matron beating the Dosdai.
Other Marines, their beam-down points scattered by the Gorn’s defensive electronic warfare had materialized in a men’s bathroom, the kitchens and a video arcade. In scattered, extremely violent actions spanning 10 minutes, all 50 of this wave had been killed or captured. But they took a heavy toll of the defenders – casualties were heavy and the Gorn’s were now also scattered throughout the station.
It was Sooth’s turn to interrupt, “I still think about those people. I knew a lot of them really well.”
Jons continued,  “Admiral Nolin decided to get the Marines there with a bit more precision. All ships were ordered to launch shuttlecraft containing boarding parties.
A few minutes later, his battle manager shouted “The bloody Gorn are firing on the shuttlecraft!!”
“What? What ships?”
“Azusa and the Towson – the bastards! Zion’s pulling back. Blackfoot’s repaired some of her power, but she’s not firing.”
“Dammit. I’d hoped crippling them that badly would force them to run. Order Borlin, Sheol, and Green Wing to destroy them.” Seconds later, both the battlecruiser and the heavy destroyer exploded, but not before taking with them eight shuttlecraft and forty Marines.
In the ball room, the party came to an abrupt halt as a squad of ten Dosadi Marines materialized in the middle of the dance floor and engaged in a firefight with the twelve Gorn Marines stationed there. People began screaming and diving for cover. The heroic Sword Worlds Colonel,” Jons winked at Heather and ruffled her fur again, “unarmed but taking on a young, armored Dosadi Marine anyway, took a plasma rifle butt to the face and went down hard. The six guarding Marshal Furball quickly hustled him out the door and down to T’Skay’s command post.
“That was when your mother was so badly hurt, kits. And your father’s post on the Delos was hit by the Zion at just about the same moment. But, back on the station,
“General G’Relt shouted over the noise of the railguns and plasma rifles “T’Skay! All of our other command posts have been overrun or destroyed. There’s at least another company of Dosadi Marines aboard and we’re down to a reinforced platoon. That last run by those Hornets shot up two more phaser cannon and five more phaser-3s. We’re running out of options here.”
As Furball was dragged in, T’Skay smiled to himself. He was going to have one last pleasure. “Hold him.” then, while the remaining Marines in the battlestation fought it out, he began to beat the shit out of Marshal Furball. He’d really only gotten in a dozen good hits or so when G’Relt grabbed his arm “T’Skay, the Dosadi are now in control of this station – We need to…” He never finished the sentence; A Dosadi plasma rifle sliced him in two. Half a moment later, T’Skay’s world went black as a Gauss gun grazed his skull. When he came to, hours later, the Dosadi fleet was gone, as was Furball.
Seeing a wounded Marine checking for survivors among the debris and the bodies he slurred, “Report.”
The Marine looked up and finally recognizing the admiral said “The fucking cats grabbed Furball and ran off. We’ve got no weapons, no sensors, no power, no nothing. We’re screwed.”
“Relax. There’s no one left to fight. The disaster beacon should’ve activated when the Sensory was destroyed.” Holding his bloody head in his hands, he wondered how he was going to get out of this one.
Admiral Nolin smiled as he walked away from the Brig. Evidently, T’Skay had had some fun with Furball before he was ‘liberated.’ He was still conscious, but only just. Oh well, he didn’t need to look pretty for the court martial and the inevitable execution. Perhaps he’d send his skin to T’Skay as a gesture of respect. He might be a big lizard, but the man never gave up.

* * *
Sooth’s son Corin asked, “Did he?”
Jons smiled, “You know, he really did. T’Skay still has it as a rather gruesome trophy.”
Captain Stone shook her head, “Colonel, you have a talent for taking dry battle reports and turning them into a story. We need to hire you for Starfleet Academy. And I still can’t believe I’m sitting here with THE Marine from the ballroom fight. I’ve watched the sensor logs from that fight; I thought you died. And Colonel, you put up a hell of a scrap yourself.”
Turning to Wilkes she said, “Wilksey, I told you the day we graduated that you’re the luckiest man on Earth. AND that there was something out there for you.” Leaning in, she said in an aside to Sooth, “Excuse me, please.” and kissed him. “And I was right.”
He laughed, “As usual. Thank you, Colonel, for telling all those stories. It’s funny; When you’re part of a battle, all you really see is your little piece of it. What I remember most from those fights, other than the dead, is how exhausting it was. Every few minutes the bird was back and we had to fix it and recharge it over and over again.”
Jons said, “Indeed. Even the commanders rarely have a real understanding of all parts of the battle. It is not until years later that historians are able to really piece everything together.”
The younger kits had fallen asleep, curled up in laps or next to adults, and the urge for conversations and stories had pretty much exhausted itself. People were beginning to find comfortable places to fall asleep. Wilkes held his hand out to the Colonel and said, “Colonel, you are without a doubt the most complex, confusing, and unusual person I have ever met. I think Angie was right. I am the luckiest man on Earth. Or Dosad.” He put his arm around Sooth’s waist and said, “I don’t think I’d trade the life I’ve lived for anything, or anyone’s.”
Jons took his hand with a smile and shook it. “And who knows where our lives will lead us next, Wilkes? There’s a lot of stories out there yet to be discovered.”
Sooth laughed, “We’ll turn you into a Dosadi yet, Colonel!”
Marin spoke up, “Well, perhaps not Seins, but we should have a discussion about our son Tir. He and young Ceena seem to truly enjoy each other’s company whenever we visit. Would you two be willing to join us in talking with Corin and Eletha? You have experience in melding two different cultures and there would be many advantages to such a pairing.”
Wilkes thought to himself that Corin hadn’t run fast enough…

CYCLE 4 – MINUET
CHAPTER 1
“Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth”
– Maj John Magee, Jr – Earth (Human)
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
NOVEMBER 2289
The stars pinwheeled across her canopy in a pirouette of fireflies as she cut her engines and spun the Viper on all 3 axes. For that moment, her trajectory was predictable and she was vulnerable to the weapons on the pursuing star fighter.
2,000 kilometers below, Captain Ray Spruance and Commander Ih-Tedda closely watched several displays tracking the combat. Captain Spruance spoke first, “Finally. He has her.”
Ih-Tedda, a full-blood Apache, wasn’t so sure. She said, “Wait. Watch.”
Heather jammed her left side-stick to its stop, the Viper shuddering as it skidded sideways, several warning lights flashing on her instrument panel as the thrusters fired at maximum, the hull groaning in protest. The other fighter sparkled, the twin phasers striking a brief, glancing blow across her port shields and she fire-walled the throttle, disengaging the safety-overrides. Stamping on the rudder pedals and slamming the right side-stick over and back, she attempted to bring her own weapons to bear as the other fighter flashed past, it’s wing nearly clipping her dorsal fin while it too began to spin around.
Laughing, she keyed the computer to blast out one of her favorite songs – “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolfe, from a band and a style of music popular centuries before her planet was even discovered by humans. As the blue curve of the Earth filled her view, the Viper began shaking as the acceleration went beyond what the inertial dampeners could handle and pinned her to her seat.
Spruance said, “I will be damned.” The strains of ancient music came out from the speakers and he said, “What the hell is that?” And a moment later, noting that her Viper was pulling 7 gravities beyond its limits he said, “Commander! She’s going to…”
“Sir, wait. Trust me.”
“These are 2nd year students? This is an unacceptable level of risk and whatever that noise is has no place in…”
“Sir, this is why I asked you here. This is not a normal situation.”
Heather’s Viper had done a complete reversal of it’s trajectory and was screaming straight down, using the Earth’s gravitational field to add to her velocity, the tenuous atmosphere already beginning to bite at her fighter. The pursuing craft was also struggling to overcome a velocity vector that was straight up and turn it into one going straight down and her radio came to life with laughter, “No fair! You’re going to break her!”
Chuckling she answered back “Maybe. But you’ll never catch me!”
Cadet Andrew Sterling said, “Watch me!”
The two craft continued their twisting, spiraling course downward, glowing like meteors as their speed increased well past hypersonic.
Spruance looked at Ih-Tedda, “They are NOT going to do what I think they are going to do are they?”
“Sir, please trust me. You need to see this. I understand the risks, I understand that they are violating safety regulations. I will take full responsibility.”
He shook his head, watching the two craft drop down to the wave-tops and level off in a punishing pull-out. A sensor buoy caught a brief glimpse of Heather’s Viper zipping by, a rooster-tail of spray thrown up by the hypersonic shock wave.
Spruance’s jaw dropped, “Brilliant!” but Sterling wasn’t so easily ensnared. He slid his own Viper to the side and climbed slightly, creating a twin to her rooster-tail – but he couldn’t bring his weapons to bear. “Oh no. Commander, no, no, no – vector them…” he was interrupted by a smashing series of bangs as the two fighters roared over Starfleet Academy and headed back into the clouds.
Glaring at the younger Commander he said, “How long has this been going on like this?”
“Virtually since we first put them in a fighter, sir. They are two of the most natural fighter pilots I’ve ever heard of. I’ve called both of them on the carpet multiple times for safety violations with almost no effect. Once they get into a cockpit they are literally overcome with the pure joy of flying and fighting. I took it upon myself to analyze their flights – although they regularly violate Academy regulations, they actually do an excellent job of mitigating and managing risks; They simply use a very, very narrow safety margin. More like what you would expect in an actual combat situation.
“This is my problem – they are astonishingly good, and astonishingly difficult to rein in to training standards when they are in the air. My choice appears to be kick them out for flagrant violations of safety regulations, or find a way to keep them with us and to hell with the regulations. My preference is the latter. They are simply too good to throw away.”
“Nobody’s that good, Ih-Tedda. Send some of Nova Squadron after them. Let one of the older cadets bring them down a peg and remind them that they’re only human.”
“I did, sir.”
“Which one?”
“I sent Nova Squadron after the pair of them.”
“Yes, which pilot?”
“No, sir. I sent the ENTIRE Nova Squadron after them. It wasn’t even a decent fight. I have the tape if you’d like to review it.”
“You sent five senior cadet pilots after a pair of second-years and you’re telling me the newbies won?”
“Yes, sir. It took them less than two minutes to take out all five. Then they started chasing each other again. I had to recall them at that point.”
“Recall them. I want that tape, I want their files, and I want both of them in my office as soon as they land. The Commandant is going to have my ass in a sling for that sonic boom stunt – don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t deliberate – I at least want to know why it’s going to be in a sling. And you will ground them until I make my decision.”
She tapped a key on the console, “Viper Flight, Command. Return to base immediately. Romeo tango bravo, out.”
Captain Spruance watched the trace of the two ships arc over and begin returning, twisting and rolling around each other like a pair of salsa dancers.
“Do they ALWAYS do that?” he asked.
Laughing Commander Ih-Tedda answered, “Yes, sir. As I said, there is a great joy within them when they fly. It is…irrepressible. I’m not sure it would be wise to try.”
“How are they outside of a fighter?”
“Outstanding cadets, sir. They are always contrite when their flight violations are pointed out – and always forget all their good intentions the moment the cockpit closes. They are natural leaders and natural instructors, always willing to help their fellow cadets. Sterling took it upon himself to help one of our cadets who was struggling with formation flying, providing hours of extra instruction and even flying extra training flights. Their marks are generally good. Both are well-liked and well-respected.
“I’m afraid their dogfight with Nova Squadron has made them something of a legend; definitely not my intent. The senior cadets have yet to live that down. To their credit, they haven’t attempted to make excuses – they were simply outclassed and know it. This has not helped my attempts to rein in our two rogues.”
“Who are they, Commander?”
“Cadet Andrew Sterling, from Ft. William, Scotland, Earth, and Cadet Heather, from T’Elesh, Dosad. Um, you’ll find her records under Heather Wilkes. Although she follows Dosadi traditions she used her father’s last name upon joining Starfleet.”
“What do you mean her father’s last name? Don’t Dosadi use just one name?”
“Yes, sir. Her father is human. Captain Thomas Wilkes, retired.”
Spruance looked at her. “She’s half human? I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“I haven’t pried sir. Apparently there are only 4, her, a sister, and two brothers.”
“Please tell me her siblings aren’t planning on flight training as well.”
She chuckled, “No sir, one brother is a farmer here on Earth, the other is in the Dosadi Imperial Fleet and her sister is some sort of itinerant historian and story teller.”
“Interesting. Which one is the better pilot?”
“Neither. Sterling is the more methodical and patient. She is quicker to see and take a transient advantage. He is the better leader, she is the more inspiring. He is elegant, she is dramatic. I’ve never seen one score a kill on the other. Perhaps if I’d sent Nova Squadron after them one at a time…No, probably not.”
“Could you take them?”
She thought a moment. When she flew, her fighter carried with it 11 different tally marks signifying enemy craft destroyed; A huge total for the normally peaceful Starfleet. “Sir, I honestly doubt it.”
“Damn. Very well. Send them and their records to me. And ground the pair of them. Assign them extra tutoring duties to the first year students and cut any off-duty privileges they have for consistent, flagrant safety violations. Then I want you to assign them to maintenance during their duty hours for that sonic boom stunt.”
“Sir!”
“Commander, I WILL bring these two to heel. And if I elect to keep them, I want them to be grateful for the opportunity. I don’t give a tinker’s damn HOW good they are, they WILL learn that there are consequences.”
“Sir, I’m not sure that’s wise – Do you want to…”
“From what I saw today, there isn’t a damn thing in the world I could do to take away their joy of flying and fighting, Commander. But we can add some maturity and some caution; The best steel is tempered. Don’t forget those records, Ih-Tedda.”
“Yes, sir.” she answered sourly.
CHAPTER 2
In the whole scene there was an air of ruin and destruction, something which betrayed a final and irrevocable adieu; one couldn’t watch without feeling one’s heart wrung. The Indians were tranquil, but sombre and taciturn.
– Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America – Earth (Human)
VILLAGE OF TONG, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
NOVEMBER 2289
Six year-old Fallon clung to her mother’s leg. “Mommy! I don’t want to go!” she cried. The tiny, black and white spotted humanoid with large, black eyes was clearly terrified. Her mother tried to soothe her child as the much larger Cardassian trooper waved them both out of their hut with his rifle.
“It will be OK, child. Do as they wish and they shall not harm us. There is no reason for them to do so. Come along.” and she walked out the door of her home to the waiting transport.
Legate Kai made a pair of marks on his PADD and shook his head disgustedly. “They are like so many cows. Useless wastes of space.”
Looking at the lines of Oriaslings queuing to board the transports under the guns of his troops, Glin Markut asked, “So why move them into camps? Why not just leave them be?”
“The environment here is collapsing, it care barely support these little creatures as it is. These lands are needed for Cardassians. At least they shall get some sort of use out of this planet.” Clapping the younger Glin on the shoulder he chuckled, “Don’t worry, it’s not like they’re people anyway. They’re more like animals who have mastered a few tricks. We’ll find some way to get some utility out of the lot of them!”
A short while later, the transports rumbled into life, packed tightly with the little black and white humanoids. One of the few able to see anything, little Fallon tried not to cry as she watched her village, the only place she had ever known, vanish in a cloud of dust.

* * *
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
NOVEMBER 2289
The clock on Captain Spruance’s wall ticked loudly. Cadet Andy Sterling stood at rigid attention, trying to ignore the rivulet of sweat running down his back, keeping his eyes focused on an imaginary spot on the Captain’s wall. To his left, Cadet Heather did the same, the warmth of the Captain’s office making her wish that she wasn’t covered in reddish, spotted fur. Her left ear flicked in a nervous tic.
Spruance flipped another page. He had already gone through their records and viewed the replay of their dogfight with Nova Squadron while they waited outside his office. This was a calculated tactic to let them know just how deep in the shit they truly were. Deciding that the time was right, he sighed heavily, closed the folder and sat back, studying the two youngsters standing in front of his desk.
Sterling was six feet tall with dark hair and pale blue eyes – a rather odd combination Spruance thought. He was one of those people who looked like he should be a model with features best described as chiseled and a solid build like a rugby forward. He looked him up and down, looking for any flaw in his uniform and found none.
Turning his attention to Sterling’s partner in crime, he found a startling contrast. She was barely 4’6” – he made a mental note to check her height against regulations – and looked a lot like a large bi-pedal cat, although radically different from what he expected of a Dosadi. Instead of being marked like a cougar, she was covered in reddish fur with an unruly shock over the top of her skull. Her ears were rather more rounded than normal and her eyes were a shockingly bright blue. Further, although Dosadi females were normally slim-hipped and fairly flat-chested when not actively nursing, this cadet was obviously female along more human lines. He found the combination both interesting and slightly repellant; shades of bestiality he thought to himself.
Drumming his fingers on his desk he asked the pair, “Do you understand why you are here, Cadets?”
Sterling answered first, clearing his throat and saying, “Yes, sir.” As Spruance stared at him, he swallowed and asked, “Safety regulations, sir?”
“And?”
Heather answered, “The fly-over, sir?”
“And?”
They glanced at each other quickly and Sterling continued, “There was something else, sir?”
“We’ll see.” He glowered at them. “Do you have any explanation for these constant, on-going, and flagrant violations of Academy safety regulations? Or for that idiotic and sophomoric stunt this afternoon?”
Heather thought to herself, “Well, we are sophomores…” but wisely said nothing.
Again, Sterling took the lead in answering, “Sir, we’re supposed to push the limits – it’s a dog-fight. You have to do your very best to either get away or to get the other pilot in your sights. We didn’t actually…”
“Cadet, are you currently at war with your fellow pilots? Are you currently locked in a desperate life-or-death struggle with this other young idiot here?”
There was silence for a moment, “No, sir.”
“Then why are you behaving as if you are? Those regulations are for your safety, and for hers, and for civilians on the ground if you lose it and pile a multimillion credit fighter into a packed neighborhood or this CAMPUS for that matter!”
He drummed his fingers again. “So. You have no valid explanation for your actions. You simply felt you could disobey orders and do whatever the hell you want to do simply because…Well because you’re so very special. Is that about it?”
Both cadets spoke in unison, “No, sir!”
“No, sir?! Then why is it that every time the two of you go aloft you end up behaving like some drunken hick with his daddy’s APV on a dirt road?!”
The silence stretched on and Heather said, “Sir, it’s not an excuse but…I forget. I get so focused on either catching the other fighter or getting away. I don’t even think about it very much. I know it’s past the limits, but I think it’s just a little bit, just enough to get away and then I’ll be able to cut back and…it just goes from there.” Sterling was nodding along.
“I note that it’s only when the two of you are chasing each other that you seem to lose all sense of propriety.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Are you two romantically involved?”
Sterling blushed scarlet and stammered, “N..n..n..No, sir.”
Heather thought to herself, “Not for lack of trying…” but said, “No, sir. Neither of us is involved romantically with anyone. There just isn’t time for that sort of thing.”
“I would hope not. I would hate to add to the list of regulations that you regularly violate. Although the point may be moot. You may both very well be free to spend your time however you please here very shortly.”
Both cadets paled.
“Starfleet is a service. A military service. With rules, and discipline and order that you are expected to follow – all the time, every time. Not simply when it is convenient for you. You two seem to not understand that. How you have gotten this far in your Academy career without knowing that very basic fact is a mystery to me. I must now decide whether it is in the best interest of Starfleet to continue to spend time and effort trying to turn you into disciplined, reliable officers. It may be that both of us will be better served if you two find a different path – perhaps with the Orion pirates.
“In any case, I have to go explain to the Commandant why two of my cadets decided to fly through Academy grounds at Mach 7. Dismissed.”
The two of them saluted, pivoted smartly and left his office. As the door contracted behind them, Sterling said, “Jesus. You think they’re really going to kick us out?”
“I hope not. They might. I didn’t mean to fly through campus – you kept arcing over, and then I had to dodge that LNG carrier and it happened so fast. There was the bridge, so I jinked to keep away from it and then there was campus.” She sighed, “I really, really hope not. Flying is the best thing in the universe. I feel sick to my stomach worrying about it. We really screwed up this time.”
“Yeah.” They walked on through campus for a little bit, trying not to notice the branches and leaves scattered about the normally immaculate campus grounds – side effects from their hypersonic fly-over. “Would chow help, or make it worse?”
“Help, I think. Besides, I found a new song I want to play for you!”
He laughed, “Another one of those ancient tunes you keep digging up?”
“Yup!” she smiled, “You’ll like this one – it makes me think of you. Maybe you could sing it.”
He blushed again and didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I can try if you’ve got the lyrics.”
They entered the cafeteria and picked up their trays. As they were picking out their food several other cadets came up to ask how their interview had gone. By the time they had made their way to their table, the word had spread throughout the cafeteria that they were in danger of being kicked out.
They sat and started picking through their food. Heather pulled out her PADD and brought up the song she had found. Several of their friends sat with them, peppering them with questions about Captain Spruance’s decision. Sterling was studying the music as the song played. Cadet Peggy Lynd was spending more time studying him. A fact not lost on Heather.
“Are you going to sing for us, Andy?” Lynd asked. Popular, blonde, with green eyes and a bikini-model build, she usually landed any male she set her eye on. Sterling had been a notable exception, to date.
He smiled, “If I can get a feel for it, yeah. It’s a good tune. Not like a lot of the stuff she finds.” he winked at Heather.
Cadet Mike Malloy laughed. Dark haired, with soulful brown eyes and a runner’s build, He and Heather had been close the previous year and he had always found her fascination with dusty old music an oddity. He asked Heather, “Going to sing harmony with him?”
“If he wants me to. It’s called ‘The Minstrel Boy’” The two often sang some old song that Heather found – a Dosadi habit that had found widespread popularity at Starfleet Academy. Their voices harmonized well and both were fairly skilled singers. Sterling played guitar as well – another trait that had attracted the female cadets’ interest, without any noticeable effect on Andy.
The music started, and as they started singing, the background conversations in the cafeteria came to a stop while people listened:

“The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death ye will find him;
His father’s sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
‘Land of Song!’ said the warrior bard,
‘Tho’ all the world betray thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!’

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said ‘No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!
The Minstrel Boy will return we pray
When we hear the news we all will cheer it,
The minstrel boy will return one day,
Torn perhaps in body, not in spirit.
Then may he play on his harp in peace,
In a world such as heaven intended,
For all the bitterness of man must cease,
And ev’ry battle must be ended.”

“Wow.” Lynd said, “That’s a really sad one.” A few of the other listeners voiced their agreement.
Malloy said, “We just need to get you a harp, Andy.”
Sterling laughed, “I’m gonna get issued one after Spruance kills me.” He glanced at his watch, “Heather, we’ve got to get to our tutoring sessions; It would not be good to be late today.”
She took a last swallow of her drink and stood up, “Nope. Let’s get moving.” The two of them cleared their trays and headed off to go tutor their respective groups of freshmen.

* * *
Later that evening, Captain Spruance was interrupted by a knock on his door. “Come!”
A Freshman cadet, an Andorian no less, came in, saluted and said, “Cadet Theret, sir. I would like to take advantage of your open door policy.”
Sitting back in his chair he grimaced. These were almost always some hyped up complaint about an instructor being mean or unfair or some other nonsense. “Very well. What’s on your mind, Cadet?”
“Sir. I understand that you are considering expelling Cadets Sterling and Heather.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Really. And you know this how, Cadet?”
“Barracks rumor, Sir. Is it true?”
“That’s not really any of your business, Cadet.”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“I beg your pardon?” Spruance leaned forward.
“Sir, I would have failed Quantum Mechanics and failed out of the Academy if it had not been for Heather’s extra tutoring. And Sterling’s always giving hangar-flying lessons on air combat maneuvering. So is Heather. It’s made us all better.”
“I see. Was there anything further?”
“No, sir.”
“Dismissed, Cadet.” The young Andorian saluted and left his office. Not 30 seconds after he left, there was another knock. Sighing, Spruance called out “Come!”
This time it was a female 2nd-year cadet. “Sir! Cadet Robbins reporting. I would like to utilize your open door policy.”
“Really. And what about, Cadet?”
She answered, “Sir, I’ve heard a rumor that you are going to expel Cadets Heather and Sterling. Is that true?”
Drumming his fingers on his desk, he asked, “And what if it is, Cadet?”
“Sir, I would like to offer a recommendation for both.”
“I see. And why is that?”
“Sir, they help everyone. And they’re the best fliers we’ve got! They always go the extra mile in everything.”
“And they disobey safety regulations every time they fly.”
“Not every time, sir. Just when they fight each other.”
“Enough. Thank you for your input, Cadet. That will be all.”
“Yes, sir.” And she mirrored Theret, saluting and exiting smartly.
Spruance sat back, thinking to himself. He was not surprised when almost a minute later, there was another knock at his door. “Come!” he growled.
“Sir! Cadet Ming Lee, reporting! I would like to take advantage of your open door policy, sir!”
“Let me guess. You’ve heard a rumor.”
“Um…yes, sir.”
“Okay. I’ve had about enough of this. Cadet, is there a line outside my door?”
“Sir? No, sir.”
Spruance leaned back again. “Is this about our two problem Cadets? Never mind. Don’t answer. Cadet, you will go and round up all of your class, with the exception of those two. You will gather them together in the multipurpose room in 30 minutes. I will address all of your concerns at that time. If anyone else knocks on my door with this same horseshit, I will personally strip them of their credits and start them over again as raw freshmen, is that understood?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”
“Dismissed.”
Thirty minutes later, Captain Spruance walked through the doors into the large multipurpose room, the assembled cadets rising to their feet at the cry of “Captain on deck!”. Scanning the room he sought out Cadet Lee. “Cadet, this is more than your class.”
“Yes, sir! These are all the people who wanted to speak on behalf of Cadets Heather and Sterling, sir.”
“Hmm. Senior Cadet Rugov. I’m a little surprised to see you and Nova Squadron here. Not only are these sophomores, but they waxed your tails rather easily. I’d think you’d be glad to see them go.”
“No, sir. One team, one fight, sir. We’re good, they’re the best. It would be stup…unwise to lose those skills.”
“So you’re OK with a pair of newbies lording it over you?”
“Sir, they don’t do that.” He grinned wryly, “I actually expected that they would – I probably would’ve. They don’t even really talk about it except clinically. Which is actually more embarrassing than if they were just bragging.”
“Indeed. That split-s you pulled was not exactly sound tactical thinking.”
He coughed, “Um, yes, sir. That was her analysis as well. She also pointed out that it allowed her to take me out and almost instantly engage my wingman as well, leaving him no chance to evade her shot.”
“Is there anyone here even remotely concerned that these two are not being held to the same standard as the rest of you? That they are being allowed to ignore safety regulations without consequence? To disobey orders without punishment?”
He paused, scanning the classroom. One hand finally, hesitatingly, went up.
“Yes, you. Cadet…Lynd?”
“Sir, They are punished, regularly, for violating regulations. Maybe not as much as you’d think, but they know it’s wrong and they do try. But they also go way beyond regulations and expectations in helping everyone else. Look at this room, sir. This isn’t normal.”
“That, Cadet, is the understatement of the week.” He sat down on the edge of the table at the front of the room. “Very well. I appreciate all of your input.” He thought for a moment. “Rugov. Go and fetch our two problems and bring them here. Meanwhile, I’ll listen to what you all have to say, although I warn you it will have no bearing upon my decision. This is not a democracy, nor is it the ladies’ tea club.”
Ten minutes later, Heather and Sterling walked into the multipurpose room hot on Rugov’s heels, looking across the room with trepidation.
Snapping to attention, they announced, “Sir! Cadets Sterling and Heather reporting as ordered!” while Rugov took his seat.
Leaving them at attention, Spruance said, “Cadets, I’m presented with a rather unusual situation. Discipline matters are personal and private. Unfortunately, a large number of your classmates have made your disposition their business. So, I will give you the choice. I have made my decision. We can adjourn to my office where we will wrap this up in private, or if you wish, I can tell you right here and now and save some rumor control efforts later.”
They looked at each other. Sterling said, “We’d like to hear it now, sir.”
“Cadet Heather, is that the case for you as well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. My decision is final, Cadets. As of this moment, I am removing you from the regular flight rotation.”
Heather and Sterling looked devastated. There were gasps throughout the room and Spruance yelled, “At EASE Cadets.” Glaring at the assembled students, he waited for them to settle back down. “As I said, you are no longer in the regular flight rotation. Further, I am re-organizing the sophomore squadrons into two Flights. Cadet Sterling, you will take student command of Alpha Flight with first second, and third squadrons, Cadet Heather, you will take student command of Bravo Flight with fourth, fifth and sixth squadrons. Monday through Friday, you will fly in an adjunct instructor capacity subordinate to your regular instructors. You will not engage in dogfights with anyone except in an instructional capacity. You are forbidden to fly anywhere near each other during these flights. If I catch you violating this order or any safety regulation even slightly I will expel you immediately. And I WILL be watching. Closely.”
He paused again, watching the mixture of relief, confusion, and loss play across their features. Thinking to himself that they really did love to fly together, he decided to give them his little surprise. “Finally, each weekend day you are assigned an additional duty. You are to undertake one or two additional flights each day engaging each other in simulated combat to the maximum limits of your aircraft and yourselves.  You may include up to two other cadets in these flights, with the permission of your senior instructor. The Commandant has agreed to suspend safety and maneuvering regulations for this specific purpose, although you will obey range and location restrictions without fail. Post-flight, you will prepare a briefing to be given to your instructors and classmates each Monday on these flights focusing on any possible novel aspects of technology, maneuvering, tactics, etc. that may be of use to Starfleet.
“Finally, so that you all understand that pushing these birds past their limits has consequences and better understand what goes into making these marvelous toys work, I am extending your entire class’ duty day by one hour where you will report to the maintenance hangars as extra hands. You will be subordinate to any maintainer present. If they tell you to do something, no matter how menial you consider it, you will do it without question.
“Is all of this understood?”
There was a loud chorus of “Yes, SIR!” and a lot of smiles. Spruance thought to himself that they really hadn’t thought through how much more work he had just shoveled onto them, especially those two. Well, sometimes you just had to give a spirited horse more work to do to settle him down – as long as you also gave him the time to run free as well. He stood up, hearing Rugov order the cadets “On your FEET!” and walked out the door. The door had barely finished closing when he heard the cheer. Shaking his head and smiling, he returned to his office.
Heather pounced on Sterling, wrapping him up in a hug while their classmates surrounded them. Peggy Lynd wormed her way in and planted a big kiss on him as Mike Malloy said, “You two owe us.” and laughed. “We saved your asses and you just saddled us all with a ton of extra shit.”
Rugov reached his arm in and shook their hands. “Bullshit, Malloy. One team, one fight. And we’re gonna want a re-match with you two once you get caught up.”
Later, making their way back to the barracks, Heather asked Sterling, “I don’t suppose you’d like to share a bunk tonight?”
He blushed furiously and said nothing.
“Andy, it’s just sleep, not sex. Dosadi consider it a sign of a really special friendship to sleep together. I’m not trying to throw myself at you or anything.” She twitched her ears back, “Unlike SOME people.” she coughed, “Peggy.”
He laughed, but still said nothing.
Sighing, she said, “Guess not, again, huh?” They walked a few paces further on. “I don’t understand you though. You’re my closest friend here, we hang out all the time, we teach together, and there’s no one I’d rather fly with or against, but sometimes I wonder if you think I’m nasty or something.”
“What about Malloy?”
“Malloy?” she chuckled, “He’s a good friend. Definitely someone special.”
“Weren’t you two together last year?”
“That was just playing at being mates. He’s not right for me. We still sleep together sometimes.” Rolling her eyes she said, “JUST sleep. You know there’s a couple guys and girls that I sleep with – it’s just being close is all, not sexual.”
They kept walking. “Is it because I’m not human? Because I’m a half-breed?”
“WHAT? Jesus, Heather, no!”
“How come, then?”
There was a longer pause as they came up to the barracks. He tried to start several times and stopped. “I..I..I.” he took a breath while she looked at him puzzled. “Just c..c..can’t.”
“Are you stuttering? She asked. Stuttering was an automatic discharge for a pilot – such an impediment would be lethal in combat.
“No!” he said too loudly. He turned on his heel and slammed into the barracks, leaving her standing outside, confused, embarrassed, and hurt.

CHAPTER 3
I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.
– Mother Teresa – Earth (Human)
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
DECEMBER 2289
Fallon walked along by her mother through the muddy paths between the barracks, holding her hand and trying not to look at any of the Cardassian guards they saw. Finally they turned and entered one of the long buildings, closing the door behind them.
“Mommy, I’m so hungry.”
“Shhh. We all are child.” She led her daughter into the room where many other Oriaslings were already seated in a tight spiral, an old woman in the center, her eyes half closed, her expression one of placid tranquility.
“But Mommy, it’s Sarontime. There’s supposed to be lots of food and toys and…”
“Perhaps next year, little one. You must learn to see what is, not what you wish to be.”
“But WHY mommy?” they seated themselves at the end of the coil of people.
“Because the Cardassians have taken the food, Fallon.” As the little girl opened her mouth again, she continued, “Because they have guns and we do not. Because they are cruel, and we are not.”
“Why don’t we have guns, mommy?”
“That is not our way, Fallon. It is not for us to decide who lives and who dies – we cannot see all the consequences of such things. That is for God.”
“But if we had guns we could get our food back.”
“By killing? Fallon, all that live are merely facets of one being. Were we to take up guns and kill the Cardassians, we would only be killing parts of ourselves and we would suffer immeasurably more for doing so. You do not know what the future holds – what if one of the Cardassians would one day bring peace to all beings and you were to kill him? They too have loved ones and children. Would you bring pain and suffering to all those children simply because you are having a bad time right now? Be patient. Be at peace. Accept what is.”
Fallon struggled with the complex concept. Her mother said, “Shhh. Take my hand, join the spiral and be thankful to be part of all that lives and see the wonder of the world. Let sorrow and suffering wash over you like the river washes over the rocks.”
The old woman in the center began a very quiet, low, repetitive chant. Each person in turn joined in, the sound growing in a rumble as the group struggled to keep the volume low.

* * *
Legate Kai grimaced at the mud outside his office. “I detest having to deal with these cows. Can they not understand even simple instructions?”
The guard said, “Sorry, sir. We heard the sound as we were walking past Barracks 10. It’s pretty obviously their language, such as it is. It looks like some sort of ceremony from the window. We knew you would want to be informed.”
“When we return, fetch me one of them to clean this muck off my boots. Meanwhile, let’s go try to make it clear to them once again.”
A few minutes later, a trooper slammed the barracks door open and Kai looked in at the tightly packed room of chanting Oriaslings. Although a couple of children screamed, the rest only looked up in fear, continuing to chant. Disgusted he ordered “Put an end to this. Now.” and he stepped to the side as a squad of Cardassian troopers charged into the room and began clearing the spiral with boots and rifle butts.
Once they had finished he studied the bloody and bruised mass of Oriaslings. Finally he said, “You know the rules. You will speak only Cardassian. And assemblies such as these are strictly forbidden.”
Fallon, holding her hand on her bruised cheek said loudly, in Cardassian, “YOU’RE BAD!”
A trooper raised his rifle and Kai said, “Wait.” She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror at what she had done and he continued. “Well at least this one understands the rule. And seems to have some sort of spirit as well. Bring her to my office.” and he turned and left, ignoring the child’s shriek as she was snatched up. He kicked his boots off at the door and went in and sat down.
A few moments later the trooper brought Fallon, still struggling in his grasp. “What shall I do with her, sir?”
“Put her down, and hand her my boots and a cleaning kit.”
The trooper did so and at a dismissing wave from Kai, left the office. “What is your name?”
“Fallon.” she sniffed through her tears.
“Do you know how to clean boots, Fallon?”
“Yes.” she looked down, trying to stop crying.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You should be.” He studied her. “You will clean my boots now, Fallon. If you do a good job, I will give you extra food. Would you like that?”
She looked up, hopeful. “Yes.”
“You hate me don’t you?”
Her common sense told her to say no, but she was as honest as any of her race and instead said, “YES!”
“Would you kill me if you could?”
That gave her pause. She struggled with her innate desire to do something, anything to put an end to what she and her mother were suffering, but her peoples’ pacifist philosophy was telling her that such a thing was horribly wrong. “Maybe.” she finally admitted.
Kai laughed. “Well, that’s a first! I like you, Fallon. But, clean the boots now. I have work to do.” and he returned to his paperwork.

* * *
STARFLEET ACADEMY FLIGHT RANGE, TITAN, SOL SYSTEM
JANUARY 2290
Sterling activated his comm system “So, escape and evade or take another try at them? They’re going to figure out where we’re hiding pretty quick.”
“I think I got it – cut through the atmosphere further South and come up behind them. With our current vector they’ll expect us to come over the top, not the bottom.” Heather answered.
“We’re going to overheat at these speeds in this muck – I dunno if the airframe can handle the stress of ahhh, shit.” he pulled hard on the controls, tracking his Viper alongside Heather’s as she rolled into the turn, stress and temperature alarms sounding in her helmet.
A few minutes later, fighting the g-forces as she curved through another tight turn, she kicked her music on again.
Laughing was hard what with the forces buffeting his fighter, but he had to anyway. “What’s this one?!”
“Pipeline, by The Ventures” she grunted out. “I just found it yesterday. It’s awesome!” A few seconds later she called “Tally-Ho! 12 o’clock high.” and pulled back on the right side-stick, Sterling’s Viper glued to her port wing.

* * *
“Where the hell did they go, Ih-Tedda?”
“Down into Titan, Spruance. I told you, they’re insane.”
“I KNOW that, but how the hell did they flip that fast? I thought we finally had them. I’ve totally lost sensor track on them in that crap.”
“If they’re not dead from structural failure, they’ve gotta come out near the North pole – I’ve got lead.”
Spruance had a bad feeling about this. Pivoting his Starhawk around so he was, in effect, flying backwards he let the sensors play over Titan’s upper atmosphere. “Oh SHIT. Ih-Tedda, 6 o’clock low!!”
“What?! Break, break, break!!” Ih-Tedda’s Starhawk began radical thrust maneuvers designed to impart a nearly random set of delta-V changes while trying to bend her vector around, but Spruance was at least going to get a shot off. Getting a lock on one of the climbing Vipers he loosed a pair of simulated Dagger anti-fighter missiles and tried to make his own trajectory changes.
“Starhawk Flight, Range Control – Hawk 2 is a kill by Viper 2 – two phaser hits, aft and port engine. Return to base.”
Spruance slammed his fist on his own leg, “Mother FUCK.”
Sterling’s Viper rolled tightly to port and he routed shield power to his ECM system as he attempted to dodge the ‘missiles’ tracking on him, to no avail. “Viper Flight, Range Control – Viper 2 is a kill by Hawk 2 – two Dagger hits, cockpit and port wing. Return to base.” He sat still, the Viper continuing on its last vector. He honestly didn’t know what to do – it was the first time he’d ever been ‘killed’. It was a strange feeling.
Back at Starfleet Academy, money was already changing hands, with one of the more ‘enterprising’ cadets handling the bets.
Meanwhile, Heather’s Viper was groaning eerily as she tried to get an off-boresight track on Ih-Tedda’s Starhawk. But Ih-Tedda was having none of it, her ECM system in intermittent beam-mode and a constant stream of flare-pulses coming out of her engines, blinding Heather and her sensor systems. Even the home-on-jam mode wasn’t able to get a lock. The two fighters were maxing out their acceleration, thrusters firing in random bursts in order to confuse any direct-fire targeting. The Starhawk had slightly better acceleration than the Viper and was increasing the range as Ih-Tedda ran for the rings of Saturn.
Heather looked at the safety-overrides for her engines. Then she looked at the status board, a constellation of yellow and red lights winking at her. Her energy was almost gone – barely enough left for a phaser shot and then getting home. Snarling, she tried again to get the nose of her Viper to point at the other ship long enough to get a solid track.
Ih-Tedda was watching her track closely. “That’s it, little girl. Follow right along. You know you want me.” Her right index finger caressed the button on her stick and she held a straight course for a second to entice the younger pilot to stay on her current track as the simulated Dagger ejected from it’s rail without activating.
Heather focused on the targeting pipper which was now stabilizing on the blinding flashes of Ih-Tedda’s engine. Her Viper flashed over the tiny missile simulator without noticing it and she took a chance and fired on gut-instinct just as the weapons-lock alarm screamed its warning in her helmet. “Wha..?”
“Starhawk Flight, Range Control – Hawk 1 is a kill by Viper 1 – Two phaser hits, starboard engine, starboard wing. Return to base. Viper Flight, Viper 1 is a kill by Hawk 1 – Dagger on delayed-activation hit, starboard engine. Return to base.”
Hours later, Sterling and Heather were in coveralls listening to the Crew Chief on their Vipers listing off a litany of sins. “Exceeded 120% military thrust for more than 10 seconds. Special inspection required. Requires removal of both engines. Exceeded 100 gs. Special inspection required for all inertial dampeners. Requires removal of all ID’s. Frame stress exceeded Max-Q for more than 10 seconds. Re-torque required for all primary fasteners, NDI required for all frame welds. Skin temperature exceeded 2,000 K. Requires NDI for all hot-spots and torque-check for all fasteners.
“Jesus, Sirs, we’re basically going to have to tear these birds down and re-build them!”
“Sorry, Chief. That’s why we’re here to help though.” Sterling answered.
Heather grinned, “It was a hell of a fight though Chief. We couldn’t have done it with anyone else’s birds.”
He smiled back, “I know it was. I made some serious bank off of that. I won the straight bet on first kill and I won the pool on who killed who.”
“But we all ‘killed’ each other?”
“Yup. You pilots forget, we all watch y’all too. I know everyone’s favorite tricks. Anyway, it’s time to get dirty, sirs.”

* * *
A week later, bruised, dirty, and sore, they looked at the re-assembled Vipers with pride. Although not mechanics, they had done what they could to help with the extra work they had caused their ground crews. Heather groaned and tried to work the kinks out of her shoulder. “It’s a lot easier to fly them then it is to fix the damn things. And why am I the only one who can fit in half those spaces?! Don’t they design them to be fixed?”
Sterling laughed and started to rub her shoulders. “I’ve heard the mechanics say ‘The Viper is designed for maintenance! … And a lot of it!’”
She purred, her head lolling forward and laughed. “That’s funny.”
“I love hearing you purr. It’s like having a giant talking cat.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed again. “I’m kinda weird. I can purr when I want to. For real Dosadi, it’s involuntary. There are times I can’t help it, but I can start whenever I want.”
“I like it.” he dug his palms into a knot of muscle, wishing he could get over his phobia about being with a woman. He loved pretty much everything about Heather, but more than anything, flying with her. She had never again asked him to share her bunk, something he was both thankful for and worried about. What if she thought he didn’t like her? He wished he could explain to her – He had beaten his stutter almost entirely and managed to keep it hidden. If Starfleet found out, they’d not only ground him, they’d kick him out for falsifying his medical history. There was only that one situation that ever really caused him to stutter any more. He just had to figure out how to get over it. And before some hot dog like Malloy caught her eye.
Chief Petty Officer Brown, the crew chief, came in “Yo, sir. It’s done.” and he handed him a mid-sized bag.
“Brown, you are awesome. Barton paint that up?”
“The lady’s an artist, sir. I think you’ll like it.”
Heather looked over her shoulder, “What is it, Andy?”
He grinned at her. “A present.” He rummaged in the bag, getting a solid hold on whatever was inside. “Your helmet has been beat to shit, so…Well, Heather, you’re my angel, s..s..so…” he pulled the helmet out. Previously her helmet had been the standard dull grey with ‘HEATHER’ stenciled across the back and streaks of cockpit paint and chips across it. He pulled out a flat-black helmet with glossy white angel wings spreading across the sides and ‘HEATHER’ painted in calligraphy on the back and ‘ANGEL’ on the front.
Her jaw dropped open. “Andy! It’s gorgeous!” She reached her hand out and took her helmet, stroking her finger across the wings.
“It’s within regs too. I checked. We’re allowed to decorate our helmets as long as it’s inoffensive.”
“Speaking of which, sir.” Brown interrupted, waving a crewman into the hangar.
“Huh?” Sterling asked.
“Well, the rest of us just figured that the way the two of you fly and the way you beat our birds to hell…If she’s an angel…” He took another bag from the crewman. “Sir, you gotta be a demon.” He pulled out a glossy deep red helmet with horns painted above the brow and black bat wings flaring across the sides and ‘STERLING’ done in the same calligraphic style across the back and ‘DEMON’ across the front.
“Holy shit! It’s awesome!” he took the helmet from Brown. At another arm-wave from the NCO, the rest of the ground crew came in applauding, several of them carrying bottles of one sort or another.
Grinning broadly Brown said, “Sirs, we’d like to invite you to a little party we’re throwing in honor of your latest dog-fight as well as the one with Nova Flight. AND for being some of the only officers to get your hands dirty on your own time. Don’t worry – after the bets I won, I can afford it. Besides, between the two of you we’re producing the best trained class of mechanics the Academy has ever graduated and that deserves a little celebration.”
Several hours later, Sterling was sitting on a work table, finishing off another beer while Heather leaned  back into his legs. His guitar was lying on the table next to him, but both of them were sung out by now. They had both been the recipients of a lot of good-natured ribbing from their ground crew and were feeling quite pleased with life in general. Slightly drunk, he reached his hand down and rubbed along one of her ears. He thought to himself “If she asks me tonight, dammit, I’m gonna. I don’t have to talk. It’s just lying there sleeping.”
She cocked her head back, looking up at him. He had such a pretty smile. He had called her his angel – was that an invitation? She knew about angels from Grammie Heather. Maybe he did like her more than as just regular friends. She was sure he liked girls, not boys – he sure hadn’t flinched away when Peggy kissed him, back when they almost got kicked out. She wished she didn’t look like some sort of mutant cat-woman thing, neither human nor Dosadi. Maybe if she looked more like Peggy. They locked eyes for a moment.
The moment passed. He blushed and looked back up at one of the maintainers who was giving a spirited account of the damage Sterling had done to his bird trying to dodge the Daggers that Spruance had fired. She sighed mentally and looked away.

CHAPTER 4
Mere life is not a victory, mere death is not a defeat.
– Klingon Proverb
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
FEBRUARY 2290
Legate Kai looked down at little Fallon, cleaning his various bits of gear. The little creature definitely had more spirit than the rest of her breed. Perhaps that was why he kept her here instead of working in the fields or factories like the rest of them. “So. Have you decided yet if you will kill me or not?”
She was more used to this verbal sparring now. It was making her Cardassian a lot better. “Not yet. I’d need a gun anyway.”
He laughed. “One day I may give you one just to see what you do. There is potential in you, Fallon. You are more than the others are. Smarter. Better.”
She knew she shouldn’t take pride in compliments, but…to a child, praise is very influential. To a starving child, praise from the source of food even more so. She blushed.
He opened a drawer, took out a ration tray and slid it across to her. “I thought today, you would eat with me, instead of going back to your barracks.” He smiled. He knew she shared her extra rations with the others in her barracks, especially those who were too ill to work and therefore received no food rations at all.
She swallowed. She looked at the tray of vegetables and fruits. The Oriaslings were herbivores both by dentition and by philosophy, and there was more than usual. “I’m supposed to eat with the others.” He wasn’t supposed to know she shared her food. It wasn’t allowed. There were so many things that weren’t allowed.
“Just this once it’ll be OK. You deserve it, Fallon. I promised that if you did a good job, I’d give you extra food, didn’t I? Come and enjoy it, they’re very fresh.”
Her mouth watered and her stomach growled. “It’s OK, Fallon. You work hard – harder than so many others. And you’re better at doing what we ask than anyone else. Here – try this one.” he handed her a green fruit that looked like an apple; Her favorite.
Hesitatingly, she took it, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded, taking a bite of one himself, the aroma of the fruit filling the room. A short while later, she realized with horror that she had eaten it all. For the first time in months, she wasn’t hungry. But, she had nothing left to take back with her. Her lips and fingers were stained with the juices of the various foods.
Kai wiped his own lips with a napkin. “There now, isn’t that better?”  He smiled. “You may go now, Fallon. I will see you tomorrow at the usual time. I think I will teach you how to file papers for me.”
She stood up, wondering what she would say to the others, to her mother…Perhaps if she asked him for more; He was being so nice today.
While the child hesitated, he said in a stern voice. “It is time to return to your barracks, Fallon. I have other work to do.”
She turned and left the office, trying not to cry. She stumbled her way back to her barracks, dreading every step. She opened the door and walked in, seeing people look up in anticipation of the extra food she always brought with her. Today, all they saw was empty hands.
Her mother asked, “Fallon? Didn’t you get extra rations today?”
She thought about lying, she could say she didn’t she could…no, that would only make it worse. She looked at several of the people lying sick in their bunks. They hadn’t eaten at all today. She was a monster. As bad as the Cardassians. She had food and ate it all herself instead of sharing it with people who needed it. She collapsed on the floor crying in gasping hiccups.
“Fallon! What is the matter?!” Her mother tried for some time to get the hysterical child to tell her what was wrong. Finally the little girl managed to gasp out in between sobs,
“Mommy! I’m horrible! He gave me food lots of food I ate it all! I was so hungry I didn’t mean to he told me to he said it was OK he said I should I’m so sorry!!”
Her mother held her close, “Shhhh, child. Stop staying such things. You are not horrible. He is an evil person and he tells lies. You made a small mistake, that is all. There is no harm done. Shhhhh…”
“They’re so hungry and I ate their food!!!” she wailed.
“Yes, child, you did. Because that is what he wanted you to do. He wants to make you like him. Cold, and evil, and full of hate and pride. He will tell you lies and tell you that it is OK to do shameful things. But Fallon, there is no shame in making such a mistake unless you repeat it. You learn from mistakes, they are the world’s way of making us better. Stop your crying. No one blames you.”
After a few minutes in her mother’s lap, she sniffled, “They don’t?”
“Look around you and see for yourself. We are not like them. You are not like them. You are better than that.”
Fallon looked at the people on their sick beds. Despite the aching hunger in their bellies, there was no hate nor blame in their eyes. “I’m so sorry!” she said again, more tears welling up in her eyes.
“There will be more tomorrow, Fallon.” an old man said, “Who among us might not have made that same mistake in your place? It will be all right.”
Curling up in her mother’s lap, she resolved to never again listen to Kai’s lies. She would be stronger than him. She would be better than him.

* * *
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
FEBRUARY 2290
The last few weeks had seen Heather and Peggy sparring more than usual over Sterling’s time and attention. Technically, Peggy was in a subordinate position to Heather as she was the Squadron Leader for 4th Squadron under Heather’s leadership as Bravo Flight Leader; She kept her sniping just inside of open insubordination. But she would often request extra tutoring or extra flight training specifically from Sterling, and that wasn’t something Heather could order her not to do.
Whenever the two of them sat down to chow, Peggy made sure that she was also there and sat as close to Sterling as possible, laughing at his jokes and snugging her dark red uniform jacket a little tighter, or ‘accidentally’ brushing a leg against his. Heather was finding it exasperating. Although he gave no sign, so was Sterling.
They were sitting in the cafeteria, lingering over the remains of dinner and he was hoping to have a few minutes alone with Heather to talk about some ideas he had for a large flight-on-flight dogfight and how to make it work so they didn’t violate the Captain’s rule about not flying near each other. Instead, Peggy was trying to be flirty. That was one of Heather’s traits that he really enjoyed – she didn’t flirt. She could be fun, or funny, or serious, or infuriating, but she didn’t play stupid games.
Peggy, beautiful, popular, flirty, and too smart for her own good reminded him entirely too much of the one serious girlfriend he had ever had. The first, last, and only, for that matter. A shiver went up his back and out of long habit, he clamped his mouth shut to block any stuttering.
For her part, Peggy was completely baffled. She had no difficulty with men – ever. At bars, guys lined up to buy her a drink. She could always tell which ones wanted a dumb blond and which ones wanted some actual conversation for the price of a drink. She didn’t sleep around – far from it – but she liked the attention. Occasionally there would be a guy who was worth the risk of sleeping with, but not often.  Andy was one of the ones who was clearly worth the risk of getting caught and gigged for a regulation breach. But he completely ignored every ‘Go!’ sign she threw at him. She knew he liked girls – he had a very sensual kiss when she had planted one on him a few months back. She had caught him eying her chest; maybe. Well, she was pretty sure. Why was he spending so much time with Heather? She hadn’t gotten anywhere throwing herself at him, that’s for sure, and she didn’t have anywhere near Peggy’s ‘assets.’
Peggy studied Heather out of the corner of her eye. She was tiny, and furry, and had weird animal ears. Definitely nowhere near enough ‘endowment’ upstairs. Her face was more cat than person. What did he see in her? Was it just that she flew as well as he did? That didn’t make any sense. She flipped her blond hair back over her ear and considered it some more, smiling at him and give him her best ‘smoldering’ look.
He quickly looked down at his tray. After a moment, he stood up, picked his tray up and said, “G..gotta go.” and turned around and left.
Peggy watched him leave. “Well! That was weird.”
Frustrated, Heather snapped out, “Are you kidding? Why don’t you just lie down on the table and say ‘Take me! Take me now!’”
Her voice ice-cold Peggy said, “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh come off it. He’s not interested in you. Stop trying to rape him for all the gods’ sakes!” her voice was getting louder as weeks of frustration and irritation were finding an outlet.
“How would you know what he’s interested in, bitch?” She snapped back, her voice going up to match Heather’s. They were starting to attract attention across the cafeteria, most of the other cadets looking uncomfortable.
One junior, well known as a complete waste of DNA, said to his friends, “Gonna be a real cat-fight.” and laughed at his own joke.
The senior sitting across from him just said, “Shut up, dipshit.”
“Maybe because I’m actually his friend! Maybe because I actually talk to him like a person instead of like a piece of meat!”
“You have no idea what you’re saying. You’re just someone he flies with! You wanna know why he keeps turning you down?” She was shouting now,  “You’re not even human! You’re just some…thing! You were made in a lab!” And realizing that she had gone too far, she took a half step back from the table.
Heather was stunned. Her emotions warred between the need to beat her senseless, a deep hurt at what Peggy – who had been a good friend – had said, fear that what she said was true, and utter humiliation that all this was happening in the middle of the cafeteria. The two of them were glaring at each other when Mike Malloy came up.
“Peggy, that was way outta line.” He turned to Heather, “Heather…” but she was already turning on her heel and walking out of the cafeteria as quickly as she could without looking like she was running. He watched her go. “What the fuck, Lynd!”
“What? She asked for it.”
Two other pilots, the leaders of 1st and 2nd Squadron came over. Inga Von Beck sat down and said, “Peggy, have a seat.”
“I don’t feel like….”
The other pilot a broad-shouldered Finn, Paavo Puurunen said a bit more forcefully, “She wasn’t asking, Lynd. It’s long past time we all had a talk.”
She sat down, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. Talk.”
Malloy looked at the other two pilots, then back to Peggy. “Peggy, that was the most hideous thing I think I’ve ever heard one person say to another. Especially someone who’s been your friend and nothing but nice to you.”
She turned her head and studied the wall.
“What’s he to you, anyway?”
There was a long pause. “He’s a friend. I’d like him to be more.”
Paavo said, “I don’t think he wants to be more. And why this big play for Sterling? Get tired of all the other pretty boys?”
She turned and glared at him, “I do not sleep around.”
Inga held her hand up, stopping Paavo’s response, “No one said you did.” She was at least as pretty as Peggy, but quite a bit less outgoing; Unless she chose to be, which wasn’t often. “Peggy, you can have your pick of any guy you run across. You weren’t this interested in Sterling last year – so why are you pushing so hard to get him interested?” She waited for an answer. “It’s because he isn’t interested, isn’t it?”
Peggy glared at her. “I do not think so.”
“I do.” Inga responded. Malloy raised an eyebrow and she continued, “It drives you nuts doesn’t it? He’s paying all this attention to another woman, one you don’t think is as pretty as you, and so you start questioning how pretty you really are, so you want to prove that you can catch his eye.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Paavo said, “On target, Von Beck.” and Peggy scowled at him.
“It’s made you fucking ugly Peggy.” Inga said quietly. She studied her fellow pilot. “And you know what? I’d always heard that you can be the most physically beautiful person on Earth and still be truly ugly. I never believed it until now. And I really don’t think I want anything to do with someone that ugly.” she stood up and left.
Paavo stood and said, “Lynd, like she said, you can have anyone to any degree you choose. Heather’s unique and different enough that there aren’t that many people who are willing to be close to her, much less emotionally close. I think I’m with Inga. Until you decide to rejoin the human race, fuck off.” He flipped Peggy the bird and followed Inga out.
Stung, she snapped at Malloy, “Well?”
He studied her for a few moments and shook his head sadly. Without saying a word he pushed his chair back, stood up and walked out of the cafeteria as well, leaving her sitting alone. She stayed there for quite some time trying to convince herself that she was right and everyone else was wrong.

* * *
Heather was still curled into a ball on her bunk where she had been for several hours. She had long since cried herself out. There was no one here who knew her culture – not that she really had a culture. She had a weird mix of human and Dosadi cultures. She always thought she prided herself on being able to fit easily in both, but she knew she really didn’t fit in either. She didn’t smell right to Dosadi boys, human boys thought she looked like an animal. None of the boys on Dosad thought she was pretty; Her fur was a weird color and spotted and her ears were a funny shape. The only people who ever said she was pretty were her family, and that doesn’t count. They said things like that just to make you feel good, not because it was true. Girls on Dosad thought there was something wrong with her and steered clear, while girls on Earth simply excluded her when they weren’t stabbing her in the back.
She’d had a few close friends on Dosad, and here on Earth and played at being mates a few times, but nothing ever worked out. They always left for someone more like themselves; she was just a practice run. She thought she had finally figured it out here at the Academy. There were plenty of aliens, so she wasn’t the only different one. Her classmates seemed to really like and respect her and then she had met Mike Malloy and she really felt like she had found a home. They both figured out pretty quickly that they weren’t meant to be mates – but he was one of her closest friends ever. He could make her feel pretty even while he teased her about looking like a cat. She wished he were here right now, so she could hold him and not feel so completely alone.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. What was wrong with her? No, she thought, what was right with her? After all, what would someone like Andy ever see in someone like her? They were the best flying team ever, she was sure. If he loved flying with her half as much as she loved flying with him, that was something at least. She thought he did. He liked her. He had to – she looked up at her helmet, hanging on the wall like a display. It was supposed to be down in the LSE (Life Support Equipment) locker, but she always ‘forgot’ to check it in. The word ANGEL looked back at her.
Maybe he did see her as an angel. A mythical thing. Not real. Definitely not human. Not Dosadi either. Just…a thing. She curled back up again.
It was midnight when there was a soft knock on her door. She thought about ignoring it, but after a few moments, the rap-rap-rap came again. A real knock, not the usual door chime. Wiping her eyes she called out, “Come.”
The door cycled open and standing there was Peggy Lynd. “Wait! Please, don’t say anything. I want to apologize. May I come in, please?” Heather couldn’t decide what to do. “Please?”
Not trusting her voice, she nodded. She knew she looked like a disaster – she had been crying for hours and her nose had been running.
Peggy took a couple steps into the room and sat down on the floor, looking straight down. “Heather, I’m really, truly, completely sorry for what I said to you.” She looked up and Heather realized she had been crying as well. “I was horrible, and I would take it back if I could. I didn’t mean to hurt you…No, scratch that. I meant to hurt you, and I did hurt you, and I’m sorry.” She looked down again. “I’m jealous. I didn’t know it, but some people set me straight. I didn’t even know what a total bitch I was being to you for a long time.”
Heather blinked in surprise, unable to speak.
“I’m insecure.” she laughed a little, “Did you know that? I didn’t.”
“What?”
Peggy sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Paavo and Inga told me. Well, they told me that was the reason I was chasing Andy.” She looked up, “I’m so sorry, Heather. I’ll stop. I’m really not that person.” She took out her PADD. “I found something for you. It’s an old song, and it’s really sad, so I think you’ll like it. I don’t think there’s anything else out there by this person, but the title fits you. I’ll just leave it.” She stood up and backed the two steps towards the door. As it cycled open she said, “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I understand if you don’t.” And she left, the door ‘swoosh’-ing closed.
Heather stared at the door for a long time before glancing down at the floor. Peggy had left her PADD. That simply wasn’t done – your PADD held all your contacts, your messages, your files, it tied you in to the main computer, it was vital to day to day life. And she had left it on the floor. Unlocked.
She reached down and picked it up. There was a song keyed up with the title ‘“COURAGE KNOWS NO BOUNDS”  – Heather Alexander.’She  tapped it into life and a guitar strummed softly:
1 I looked across the battlefield,
Blood seeping from my wounds-
My comrades, they did never yield,
For courage knows no bounds-
And yet, I thought as I stood there,
Of all that it had cost-
For what we gained, it seemed not fair ,
For all that we had lost-

They spoke of honour, faith and pride,
defending for our home-
Through honour all my friends have died,
their faith left me alone-
We fought for greed, we fought for fame,
we killed too much to tell-
The devil and God were both the same,
we worshiped only Hell-

We fought it seemed for a thousand years,
a million nights and days-
Sharing one laugh with a hundred tears,
seeing clearly through a haze-
Then came that day I know not when,
beneath a blood red sun,
A-top a pile of dying men,
they said that we had won-

Another tract of land is all
the territory gained-
Will that ever pay for all
the lives here lost or maimed?
Bodies lying all around,
blood bathing them in red,
Their white eyes staring at the sun,
these, the countless dead?

I looked across the battlefield,
blood seeping from my wounds-
My comrades, they did never yield,
for courage knows no bounds-

She held the PADD for a long time after that, playing the song twice more before transferring it onto her own. She touched the lock, closing off access to Peggy’s PADD and set it on her bureau. Lying back down on her bed, she fell asleep looking at the word ANGEL on her flight helmet.

* * *
The next morning, Heather made her way to the cafeteria a little later than normal. She hadn’t slept all that well. Picking up a light breakfast, she looked across the room and saw Peggy sitting alone at an empty table – the only table with just one person sitting at it, in fact. Normally there was never an empty seat by her. She paused a moment and then walked over to her table. “May I sit with you?”
Peggy looked up and smiled hopefully, “Yes, please do!”
Heather sat down and pulled out Peggy’s PADD. She slid it across the table to the other woman. “Thank you.”
Peggy reached for the device and Heather put her hand on top of hers. Peggy looked up at her. Heather said “It’s OK.” and smiled.
“Are you sure, Heather? I mean…” she left the rest unsaid.
“I’m sure.” she squeezed Peggy’s hand. “And I love the song.”
Peggy laughed with relief, “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I was trying to find something you didn’t have and I saw the name and the singer’s name and it just seemed so perfect – I’d never heard you play one like it so I was pretty sure you didn’t have it.”
“I didn’t.” She let go of her hand and picked up a fork.
Across the cafeteria, Inga and Paavo were watching the exchange and wondering what was being said. Paavo said, “Huh. How the hell did that happen so fast?”
Inga watched for a moment longer, “Lynd’s not stupid. I think she listened to us better than I thought she had.” Seeing Sterling coming across the cafeteria she continued, “Oh shit. Here’s the acid test.”
He paused for a step, sighed, and continued on to Peggy and Heather’s table. Accepting the inevitable, he sat next to Peggy. “Good morning!”
Peggy looked at him and said, “Good morning. Sorry if I’ve been a bitch lately, Andy. Anyway, I have to go. See ya!” And she stood up, grabbed her tray and left.
At their table, Paavo chuckled, “I will be dipped in dogshit.”
Sterling said to Heather, “What was that all about?”
“We kinda got into it yesterday, but it’s OK now.”
“You did? What about?”
“Girl stuff.” she smiled at him, “None of your business, nosy.”
“Oookkaaaay….Anyway, I’ve got some ideas for some training – this is the first chance I’ve had to talk with you alone…”

CHAPTER 5
“Seize the time… Live now. Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.”
– CPT Jean-Luc Picard, USS Enterprise (Human)
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
MARCH 2290
Admiral Angie Stone sat in Captain Spruance’s office early Friday morning. “I’m glad you could see me on such short notice, Captain. I really hadn’t expected to be back on Earth quite yet – something of a happy coincidence, really.”
“Always a pleasure, Admiral. What can I help you with?”
“There’s a cadet I’d like to steal for a weekend pass, if I could.”
He cocked his head, “What for, if I may ask?”
“I’m an old friend of the family and I wanted to check on her progress and take her to visit some family at the same time. Really, nothing more than a pleasure cruise if you will, so I completely understand if this isn’t possible, or even advisable.”
“Well, we’ve just finished mid-term exams, so I could probably spare one cadet for a weekend. Who is it?” He tapped at his desktop, prepared to bring up student records.
“I believe she enlisted under the name Heather Wilkes She’s…”
“Oh. That one.” he interrupted, lowering his hands to his lap.
She stopped, mid-sentence. “That’s not a good sign, Captain.”
He laughed, “No, no – not like that. But let me just say I’m thrilled that she is the only one of her family to attend here.”
“Well, her father was in my class – in fact, he was the Goat that year.”
“Yes, I looked at his records. Causing problems seems to run in the family, but she’s closer to the top of her class than the bottom. A lot closer.”
“She’s been causing trouble? That’s not like the young woman that I know.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral, I’m not being clear. The problems she causes are due to her exuberance, energy, and irrepressibility, especially when flying with another of our cadets. I had to take steps.”
“Steps?” she interrupted, “Romantic involvement? You and I both know that’s as common as PT here, Captain.”
He laughed again, “Yes, shocking, isn’t it? Take a group of adventurous, highly fit, highly motivated, highly intelligent young men and women, put them together in close conditions and under high stress and they tend to hook up with each other. Who could predict such a thing?”
“And of course neither of US ever did such a thing during our days here…” Stone smiled.
“No, never.” he winked, “In any case, no, to the best of my knowledge the two are not romantically involved – which I’m actually rather surprised about as they are always together and there was an…a near incident in the cafeteria with another female cadet recently over the boy in question.”
“So what is the issue?”
“When the two of them fly together, it is as though they are two halves of the same being. They are nearly impossible to defeat and as nearly impossible to restrain. Safety, regulations, orders – it is as though they occupy some other universe when they are in the cockpit. The Commandant and I had to issue special orders to deal with the situation.”
“Special orders?”
“Yes, the two of them are student commanders of a 3-squadron flight each and are forbidden to fly anywhere near each other during the week and required to fly against each other without limits on the weekends.”
She laughed, “Oh my. I’d bet Risk Management had a collective coronary over that one.”
“More than one. But it was either that or kick them both out and I don’t want to lose that caliber of student for that sort of reason. Since we yoked them with student command, they’ve been exemplary cadets and outstanding leaders and trainers.”
“So then I may take her with me?”
“I’ll tell you what. Take them both. I’ve loaded them both heavily with extra duties; They’re capable of handling it, but a break would be good for them, keep them sharp.”
“Both? Who is the other cadet?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to force him on you – I offer him to you if you wish to have him along. He is Cadet Andrew Sterling, cadet leader of Alpha Flight, while she commands Bravo Flight.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that, Captain – at least as far as dinner tonight is concerned. I’d like to meet this young man.”

* * *
A few minutes later, Stone was standing at the PT field, watching the formation of cadets come double-timing back from a run. She waited patiently while the formation leader ran them through stretches and cool-down exercises, taking a moment to collar one of the assistants. The assistant in turn, spoke in the leader’s ear as he was finishing up the morning’s PT. He glanced over at the Admiral and called the group to order:
“Company…Attention!” He glanced over his formation, “Assemble to the right…MARCH!” When they had completed this movement he continued, “With the exception of Cadets Sterling and Heather, fall out to personal hygiene and chow. Company…FALL OUT!”
“Cadets Sterling and Heather! Report to Admiral Stone! Group…FALL OUT!”
The two double-timed over to the Admiral, Sterling wondering what they had screwed up now.
He sounded off loud and strong, “Cadets Sterling and Heather reporting as ordered, Ma’am!”
“Relax, cadet. Hello, Heather.”
“Hello Aunt Angie…er…Admiral.”
He looked over at Heather, “AUNT…” and shut up.
Stone grinned and said, “Cadets, I have managed to spring you both for a 48 hour pass starting after final formation. So, you will report to me at CQ in civilian attire appropriate for a nice dinner at 1800 hrs. Now, go get cleaned up and get to the day’s training. Fall out!”
They both saluted and double-timed off to the barracks.
When they got there, several of their squadron mates were anxiously waiting to question them, “What’s up? Who was that? What’d you guys do NOW?!”
Sterling said, “AUNT ANGIE?!”
Heather said, “She’s not really my Aunt, that’s just the closest word for what we call it on Dosad. She’s a really close friend of my father’s and I’ve known her since I was little.”
Several voices clamored for attention, “She’s your aunt? What’d she want? How come she’s here?”
Sterling shook his head, “We scored a 48 hour pass!”
“What?! No way – Take us with you! Loafers!”
“Suck it!” he laughed and headed in to the showers.

* * *
Later that evening they were sitting at a private table at The Franciscan, with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge while they waited for their dinners to arrive. “Heather, you never told me you were related to an Admiral!”
“I never told anyone. Not even Malloy.”
Stone sipped her wine, content to simply listen.
“How come?”
“I didn’t want people thinking I thought I was only there because she pulled strings, or that I figured I could get away with things because I had pull. I just wanted to be me.”
Stone spoke, “So I’m guessing she didn’t tell you about the other…oddities in her family either?”
“Others?”
“Aunt Angie…”
“I’m not sure how many will mean anything to you…Do you know who her father is?”
“No?”
“Have you heard of Captain Thomas Wilkes?”
“I don’t think so. What ship?”
“No ship – he’s an Engineer, but he’s also a spy.”
“He is NOT!” Heather protested.
“A spy? Are you serious?” he asked.
“Very. And Heather, dear, if he’s not a spy, how do you explain your Uncle Jons?”
Sterling, more puzzled than ever asked, “Uncle Jons?”
“He’s not really my Uncle, that’s just…”
“Yeah, I get it. Who is he?”
Stone chuckled, “He’s the head of Hydran Intelligence, but he spent the better part of 5 decades stealing information from the Federation, Klingons, Romulans, and God alone knows who else.”
“Your father’s a spy?”
“No!”
“Shall I tell him about Cousin Ceena?” Stone asked, taking another sip of her wine.
“She’s not…” Heather tried to explain.
“Yeah, I get it, I get it. Who is she? The President of Vulcan or something?”
Stone laughed, “No, she married Jons’ son Tir. They’re Xeno-biologists. If you study the field at all you will have have heard of some of their work in comparative mitochondrial DNA in photo-genetic cells across the Alpha Quadrant. They’re also, as part of House Jons, fabulously wealthy.
Hmmm. Have you heard from your brother Corin, lately?”
“Not for a couple of months. Why?” she asked.
“He’s now a tactical officer aboard the ISS Tarak. That’s a Raider-class vessel, Sterling.”
“Aren’t those pirates?” he asked.
“More like Special Forces. They have a very annoying tendency to show up where they’re least expected and least wanted. Very fast, very heavily armed, and cloaked. The fact that they dress like pirates when off-duty does not help their image any.”
“Jesus, Heather!”
“Perhaps you should hope she doesn’t take after her mother.” She winked at Heather, who glared back at her.
“Why?”
“Have you studied the battle at Airdrie yet?”
“Airdrie? No?”
“Oh that’s right, that’s third year Fleet Tactics. Well, when you get to that seminar, you’ll view some tapes of infantry combat on a Gorn battlestation.  Pay particular attention to the Dosadi Marine who will be discussed. Usually a Starfleet Security officer presents that briefing.”
“You’re mom’s a Marine?”
“A rather famous one, at that…” Stone supplied.
“Heather, is your whole family like that?!”
“No, no” Stone grinned again. “Her brother Rollin and his mate are nice, quiet, farmers here on Earth. And her sister Nollos is something of a bard back on Dosad– but she’s becoming pretty well known.”
“Aunt Angie, that’s enough!”
Stone laughed again, the musical sound attracting admiring glances from a number of men in the restaurant. “I’m sorry Heather, it’s an old Earth tradition for relatives to embarrass their younger relations in front of their friends. And you’re my favorite niece, so you get picked on!”
“I’m almost your only niece!”
Stone stuck her tongue out at Heather who responded in kind. Sterling thought that was the first and very probably the last time he would see an admiral stick their tongue out.
She continued, “Well, Heather, this Sunday is Easter and I was planning on dragging you to your grandparents so that you could attend services with them.” Heather squealed like a little girl and Stone added, “Sterling, I’m sure you’d be welcome there, it’s in Leyburn, North Yorkshire, England; From what I’ve heard about your flying, I’d like to get to know you a little bit better as well. I like to keep my eye out for potential assets for upcoming operations, but this is an invitation, not an order. You’ve got the free time to do with as you please, as long as you’re back before first formation Monday morning.”
He thought for all of a second and a half, “I’d love to come if I’m welcome. My family lives in Ft. William, maybe I could sneak up there for a couple of hours too.”
“Or longer – as I said, your time is your own this weekend.” She thought to herself, and I’ll get to study the two of you together as well.
“Probably not longer. They…Well, they were never happy with my decision to join Starfleet.” He looked down, “They’re xenophobes. They don’t even like people who don’t speak English.”
Heather looked stricken. Stone covered for her, “What about Standard?”
“They speak Standard when they have to, but they don’t like it. I’m pretty ashamed of them, actually. But…”
“We can’t pick our relatives, Sterling.” She glanced at Heather and thought, “Well, except in one case…” The waiter interrupted their conversation, bringing salads and wine.

* * *
NORTH YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND, EARTH
MARCH 2290
The vet let loose of the sheep’s leg, watching the ewe keep the weight off it, the early morning fog adding a dampness to everything. “You know, Wilkes, whenever you call me out here, I never know if I’m going to be treating one of your animals or young Rollin here.”
The elder Rollin chuckled while the Dosadi said, “Ah, I’m fairly sure that none o’ the rest o’ yer patients talk. An ye’d be afraid of what they’d say if they could!” By now his English had lost much of the usual Dosadi accent and was instead picking up a Yorkshire brogue.
Dr. April laughed and said, “A point for you then, lad. It looks like footrot is all. I’ll get you a spray from the lorry and make sure you keep their hooves trimmed, right? And we’ll set up a walk-through tray for them as well to keep it from spreading.”
There was a squeal from the roadway and the three men turned to see Heather sprinting towards them. She jumped in the air and wrapped her arms and legs around the big Yorkshireman, much to his discomfort, while her brother and the veterinarian chuckled.
“Lass! Di’ ye run awa’ from t’Academy, now?”
Squeezing him tight she said, “No, Grandpa! Aunt Angie got us a pass!”
Her brother said, “Us?” looking at the tall young man standing slightly behind Admiral Stone. In his civilian clothes he looked like he had walked off of a mens’ fashion runway.
Before Heather could let loose of her grandfather and introduce them, Sterling held his hand out to Rollin, introducing himself, “Cadet Andy Sterling. I’m pleased to meet you.”
Rollin rubbed his hand down his coveralls and took Sterling’s hand with a firm shake. “I’m Rollin, Heather’s oldah brother.” Sterling was surprised to see that he was marked quite a bit more like a full Dosadi, though his face and ears were closer in shape to Heather’s.
She snorted “By all of 5 minutes.”
At 5′, Rollin was not tall by human standards but he was half a foot taller than Heather. “Still oldah.” He messed up the fur between her ears.
She ducked away from his hand and said, “This is my Grandpa Wilkes.”
Sterling shook his hand, trying not to wince at the powerful squeeze. The big man was not quite glaring at him. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” He was proud that he kept his voice steady and resisted the urge to check for fractures when he got his hand back. He wasn’t used to having to look up at people, but Rollin Wilkes was several inches taller and looked like he could carry a small car without difficulty.
The vet smiled and said, “I’m Dr. April, lad. Always glad to meet a friend of the Wilkes’ clan, they’ve added some much needed fresh air to Leyburn!”
Rollin stifled a grin and said, “Grandfather, I’ll take them up t’house if you’re OK t’finish up here?”
“Aye.”
A few minutes later the four of them trooped into the house, Rollin calling out, “Grandmother! We’ve go’ guests!”
Mrs. Heather Wilkes came out of her kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishrag and caught sight of her granddaughter. “Heather!” and they ran to each other, embracing immediately.
Rollin turned to Sterling. “I’ll save ye some confusion. My grandfather and I are both named Rollin, an’ my sister an’ grandmother are both named Heather.”
Sterling shook his head, “I’ll stick with Mr and Mrs Wilkes then.”
“Aye, tha’s wise.” he grinned at the taller human who smiled back.

* * *
Early that evening, Sterling leaned back and groaned. “I think I’ve eaten so much I’m going to die. That was the best food I’ve ever eaten.”
Grandmother Wilkes smiled, “Flatterer. Ye saved room for desser’ now? I won’t be sendin’ ye t’services hungry!”
“My parents will be thrilled that I’m going to Easter Services, Mrs Wilkes. I had no idea that Heather’s family were Church of England like my parents are.”
She said, “Tis t’faith tha’ matters, nae t’building.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The family spent the rest of the time before services in pleasant conversation as any re-united family would. By the time services were over and they had returned to the house, everyone was very ready to head to bed. While they were going through the front door, Sterling found his path blocked by Mr. Wilkes’ imposing bulk.
He turned and looked down at him. “Lad,”
“Sir?”
“There will be nah funny business under my roof t’night.”
“No, SIR!”
He studied Sterling for a moment in the light of the porch lamp, finally nodding and turning to go inside.
Andy hesitated for a second wondering if it would be safer to sleep in the barn, then followed him in. He wondered if he was going to have to deal with her brother as well.
Fortunately, the Dosadi look at such things in a very different light than humans do and their only encounter was a friendly wave from Rollin and his mate as they headed off to their room. He went in to  the room Mrs. Wilkes had set up for him and looked around.  He thought this must have been Heather’s father’s room. Pictures of  the same man from a young age up to what must have been secondary school, lots of books on every subject under the sun and a couple of models of ancient aircraft.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and began undressing. He realized that he felt very at home with these people. More than his real home, in fact. The easy mixing of so many different types of people at the Wilkes’ table, the friendly acceptance, all combined to put him at his ease. As long as he kept clear of any ‘funny business’, he grinned to himself. Obviously they had jumped to the conclusion that he was ‘involved’ with their granddaughter. And just as obviously wouldn’t stand idly by while someone hurt her. Or behaved improperly towards her for that matter.
He thought about how much he had learned about Heather in the past 24 hours and it shocked him. He thought he knew her from flying with her, from studying with her, from leading other cadets with her. What he knew was who she was in the world of Starfleet; Now he was filling in a lot of blanks about who she was outside of duty and that seemed to make her considerably more…complete. Which didn’t help his problem at all. He liked these people – a lot.
Now he wanted to be ‘involved’ with her even more, and the more he wanted that, the more terrified he became that the same thing would happen. He couldn’t stand that again. The shame, the humiliation, the jokes, the laughter, and he just couldn’t risk it. She’d find out he was a stutterer for sure then. He’d be grounded, kicked out, and probably arrested for falsifying his enlistment papers.
But she wasn’t like Kristie. He hadn’t thought Kristie was like that either though, he argued with himself. Miserable, wishing more than anything he could be holding Heather right that moment, he lied back on the big old bed, hearing the springs squeak. He sighed heavily. A few moments later he heard soft footsteps outside his door and he held his breath. No one else in the house was that light. Maybe…
He didn’t know what to hope for.
Outside his door, Heather paused. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts she thought she looked normal enough. Well, she couldn’t hide her legs. They were clearly not human. But still, maybe he’d want to share a bed tonight. She raised her hand to knock, but stopped short. No, she decided, that wouldn’t be fair. He was a guest. He might feel obligated to do whatever she asked, not because he wanted to. Human guesting traditions were complex.
She lowered her arm again, sagging her shoulders and walked back to her room, padding along on nearly silent bare feet.
Sterling realized he had been holding his breath. Maybe it was for the best, he decided. Sharing a bed with her would almost certainly qualify as ‘funny business’ and he really wanted to keep all his limbs attached to the rest of his body.
CHAPTER 6
“You have only always to do what is right. It will become easier by practice, and you enjoy in the midst of your trials the pleasure of an approving conscience.”
– GEN Robert E Lee, Earth (Human)
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
MARCH 2290
Legate Kai watched the little girl organizing the data files in their holders. “You’ve learned very quickly Fallon. I’m pleased enough that I won’t even punish you for continuing to share your rations with those who do no work and so deserve no food.”
She paused, frightened, then continued on trying to pretend that she wasn’t afraid of the monster. She needed to be brave, to do what he told her to. People depended upon her. They needed her. She was strong! But when there was a knock at the door, she jumped and almost dropped the data rod she was holding.
“COME!” Kai bellowed. The door opened and a green Orion male came into the room, “Legate, we have loaded up your shipment and are ready to leave.”
“Excellent, Dejan. Perhaps you can help us find a market for something new.”
The Free Trader smiled, “One can always look for new markets. What are the goods?” He watched the little girl working quietly and looked back to Kai.
“I’m not entirely sure – We’ve got a planet full of these clever little animals; nearly half a billion! We need to make room for a Cardassian colony and as you know, this world is very resource poor. They’re simply in the way. I’m thinking they could be sold as household servants, or perhaps there may be a market for the hides. Their markings are interesting.”
Dejan Lilac was horrified, but he was a veteran of many, many negotiations and showed no sign. “Animals? I thought they talked? Aren’t they sentient?” He was an occasional slaver, but selling sentient beings’ skins went beyond even his morals. There were standards when keeping and selling slaves. What he had seen on Orias III had sickened him.
Kai laughed. “No, no, don’t be silly. They’ve mastered a few phrases and a few tricks. It takes a lot of training with traditional techniques to get them to do the simplest tasks. But once trained, they are quite reliable. But they are so small, perhaps they wouldn’t be of any use in any heavy labor. Still, they could be used as research animals, household servants, or perhaps as game animals for those species who enjoy the hunt!”
Keeping his expression carefully neutral he said, “There could be considerable profit in the right markets, but it will take some time to find and develop those markets.” He gestured at Fallon, who had frozen in place. “Perhaps you would let me take this one as a sample?” The level of monstrosity he was seeing was unlike anything he had encountered on many barbaric worlds. The use of living creatures for research had gone out of style across the known galaxy centuries ago and deliberately starving any living being was unspeakable.
Kai shook his head, “No, I finally have this one trained enough to be of some use, I’ll not part with her. Pick one of the others – but I expect to be paid in full once a price is established.”
Lilac bowed his head, “Of course, Legate. I wouldn’t jeopardize my relationship with such a valued trading partner for such a small amount. Especially not with so much potential profit awaiting me!”
“Good. I will see you in what, three months?”
“That is my next scheduled run this direction, Legate. I may shift that date as I shop my sample around.”
“That’s fine. Safe travels, Dejan.”
The Orion left the office and tried to think what to do. A younger adult female Oriasling was shuffling past, walking towards the further barracks, obviously tired and worn down. Gesturing, he ordered two of his crew “That one. Take her to the ship and put her in the slave holds.”
Back inside the office, Fallon was trying hard not to pee herself. What she had heard today went beyond any nightmare she had ever had, even after all that had happened to her recently. For a brief moment she thought she heard her mother scream her name, but that was silly. Her mother was back in their barracks. She looked at Kai, her black eyes wide, “We’re not animals!”
He laughed, “Of course you are, Fallon. You think you’re people? What a charming belief!”
“We are!”
“And why do you think that?”
“We can talk and think and we’ve got hands and…We just ARE!”
Shaking his head and with a sad expression Kai said, “No Fallon, there is more to being ‘people’ than being able to talk. There are many animals across the galaxy that can talk and learn tricks like you have, but they’re not ‘people’.
“Look, you have no weapons, no ships, no machines, nothing that marks you as different from an animal.”
“We have houses!”
“Fallon, even clorats build little wooden houses in the water, and they have a language of their own as well. That’s what those little chittering sounds are, you know.”
“But…But…we…we build things and we have tools!”
“So do the clorats, They build great dams and they use flat pieces of wood as barges to haul mud. They build more things than you do.”
She was confused. She knew they were people. But what made them people? How did you tell? “Well, we don’t go around killing things just because.”
Kai clapped, “Exactly, Fallon! Animals don’t do that. PEOPLE do that. We kill to conquer, we kill to take what we need or want, we kill to ensure the safety of our species. We kill to gain food. We kill for a thousand different reasons. Animals like you don’t, they simply accept whatever happens to them as unchangeable.”
She struggled not to cry. She wasn’t an animal. She wasn’t.
“Oh, Fallon, it’s OK. You’ve become my favorite pet, I didn’t mean to upset you. Here, take some extra rations back with you and share them out as a reward for being so good today. I give you permission.”
She would be strong. She would be brave. She would take the monster’s food and get away with it. Carefully, she picked up the ration tray and politely said, “Thank you, sir.” And left as quickly as she could, trotting back to the barracks as fast as possible.
Pushing the door open with her backside, she proudly displayed the extra rations, “Mommy! I got even more food for everyone! And he’s going to sell us! Or kill us! Or something!”
An older woman took the rations and began distributing them.
“Where’s Mommy?”
“She hasn’t come back yet, child. She went to Barracks 1 to help with the ill.”
“Kai said we’re animals, Gor.” She explained Kai’s argument to the old woman.
“He is a sick being, child. He has things completely backwards. Animals kill without thinking – much as the Cardassians do. They kill simply because they can and because they want to. We are more deserving of the title ‘people’ than they – ‘people’ are moral animals, Fallon. We have the ability to know what is right and what is wrong, and to act accordingly. Animals react on instinct, doing only that which gains them rewards and avoiding that which causes them pain.
“A very long time ago, our people decided that all of the shiny things that the Cardassians think makes them people were only making us evil. They allowed us to kill and destroy and hurt without thought, without conscience. We nearly destroyed all life on this planet, so we turned away from all of that and dedicated our lives to living – to being part of the living world, to living morally. We do as little harm as possible, understanding that having the ability to do a thing does not mean that we should do a thing. We are moral. We are people because we choose to be moral.
“Do you understand, Fallon?”
“I think so, Gor. But he is going to sell us! Or kill us for our skins! Or I don’t even remember, it’s horrible!”
The old woman sat down next to the child. “Yes, it is horrible, Fallon. And I know you want to stop it somehow, because you are a kind and compassionate and moral person. But only God knows the consequences of all actions. Were you to do what is in your heart – somehow kill all of those who are hurting us…” Seeing Fallon’s guilty expression she said, “Child, it is OK to have those feelings. Were you an animal, you would act on them. Because you are not an animal, because you are not evil, you will do the right thing and endure. But were you to somehow magically kill all the Cardassians, what would happen? You do not know. Your pain would stop, but how much pain would you cause others? How much horror would cascade from your actions, with the best of intentions? You cannot know.
“Even if you were to somehow be granted the power to kill them all and return us to our homes, I would not want you to bear that burden.”
“What if an angel came down and drove them all away?”
“Fallon, there is no such thing as angels. But were that to happen, we would accept it as we do the suffering the Cardassians have brought to us. It is life, Fallon and it is what we make of it.”
“There aren’t supposed to be monsters either, Gor, but there are. The Cardassians are monsters.”
The old woman looked at the little girl. “Don’t make them into something more than they are, Fallon. They are evil people, but that is all that they are.”
Another Oriasling came into the barracks. “Fallon, you must be strong.”
“I am strong! Wait. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
The man knelt down and took hold of her shoulders. “The green-skinned man has taken your mother away in his ship.”
She blinked. She struggled not to scream. Part of her mind simply blew a fuse and shut down and she said coldly, “Then she will have food.” The seven year-old stood up and went to make sure that her extra rations had gone to those who needed it most while the two adults stared after her, shocked.

* * *
FEDERATION EMBASSY TO THE ORION FREE TRADERS, ALPHA QUADRANT
MARCH, 2290
Dejan Lilac was frustrated and getting angry. “You do not understand what it is that I have seen.”
“You’ve made it quite plain. The Cardassians have some animals penned up in bad conditions and you dislike it.” the bureaucrat said.
“These are not animals! They are sentient beings! You’ve talked with her! What test do you need to perform so that you open your piggish eyes and see?”
“There is no need to be rude. What I consider this being is of no consequence. They are on a Cardassian planet in Cardassian space. The matter is strictly internal. Besides, I have no proof of what you’ve said – just the word of a…” the pudgy little man paused and smirked, “Free Trader. Would you have the Federation go to war because your delicate sensibilities have been upset?”
Lilac stood up. “You are a pig and you are a fool. I will find someone else who will listen to sense and do what must be done. Surely somewhere in the Federation is a man. They cannot all be pigs.” He spat on the desk and left, taking Fallon’s mother in tow.
After he left, the pudgy man unclenched his jaw and quickly encoded a message on his PADD. He Keyed it for a sub-space burst transmission to piggy-back with the Embassy’s usual traffic where it wouldn’t be noticed by the regular staff.

* * *
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
MARCH, 2290
“Come!” Captain Spruance bellowed. The door cycled open and two cadets stepped inside.
“Cadets Sterling and Heather reporting as ordered, sir!” Andy sang out.
“Have a seat, cadets.” After they did so, he smiled, “I’d like to congratulate you both. It’s been over three months since your last safety violation!”
Both cadets blushed and shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.
He laughed, “I’d also like to point out that you’ve set a record for Academy flight hours both individually and as a class for this last quarter. You have also achieved one of the highest class GPAs in Academy history for that same quarter. That speaks well of your leadership.”
“Thank you, sir!” Sterling said.
“No need for thanks. Those are cold, hard facts. But I do have something you can thank me for.”
“Sir?”
“There is an actual mission that needs to be flown.”
“Combat?” Heather interrupted excitedly.
Spruance laughed, “No. And don’t interrupt, cadet. We have an F-Class shuttlecraft loaded up with some new, highly valuable and very delicate research equipment to be delivered to the Vulcan Science Academy on short notice. I’ve selected you two to pilot it. Flown cautiously, the trip should take you about four days each way. You’ll deliver the gear, spend one full day on Vulcan for rest and recovery, and then return.”
“Sir! That’s awesome!” Heather said excitedly.
Always the thinker, Sterling said, “Sir, what about our Flights?”
“This will be a perfect chance to see how they do without you. If you’ve done your jobs well, no one should even notice you’re gone. Who’s next in line for your slots?”
Sterling said, “Inga Von Beck.”
Heather contributed “Mike Malloy.”
“They’re both more than capable. Pack your gear, cadets. Pre-flight is at 1300 with take-off immediately following. We’ll see you in nine days.”
They both stood, and with broad smiles, saluted and left the office smartly.

CHAPTER 7
“You don’t develop courage by being happy in your relationships everyday. You develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.”
– Epicurus, Earth (Human)
FEDERATION SHUTTLECRAFT CONRAD, EN ROUTE TO VULCAN
MARCH, 2290
Heather yawned and looked over at Sterling. “They never mention that missions can be mind-numbingly boring.”
He laughed, “Yeah, and with only two of us, it’s watch-on-watch. That’s getting a little old after two days. But hey, we’re getting the job done, right? And it’s a real mission, not just another practice flight.”
“Oh come on, we’re safer in this placid little shuttlecraft flying in the middle of Federation space then we would be flying a dog-fight profile in the Training Range. Titan got pretty crazy.”
“I’m fine with things not being crazy for once!” he grinned and gestured at the main panel. “Why look, not a single alarm or warning ligh…” As he waved his hand two lights started blinking.
“What the hell?” she asked with a giggle.
He swiveled his chair and began typing at the main computer interface. “Gotta be from that system up ahead…” he scanned the readouts. “Nothing there. Just a Class-L planet. Dunno why the…Wait a second. Check course, will you?”
She worked for a few moments. “Delta-V 3 degrees port. Something’s not right.”
“Systems check – I’m correcting.”
“Working…Green board…Andy, watch your course, Delta-V 4 degrees sub-port.”
“She’s not responding. You sure we’re getting thrust?”
“Yeah, fuel consumption, thrust indicator, inertial, everything says we’re thrusting.”
The little shuttle roared as Andy doubled his attempt to correct for the deviation.
Heather sang out, “Got it! Gravimetric anomaly, port side, low, coming fast, Andy break, break, break!” But a tubby shuttlecraft is not a nimble, over-powered fighter. “Andy! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” There was a loud bang and the little ship spun in circles and Andy struggled to bring her back under control.
“Fuck me!” he said, “I need thrusters, now!”
“Nothing there – port nacelle’s off-line.” A grating alarm sounded and she continued “Fire, port nacelle! Activating the fire bottle.” and she yanked a handle on the overhead panel.
After a few seconds, Andy managed to get the shuttlecraft under control again, “Mayday, mayday mayday, shuttlecraft Conrad is declaring an emergency.”
Heather said, “Negative comms, Andy – whatever that was took everything on the hull off. We’ve lost main sensors, comms, and the gods only know how much of the port nacelle. Negative effect on the fire bottle – still getting fire warning.”
“I’m losing it, Heather, I need you on yaw and roll, I got pitch and thrust.”
“Wilco.”
“We need to set down before we fall apart.”
“There isn’t any place to set down. That’s Class-L, the atmosphere’s barely breathable.” As she said that, there was a high-pitched whistle and she called out, “Hull breach! Port side aft!”
“Jesus! What the hell hit us? Can you get to it?”
She looked at the status display now covered in red and yellow lights. “Negative – it’s under the deck plating.” Glancing back towards where the hole had to be, she shouted, “Shit! It’s spread from the nacelle – Fire in the cabin!” She spat in frustration and turned back to the controls, watching the planet grow in the view ports.
“Upping the thrust. We’re outta time, Heather. Barely breathable beats vacuum every time. Close the shutters, we’re gonna have to do this on instruments, we got no shields.”
“I’m getting shit for readings. Something’s screwing up all the returns.”
“Peachy. What else can go wrong?”
She laughed, “You asked – Primary inertial dampener failing.”
“Fuck!” but despite the emergency, he grinned at her.
The shuttlecraft was screaming down through the planet’s atmosphere, bucking wildly as the two pilots attempted to steer some sort of course despite her failing systems and the smoke beginning to fill the cabin.
Heather called out, “Primary’s gone – secondary ID failing. If we lose that we’ve got about 30 seconds on the emergency ID and then we’re smeared on the walls. Andy you gotta get us down.”
“WHERE?! There’s nothing there!”
The little ship continued to lose altitude “I got it – got a solid read 330 mark 350. Dammit!” she hissed as the ship barrel-rolled, both of them slamming around in their seats due to the failing inertial dampeners. “That was me, sorry!”
“Got it, got it yaw left, more, more…bring it back!”
“Secondary’s gone – SHIT! Pitch up we’re gonna…” there was another loud bang and the shuttle tumbled and ricocheted off a pile of rock, shedding chunks of hull and what was left of the port nacelle.
Andy opened his eyes, blinking to try to clear the spots from his vision. He was hanging from the straps in the right seat, so that meant the ship must have come to rest on her left side. There was the pinging sound of cooling metal, the stench of burning duranium and burning plastics. He looked down towards the left seat and saw that the impacts had crushed in the left side of the Conrad by several inches. Heather was hanging limply, her head against the side of the hull and blood beginning to run down the side. The fire was spreading towards her and the smoke was making it hard to see.
He grabbed a hand-hold on what had been the door frame and punched the quick-release on his harness. Bracing on the seat, he pushed the button to open the door, but nothing happened. Shaking his head he popped the emergency panel and pulled the handle out, flinching as the door blew open. The extra air-flow caused the fire to intensify and rain began pouring in the opening. Feeling it tingle on his skin he said, “What the fuck? Acid rain?
“Christ, what else can…” he left the rest unsaid as he dropped down to the crushed hull. The fire had started to singe Heather’s fur and it stank. He unstrapped her, easily lifting her 80 lbs while trying to ignore the growing fire curling up around his legs. He tried to lift her out of the door, but the angle was wrong and she was limp, dead weight. “Heather! Heather, you gotta wake up, I can’t reach.” His voice was going up in pitch as the pain in his legs increased. He stepped up on the broken seat, scrambling to get away from the heat. “Heather!” He tried again to get her out the door, managing to get her head out the opening. That finally got a groan.
“Dammit Heather! WAKE UP CADET!! GET YOUR ASS OUT THAT DOOR! MOVE CADET!!!” He put her rear end on his head and tried to launch her out of the shuttlecraft and she weakly pulled at the door frame, managing to get half-way out and then falling the rest of the way to the ground with a thud. Andy wasted no time getting back up to his seat. He banged open a compartment and grabbed a survival pack as various pieces of the research equipment began to cook off with bangs and hisses.
Dropping to the ground next to her, he pulled the pack on and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “We gotta get the hell away from here, this thing is gonna blow.” Despite the burns to his legs, he started double-timing through the acid rain looking for some sort of shelter, coughing and trying to get enough air in his lungs from the crap this planet called atmosphere.
The sky overhead was a forbidding purplish with streaks of red occasionally illuminated with white flashes as lightning struck the ground or jumped from cloud to cloud. The wind whipped the rain nearly sideways and thunder rumbled as he ran, drowning out the sounds of his coughs. Deciding he was far enough from the wreck of the Conrad, he slowed to a walk, trying to catch his breath. The oxygen level was obviously low and there were significant amounts of sulfur, ammonia and methane in the air; Not enough to be lethal, just enough to suck the energy out of you and make it stink. Running while carrying Heather’s limp body and the heavy survival pack was a becoming a no-go. Wryly, he thought that he would never complain about a PT run again.
He stopped and looked around. About 50 m to his left there was a large pile of rocks that looked promising and he walked towards it. Squinting, his eyes watering from the acidic rain and his skin feeling like it was covered in steel wool, he tried to find some sort of shelter. A lightning bolt cracked overhead and illuminated a dark space; If nothing else it would get them out of this damn rain. He walked in and said, “Thank GOD. It’s about time we caught a break.” It wasn’t just a void under a few rocks it was an honest-to-god cave and big enough he could set up the shelter. Barely.
He set Heather down gently, taking a moment to smooth the fur on the side of her head, trailing his fingers down her neck and checking her pulse. It was strong and she wasn’t bleeding too badly. Head wounds always looked horrible. Anyway, the shelter had a filter, she’d be able to breath better in there and then he could treat her injuries with the med-kit. There was a crashing, tearing sound, louder than the thunder and punctuated with several smaller bangs. The Conrad had exploded. He wondered if the Emergency Locator Beacon had survived it. If it hadn’t, they were pretty well screwed.
Coughing again, he stripped off the survival pack and began setting up the shelter that made up much of the weight. There was supposed to be one pack per person, but there hadn’t been time enough to grab any others.  He remembered how boring the survival classes had been at first. And then how nightmarish it had gotten when they moved from the classroom into the field. One cadet had died, several others had sworn that if they ever had to repeat that training, they’d quit first. That training paid off now though, he thought to himself as he quickly set up the shelter and made sure the cave wasn’t in any danger of collapsing or dropping large heavy objects on them. It would be just their luck to find the damn planet was tectonically unstable as well.
He pulled Heather into the shelter and sealed the door. You could fit two people inside a survival shelter, but you had better be good friends. Taking the med-kit out of the pack, he began checking her for injuries. The scanner indicated a minor skull fracture, a few minor lacerations, lots of contusions, and a pair of broken ribs with some partial-thickness burns along her left arm and leg. He sprayed some clotting agent on the head wound and hesitated. There was an elastic bandage he could use for her ribs, but to do it right, he’d have to take her uniform jacket and shirt off.
This was a survival situation. She was injured. There were cuts on her torso as well. She needed aid. This wasn’t sexual, this was different. He couldn’t exactly take it off, he’d have to cut it off. He sighed, took out the trauma shears and started cutting. The heavy red fabric of the double-breasted jacket wasn’t easy to cut, but it would come off without aggravating her injuries. When he had her upper body exposed, he used the clot spray on the cuts, trying to focus on the task at hand rather then her breasts. He’d fantasized about what they looked like often enough, but this was not how he’d imagined seeing them. Finally he began wrapping the bandage around her ribs, gently sliding his hands under her back when he had to pass the elastic from one side to the other. He snugged it tight and she gasped at the pressure, her eyes slowly opening.
He continued to work on her for the few minutes it took her to regain her bearings. Taking out the burn-spray He covered the burns on her arm with the analgesic new-skin and looked down at her legs. The uniform trousers had melted and were pressing into the wounds. They weren’t bad enough to cut them off, so he shrugged and began undoing the fasteners. She had been watching him silently and finally spoke, her voice weak and quiet,
“I see how it is.” She hissed as he bumped a burn, “I can’t get you to share a bed with me, but as soon as you get me alone, you tear my clothes off.” she smiled weakly.
Blushing he pulled the burned trousers down her legs which were shaped much like a cat’s. It was harder than he thought and he fumbled several times as he tried like hell to not drag her panties off as well. “What the hell?” he thought to himself, “I did not expect pale pink panties.” For a moment he wondered how panties would work with her short tail. Then he swallowed in a throat that had gone dry and focused intensely on getting the trousers down without hitting the burns.
“You’re hurt, Heather. It’s OK though, it’s not bad.”
She didn’t say anything as he finished stripping her pants off and she felt the cool, soothing spray cover the burns on her leg. Finishing his treatment, he sat back and looked for any other injuries to his patient. Unfortunately, what he saw was not an anonymous patient in the combat life-saver course, but a young, female, half-Dosadi that he was very much in love with lying almost naked in front of him. He swallowed again and took a deep breath.
Heather stayed silent. He was blushing and obviously struggling with something in his mind. Nudity was no big deal to Dosadi, but it mattered to humans, a lot, for some reason. Maybe he thought she was ugly, or weird, or nasty or…
“I..I..I..I…” he stopped, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “I..I..T..t…t..think.” He gritted his teeth. A few moments of silence passed. “All fixed.” he finally said quickly, and then opened his eyes.
“You’re hurt too, Andy.” She sat up slowly, her legs tucked half under herself, groaning at the aches and pains. It was quite cool in the shelter, but he was sweating. She reached over and took the scanner from his hand.  She rested one hand on his thigh and moved the instrument over him, watching the readings. “There’s a lot of burns on your calves and shins, Andy.”
He nodded.
She looked him in the eye and reached for the fasteners on his trousers. She saw panic rise and he said, “No! I…I…I.” he stopped and breathed again, “Can.” She cocked her head to the side and nodded. Was he afraid of her? He didn’t look like he thought she was nasty; why would he be afraid?
He quickly shucked his pants off, gritting his teeth as the fabric scratched across the blisters on his calves. Smiling at him, she tucked her finger under the collar of his top, “This too, fly-boy.” He sighed and stripped it off. There were a number of abrasions and bruises from the shuttle’s harness and she treated those first, working her way down. “You’re going to have to lie down so I can get at the burns.”
There wasn’t a lot of room in the shelter, so he stretched himself out, trying to keep his lower legs off the floor. At least the boots had protected his feet. She trailed one finger down his upper leg as she sprayed the new-skin on the burns. There were shivers running up his back from the extra contact. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was panicking. Had she noticed the stutter? How could she have missed it! She hadn’t said anything though. Had she noticed that there was absolutely nothing happening where it should be? God DAMN he hated himself right now. She was going to laugh, and call him gay. Everyone would know he was useless. He had to do something – get away, but there was no place to go.
Heather shifted around so she was sitting with her legs folded along his. She looked down at him and extended one claw a little bit and gently traced a line up from his navel to his chest. “Andy?”
“W..w..wh..wh..what?”
“Do you think I’m gross, or just a thing or…”
He interrupted, “NO!”
She put her palm flat on his chest and looked up at him, puzzlement all over her furry face. “Then what’s wrong with me? Why don’t you…I mean…I know I’m not human, but…”
He was struggling to speak. Finally through his worsening stutter he got out “Not you. Me.”
She laid her much smaller torso on his and thought that the rock floor would be softer. She put her chin on her hand and asked, “What do you mean?”
His hands balled into fists, he fought with his stutter to try to explain and finally in his frustration he said “I’m so sorry. Stupid stutter. I’m so screwed.”
Smiling, she said, “I don’t care. I love your voice. You can take as long as you want to say whatever. That’s why I like to sing with you so much. And you’re not screwed. I’m not telling anyone.” She laughed, “Why would I want to lose the best flying partner ever? And my best friend.”
Still stuttering he asked, “You really don’t mind?”
“Nope.” She met his eyes and smiled.
It took a long time, Heather curled up on his chest, watching him with a slight smile, giving no sign that his stuttering bothered her in the slightest. He finally got the story out. “I’ve stuttered my whole life. My folks keep to themselves and I was home schooled until almost the end of Secondary School. I had almost completely stopped stuttering – It only hit me when I was really nervous or embarrassed. No one really knew I stuttered. I’ve always wanted to fly fighters and I knew I had to keep it hidden, Starfleet would never let me fly if they knew.
“My Junior year, I fell in love with a girl, Kristie. Man, I thought she was just everything wonderful in the world. Beautiful, popular, smart – and she liked me! We fooled around a lot and well, we finally got to where we were going to have sex. I’d never done anything before, but she had – she used to tease me about being a virgin, but it was good-natured. Well I thought it was, anyway. She didn’t even know I stuttered.
Well, we started…we started, you know.  And. Nothing.”
“Nothing?” she asked, “She changed her mind?”
“No. I didn’t. I mean, I couldn’t. It didn’t work.”
“Didn’t work?”
He sighed, still working through his speech troubles. “I’m impotent.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I’m useless. Not even a man at all. Go ahead and laugh. She did.”
“Why would I laugh? If she did, she’s a bitch. She really laughed at you?” Heather started running her finger along his shoulder and collar bone, still resting her chin on her fist.
“Christ yes. She thought it was the funniest thing ever. Then I started stuttering really badly. And she just laughed more like it was the most hysterical thing ever. It just kept getting worse.” He closed his eyes, his stutter worsening. “She said I was probably gay, and even if I was it wouldn’t matter because I was a limp-dick loser. She like, imitated my stutter, just said some really horrible things. She got really mad and finally left.”
“Wow.”
“It got worse.”
“How could it get any worse? That’s horrible!”
“She told everyone I was impotent. I suppose I should be thankful she didn’t mention the stuttering. I think she thought I was insulting her because I couldn’t get it up.”
“I think she’s a bitch and I’m glad she was a bitch.”
“Why are you glad?”
“It sucks she hurt you, but I’m glad you aren’t with her. I’d rather you were with me.”
“But Heather, I’m…I’m useless, you know?”
She stopped herself from laughing, “Useless? Andy, you’re the best fighter pilot in the Federation. You’re an awesome singer. You’re my best friend. You’re as far from useless as you can get.”
“I meant when it comes to being a man.”
“Andy, that’s not what makes a man. That’s just a thing you can do, it has nothing to do with who you are. That no more makes you a man than being able to…I dunno, do the splits or something would make you a man. Honor and courage and loyalty and love and faith are what makes a man.
“You walked into a fire to save me. Then you carried me I don’t know how far and took care of my injuries and got me shelter. Andy, that makes you a man. Whether your dick gets hard or not is less than nothing.”
“Kristie sure thought it was a lot more than nothing.”
“She doesn’t count, doofus.” She reached her free hand up and caressed his face. “I wouldn’t care if it worked or not. Besides, how do you know it doesn’t work?”
“Huh? It didn’t…”
For once she interrupted his stuttering. “Andy, it malfunctioned one time with one stupid bitch. Have you ever tried again?”
“No. Girls make me stutter when anything like that starts happening at all.”
“Hmmm.” She smiled a wicked little smile. “So who cares about stuttering?”
“Umm. Pretty much everyone. Especially Starfleet?”
“I don’t. Can I see?”
“You’ll just laugh.”
“No I won’t, Andy. I really, honestly don’t care if it works or not. I care about you trusting me. Has it ever worked?”
He laughed, a short, frustrated, barking laugh, “It works fine when I’m alone. That sort of makes it worse.” He looked down at her, “And Heather, I trust you with my life every single time we fly. I trust you with my future, I trust you with everything that matters to me.”
She grinned, “Then trust me with this, all right?” She started kissing and nibbling her way down his chest, sliding her body down his, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of his regulation Starfleet boxers, she paused and looked at him. “Uniform right down to the undies, huh?”
He laughed, “Well at least mine aren’t pink!”
She licked her lips, “I dunno, pink might look good on you…” She smoothly pulled his shorts off, carefully avoiding his burns as much as possible. Looking between his legs she said, “THAT surely looks good on you. Hmm. I know what else would look good on you.” She slipped her panties off and he noticed that there was a small Velcro tab that held the waistband over her short little tail.
“What?”
She grinned, showing her fangs, “Me.” She straddled his hips and flattened herself on his chest, snuggling down onto him.
“Heather, I’m so sorry, I wish it would…”
Again she interrupted his stutter, “Hush. I told you I don’t care. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to just be close to you like this?”
He could feel the warmth of her pressing on him, the firm pressure of her breasts below his chest, the flat solidity of her belly, and the silken heat between her legs and he desperately wanted to get hard. More than anything in the world he prayed for an erection and the more desperately he wished, the more nothing happened.
Laying her cheek on his chest she started purring. “Tell me about what you were like before you came to the Academy. I want to hear how you learned how to fly and I want to learn about you.” she paused and looked up at him, “I mean if you want to tell me. I…” she looked back down, “Andy, I really love you. I go nuts whenever you’re around me, wanting to hold you, or touch you or. GODS, you have no idea how much I wanted to be like this with you. Just holding you and smelling you and touching you and…Do you like me?”
“Heather, more than anyone, ever. I like your family too. Well, your grandfather scares me.”
She laughed again and laid her cheek back down on his chest. “Grandpa’s a big softie.”
“Yeah, right. He almost crushed my hand and pretty much let me know my body would never be found if there were “ he slipped into a Yorkshire accent, “T’be any funny business under mah roof, lad!”
She giggled, “He did not!”
“Well not in so many words, but damn, he’s huge!”
Snuggling into him again she said, “Please tell me about you, Andy.”
And so he began to talk about himself. His xenophobic parents, their disgust at his joining Starfleet and the growing estrangement between them. He talked about being home schooled and the heavy religious indoctrination they had attempted. He talked about finally going to a public school and learning to fly a plane. He told her about his friends and all the stories people accumulate growing up human.
She just listened, occasionally shifting her position on top of him, purring softly as he talked. While he was telling her about his first solo, one hand lightly stroking her back his other hand ‘flying’ she wiggled her hips a bit more and interrupted, him. “Andy?”
“Huh?”
“You’re really a virgin?” One’s sexual status was fairly insignificant to the Dosadi, but she knew it was a huge deal to humans. The continuing double-standard for human males and females still confused her, but she knew that most human males saw their virginity as a stigma.
“Yeah, kinda pathetic huh? A 20 year old virgin.”
She tilted her face up, watching his eyes with a smug expression. “Not for very much longer, I think.” She pushed herself downwards and his eyes opened wide.
“Oh” was all he could manage as she enveloped him, slowly taking him into her body. “Oh shit.”
“Mmmmmmm.” She moved her hands up to his shoulders as his hands gripped her hips. “That’s much nicer.” She kissed the broad muscles of his chest, slowly moving her hips in a circle, squeezing and relaxing as she moved.
“Oh no, Heather, Shit!” his back arched and she felt him surge within her, a warm wetness spreading in her belly as he climaxed, his eyes closed and his lips pulled back in a snarl.
She giggled and ground down on him more, “Oh yes, Andy…Definitely yes.” She continued to gently squeeze him while he gasped until he finally sagged underneath her, seeing spots in the thin, filtered air of the shelter.
“I’m so sorry, Heather!”
She lay back down on him, leaning up and nuzzling his neck. “For what, you naughty little rabbit? That was delicious!”
“But it was so soon!”
“So what? And hmmm. I guess you’re not so useless after all, huh? And let me just say I’m awfully glad such a nice “ she wiggled and squeezed him again, “piece of equipment seems to be fully functional.”
He hadn’t let go of her hips. “I didn’t last very long, though.”
“I don’t think you’re quite done yet, Andy.” She raised up slightly and lowered herself down again, he groaned loudly and she continued “Definitely not.” She sat up, her hands flat on his chest, still holding him within herself. “Did you notice something?”
“Jesus, I noticed EVERYTHING!” he laughed.
“Maybe not everything.” She smiled and continued her motion.
Not particularly caring, he moved his hands up and cupped her breasts, his eyes drinking in every inch of her. “What did I miss?”
She extended her claws slightly, gripping his chest, “Mmmmmmm. You haven’t been stuttering for some time.”
He stopped moving, his expression shocked. “Holy shit.”
She laughed again and began moving with more urgency. “Gods, Andy you smell so good, this just feels so fucking right.” She growled at him, moving faster, her hands squeezing tighter.
He was shocked – he wasn’t a virgin any more. She hadn’t laughed at him, Jesus, he was having sex right now! She was incredible, everything he had ever wanted in a woman and more. He watched her moving on him, her mouth open and her eyes just slits, her ears forward. She was going faster and he was starting to wonder if she was going to puncture one of his lungs as her claws sank in.
But he wasn’t going to last much longer, the feelings were more intense than anything he had ever imagined, not just the physical sensations, but everything he felt towards her becoming stronger and sweeter. He tried to warn her “Heather…I’m”
Her hands gripped him harder and he felt a frantic squeeze. She hissed at him “Wait!”
It wasn’t a request – he was shocked by the heat behind the demand; it was enough to take the edge off. A few seconds later she arched her back, her head dropped down and she drove herself onto him, grinding and hissing out “yessssss!” The satiny heat enveloping him began rippling up and down the length of him and he lost it.
Grabbing her hips he drove himself into her as hard as he could and gurgled out “FUCK!” while he exploded inside her.
Finally she sagged onto him, panting and purring loudly. Utterly spent he felt himself soften and slip out of her while he tried to catch his breath. After a few moments, she nuzzled her cheek onto his chest and whispered, “Naughty little rabbit, aren’t you?”
He laughed weakly. “I’m fine with that.”
Heather looked up at him, her eyelids drooping slightly, “That has never happened to me before. I’m not even sure it’s supposed to.”
“You’ve never climaxed before??”
“No. Dosadi don’t really do that – we’ll, only after they’ve taken a mate and been together for a while, I guess. That’s what my mom told me anyway.”
Sterling’s brain was starting to work again. “Oh crap. Heather, um. You’re on the shot, right?”
“No, why? Aren’t you?”
“No. I never thought I’d need it.”
She laughed, “We’re probably the only two cadets at the whole Academy who aren’t.”
“I’m so sorry, Heather.”
She rolled onto her back next to him. “Why?”
“What if I got you pregnant?”
She licked her lips and gave him a very satisfied smile. “Mmmmm. So what if you did?”
He raised up on one elbow, “Heather! They’d kick us out! You wouldn’t be able to fly pregnant!”
“We’d get suspended while I was pregnant, doofus. There are waivers for that. We’d have to repeat the year is all.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Andy, “ she reached her hand up and stroked his face, “ if I had to pick between having your kit or a career in Starfleet, I’d take your kit any day.”
His jaw sagged open. She was stretched out, looking up at him, and he thought he had never seen a woman so desirable in his life. And likely never would again. “You’re serious?”
She stretched, an exotic, erotic action in a half-human/half-Dosadi, “Now’s your chance, stud.”
That’s not an invitation most human males are able to resist, and Sterling was no different. He pounced, pinning her to the floor of the shelter and took her with a fierce passion.
Several hours later, sweat soaked, exhausted, and completely, sinfully satisfied he was lying on his back while she was cuddled next to him, her head on his shoulder, trying hard not to bang her broken ribs around any more. He lay there with a silly smile on his face, listening to the rain outside the cave and watching the wind make the shelter’s sides rattle. Finally spent, he had a chance to think a bit more critically.
“Heather, what if I did get you pregnant? I mean seriously.”
“I told you. I’m fine with it. I can repeat a year and I’m pretty sure that’s all they’d do. Andy, it’s not really something I ever thought seriously about until just a little bit ago, but…well, I want to have your kit. I want to be your mate.”
He stroked the fur on the back of her neck and thought. “How does that work? Humans just get married is all.”
“Do you want to?”
“Which?”
“Get married.”
He thought, and as the silence stretched out the fear began to grow in her stomach. “Heather, I’m sorry.”
Her heart sank.
“I’ve thought through every angle I can and well, I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.”
She smacked him, “PIG!” and then bit him. He laughed and held her close.
“We’re going to get in trouble, you know.” he reminded her.
“So? We’re usually in trouble.” he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Andy, do you really, truly want to have a kit with me?”
“Yup.”
“I’ve kinda been dishonest with you.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” He ruffled her fur.
“There’s a reason I’m not on the shot.”
He turned his head and looked her in the eyes, “Why’s that?”
“Andy, I really am something made in a lab. None of us know if it’s even possible for us to have kits. Or with what. Dr Mantoux – he’s the one who made us – we’re all different. He said the boys can mate with Dosadi girls and the girls with human boys, but…” she shrugged, “Rollin’s the only one with a mate…”
He interrupted, “And now you.”
She hugged him tight and continued, “Well, anyway, even if we can, Dosadi don’t work like humans do. We aren’t even fertile until we’ve had a mate for a while. Human girls start having fertility cycles when they hit puberty, we don’t. Ours don’t start until we’ve been exposed to the same pheromones – our mate’s – for a while. My mom said it can make you crazy when one hits. Like you just can’t help yourself, you kind of just attack your mate a lot.”
He looked at her quizzically, “And this is a bad thing?”
“Maybe not.” She scratched his chest a little, “Anyway, there’s no way you have to worry about getting me pregnant. Not for a while yet.”
“Hmm. I guess we’ll just have to keep trying. A lot.” and he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
She laughed, snuggling into the pillow of his shoulder.
He resumed stroking her fur. “Besides, we may never get off this rock. There’s no food out there, the Conrad exploded and I have no idea if the ELB survived it. We can use the filter to turn the rain into something we can drink, but there’s only about a day’s rations for the two of us in that pack.”
“They’ll find us, Andy.”
“I hope so, Heather, but the odds aren’t good. We’re not overdue for two more days. Even if they back-track why would they look here? We’re a ways off our course, I had to max out the thrust to make it here before we broke up, and the planet screws up sensors, as we saw.”
There was silence for a while. “If we die here Andy…” She looked up at him, “It was worth it.”
“What?”
“I feel like a complete person, with a mate who loves me and who incidentally tried really hard to make me have his kit, a mate who loves the same things I do, who thinks the same thoughts that I do, who loves me for me. Someone who saved my life, even if only for a little while. I wouldn’t trade a hundred years of never having had this for however long I’m going to have it. I’ve played at being mates a few times but it was never even close to right. Andy, you’re right.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

* * *
Sterling came back into the shelter with the drinking bladder filled up again. Days ago he had turned his pants into shorts after they had shredded on some rocks and was back into his uniform top since the planet was only about 17oC. His stomach growled loudly. “Here we go – more delicious, filling water!”
“Mmm. My favorite. I’d cook it for you, but I think it’s better raw.” They had managed to salvage some of her uniform jacket so that it looked like a short-sleeved crop-top and they had been forced to turn her trousers into shorts as well.
“Not only a feast fit for a king, but we’re dressed for dinner as well! Ah, the riches of our new kingdom!” He puffed his chest out.
“Well you have to admit, our uniforms are sexier than Starfleet’s…” she sagged a little, the humor losing its power to keep her spirits up. “I’m going to eat the pack. Andy, it’s been a week. Where are they?”
“They’re looking Heather, I know they are. I’ll go back again and see if I can find the ELB where the Conrad blew up. Maybe I missed it in all that wreckage.”
“No, Andy, the rain’s really starting to do a number on your skin. There’s nothing there. Whatever hit us probably took that out anyway.”
“C’mon Heather. We’ll make it. Let’s sing some more, one of those old songs of yours maybe?”
“Andy, they only look for so long, then they mark you as ‘overdue – presumed lost’ and send a letter to your parents. We’re two cadets and a shuttlecraft. That doesn’t rate much of a search.”
He knew how long they searched for missing ships. Space is vast and the odds of finding anything of a missing ship decreased radically with time. And he also knew that they might find some of the chunks of the Conrad that had been blown off in the collision. With located wreckage, Starfleet would end the search and they would become just one more vessel lost to the mysteries of interstellar space. Their friends would have a wake in their honor and get good and drunk, and continue on with their lives.
He guessed they probably found the wreckage 5 or 6 days ago. Which meant the search had long since been called off.

* * *
FEDERATION STARSHIP USS EXCELSIOR, ALPHA QUADRANT
APRIL, 2290
The navigator looked up, “Captain, I’m not sure if it’s the sensors acting up again or if they’re finally working right.”
Captain Hikaru Sulu sighed, “Lieutenant, I know this is our shake-down cruise after the rebuild but the more we shake her, the more things seem to fall off. What’s wrong with them this time?”
“Sir, I think it’s real. I’m getting some signs of duranium in orbit around that planet at 122 Mark 095.”
“A probe?”
“No sir, I think it’s wreckage.”
LT Girard, the science officer said, “Scanning, Captain. Gimme a second.”
Sulu waited patiently, his fingers tapping on the arm of the command chair.
“Sir, it sure does look like wreckage of some sort of small craft.”
“So what’s missing out this way?” Sulu asked.
“Not really anything, sir.” Girard answered. “Only thing that is missing that would’ve been anywhere near here is an Academy shuttlecraft that blew up more than a week ago, but that was quite a ways away.”
“So what’s the wreckage doing in orbit around that planet?”
The navigator said, “Maybe it fell into orbit from where it exploded?”
Thinking back to when the Enterprise’s shuttle Galileo had ended up crashed on a desolate planet gave Sulu a cold shiver up his spine. “If it fell from that far out, it’s not going to capture, it’ll either slingshot around or burn up.” He tapped his fingers again. “Helm, take us into orbit around that planet. Girard, what is it?”
“Sir, it is a Class-L planet, no life forms, cool surface temperature, 100% cloud cover, low atmospheric pressure with concentrations of toxic gasses including sulfur dioxide, nitrous oxide, ammonia, and methane, low oxygen levels and intense electrical storms.”
“So…not terribly survivable then.”
The Lieutenant shrugged. “I wouldn’t bet on those odds sir. Maybe for a few days, if they had food and water.”
“Well, let’s take a look anyway. Be a good chance to shake out some of the rest of the science systems and we can do a scan of the surface while we’re at it.”
Ten minutes later, the Excelsior was in orbit around the planet and had tractored several of the pieces of wreckage into their shuttle bay. Sulu was looking at them. “So what do we have?”
The senior chief in charge of the bay said, “Definitely hull pieces from an F-Class shuttlecraft, Cap’n. And over here’s a piece of nacelle casing – still has some pieces of the drive attached. Crewman Ortiz is checking the serial numbers now.”
“Chief! Got a hit – it’s from the Conrad, listed as destroyed early last week, launched out of Starfleet Academy headed for Vulcan.”
“Thanks Senior Chief.” Sulu turned over a piece of the wreckage. The orbital velocity had been low, definitely not what you would get if it had fallen from deep space. He turned and headed back to the bridge. Sitting back down in his command chair he asked, “So, what are our scans showing?”
“A lot of garbage, Captain.” LT Girard supplied. “Something in the rocks is causing a lot of echoes and noise, but I’m getting some occasional hits for what looks like duranium in one small region.”
“Can we beam down?”
“No way, sir. Lots of interference. A shuttle would be a lot safer, and I’d still take it slow and easy.”
Sulu frowned and said “I’m going down. Assemble a landing party, include yourself. Filter masks and protective coveralls. Meet me back in the shuttle bay in five minutes.” I should have just stayed there, he thought as he stood up.

* * *
The water was almost gone, but it really wasn’t worth the effort to go and filter up more drinking water.  She was a lot smaller than Sterling was, and had a lot less body fat and a faster metabolism. After ten days of no food, she was feeling very much like she wasn’t going to make it much longer.
Sterling was stroking her ears, “Hey, Heather, c’mon, don’t give up, OK? I didn’t save you from a fire to have you die in my arms you know.”
She laughed weakly. “There’s nobody coming Andy. I’m really tired. I just…Would you do something for me?”
“What’s that?”
“Can we make love one last time? I won’t mind so much then.”
“Try and stop me, but it won’t be the last time, I promise.”
“Liar.” she smiled at him.
Ten minutes later they were still moving together when the seals on the survival shelter were pulled open and they looked up at Captain Sulu and the rescue party from the USS Excelsior.
Girard said, “Maybe we should leave and come back in again?”

* * *
Dr  M’Baka finished his scans of the two starved Cadets and made several notes on his PADD. As the results were streaming across the diagnostic panels he did a double-take. “Cadet…Heather was it? May I ask your species? You seem somewhat unusual.”
With nutrients filtering into her body she was already feeling much better. “I’m half-Dosadi, half-human. There’s only four of us.”
“I’m waiting for your records to be transmitted from Starfleet. They had, um, transferred them after you were declared lost.”
“Did they send out notices to our families?”
“I’m afraid so. But.” He coughed, “You may want to send out a different kind of notice, Cadet.”
“Huh?”
“You’re pregnant.”
Her jaw fell open. “That’s not possible.”
“Um, I’m afraid it is, Cadet. Twins. The uh, computer has calculated the fertilization at eleven days ago.”
She just stared at him as though he had two heads. From his bed, Sterling said, “Hell YES!”
The doctor smiled, “Ah, I was wondering how the news would be received. I’ll have a prenatal counselor speak with you both. Um, your case is obviously unique, I do not wish to be offensive, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for a medical man. I would very much like to be kept in the loop throughout the process.”
She lay back. “You’re not kidding? I’m really pregnant?”
“Ah, yes, Cadet. Why would I joke about that?” He smiled at Sterling, “From what I’ve heard from the landing party it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise…”

CHAPTER 8
“ta’mey Dun, bommey Dun.” (Great deeds, great songs)
– Klingon Proverb
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
APRIL, 2290
The Maxwell, a shuttlecraft from the USS Excelsior, set down gently on the landing pad outside the main hangars for the Academy. Sterling and Heather, still recovering from their ordeal, had been resting rather than paying attention to the flight. Hearing the gentle ‘clunk’ of the skids touching down, they both sat up.
Heather looked over at Sterling – her mate! She thought and smiled.
Smiling back, “I’m not sure I’d smile too much – we have a whole lot of trouble ahead of us between losing the Conrad, the research equipment, you being pregnant and who knows what else they’re going to throw at us. Plus we need to change all our records back from ‘dead’ to ‘alive’. They’ve probably re-issued all our gear, you know. And we need to get more of a message out to our families than what we sent on the Excelsior. Thank God for Captain Sulu.”
“It doesn’t really matter. We’ll get through it.” She reached her hand over to his. The door cycled open, the bright sunshine splashing into the cabin and she said, “Time to go meet our doom.” She laughed.
They didn’t get far.
As they stepped through the open port, two Starfleet Security officers were waiting for them. “Cadets Sterling and Heather? Come with us, please. You’re wanted for questioning concerning the loss of the shuttlecraft Conrad.”
Sighing, Sterling said, “That didn’t take long.” and they turned to follow the officer into the hangar, the other falling in behind them. “Hey, guys? We getting on another shuttle? The brig’s the other way.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Cadet. Please come quietly.” He rested his hand on the butt of his phaser as he walked along, keeping a wary eye on Sterling. He lead them into the dark hangar, Sterling trying to get his eyes to adjust as the door closed behind them leaving them in pitch blackness. After the bright sunshine washing the field, he couldn’t see anything. He waited for the lights to come on, and nothing happened.
“Guys? I can’t see, I’m not trying to be difficult but I have no idea where to go.” There was only silence. “Guys?” He strained to see in the pitch blackness of the hangar. Heather took his hand again.
There was a loud ‘chunk’ sound as the main breaker tripped on and the hangar lights blazed overhead. They both squinted in the sudden brightness and they heard “ATTENTION ON DECK!”, their spines automatically straightening. “UNDEAD ARRIVING!” and they saw their classmates in formation in the hangar in front of them, the two security men grinning broadly. A bosun’s pipe sounded and the formation dissolved in cheers as their friends swarmed over to them.
It was impossible to sort out the confused babel of simultaneous questions “What happened? Jesus, you lost weight. Where did you crash? How did you survive? Is she really pregnant? Only Sterling could crash land on a desert planet and come back with a pregnant girlfriend. How did they find you? Damn it’s good to see you! Hey Romeo! Are the rumors about how they found you true? I’m so glad to see you again.”
Finally they were dragged over to a couple of the maintenance benches where there was an array of colorful adult beverages set out and Sterling asked, “A party?”
Chief Petty Officer Brown said, “An un-wake!” and laughed, “We had a hell of a wake for you two, so now we have to undo that. It would be bad luck not to!”
Heather helped herself to a beer – one of her favorite drinks – and asked, “Did they pack up our rooms?”
Paavo answered, “Yeah, it’s OK though – we didn’t let them do it, we took care of it. Nothing got fucked up. A lot of it got shipped back to your families though.”
“What about our gear?”
Inga shook her head, “It all went back to Central Issue.”
“Oh.” She tried not to look too disappointed.
Brown said, “Well…” and she looked at him. “Not quite all of it.”
She cocked her head at him, feeling hopeful.
“Those helmets are unique. Barton felt that they couldn’t just ruin works of art so um…Well, they’re in the tool room for, ah…Service.”
She hugged him, holding him tightly but saying nothing. Several of the maintainers laughed or wolf-whistled while he hugged her back. After a moment he said, “Jesus, Heather. You’re skin and bones.”
She kissed his cheek, “Yeah, I lost almost 20 pounds, that’s like a quarter of my body weight.”
“Might not want to drink too much then, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m only gonna have one for um, other reasons.”
Barton chimed in, “No way! It’s true?!”
Sterling blushed crimson, and laughter spread across the room when Heather said, “Well it wasn’t my fault.”
Brown squeezed her again and said, “You two are in such deep shit it is not even funny. But you know what? You’re not dead, so deep shit is pretty relative.” He reached over and grabbed Sterling’s hand, “Congrats, sir. You’re gonna be a legend.” Letting his hand go, he walked over to get a drink, shaking his head and mumbling to himself, “Survives a crash landing. Gets the girl. Gets the girl pregnant. Gets rescued. No one is that lucky.” And he laughed again.
Leaning on the end of the table, Captain Spruance watched the pair of them work through their classmates’ hugs, handshakes, back-slaps, and jokes. Standing next to him, Commander Ih-Tedda said, “Sir, it’s going to take forever to clean this mess up.”
“Yup. We’ll tell them about the inquest later. Let them have some fun for a bit. Have you had a chance to look at the flight data from the Conrad yet?”
“No.  Captain Sulu sealed it as soon as it was brought on board, all very regulation.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. That was a milk-run. I’d let my grandfather fly that route and he’s never piloted anything more than his horse.” she said sourly.
“Think they were hot-dogging?” he cocked an eye at her.
She frowned. “I really don’t want to think that. They’ve got good sense.”
“Except when they’re flying together.” Spruance pointed out.
“Yeah, but they were in the same bird this time. I just can’t come up with anything else though.”
They were silent for a bit. “And a pregnant cadet. Did you read Sulu’s report on the rescue? Jesus, is there anything they didn’t screw up on this mission?” he shook his head.
“Well, they didn’t die…”
He sighed again. “Do you get the feeling there’s something special about those two? Some reason to write another waiver and keep them here and keep them flying? Assuming there’s a real reason the Conrad augured in.”
She didn’t say anything for a while. “Sir, I’m not much for heebie-jeebies and all that but yeah, I do. I told you months ago these two weren’t normal. Individually, they’re scary-good. Together…I don’t know. It’s strange. If it were up to me? I’d keep her flying and make her give birth in the damn cockpit.
“They don’t just fly well, they teach well. They have a knack for motivating people to do way more then they’re expected to – and like it. But I’d PT him until his legs fall off for being stupid and knocking her up.”
He chuckled, “I’ll take it under advisement. I just have this feeling about those two. Like when you’re playing poker and you just know the next card’s gonna fill your straight.”

* * *
Admiral Papadakis gaveled the court back to order. “Cadets Sterling and Heather.” They both stood at attention along with their JAG attorney. “Do you have anything further you would like to add to the official record regarding this incident?”
They answered in unison, “No, sir!”
“Very well. It is the finding of this court that shuttlecraft Conrad encountered a quantum singularity while en route to Vulcan. When the singularity’s path intersected the Conrad’s port nacelle and hull it caused massive damage to systems and hull integrity, causing the craft to become unstable and uncontrollable.
“With the sensor equipment available to him, Cadet Sterling could not have detected the singularity, nor avoided it with the power available in an F-Class shuttlecraft and after the collision could not be expected to maintain control. The fact that Cadets Sterling and Heather were able to maintain some degree of control and affect a survivable landing speaks to their skill and the level of instruction that they have been afforded.
“Further, we find that Cadet Sterling’s actions after the crash were exemplary and in the highest traditions of Starfleet, braving fire and toxic atmosphere to rescue his co-pilot. In light of these actions we award you the Starfleet Medal of Valor and you are both hereby cleared of any fault or blame in the loss of the Conrad and are restored to flight status.
“Moving to the charges of dereliction of duty, fraternization and behavior unbecoming an officer, we find that the facts support the assertion of the prosecution in all three specifications.” He looked up at the two of them, “However, we also find that there were highly unusual and extenuating circumstances in this instance. A letter of reprimand will be inserted in both of your personnel files. Cadet Heather, your flight status shall be determined by your Senior Instructor, your Company Commander, and the Chief Medical Officer.”
He gaveled again, “This court is adjourned.” Keeping their military bearing, they refrained from hugging each other and settled for handshakes between each other and their attorney.

* * *
FT WILLIAM, SCOTLAND, EARTH
JUNE, 2290
The mag-lev train rumbled away into the distance as Sterling and Heather walked into the Ft. William train station. She was biting her lip, “Andy…I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
He answered, “Yeah, I am too. It’ll be OK though, Heather. I’m their son, what are they going to do, slam the door in my face? They’ll be upset at first, but they’ll get over it.  We just stick with the plan and it should be fine.” He glanced at the scudding grey clouds covering the morning sky that were so typical of Scottish weather.
“You promise you’re not ashamed of how I look?”
“Jesus, no, Heather. I love how you look. I just want to give them a chance to get used to you, to get to know you, before we spring too many surprises on them.”
“Well, the dress will cover my legs and the hat will hide my ears, but…Andy, I’m furry and there’s no hiding my face.”
“I know, it sucks that they’re so closed-minded; we shouldn’t have to do this, it’s stupid. I think they’ll just be glad that I’m not dead! And we’ve got all week to bring them around.” he laughed, “Besides, they’d probably be more upset if you were French…”
A short while later, after walking up a hilly road and down a side-street, they turned into the walk of a small stone cottage. Before they even got to the porch, the door opened and Andy’s parents stepped out.
“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” he smiled and walked faster, though Heather lagged behind. As he stepped up to the porch, he paused; there was no welcome in their faces.
His mother’s face was full of suspicion and his father’s wore a scowl. He spoke, “Aye. An wha’s that wi’ ye?”
Shocked, Andy stuttered briefly, “T..This is Heather. My fiance’.”
Heather curtsied deeply and started to say in heavily accented English, “I’m very pleased to…”
But Andy’s father interrupted, “D’ye think we’re dobbers then?”
She slowly stood back up again, her eyes wide.
“No! Dad, I wanted you to…”
“Ye put a dress on a beast an think we’re jus’ tha’ blind, aye?”
“She’s NOT a…” Heather wanted to turn and run, but stayed frozen in place. The first drops of rain began to fall, splashing on the brim of her hat.
“Tis surely nae human, tha’s a beast. This is wha’ we warn’d would happen’ if ye went off to tha’ pit o’ sin and godlessness.” his mother said.
“Mother! Starfleet Academy is a school not a church, it’s not supposed to be all about God!”
“Tha’s wha’ I said. An ye said fiance’? Ha ye been layin wi’ a beast in violation o’ Leviticus? Ha’ ye forgotten all yer Bible? Ha’ ye turned so far from God?”
Angry he said, “She’s pregnant, yes, you’re going to be grandparents so you might want to get used to the idea.”
His mother closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. His father shook his head and said, “I’ll nae condone such a filthy sin.” The rain was starting to come down harder now, the drops making a pattering sound on their heads and shoulders. Heather hadn’t moved, wondering how this could get any worse.
“Aren’t you even glad I’m not dead? Not even that much of a welcome home?”
His mother turned her back and went inside. His father shook his head again and said, “Nae. T’wer better ye had died before fallin’ so far into sin. God has some plan for ye, but it is nae here.” he turned on his heel, walked through the door and closed it firmly.
Andy stood, one foot on the porch steps, the rain splattering down on him. Heather didn’t say anything – what could she say? For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Finally, the absurdity of the entire situation boiled over in Andy and he laughed. Shouting at the house he yelled, “At least she’s not FRENCH!” He turned away from the building and took his mate by the arm. “Let’s go find someplace with some people in it, OK? The God Squad can stay behind.”
They walked back to the center of Ft. William, Andy whistling as he walked, cradling Heather’s arm in the crook of his elbow, his other arm swinging free while the rain came down, soaking them both. After a while she said, “Andy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do!”
“Why are you sorry, Heather? They’re the sorry ones. I actually feel better now than I have in years.”
“But…your parents…They…”
“So what? We’ve been moving apart for years. I really have nothing in common with them any more, or their tiny, closed-minded world. I don’t want anything in common with them. Religious freaks.”
“Didn’t you say they were in Grammie Heather’s church? They sure don’t sound like it!”
He snorted, “That’s just the building they go into to pray. They’ve always thought the Church was too loose. They figure if it’s not in the Bible, it’s crap and if it’s in the Bible, it’s to be obeyed without question. Idiots.”
She squeezed his arm, saying nothing.
“So, where do you want to go? We could find a bed and breakfast, or a hotel, or anything you’d like!”
She thought for a moment, “We could go to Grammie Heather’s? It’s not very far by train.”
He laughed, “Great idea! I think there’s even one more south-bound today. With any luck we can get there before dinner time.” He paused, “Um, is your grandfather going to kill me? I’m pretty sure getting you pregnant will be considered ‘funny business’”
She giggled and said, “Yeah, but it wasn’t under his roof, so you’re OK.”
Later that evening, the two of them walked from the Leyburn transport station to the Wilkes’ farm. The rain had been left behind, but tattered clouds still patterned the darkening sky while the setting sun threw liquid bronze across the western horizon. Even from a distance, Sterling could see the welcoming glow from the front windows of the big house. “You sure we shouldn’t have called first?” he asked.
Heather smiled, “I’m sure. Grammie Heather loves surprises. And they like you. A lot.”
Remembering her grandfather’s handshake he said, “I hope so…” But he found himself anticipating seeing her family again with pleasure, not trepidation. They made their way up the big porch and Heather knocked on the door.
When it opened, she curtsied again and said, “Good evening, ma’am. Would you have room for two weary travelers?”
Heather Wilkes cried out, “Oh, Heather!!” Throwing her arms around her littlest grandchild she said, “Tis like yer returned t’us from t’dead! We all prayed so hard for ye both, we just knew t’Lord would nae take ye from us so soon!” She reached her arm out and gathered Sterling into the hug. “Andy, yer friends sen’ us yer medal, all abou’ how ye saved her!”
Embarrassed and marveling at the contrast between the two greetings, he gently hugged her back, “I couldn’t live without her, Mrs. Wilkes. And it was a team effort.”
“Don’ be daft. Ye pulled her ou’ o’ fire.” She patted his chest. “Come in t’supper.” She stepped back and looked at Heather, “An ye look so bonny in tha’ dress an ha’.” She ushered them both inside calling out “Look who’s here!”
Within minutes, Sterling found himself sitting at the big dining room table, an oversized fluffy towel around his shoulders, his boots drying in the corner, and a glass of single-malt scotch in his hand. Settling into the wooden chair he sighed happily. He was startled when Mr. Wilkes came in behind him and he felt a massive hand grip his shoulder. The big man walked around him, maintaining his hold on the younger man and Heather’s brother walked past and sat down opposite him.
Swallowing the lump in his throat he looked up at the towering Yorkshireman who only said, “Well done, lad.” And nodded. There was the briefest of pauses, the big man shook his shoulder slightly and he just said again, “Well done. Aye.” before moving past and into the kitchen.
Rollin smiled and said, “From him, that’s something amazing, by the way. Especially to someone who’s new to the family.” Rollin’s mate Nina came in, rubbed her cheek along Andy’s and said, “Andy. The gods alone know how you saved her, but we’re all so thankful.”
“Uh, it was really a team effort to survive.”
She twitched her whiskers, “We read the citation, Andy. And the transcripts from the inquest. We know what was a team effort and what was above and beyond. If we were on Dosad, I’d get your eye tattooed.”
He noticed she had a simple single-strand tattoo around the outside of her left eye. “What for?”
Rollin answered in his odd Dosadi/Yorkshire accent, “Not too up on Dosadi culture yet, are ye?” he grinned, “That’ll change. When someone does something worthy of high honor, his mates all agree an’ they add a little bi’ to the design for each time.”
He blushed and tried to cover it by taking a drink of his scotch.
Heather came in, wrapped in a big fluffy pink bathrobe. He had a sudden flash of memory of her in something else pink and blushed more. Nina’s nose twitched and she grinned at him. There was no way she could tell that…was there?
Rollin and Nina started helping Mrs. Wilkes with bringing the supper to the table and when Andy stood up he was told, rather firmly, to sit right back down again. He shook his head, marveling again at the contrast between this family and his parents.
It was while they were nibbling at their desserts that Heather asked him, “So, when do you want to tell everyone?”
“Um.” he took a nervous glance at Mr. Wilkes at the head of the table.
Rollin said, “I know that look, Heather. Cough it up!”
She looked at Andy and decided to save him from himself. “We’re mates!”
Rollin, thrilled for his sister said, “Wonderful!”,
Nina chimed in with, “That is great news!”,
Mrs. Wilkes clapped and said, “Praise God!”
Mr. Wilkes glowered at Sterling and said, “Aye.”
Heather glowed. “There’s more.” and Andy considered trying to get a running head start. Everyone looked at her expectantly. “We’re having twins.”
That brought about quite a bit more noise from Rollin, Nina, and Mrs. Wilkes. Mr. Wilkes on the other hand was just staring at Sterling.
Mrs. Wilkes asked, “Ha’ ye already been married then? Di’ we miss it?”
Andy decided to face his fate like a man, “No, ma’am. I proposed to her when we were marooned, but we haven’t had a chance to yet.”
She nodded, “Tha’s nowt. I’ll call t’vicar in t’mornin’ then. He’s married her mother an father, an’ her brother an’ Nina, he’ll do t’job for ye two as well.”
“Well, “ he said, “That might be a bit fa…” he noticed Mr. Wilkes studying him intently. Like a lion studies its dinner. “um, that would be wonderful, Mrs. Wilkes!”
Two days later, much as Heather’s father had, he found himself in his dress uniform standing in front of a church full of locals who had become rather accustomed to the bizarre parade of marriages in Clan Wilkes. His bride was wearing the same borrowed dress her mother and sister-in-law had worn, suitably altered for her shorter frame. After the ceremony, as they circulated through the parishioners, Heather squealed like a little girl and ran up and hugged two of the older guests. “Mr. Walker! Mr. Thompson! I so wanted you to be here!”
Thompson said, “Aye, I would nae miss i’. One can nae see too many ca’s ge’ married.” and he ruffled her fur the wrong way.
She turned to Walker and said, sotto voce, “And I’m still not a sheep!”
He laughed at the old joke and said, “Nae, yer a raht naughty lass tho.” leaving Sterling completely confused.
When they returned to the Wilkes’ home and everyone had changed out of their wedding finery, Rollin said, “I need to do some work in t’barn. If ye come along, I’ll fill you in a bit on yer new family.” and he laughed. Wilkes smiled at the thought and said,
“Sure! I’d love that.”
Heather said, “Nina, can we go for a walk?”
“Of course.” She stood with all the fluid grace of her species and they headed out to walk along the lane between two of the fields.  They walked in silence for a while, listening to the birds and watching rabbits nibbling at the greenery. “What’s on your mind, Heather?” she said, glad of the chance to speak Dosadi again.
She bit her lip. “I’m nervous, Nina. I’m hoping you can help me.”
“What about?” she sniffed the breeze, smelling all the myriad scents of rich Yorkshire fields and pastures.
“Does it ever bother you that Rollin’s not really Dosadi?”
She laughed, “He’s not? I thought he was. Of course he’s a lot Yorkshire now too.”
“You know what I mean, he’s part human.”
“Heather, of all four of you, you’re the one I least expected to struggle with that foolishness. And yet you’re the one that has the biggest problem with it.”
Her ears drooped, “I just wonder if deep down it matters. His parents…Oh Nina, it was so awful.” and she told the story about the disastrous visit to Ft. William.
“Would it matter to you if Andy lost his legs in a crash?”
“What? Of course not!”
“So whatever shape his body is doesn’t matter?”
“Of course not! Why would…Oh. Smarty.”
Nina laughed, “Heather, one of these days you’re going to figure out that you’re in love with a mind and a soul and a heart, and so is he. Yes there are still stupid people out there from every species who care about the shell we wear. There will always be lots of them. So what? Avoid them for the poor, pitiable fools that they are.” They walked along a little more. “I don’t know where all this lack of self-image came from in you. I’m only a couple of years older than you, but I remember watching you grow up when Rollin and I first started being friends. You were always so out-going and adventurous, and happy. You impressed me, a lot.
“I guess we all have things inside us that are different than what we show the world. Heather, I caught his scent when you walked in the dining room tonight. He doesn’t see a shape. He sees his mate. Trust him to love you.”
Heather rubbed her shoulder against Nina’s, “Thank you, Nina.”
“You’re welcome. I’m thinking we’re going to be having a kit soon too.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Although I feel bad for Rollin.” she laughed wickedly. “Not that bad though. He seems to enjoy it.”
Heather giggled and they held hands as they walked along in silence.

* * *
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
JUNE, 2290
Fallon trudged through the rain and the mud to the door of the Legate’s office.  She moved automatically, removing her muddy shoes outside and opening the heavy door. She walked in, head down, and sat at the small desk he had ordered built for her. As she did every day, she began sorting and filing the various data rods, paperwork, and messages that were piled there.
Kai watched her work. The little girl fascinated him. She was annoyingly pure. He had only gotten her to ‘cheat’ with her rations that one time. Even punishing her with a beating hadn’t convinced her to eat anything more than a small portion with him again. Much of the spark that he so enjoyed about her seemed to have left with her mother.  The little creatures certainly seemed to bond tightly. But he thought he had a way to both bring that spark back and open her eyes to the realities of life, not this ridiculous ‘philosophy’ the little cows followed. Their current status was all the proof that was needed as to how useless and wrong it truly was.
“Fallon.” he spoke softly.
She turned in her little chair, head down, hands in her lap. “Yes?”
“Look at me, Fallon.”
She looked up, the large, black eyes meeting his.
“You hate me don’t you.”
“Yes.” But there was no heat in the statement, none of that spark he sought.
“You would like me to leave, wouldn’t you? Take my troops and leave forever?”
Just for a moment, there was a flicker of interest. Something beyond the mechanical actions of the last three months. “Yes.”
“Would you kill me if you could?”
She was used to this question. He asked it often. “I don’t know. Sometimes I want to.”
“Well! And after all the extra food I give you.” he smiled. “I told you once I might just see if you would, Fallon, do you remember?”
“Yes.”
He opened one of his desk drawers and drew out a phaser. He placed it flat on his desk and slid it towards the little girl. “Now is your chance, Fallon.”
Her eyes flicked down to the weapon. She didn’t know very much about them, but she knew how to make it shoot. She’d seen the Cardassians do that often enough. You picked it up, you pointed the one end at the person and you squeezed your fist and they died. She looked back at him. He would probably beat her if she reached for it.
“Well, Fallon? Will you kill me now?”
She gauged the distance between him and the weapon. If she could reach it, she could shoot him. She could kill the monster.
“Am I too close? Here.” He slid his chair back as far as it would go and crossed his legs. “I am ready, Fallon. Kill me and set your people free.”
She swallowed. She could reach it. All she had to do was pick it up and point it. She leaned towards it, the heavy pistol shape lying on the desk, seeming to throb the longer she looked.
“Fallon? This is your chance. Kill me and without their leader, all the troops will have to go home. You could be a hero. You could save them, Fallon. Save them all.” He watched her struggle with the wish to be free of him, to be a hero and  against that wish the gentle teachings of her people. Stupid cows. She hated him – she had to. Why didn’t she pick it up? “Kill me, Fallon and make my little girl an orphan just like you.”
She had begun to reach for the phaser, her hand raising a millimeter from her leg and she set it back down again without him noticing. Just like him. She would become just like him. Killing because it was easy, because it would give her want she wanted, causing loss and suffering to some other little girl. She looked back up from the phaser to Kai and said firmly, “No.”
He sighed, disgustedly. He slid his chair forward again and picked the phaser up. “Fallon, you are a monster. You had the chance to save your people and you have abandoned them.” He put the empty weapon back in the drawer. Shaking his head he said, “Leave me now. There will be no extra rations for you today, I am very disappointed.” He turned his back on her and began working on a console.
She stood up and for the first time in months, she smiled. HE was the monster. And she had hurt him by not being a monster just like him. She was better than him. She left the office and walked back to the barracks. She would beat him. Somehow. But not his way.

* * *
FEDERATION FRIGATE USS HONSHU, UNDER WAY, ALPHA QUADRANT
JUNE, 2290
Dejan Lilac finished a presentation that had become more polished in the last three months. “You can see they are sentient. You know what is being done to them. You must act.”
Commander Moshe Yaalon looked at his ship’s doctor. The frigate was too small to have a chief medical officer. The man nodded at the unspoken question. That only made his answer more difficult. “I have to say, I never expected to see an Orion slaver try to rescue slaves…”
The Free Trader gritted his teeth. Humans rarely understood the intricacies of the Orion slave trade – Orion women, while technically slaves ended up through their powerful pheromones, becoming the master. Non-Orion races were sometimes bought and sold, but there were rules and standards that were maintained. He asked, “Commander, are you familiar with the religious hymn Amazing Grace from your world’s history?”
“The name sounds like something I’ve heard, but I cannot say that I know it.” Yaalon admitted.
The song tells a story of forgiveness and redemption. It was written by one of your slavers centuries ago. He was in the middle of a trip back with a hold full of slaves when he decided that what he was doing was wrong. He turned around and released his cargo back upon their home shores and wrote the hymn based upon that experience. He became an activist against slavery.”
“So you’re going to give up being a slaver?”
“It was never my main cargo and you do not understand its function in our society. I am not here to argue my actions. I am here to stop an atrocity on a planetary scale. To give you the chance to act – to redeem yourselves from your inaction. The Federation claims to care about innocents, claims to care about right and wrong, claims to defend those who are weak. There has never been a more clear case for action!”
“Lilac, that planet is inside Cardassian space. I cannot just invade another sovereign state and do as I please. That would result in a massive war. We don’t even really have formal relations with the Cardassian Union yet – We’re both still sizing the other up, trying to figure out where we’re going to go. Besides, this is a frigate. I don’t exactly have a lot of space even if I were to undertake a rescue mission.  I could save what, 100? 200? And then the resulting war would kill tens of thousands if not billions.”
Disgusted and frustrated he said, “So you too, will do nothing.”
“Not nothing.” Yaalon held his hands up. “I’ll file a report with Starfleet Command and let them know what’s going on. They may be able to…”
“File a report!” Lilac sneered. “I’m sick of reports being filed and requests for information and strongly worded letters!”
“Lilac, you have no proof. Just a single…person and your story.”
Dejan slammed his hand down flat on the table, “Proof? Fine! I will get you proof! THEN you will act?”
“I can’t promise anything but I’ll…”
He stood up, “Proof first. I will show you. Then you will see what I have seen and you will act. Only a monster would ignore these peoples’ suffering.” He left, Fallon’s mother hurrying along behind him.
When they returned to Lilac’s freighter he asked her, “You are the tamest slave I’ve ever had to deal with. Why have you never complained, or struggled, or attempted to escape or shown any sign that this is not to your liking?”
She smiled, holding her hands together. “Because you are a good man. Because you are trying to help us. Because even as your slave, I am much better off than I was under the Cardassians.”
He grunted. “We return to Orias III soon. I will get him his proof. We have sensors. We have recorders. We will get it for them and they will act. Somewhere there will be a man with the strength and the will to do what is right.”

CHAPTER 9
“nIteb Qob qaD jup ‘e’ chaw’be’ SuvwI’.” (A warrior does not let a friend face danger alone)
– Klingon Proverb
STARFLEET ACADEMY FLIGHT RANGE, TITAN, SOL SYSTEM
OCTOBER, 2290
Heather squirmed uncomfortably in the Viper’s seat. She was monitoring several of her pilots as they flew ‘attack’ profiles on simulated targets, her bird high above the dirty yellow of Titan. She thumbed the comm button again, “Bravo two-two, tighten it up.”
There was silence. She thumbed the button again and still nothing. On her third attempt she was rewarded with “Bravo two-two, wilco.” and she watched the pilot move closer to Paavo’s right-rear quarter. She thought to herself that whoever had designed the Viper hadn’t really planned on having a seven months pregnant half-Dosadi pilot.
The doctor’s best guess was that her pregnancy would run eight to nine months – Dosadi typically gestated for  36 weeks, a month shorter than humans’ usual 40 weeks. So they had decided that today was to be her last flight until delivery; which couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned. They had allowed her to continue to fly training flights with no maneuvering beyond gentle turns.
The next pair of Vipers rolled out of formation and began their attack run. She thumbed the comm button, “Bravo two-four, not so hot – you’ll overshoot. Give the sensors time to track.”
There was only silence. She tried again. And again. The two ships below her finished their attack run without scoring any hits and she told the Viper’s computer to run a diagnostic on the comm system. “Communications are functioning normally.”
Ignoring the malfunctioning button she ordered the computer, “Computer, contact Range Control, Bravo Lead requesting return vector, comm system malfunction.” There was a pause of a few moments and a chirping sound.
“Comm system failure.”
“You don’t say?”
“Please restate the question.”
“Piece of shit. Terminate…” she felt a sudden cramp in her belly that built like a ripple into a wave of pressure across her abdomen, “Oh shit.”
“Please state last repeat.”
Ignoring her flight computer, she began following the Comm-Out procedure and turned her Viper back towards Mimas.
There was another rippling cramp across her belly and she grunted, trying to get the thumb button to do something. Her sensors showed three squadrons of Vipers climbing out from Titan’s upper atmosphere as she moved out of orbit. She smiled. The squadron leaders were paying attention at least. It was a solid two hour flight to Mimas; what a waste of a day’s flying! They’d have to run the same damn drill tomorrow once they got the comm system and the computer fixed.
“Ow, shit!” she yelled a few minutes later when her stomach cramped again. The computer said,
“Please restate last demande por favor.”
“What?”
“Vær så venlig bekräftigen…” followed by a hiccuping sound.
“Computer, Perform level-3 self-diagnostic.”
There was a chirp and Heather’s latest ancient song-find began blasting out of the cockpit speakers – “The Season’s Upon Us” by the Dropkick Murphys, the bouncy Gaelic tune totally out of synch with the seriousness of her situation. She had intended it as a funny Christmas present for Sterling.

2The season’s upon us, it’s that time of year
Brandy and eggnog, there’s plenty of cheer
There’s lights on the trees and there’s wreaths to be hung
There’s mischief and mayhem and songs to be sung

“What the HELL? Computer disengage!”  She began trying to get the malfunctioning computer to shut down; It was ignoring her every effort. “Fucking piece of shit!” she yelled at it.

There’s bells and there’s holly, the kids are gung-ho
True loves finds a kiss beneath fresh mistletoe
Some families are messed up while others are fine
If you think yours is crazy, well you should see mine

She looked out the cockpit when Mike Malloy’s Viper slid close aboard her starboard side, his helmeted and masked face looking over at her. Barton had painted his helmet with the scaly red wings of a dragon, and the enhanced sensors on her faceplate allowed her to just make out the detail. She pointed at her ear and made a chopping motion as another cramp made her double over against the straps.

My sisters are whack-jobs, I wish I had none
Their husbands are losers and so are their sons
My nephew’s a horrible wise little twit
He once gave me a nice gift wrapped box full of shit

Catching her breath again she laughed at the absurdity of the predicament she found herself in. She tried to get the computer to respond to voice, keyboard, or even circuit breaker to no avail. There were only so many breakers she could pop.

He likes to pelt carolers with icy snowballs
I’d like to take him out back and deck more than the halls
With family like this I would have to confess
I’d be better off lonely, distraught and depressed

She doubled over again, banging herself against the harness and sucked air through the mask covering the lower half of her face. “Gods!” She finally gasped out. She was suddenly slammed back into the seat again when the engines surged beyond what the inertial dampeners could handle. By now both Malloy and Von Beck had come up on either wing and were watching her struggles in the cockpit.

The season’s upon us, it’s that time of year
Brandy and eggnog, there’s plenty of cheer
There’s lights on the trees and there’s wreaths to be hung
There’s mischief and mayhem and songs to be sung
They call this Christmas where I’m from

“Oh no, no. No fucking way. This is not happening to me. I am not giving birth in a fighter.” The engines had started surging randomly, going from almost nothing, to the limits of the ID system. She was wondering when they’d exceed them again; She had little faith that the computer recognized those limits any more. It was pretty much a crap shoot as to when she would be smeared against the back of her seat. She reached down past her left leg, grunting against her very pregnant stomach, fumbling to reach the memory cores.

My mom likes to cook push our buttons and prod
My brother just brought home another big broad
The eyes rollin’ whispers come loud from the kitchen
I’d come home more often if they’d only quit bitchin’

She started scrabbling at the memory cores, her fingertips barely able to reach them. One slid out and fell on the cockpit floor and her helmet cuing display blinked out along with one of the monitor screens. The engines flared again, and she slammed back upright, grunting. This had long since stopped being funny. When the engines stopped she flew against the harness again, “God damn it! I am going to turn you into a fucking toaster you hunk of trash!!”

Dad on the other hand’s a selfish old sod
Drinks whiskey alone with my miserable dog
Who won’t run or fetch sure he couldn’t care less
He defiled my teddy bear and left me the mess

Another core fell out with a faint clunk. Then another. The life support system failed and she had to pause to unfasten her mask; She was on cockpit air alone now. The starboard thrusters fired and another core dropped out. The thrusters whispered to silence and the main engines shut down, the only sound in the cockpit now the music blaring loudly.

The table’s set, we raise a toast
The father, son, and the Holy Ghost
I’m so glad this day only comes once a year
You can keep your opinions, your presents, your happy new year
They call this Christmas where I’m from
They call this Christmas where I’m from

“DIE damn you!” she yelled while flicking another core out of its socket.  The computer screens finally went completely blank and she was left free-falling in darkness and silence, her dead fighter coasting along on its last vector. Malloy and Von Beck were still flying on her wings. That made her feel a lot better – at least she wasn’t alone. But she sure wished like hell that the Vipers had a tractor bream.
She grunted loudly as another contraction hit. “Not. Possible.” she hissed out. “I’m in a god damn flight suit, I cannot do this here!” Why were they coming so fast so soon? Everything she had read was that this was supposed to take hours and slowly build, not just hit like this.
The Viper shook slightly and she turned her head towards the bump she just felt. Malloy’s Viper was tucked in on top of hers, his left wing catching her right. The Viper started to yaw left and almost immediately there was another clunking sound. She looked and saw Von Beck’s right wing hooked on her left. A gentle vibration ran through her crippled bird and she realized they were providing thrust, just about 1 gravity was all, slowly pushing her vector towards Mimas. Stopping was going to be an issue though, she thought. As was time. She had about ten hours of oxygen left with the emergency feed hissing quietly. But she had a feeling that there were going to be three people breathing that oxygen before it ran out – assuming she could get out of her flight suit in a cockpit.
Six hours later, she had her eyes closed and she was puffing air in and out of her lungs trying to ignore the increasingly uncomfortable contractions. “Not gonna happen.” she kept repeating to herself. The vibration she had been feeling stopped and she looked out to see Malloy’s and Von Beck’s fighters falling away. Her Viper started to spin slowly. Then they pivoted around and the glare of their engines on full throttle caused them to vanish behind her. She realized how very lonely it could feel to be in a powerless, dark little box, racing through space and not a damn thing you could do about it.
She remembered her mother telling her about having been rescued from a powerless escape pod as a little girl. She had spent two weeks in that pod and no one knew she was even there. A shiver went up her back thinking about it. But, her friends not only knew where she was, they were actively trying to rescue her. Why had they dropped away? That must mean they were decelerating for Mimas. What was she going to do? She felt a spreading wetness that soaked her flight suit and seat. “Ugh!”
Another contraction hit her and she hissed loudly, closing her eyes and puffing more. She felt all her fur stand up and she opened her eyes again. The cockpit was glowing green and she was no longer spinning. “What the hell?” she asked herself. She felt very strange, almost like she was covered in honey. For a while, nothing changed. Green glow, sticky weird feeling, contractions getting harder and faster. She tried to think how in the hell she was going to take her flight suit off. She had better figure it out pretty fast. Then the Viper rotated – she saw the arc of Saturn roll smoothly across her canopy until it was blotted out by Mimas and the comforting view of Mimas Station. A few seconds later, she saw the tubby shape of the little tug that was usually parked in the hangar bay. She couldn’t recall ever seeing it actually fly. So that was what the green glow was – a tractor beam. Evidently a fighter cockpit didn’t provide any shielding from the beam. That was a good thing, she decided, because if they had just stopped the fighter, without a functioning inertial dampener system, she would have been a reddish smear all over the instrument panel.
A much longer, stronger contraction hit her and she hoped they hurried. A lot.
She was unsealing her flight suit as the tug hauled her into the wide opening to the bay, and the Vipers began streaking past, relying on the retarding fields of the landing deck and their own nose thrusters to stop. When her own bird came to a slow, bumpy stop behind the tug, she manually pushed the canopy open, trying to get the suit off at the same time. Waddling her way out of the crippled fighter, she sat down on the deck with a loud “GNNAAGGHH!!”
She heard Von Beck yell “MEDIC!!!” and she scooted her way out of the confining suit. This was not how she imagined it; It was supposed to be this romantic event with Sterling holding her hand in a nice clean room with a doctor at the ready and soft music and “YOOOOWWWWW!” she yelled as the strongest contraction yet hit her.
18 pilots were clustered about her, all trying to help at the same time when the medic came running into the bay. “What’s wrong with…” and he caught sight of his patient and realized exactly what was going on. “You have got to be kidding me!” He took one look at her and decided he was not going to have time to take her to the station’s single-bed sick bay. His little med kit wasn’t designed for this; birth wasn’t exactly a common problem for fighter pilots flying on the Academy Training Range.

* * *
Crewman Chang looked down at the deck. “Damn, I didn’t know having a baby was that messy.”
His partner was half-into the cockpit and held his wet hand up from where he had leaned onto the seat, trying to collect the memory rods scattered on the floor. “Wait’ll you see the mess in here.”
“All yours, buddy.” Chang laughed and started mopping.
The team leader, already popping panels on the fuselage just shook his head, “Starfleet is getting weirder by the day, gentlemen. This would never have happened back when I went through training. Things have gotten so easy.”

* * *
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
OCTOBER, 2290
Sterling jogged into the Academy’s Ops Center and skidded to a stop. “Cadet Andrew Sterling reporting as ordered!”
The lieutenant on duty just smiled, “You’re gonna wanna take this call, Cadet. It’s from Mimas Station.”
Sterling couldn’t imagine why Mimas Station would be calling unless something had gone really wrong with Heather’s flight today, but the LT sure didn’t look like it was bad news. “Yes, sir. Where can I…”
“We’ll put it up on the main screen for you, Cadet.”
Really puzzled now Sterling just said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The LT waved his hand and a tech tapped at his console. The screen came to life and Andy could see  Puurunen and Malloy and a whole lot of other pilots crowded into the pickup’s field of view, but no Heather. Something wasn’t right, but everyone looked like they were on goofy-pills.
“Um, Cadet Sterling here?”
Malloy said, “Damn but you are in deep shit, brother.” he grinned.
Von Beck chimed in, “He’ll be sleeping on the couch for the next year.” to the murmured agreements of the other pilots.
“What? What the hell is going on?” Glancing down at the LT he said, “Sorry, sir.”
Peggy leaned into the view and said, “You missed it! You missed the entire thing!”
“Missed what?!” he was starting to get angry.
Lynd said, “We all had to play stork for you!”
“Stork?”
“Yeah! Oh, and congrats Daddy!”
“Da…” his mouth opened. “No, it’s not for a month yet!” People started moving out of the way and he saw Heather lying on a narrow sick bay bunk holding two very small reddish bundles.
“I think we forgot to tell them, Andy.” she smiled.
He just stared and barely heard Malloy say “It’s okay though Andy, we’ve got the whole thing on tape. Her comm system stuck-on and started broadcasting everything a little before the music started…”

* * *
DUCHY OF THE SWORD WORLDS, HYDRAN KINGDOM
JULY, 2291
Marshal Sir Jons Seins, Knight Commander of the Hydran (Sword Worlds) Marines and Director of Hydran Intelligence came home and sat heavily in his favorite chair in his wife’s sitting room, clearly feeling every one of his nearly 100 years of age. Hydrans were just starting to be considered seniors in their 90’s and the Marshal was still a vigorous man; all four foot two inches of him. He ran his violet-skinned hand through his greying white hair and sighed heavily.
There were pictures on the wall and he let his eyes roam across them. His four children, one of whom smiled proudly back at him from his dark grey armor. He smiled at the memory. His eldest on the day he was promoted to Captain. He had died in the engine room of a Klingon battle-cruiser ensuring the success of a mission that had probably saved trillions of lives; But no more than a few dozen people in the entire galaxy knew of his role.
Next to that picture was a wedding photo of his adopted daughter and her husband. It hardly seemed right that the photo was now more than twenty years old and that her children were now getting married and having children of their own. Further along, the photos started getting…odd. Another wedding photo, but this time his adopted son Tir was standing next to his bride, holding her furry hand while her golden cat’s eyes looked happily into the camera. Even that photo was nearly a decade old. There were more photos of children, Hydran and both Hydran/Dosadi and Dosadi/human mixes and quite a few plain old Dosadi.
There was one of a young Dosadi lad, a cut down his arm but glowing with pride and with his knife held up menacingly. He remembered that day, when young Kaileen had actually scored a solid ‘kill’ on him in the challenge ring, taking a good sized cut to do so. There would be no more pictures of Kaileen, however. Like his son, he had died defending others. And like his son’s death, it had been the direct result of one of Jons’ intelligence operations. Next to that were several shots of his favorite ‘niece’, young Heather, the daughter of Wilkes and Sooth. She was doing well in her third year at Starfleet Academy, he thought. He would have to write her soon and see how she was doing. Of course his daily intelligence summary gave him quite a bit more data than she was likely to share, but it was courteous to let her share her news. The intercepts from the Academy Flight Range from when she had gone into labor had left him smiling for the better part of a day and the memory brought a brief smile again today.
His wife, the Lady Marin waited patiently while he scanned through the photos. As he brought his eyes back down she said, “My lord, you are troubled again. You’re making a habit of coming straight in here and looking at these old memories. Is it a burden that you can share?”
He thought for a few moments. “Marin, in all my time in the Duke’s employ, I have never brought my work into our marriage.” he paused. She said nothing, watching her husband. “Atrocities are common throughout the galaxy, another should have no more effect upon me than a gentle rain.
“Why am I so unable to ignore one more?”
She stood up and walked over to her husband, caressing his face and smoothing his hair. “Seins, everyone has their limits. You have seen many times more evil than anyone else, much more than your share. You have never burdened me with that knowledge, you have never spoken of your many missions, nor the costs of them, even when that was a cost we both bore.”
He looked up at her. The woman was too shrewd.
She smiled. “Seins, my husband, my love, I know that you are a good and decent man. I know that you have worked for the cause of good your whole life, even when that required that you do evil. Sometimes, good men must do evil things to end greater evil, but there will always be balance. The price must be paid, even with the best of intentions.” She walked over to the photos and took down the one of her eldest son. Looking into his eyes, she continued,
“I know that because of you, because you have born the burdens, because you – and I – have paid the price, that there are many alive and happy today who would otherwise not be. I know that there is much less evil than would otherwise infest our galaxy. I would not have you be anything other than what you are, though the price be everything and everyone that I love.”
She put the photo back, looked briefly at Kaileen’s photograph and turned back to her husband. “I do not know how you decide what actions you will take, and which you will not. I do know that I trust that you will always make the right decision – one that leads to greater good. Know that whatever course you take Seins, I will never blame you for the cost that we both must bear.”
He took her hand, cupping it to the side of his face. “I find it difficult to be dispassionate in this instance. I am becoming a sentimental old fool, Marin. My heart pushes me to do that which my mind tells me is not in the best interests of my King, my Duke, or my House.”
“Is it the right thing to do?”
“There have been many times when I have not done the right thing, Marin. Only rarely do those times haunt me. Why should this time be different?”
“God moves within you, Seins. I have known it since I first laid eyes on you and decided to marry you.”
He laughed, “You never told me you decided that. And here I thought my father contacted yours!”
She smiled. “He did. I may have made a few comments and suggestions to his business partners beforehand…In any case, “ she tugged on a lock of his hair, “Go to your balcony and watch the stars. Listen to the voice of God and let His will move you to do that which is His intent.”
The Marshal stood, hugged his wife tightly, and went up to his office to do as she suggested.

CHAPTER 10
“One death is a tragedy. A million is a statistic.”
– Josef Stalin – Earth (Human)
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
DECEMBER, 2291
Elim Tang sat comfortably in Legate Kai’s office. “You have done well, Legate.”
“Thank you…how do I address you?”
“We of the Obsidian Order do not use ranks among outsiders. You may simply call me Tang.”
“Thank you, Tang.”
“We have high hopes that this will become a productive and useful Outpost in short order, and perhaps in a century’s time, a thriving member of the Union. How goes the removal of this infestation?”
“I haven’t made a complete removal much of a priority, Tang. We’ve been using them to prepare colony sites, to mine, to build the necessary machines, that sort of thing. We attempted to find markets for their hides, but despite their interesting markings, their lack of fur seems to have hurt their value. Strangely, the Free Traders that I have commissioned to find a market for them as helper-beasts and servants have come up empty. Their anatomies have provided some very interesting research data however.”
The taller Cardassian nodded. “There is a problem.”
Kai swallowed the lump in his throat. When the Obsidian Order had a problem, it usually meant very, very bad things for those who were not in the Order itself. “What can I do to help?”
“Apparently, your Free Traders have been indiscreet and some of the various media outlets have decided to make this their story of the week.” he sneered.  “These charming little creatures are being presented as sentient beings and bleeding hearts across the galaxy are bemoaning the cruel Cardassians.”
“Let me guess – the Federation?”
“Yes, but not just the Federation. We are receiving some commentary from the Romulans, the Hydrans, the Orions…Mostly the usual ‘Save The Poor!’ crowd, but it is beginning to approach the level of a nuisance. What is the current population level of the creatures?”
“Approximately 470 million. We’ve located all of them in a series of large camps where they can be best utilized and employed to productive ends.”
“How many have escaped?”
“Virtually none. They are easily domesticated and quite docile. I once handed one of them a phaser – empty of course! – and invited it to kill me. The little thing refused.” Kai laughed, “Pathetic, really.”
Tang nodded and thought for a moment. “We would like to have them removed entirely by the end of next year when we will begin moving in the first Colonists. This will also remove the media pressure before it has time to gain any real traction. Make sure to keep your Free Traders under control – I would prefer you not use them at all any more.”
“It shall be as you say, Tang.” Kai agreed quickly.

* * *
“HARRY’S BAR”, DENEB V, ALPHA QUADRANT
DECEMBER, 2291
Harry’s Bar was a run-down space-port bar on Deneb V. The rain glistened wetly on the pavement outside as the broken ‘BAR’ – in actual English – sign flickered in the night. Inside, Dejan Lilac sat, dejected, looking at Fallon’s mother. “I have wasted more time, effort and money on this foolish crusade…What is it about you that makes me care at all whether you live or die?”
She simply sat, peacefully. “You are a good man. Your heart makes you do that which is right.”
He shook his head, “I am far from a good man. But there is nothing more to do. No one will help you.” He took another drink.
An Arcturian sat down across from him. “You are Dejan Lilac, Orion Trader, are you not?”
Lilac discretely dropped one hand down to a concealed side-arm, “Yes. Why?”
The Arcturian smiled. “That will not be necessary. You seek to help these creatures?” he indicated Fallon’s mother.
“Yes, but no one else does.” he snorted disgustedly.
“You are incorrect. But it is time to behave as though you believe that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“There are those who are willing to help. But they cannot move openly. And by attracting attention you make it impossible for them to help at all. You must appreciate this fact.”
“The Federation? They will send ships and troops?”
The Arcturian looked annoyed. “That would be moving openly, would it not? No, you have taken the lead in this and in the lead you must remain, even as you must become invisible.”
“I’ve spent more than enough time and money accomplishing nothing.” he snorted.
“Your purse will be made full again and the funds needed for what can be done will be made available to you.” the Arcturian’s expression relaxed.
“How much money?” Lilac was interested now.
“There is only so much that can be done without risking war, Dejan Lilac.”
“How much can be done?”
“A small raid, a rescue mission, nothing more. How many ships can you command?”
“I have three freighters, large, and atmosphere-capable. But that is nothing! There are millions!”
“Some is better than none.”
Lilac thought. “I would need warships. My freighters have no weapons that could deal with the Cardassian forces on Orias III.”
“You would also need ground troops. Can these be arranged? They must not have any attachment to any major power.”
Dejan laughed, “I think I know just the group. You have heard of the mercenary group ‘The Foreign Legion’?”
The Arcturian snorted. “I am a professional. Of course I have. But they are few and use antique weapons and tactics…ahh. Very clever. They are well known rogues who pride themselves on hopeless battles and are composed of outcasts from every society in the Galaxy.” he bowed his head. “I am impressed.”
Lilac raised his glass in a toast as he took another sip. “Their tactics are antique, but highly effective. Very few forces are prepared to deal with them. Do you know they claim to trace their lineage to an ancient military force on Earth that was made up entirely of criminals?”
“I had heard the story, but gave it little credence. Every mercenary company claims a proud history. It is part of their advertising. I know of a Klingon company that claims to have been founded by Kahless himself.”
“But I would need cover. My freighters cannot simply fly into Cardassian space, blast into Orias III, load up a few thousand people and fly away. We would be slaughtered like woolrats.” Lilac shook his head.
“Arrangements are being made. You are familiar with a place called The Badlands?”
Lilac snorted. “What Trader isn’t? The place is a hell-hole for navigation and dangerous besides.”
“And a very good place to hide as well as being reasonably close to Orias III.”
“Hmm. It is that. What are these arrangements?”
“Make your plans as though you had the cover you seek. Center them upon using The Badlands as your staging ground. You will be contacted in two months time with details.” He stood up without any formalities and left the bar quickly.
Dejan finished his drink at a swallow and looked at Fallon’s mother. “Perhaps there are men left in the galaxy after all.”

* * *
STARFLEET OPERATIONS, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
FEBRUARY, 2292
Admiral Angie Stone was not used to feeling intimidated. But the man sitting in the room with her made her wish she had a phaser – or better yet the old Potemkin wrapped around her. She wondered if Captain Spruance felt the same way. The man was obviously Starfleet Intelligence, and made her think ‘slimy’ the moment she saw him.
A device on the table top blinked a green light. He smiled and said, “Admiral. Captain. I have an unusual request for you. And a very unpleasant one at that.”
She and Spruance looked at each other. She said, “Well, you’re sure making it sound attractive. What is it? And who are you?”
“Who I am is of no importance. Call me Jones if you need a name. I represent Starfleet Intelligence. There is something that the Federation Council would like to accomplish, but for political and military reasons, it must not accomplish. We need someone who can make this thing happen, and take the fall for it whether it works or not. All we can promise is that things will be made right later.”
She laughed, “Are you trying to get us to say no?”
“No. I’ve studied you both, of course. Were I to come to you and try to sugar-coat this request, you would think I was lying and rightly so. But by telling you the truth immediately, I will gain your trust. I hide nothing: This is a nightmare. You would probably gain nothing by accepting and in fact it will likely cost you greatly.”
Spruance laughed a short barking laugh, “Then why the hell would we do whatever this thing is? And what the hell is it?”
He turned to Spruance. “Because both of you have a strong sense of justice. Because you are both highly dedicated to the founding principles of the Federation. And because you both tend to do what is right over what is easy.”
Stone said, “Well I will admit you’ve got me curious, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to say no, thanks for asking. What is this thing and why can’t the Federation do it anyway?”
“If you refuse, you must agree this conversation never happened. You will never discuss it with anyone, even each other, again. Understood?”
They both agreed and the man went on. “There is a race of people being exterminated. They have been enslaved, starved, beaten, tortured, skinned, vivisected, experimented upon and they are now being systematically murdered.”
Stone, surprised said, “Then why can’t the Federation do something? That’s what we DO is stop things like that from happening!”
The agent tapped a portable console and a series of low-quality pictures began projecting onto the wall. He said quietly, “Because they are in Cardassian space.” Some of the images were clearly sensor traps from a ship flying in, others were from a hidden camera and the bouncing image made it plain it was being worn. Interspersed were pictures of Fallon’s mother and a few snippets of interviews with her. The majority of images were a horror show of everything he had said. A small-statured people with large, liquid, black eyes and black and white skin being shot, beaten, flayed – a parade of nightmares.
Ten minutes later when the projections finished, the last image showing on the wall was of a young female humanoid being cut open on a table. Stone and Spruance both were white-faced, their jaws clamped tightly together.
Spruance said, “That might be worth going to war to stop.”
The man said, “No, it is not. And we have a plan to stop it without a war, but as I said, the cost to you is high. The Cardassian’s society is militaristic and cruel, but this is beyond even their normal limits. We believe it is a small, expansionist sub-society called the Obsidian Order that is responsible, but we have little information about them.”
Puzzled, Stone asked “Then what do you want us to do? Rescuing an entire people? That’s a job for a fleet with heavy transport support and a lot of ground troops. I’m afraid you may have been misinformed. I command a desk and Spruance teaches children how to fly.”
The agent snorted. “I know exactly who you are, Admiral. Your part will become clear, though it will be harder than you can imagine. We have put together an OPORD (ed: Operations Order, a detailed set of instructions for conducting a military operation) for you that will save at least some of these people. It is all we can do. We believe it has a very high probability of success with very minimal friendly casualties. An acceptable level of risk.”
Stone said, “Acceptable to whom?” and he shrugged.
Spruance said, “Let me see it.”
The man slid a PADD across to Spruance. He and Sterling skimmed it. The agent waited patiently while the two officers read quickly through the document, frequently shaking their heads.
Spruance said, “You are insane. I cannot trick these young people into doing this thing. I will not. And you have set me up in the process! Even your own assessment has me in jail! ‘Estimated to be not more than 30 days’ indeed!”
Stone looked at him, “You would have me convict my own niece of piracy and treason and my friend here of dereliction of duty and negligence?”
“As I said, I can only assure you that all would be made right. The Cardassians would be enraged that such a raid took place, but the fact that it were done by a group of idealistic, well-meaning youngsters acting on their own means that the Federation can deny involvement. By having YOU convict the ring-leaders, especially your niece, it proves the lie. Were we to hire mercenaries for the entire operation, they would rightly conclude it was exactly what we are doing – a diplomatic fig-leaf. But not one that they could ignore.
“Our assessment is that the Cardassians would like to be free of the issue on that planet – this raid may very well end the slaughter entirely. With the Federation taking a firm hand against the ring-leaders, we show sensitivity to Cardassian demands, they show that they are not being run over roughshod and we can parlay that into stronger relations with them and we can end an atrocity.
“For the Federation, it is win-win…”
“But WE all get royally FUCKED!” Spruance said.
“Captain, please. Intel has computed a better than 90% probability that the Cardassians will be satisfied with a pro forma conviction and imprisonment. The Federation Council would issue a full pardon when things have blown over, again a better than 90% probability that will be within 30 days. Essentially, you would have a 30 day vacation at some detention center and work on your Dom-Jot game. Admiral, your niece would be free as a bird with a combat command under her belt at the same time. Once pardoned, she’d be returned to the Academy and graduate with her class.
“It looks horrible – by design. It must convince the Cardassians. But the end result is not horrible, and you will have done much to help an innocent people and the Federation as well.”
Spruance was still looking through the OPORD. “You even provide the codes so they can generate forged orders for the USS Archer and Nova Squadron, I see. We can’t even have a real ship, you have them using the school frigate. She should be a museum ship.”
“Orias III has only light defenses.  Three fighters, a patrol craft, and some ground defenses. A frigate and a squadron of fighters is easily their match. Especially when that squadron of fighters is the highly acclaimed – and idealistic – Nova Squadron.”
“You think they’ll go do this thing for you, all on their own?”
“No, you will note that the plan hinges on you motivating Heather and Sterling to want to do so, and making sure they ‘find’ the OPORD included in the appendices. When they find that, they will conclude that your intent was for them to find it, and that it is your desire that they carry out that mission.”
“And then we completely stab them in the back at their trial.” Spruance shook his head.
“Yes. But afterward, they can be told the truth. Their pilots and the crew of the Archer will be innocent – they had valid, written orders supplied by Sterling and Heather. We are talking a week, perhaps two, of them believing they made a hideous mistake during the trial, and then once they are transported to the detention center and the Cardassians have left they too will be told and get an easy 30 day vacation and they will know that they performed admirably in a very difficult job.”
“Like puppets.” the Captain said.
“If you like.” the agent said.
Stone was just shaking her head.
The agent said, “Or, you can do nothing and the Oriaslings will be exterminated. There is no consequence to you refusing this … nightmare. It is understandable that you would refuse – these people are nothing to you. They are not even part of the Federation.”
Spruance stood up, skidded the PADD back at him and said, “FUCK you.” and stormed over to the door. He almost slammed into it when it did not open. He turned and looked back at the agent. Stone was still sitting there, looking at the hideous image projecting on the wall.
The agent said quietly, “I will need a definitive answer from you both.”
Her head sagged down and Spruance said, “Are you all bastards like this? Do you study how to manipulate people so they do what you want?”
“Then your answer is?” he was clearly unaffected by Spruance’s insult.
“You knew before you started talking that I would have to agree, didn’t you?”  Spruance asked. ‘Jones’ smiled slightly.
Stone picked the PADD up. “When does the nightmare begin?”
The door opened. “The dates are in the appendices. For this to work, you must play your parts to perfection. They must believe this is their idea, and they must believe they are abandoned when the time comes. But remember, all will be made right. We promise.”
Spruance said, “We promise?” he laughed bitterly, “Boy, that makes me feel SO much better.”
CHAPTER 11
“Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive!”
– Sir Walter Scott – Earth (Human)
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
FEBRUARY, 2292
Sterling, Heather, Inga Von Beck, Paavo Puurunen, Peggy Lynd, and Mike Malloy were sitting in one of the Academy’s many smaller classrooms waiting for Captain Spruance and just bullshitting like all everywhere pilots do.
Noticing Malloy and Lynd flirting with each other even more than had been the norm for them the past year Sterling joked, “Jesus, you two should just get married already.”
They looked at each other and laughed. Malloy said, “Um…” and Peggy blushed.
Inga said, “Oh no way. You didn’t!”
Lynd said, “No, no! Well, not yet, anyway.”
Heather clapped and said, “When?”
Malloy said, “Slow down guys. We aren’t as lucky as you two – You guys can get pregnant, engaged, married, and they’ll just give you more medals. US they’d kick out. We’re not even formally engaged yet. We’re waiting until after graduation in June so we stay within regs.”
Heather said, “HEY! You and Inga got medals for saving me!”
Peggy ignored her and took his hand, “And once we make that formal, we’re going to get married in Golden Gate Park right at sunset on December 21st.That’s the same date my parents got married. But don’t say anything yet! Neither of our parents knows yet. We want it to be a surprise. But Inga, I want you to be my maid of honor and Heather, you’ve got to be my bridesmaid!”
Malloy said, “Andy, you know you’re the only one I’d pick for Best Man, and Paavo, you’re my groomsman. So you guys clear your calendars for the 21st right?”
There were the usual congratulations and jokes about honeymoons and Sterling decided “So, Inga, Paavo, we just need to get you two to hook up and we’ll have a squadron of couples!”
Von Beck and Puurunen looked at each other and broke down laughing.
“What? What’s so funny?”
Von Beck said, “You really didn’t know?”
The other pilots were looking at each other. Lynd finally said, “What?”
Paavo shrugged and said, “I’m gay.”
“No shit!” Malloy said, “You dating someone here at the Academy?”
“Nah. I don’t go for Fleet guys. I’m pretty seriously involved with an artist down in the city though. He’s a sculptor; you should see his work, they’re incredible.”
Sterling said, “I’ll be damned. I never knew!”
“Why would you? I don’t advertise my sexuality. That’s private. Unlike some people who go out of their way to give birth in a cockpit…on the radio no less.”
Heather laughed, “That was not my fault!”
Malloy looked up as Spruance walked into the classroom. “Captain on Deck!” and they all stood to attention.
“As you were cadets.” he said and made his way over to the lectern. “Today, cadets, we’re going to have a short discussion on ethics, the founding principles of the Federation, and when it is appropriate to go to war. Just something I want you thinking of as you prepare yourselves to graduate and head out into the fleet where your actions may, in fact, lead to war if you act rashly.”
He turned on one screen and projected an excerpt from the Federation Charter:
“We the lifeforms of the United Federation of Planets determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, and to reaffirm faith in the fundamental rights of sentient beings, in the dignity and worth of all lifeforms, in the equal rights of members of planetary systems large and small, and to establish conditions under which justice and respect for the obligations arising from treaties and other sources of interstellar law can be maintained, and to promote social progress and better standards of living on all worlds…”
Then he began displaying images of the Oriaslings and the horrors they were being subjected to. When he finished, he turned to his class and said, “Now then. What would be the right thing to do were these atrocities being committed in a neighboring power, say, the Klingon Empire?”
Peggy looked like she was going to throw up. Heather had one hand over her mouth and Paavo had turned away. Sterling said, “Go in there and kill every last one of the bastards.”
Spruance frowned, “An easy, macho, emotional response Cadet. Tell me why and what you think the consequences of such an action would be.”
He thought for a second. “The charter even says ‘to reaffirm the fundamental rights of sentient beings’ and better standards of living. This is wholesale murder!”
“It also says ‘save succeeding generations from the scourge of war’ Cadet. But, we grant you a fleet of starships and you fly to this Klingon planet, blowing your way through their border patrols, killing thousands of Klingon warriors. You go here and ‘kill every last one of the bastards’. Then what?”
“Well, load them up and take them someplace safe I guess.”
“Someplace safe. Fine. So now you have half a billion living beings you have removed from their home world, whether they want to or not, and you are taking them…where? Some new planet safely in Federation space, no doubt. So in addition to your fleet of starships, you must have a really HUGE fleet of transports unless you plan on taking several months. And you must protect them from the now rather irritated Klingon Empire.
“How many planets would be depopulated in your war, Cadet?”
Malloy said, “But you have to do something!”
“Really Cadet? Why?”
Inga spoke up, “Tolstoy said in War and Peace, ‘All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”‘
“Which is the greater evil, Cadet Von Beck? A few million beings dying horribly or a few hundred billion because good men refused to do nothing? What is ethical behavior?”
Paavo chimed in, “Doing what is right, sir.”
“Wonderful. What IS right? Who defines it?”
Heather added, “Society as a whole.”
“So, if the Klingon society defined their behavior with these creatures as right, all is well, correct?”
“No, that’s not what I meant!” she protested.
“Then say what you mean, Cadet.”
“Well…” she paused, “You have to act according to your society so if ours said that was wrong, then in order to be right, we’d have to act to stop it.”
“Even if the consequence is war? I suppose so since our society is so much more right than theirs. It must be because our fleet is stronger.”
“Well, no, there are…” she paused again, “You have to balance things. Like punishing a child when they do something wrong. You don’t kill them if they scratch you, you just correct them sternly, let them know that they were wrong.”
“I see. So our hypothetical Klingons are naughty children and we should send them a sternly worded letter.”
“That’s not it at all! You’re creating a straw man, sir.”
He smiled. “Well done, Cadet. Very well. So a scaled response is in order here. What sort of a response would you see as being appropriate for stopping mass murder without causing an even bigger mass murder?”
Sterling tried again, “Maybe a raid? Something that wouldn’t cause a full scale war but let them know we were aware of it and were willing to use force to stop it?”
“That can lead to a dangerous escalation, especially if you’re not willing to engage in a full scale war, Cadet, but that idea has merit, and is in fact the exercise I want you to complete for next week. I would like you, as a squadron, to generate a complete OPORD detailing a raid on a hypothetical Klingon world where such atrocities are taking place. Include in your OPORD an analysis of likely Klingon responses and how you will prepare for them and how you will prevent such a raid from escalating out of control.
“Thank you for such an excellent segue Cadet Sterling.” he laughed. “On that note, I’ll dismiss you to your tasks – Heather, Sterling, please remain behind. I have something for you.”
When the other cadets had left, Spruance handed them an isolinear chip labeled ‘OPORD’ “This will give you a template to work from that has considerably more details then your texts. This is from an actual planned raid from some years back that never took place; I expect your squadron’s to be at least as thorough. Understood?”
“Understood, sir!”
“Dismissed.” The two cadets turned and left the room. He began re-organizing his papers feeling as if he had just given poisoned candy to his children.

* * *
Heather was sitting on the floor between Sterling’s legs while he sat on the bunk rubbing her shoulders. She held the PADD up so they could both see it as they read the OPORD. “Andy. He gave us the wrong chip.”
“Look at the dates – this is a real OPORD.” They both skimmed through the file.
“Jesus.” he said, “Those weren’t from some history lesson, those pictures are current.”
“Where’s Orias III?” she followed a link “Oh wow. Cardassian space.”
“That explains the topic of the lecture today. Is he planning a raid? Why isn’t Starfleet going to…Wait, back up to yeah, right there.” he started reading aloud, “In order to maintain plausible deniability all craft will be painted to resemble mercenary or pirate craft. No registration numbers, documents, or any other connection with the Federation can be allowed.”
She scrolled down, “Limited Cardassian forces present…Look, there’s 3 freighters loaded with troops that are called out in Friendly Forces. They’re planning on a rescue mission. Some at least.”
He reached over her shoulder and touched a control. “Christ, Heather. Those are computer codes for Ops. We could cut our own orders and make them legit with those.”
“Hang on a second.” She touched a control and dumped the data on the rod into her personal files. “He’s gotta come and get this. We have to pretend we never saw it. But I want to study that before we get rid of it – something’s going on here.” She yanked the rod out and put it on her side table and put her PADD on the bed.
A few minutes later, the door chimed and she called out “Come!” Neither was terribly surprised when Captain Spruance came through the door.
“Ah, Cadets, thank goodness. I’m afraid I gave you the wrong chip – I meant to give you this one.” he extended his hand with another isolinear rod in it, also labeled ‘OPORD’. “You haven’t gotten started yet, have you?”
Sterling laughed, “I’m afraid we’ve got other things on our mind, sir.” and he caressed Heather’s cheek while she leaned back into him.
Spruance smiled. He had received a notice on his PADD the moment they had opened the file. He gave the lad credit for not lying – he never actually answered his question. He picked up the original chip and said, “Well don’t let me interrupt Cadets; At least since you’ve received special dispensation for being married. How are the little ones doing?”
Sterling said, “Care to see? They’re sound asleep for once.”
“No, let’s not wake them – and you two need to have a few minutes to yourselves anyway. Carry on.” he turned and left their room.
Heather looked up at Sterling. “Something’s weird. He doesn’t make mistakes like that, Andy.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing. Especially not with active computer codes. So why did he give it to us?”
“And why that discussion?”
They looked at each other. Heather said, “Let’s look at the order of battle again.” She brought the file up, “One frigate, six fighters. Three freighters. 60 mercenaries. Three maintenance teams.” Her heart was beating faster.
Sterling said, “He means us. The Archer, Nova Squadron, and whoever’s got the freighters.”
“Why us? Why not a real team of Special Forces. They’ve got all the slick gear and the training to do a raid.”
He shook his head, “And it would be totally obvious it was a Federation raid – and start a war. That’s what he was telling us. They can’t use Starfleet.”
“Andy, we are Starfleet.”
“No, we’re students. Think about it – if we get everyone together and tell them about what’s going on, they’ll want to go help. We just go do it, the Federation’s off the hook. We’re just a bunch of Cadets who got stupid. They slap us on the wrist and everyone’s happy. And we’ve saved a whole bunch of those little people.”
Her fur all stood up. “No, Andy. We don’t tell them what’s going on.”
“What do you mean? We have to get them to want to go with us. They’re not going to…ohhh. The codes. That’s why those were in there.” He bit his lip.
“And that’s why he gave it to us. We write up the orders and hand them out like it’s a real, approved mission. Everyone follows along like they’re supposed to.” she nodded.
“So, the only ones who get slapped on the wrist are…us. I think now is when we pay Starfleet back for all the waivers.”
“Yeah.” She said. “But isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? The leaders are the ones responsible. Not the troops.”
“We could do this, Heather. But we could also get totally screwed. I don’t even know how many crimes we’d be committing.”
“But we’d be doing the right thing. That last picture…” she closed her eyes. “All I could think of was someone doing that to Reighney or Aedan. And no one coming to help. If they want us to do it, they wouldn’t really put us in jail, we’d get like a reprimand or something. Have to repeat our Senior Year maybe. Think of everything Captain Kirk got away with!” She stood up and the two of them walked into the little room where their kits were sleeping.
He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. “It’s combat, Heather. Real, live combat. There are Cardassian fighters there. Real missiles, real phasers. We could get killed.”
“They are being killed. We can’t do nothing, Andy. Can you imagine what it must be like to be those people? Day after day, praying that someone will come to save you and day after day, no one comes. Do you remember after the crash? Every day, I had a little less hope that anyone would come. And all we had to do was just survive. These people are watching their friends and families being murdered. And no one comes.
“Andy, I can’t stand the thought. We’re the best there is. Can you honestly say you’re OK with staying here and pretending we didn’t see that OPORD? Knowing that was going on and we had how to stop it put in our laps and we did nothing? Year after year, knowing that we could have…” she closed her eyes.
He squeezed her tightly, “No. We can ask Rollin and Nina to take care of the kids for a little bit, we’ll make up a story that we need the time alone to get ready for finals. But once we start down this road, we can’t stop.”
She sighed, “We’ll need to write a fake set of orders putting Nova Squadron and the Archer on detached training to cover. The OPORD said it was a week just to get there.”
“With those codes we can make it work. We can at least save some of them. And not start a war in the process.”
“Andy.” she leaned back into him, her eyes sad.
“Shhh. I know. We’re going to get screwed.”
“My father told me a story about Uncle Corin letting his mate die in order to save him. He told him it was his responsibility to save my father. He said Uncle Corin told him ‘Honor means always doing the right thing even if it costs you everything you ever had, or dreamed of having.’ I never thought that could really happen to me.”
They stood together for a little while, watching the identical little girls sleep safely in their crib, protected, nurtured, and loved.

* * *
STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
MARCH, 2292
Captain Ray Spruance picked up the isolinear chip that had come with the morning’s usual batch of documents. It was marked as new orders for him and he turned it over slowly in his fingers. Instead of putting it in his PADD, he looked out his office windows at the blue waters of the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge cutting across it. Such a beautiful morning. He looked down again at the chip. Such an ugly thing. He slammed the chip into the slot on the device and noted that, as expected, the orders passed all the security checks. He started reading through the document.
He shook his head with a wry smile. He was being ordered to leave immediately for a two week conference on mythology and military heraldry; in Kauai, Hawaii. He’d have time to dive, one of his passions that he rarely had a chance to indulge. They had the power to send him anywhere, and they sent him to a vacation spot. He frowned again. He’d get another 30-day vacation when they got back. If they got back.
Ih-Tedda would be suspicious. He wondered how they would explain away his absence and their own. He sighed and headed back to his quarters to pack.

* * *
“What the hell, sir?!” Commander Ih-Tedda asked him. “Two weeks detached duty right before mid-term exams? And mythology?”
He looked at the Apache woman, “Are you saying you can’t handle it, Ih-Tedda? I’m a little surprised.”
“Of course not, sir, but this is weird.”
He chuckled, “I needed a break, I haven’t even taken leave for 3 years. And I have to admit all of these mythical flying beasts showing up on helmets in Nova Squadron has kindled my interest in the subject.” He desperately tried to remember the things they had painted on their helmets. “Angels, demons, dragons, eagles, and two things I can’t even name!” he finished lamely.
“A Pegasus and a gryphon, sir.”
“Yes, yes – that’s them. Did you know that military units throughout history have used symbolism like that to try to call upon the powers of the beasts in combat?” He struggled to try to come up with something that would make it look like the subject held some sort of interest for him.
“I’m Apache sir, what do you think?”
“Oh yes, of course. In any case, I’m lucky I get to go! I’ve left instructions for you, Ih-Tedda. Stick to what I’ve laid out and you’ll be just fine.”
“You requested this conference, sir?”
“Ih-Tedda, you are so suspicious!” he laughed, “I’ll leave it as a mystery for you to solve.” He winked at her, “Can you help me haul my dive gear to the landing field? It can be a bit much with luggage.”
“Oh.” she said and smiled wryly, “Sorry, sir. It just came out of left field is all.” She bent to pick up one of his bags.
“And for god’s sake, don’t pester me unless it’s an emergency. I trust your judgment, Ih-Tedda.”

* * *
The next day, she was sitting at his desk trying to figure out whether she should try to work through more of the giant stack of daily documents before she went to her next meeting. Upper command seemed to revolve around endless meetings and giant stacks of files to be read, sorted, signed and sent to the next person to do the same. Her door chime sounded and she yelled, “Come!”
Cadet Sterling came in and saluted, “Ma’am! Cadet Sterling reporting!”
“I didn’t call for you, Cadet.”
“No, ma’am. Captain Spruance gave me this yesterday to give to you. He said it was a surprise.” He handed her a data rod marked ‘OPORD’.
“Really.” She took the rod and slid it smoothly into her PADD and began reading. “What the hell?”
“What is it, ma’am?”
“Were you aware of the contents of this, Cadet?”
“No ma’am.” Sterling lied, straight-faced.
“I have never heard of anything like this in my entire time at Starfleet.” she checked the authenticity codes again and then fired a query at the central records department and cross-checked several other departments. Everything checked. There were authentic orders covering movement, logistics, communications, everything.
She looked at him, studying him closely. This stank. But there was no way he could do anything like what she was seeing. He was an amazingly good pilot, but he was something of a clod with computer systems. None of the cadets in the senior class were anything spectacular with computers. Certainly not to the degree they’d need to be to make something like this work. Maybe it was for real. It wasn’t exactly Spruance’s style, but the old man had gotten a little odd in the last few years anyway; This batch of cadets had driven him to distraction. “Well Cadet. Nova Squadron is to board the USS Archer with your maintenance teams and proceed to The Badlands for a comprehensive tactical mid-term exam exercise. Your Spring Break is canceled as are your written exams here; They will be administered during travel home. Evidently, this exercise will be used as your primary assessment for post-graduation assignments.”
He managed to look surprised, “Really? A combat exam?”
“Yeah. First time for everything, I suppose.” She slid a blank rod into her PADD and dumped over the student documents. Removing it, she handed it to Sterling, “Here are the relevant portions for your pilots. You are the Mission Commander with Cadet Heather as your XO. Cadet Thompson will be in command of the USS Archer and will be subordinate to you. Looks like this is all students, Cadet. They’re pulling the instructors off the Archer and sending them under separate transport, so if you folks screw the pooch, it’ll be all on you. You leave orbit tonight. Looks like he wants to see how quickly your teams can react. Better get moving.”
“Thank you ma’am!” he smiled with all the excitement he would be expected to have.
She watched him for a moment while he collected the data rods. “I don’t know how Captain Spruance got this through Risk Management, or the Commandant, but they’ve both signed off on it. I also don’t know why he didn’t consult me on any of this and I am more than a little offended by that. But Cadet, this is going to be a real mission – not the combat of course – but you have to get a ship, your pilots, your maintainers, all safely to a very, very dangerous region of space and back again. This is a real command. Let’s not have a repeat of the Conrad, shall we?”
He blushed, “No, ma’am.” and he realized he had lied again.
“Dismissed.”

* * *
FEDERATION FRIGATE USS ARCHER, EARTH ORBIT
MARCH, 2292
Cadet Captain James Thompson was standing with his Cadet Chief Engineer, Suzy Straw as they watched supplies being off-loaded onto the Archer. “Can you believe these orders?”
She smiled, “You deserve it, Jimmy. We’re the best class that’s ever handled the Archer and you know it. We kick ass.”
“This is going to be the most amazing set of exams ever. And we’re even getting live torpedoes! They’ve got some sort of special surprise set up for us if we get to live-fire. Maybe some old scows that we get to take down.”
“Looks like it’ll be a lot of old scows.” she checked her list. “We’re getting a full combat load-out like we were a fleet-duty frigate.”
“Hey, for this exam, we will be a fleet-duty frigate! Just an old one. But the Archer’s got some fight left in her yet; We’ll show those scows what for!”
She giggled, “That’s about the limit of what we can handle and you know it. Everything on the Archer’s an antique no matter how well we take care of her.”
“Well, it’s not like they’ll be shooting back. But I expect her to be ready just in case the instructors throw a surprise at us – They’re up to something and we’re going to slam-dunk this exam.”
“Roger THAT.” she said emphatically.

* * *
FEDERATION FRIGATE USS ARCHER, UNDER WAY, ALPHA QUADRANT
MARCH, 2292
Sterling looked down the briefing room table at Heather, Thompson, Straw, and Christine Barton. The frigate’s briefing room was tiny and felt cramped. He breathed deeply to calm himself, but for once his stutter wasn’t threatening to show up. Heather was smiling at him, and her support and confidence in him made all the difference in the world. “All right folks. Let’s get started. We’ve got six days to get to The Badlands and that gives us six days to prepare.”
Thompson was slightly irritated at being put under the command of a fighter pilot. “Relax Sterling, this is a cake walk.”
Sterling shook his head “It’s not what you think it is, Thompson.”
Heather took out an isolinear chip and inserted it into the slot on the briefing room table. She said, “These are our real orders.”
“What do you mean real orders?” Then he closed his mouth as he and the other cadets present began to read the overview. While he was reading he said, “What the hell, Sterling! You can’t just cancel an exam like this and write your own…” he stopped as he saw that the orders came from Starfleet Command. He paused, “I call bullshit, Sterling. Let me see you authenticate these. Which one of you wrote them?”
Instead of answering, Sterling tapped the authentication icons which promptly glowed green. Heather slid several other chips down the table at the various other cadets. “Here are each of your FRAGOs (ed: Fragmentary Order. A sub-set of an OPORD containing unit-specific instructions for a military operation relating to last minute changes to the OPORD). Feel free to authenticate them yourselves.”
Barton, in student command of the Maintenance section for the first time felt an icy lump growing in her stomach as she read through her FRAGO. She had 24 Cadets under her command and for the first time they would be expected to do the job for real, with no instructors looking over their shoulders and no Chief Petty Officer Brown keeping things running smoothly. They didn’t even have a Technical Inspector aboard. They would be getting birds ready for real combat and fixing real battle damage. Screwing up now wouldn’t mean a poor grade or extra duty, it would mean someone was going to die.
Straw looked up, “Why the hell would they send an all-Cadet mission to rescue a bunch of people from some planet in Cardassian space? We’ve got Special Forces for that sort of thing.” Thompson and Barton echoed the question and Sterling explained,
“They need to be able to say it wasn’t a Federation mission, so that they can step away from responsibility. Otherwise it would be an act of war. With all cadets doing it, it’s just a bunch of idealistic students who got out of hand. They can apologize, and everyone gets back to business.”
Thompson looked up, “Yeah, right. The Cardassian’s would want someone’s head. That’s going to be the commanders of this ship of fools.”
Sterling held his head up. “No, Thompson, that’s going to be the man who issued the orders to his subordinates. Me. You folks were doing what you were supposed to and following my orders.”
“You, my friend are insane. They are going to crucify you for this.”
“They’ll make it look like that, but you know the orders came from Starfleet Command – they aren’t just going to hang me out to dry. They’ll just make it look like that to the Cardassians.” Heather tried not to look at Sterling, but her eyes still flicked quickly over to him and then back down the table.
Barton said, “You have a lot more faith in Starfleet Command than I do.”
Straw asked, “Why, Sterling? Why would you accept this? I can’t imagine they made this an order, they had to have given you the chance to turn it down.”
“Let me show you why.” he nodded and Heather keyed the presentation they had watched in Captain Spruance’s office three weeks ago. When it had finished, Thompson spoke for all of them,
“Jesus H. Christ.”
“Make more sense now?” Sterling asked.
“Yeah. So what happens when the instructors get to The Badlands and we’re already in Cardassian space?”
“Their orders put them in The Badlands the day we get back from the raid. The freighters will go their own way once we’re back in Federation space and they don’t need cover any more. They’ll think we’re all ready for a full day of exercises in very challenging space.”
Barton was still looking at that last horrible image on the view screen. “We’re going to need a lot of paint.”
Straw said, “What?”
“We’re supposed to make all the ships involved look like mercenary or pirate ships. I’ll do the lines on the birds, but there’s no way I’m painting an entire frigate.”
Thompson laughed and Sterling said, “Lines? What are you going to paint? I thought we’d just blotch them up, cover the registration numbers and…”
She said, “My birds are not going into real combat looking bad. I’ll line them out to match the pilot and my guys will paint by numbers.”
Straw said, “We don’t have enough time for fancy paint-jobs on the Archer. We’ll just blank the registration numbers. Maybe they’ll think we’re surplus…”
As the briefing broke up, Thompson walked back to his bridge with Straw. “Now we know why they loaded real torpedoes.”
“It’s just a patrol ship.” she answered.
“And we’re a 50 year-old frigate with a crew of cadets.”
“The best crew of cadets, Captain.”
He grinned back at her. “God, please don’t let me screw this up.”
CHAPTER 12
“It doesn’t take a hero to order men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle.”
– Gen Norman Schwarzkopf – Earth (Human)
FREE TRADER THORN, THE BADLANDS, NEAR THE CARDASSIAN-FEDERATION BORDER
MARCH, 2292
Lilac thought that the little Frenchman in his ridiculous little white hat cut a rather comical figure. The antique cut of his uniform and the swagger with which the man did everything was actually rather annoying, but he evidently knew his business. The mercenary company that employed him enjoyed a very good reputation, although they also had a history of taking heavy casualties. No doubt a side effect of their tendency to take on hopeless tasks; hopeless tasks they seemed to succeed at regularly however.
For his part, Major Henri Zinn couldn’t care less. The uniform had a distinctive style and helped to instill the esprit de corps that his company was famous for. The attitude came at the price of many battlefield victories against heavy odds and from having survived dozens of battles before he rose to command; No mean feat in the age of energy weapons. Their current job was rather simple. A small raid against a sleepy outpost, load up as many civilians as possible in as short a time as possible and exfiltrate. The job was well within the capabilities of his detachment and he hoped to escape with as close to no casualties as possible.
Besides, the money was good. The contract had been negotiated in Denmark back on Earth, which was why his detachment got the call since they were based out of Castelnaudary, France. They were the only detachment based on Earth, so they were a natural pick. But since the contracts had been signed, they had been floating around on these damn freighters for almost two weeks and he was becoming bored. It was difficult to keep the troops’ edge sharp when one couldn’t do heavy training for so long.
He continued to stand, at ease, watching the view screen on the freighter’s bridge. If nothing else, it was amusing to irritate the Orion who commanded this ship.
Dejan couldn’t stand it any longer. “Major, why does your company use such…antique weapons and ancient uniforms?”
Zinn smiled. “The uniforms provide distinction and esprit de corps, mon capitan.” He turned to face the Trader. “We make it difficult to earn a job with our company, and have high expectations of those we contract to fight in our ranks. A distinctive uniform – and one with a proud history dating back many centuries – helps to drive that point home. As to the weapons, even a rock, properly employed, can still kill. It is not the weapon that is dangerous, but the man behind it.
“Most military forces today have lost their focus on tactics, on the proper employment and application of force. They simply…” he waved his hand and made a buzzing sound “and trust that everything before them will fall over. They are technicians, more used to pushing buttons than fighting.
But my men? They are experts and they are professionals. We utilize everything from our bare hands to rail guns, when the time and place are appropriate. We simply prefer to use firearms when we can. Everyone knows the high-pitched whine of a phaser or the scream of a rail gun or the ripping sound of a plasma rifle. But tell me, mon capitan, can you identify a silenced sub-machine gun when one fires? Or will you pause and wonder what it was instead of immediately returning fire?
I cannot tell you how many times we have completed our actions on a target before our opponents even knew they were under attack. Further, energy weapons have an annoying tendency to keep going until they hit something. Bullets are relatively short-ranged and don’t over-penetrate when they do hit something. That can be vital when precision is required.”
“So you do use modern equipment! I had heard that all of your gear was ancient.”
Zinn smiled, “It does not hurt to encourage your enemies to underestimate you, mon capitan. We wear equipment that is appropriate to the job and that is covered in the contract. And speaking of our contract, when do our escorts arrive?”
Lilac glanced at a chronometer and then touched a control, it was his turn to smile. “I believe that is them at our maximum sensor range now, Major.”
When the Archer appeared on the view screen, her formerly pristine white paint blotched and spotted, some of the spot lights apparently burned out and generally looking like a disaster. Zinn asked, “That is our escort? I was unaware any of that class were still in use anywhere except…ahhhh. Of course. Shall we go and meet our escort?”
A few minutes later, he and Dejan Lilac were in the freighter’s recreation deck with Lilac’s other two Captains, Zinn’s XO and his Adjudant when Sterling, Heather, Thompson, and Straw walked in. All four were in civilian clothes. Lilac turned to Sterling and said, “Captain…?”
“Geoffrey Thorpe.” And he smiled. As he was about to introduce the rest of his team with similarly fake names, Thompson interrupted,
“Yarr. An we be his pirate crew, arrrr.” Straw stifled a giggle.
Lilac did not understand the reference and only looked confused, but Zinn chuckled and said, “You are the USS Archer, so you are Starfleet officers at the very least. Perhaps you would be so good as to give us your real names and ranks as I refuse to call you the Sea Hawk, although I approve of your cover as pirates.”
Heather was stunned that anyone would pick up on  an alias based on a three hundred and fifty year old entertainment. Sterling took his seat and said, “Senior Cadet Andrew Sterling, I am the raid commander. This is my XO, Senior Cadet Heather, the captain of the Archer is Senior Cadet Thompson, and his Chief Engineer, Senior Cadet Straw.”
Lilac was horrified. “You are students?!”
Sterling looked calm as the rest of his team took their seats in the room. “Is there a problem, Captain Lilac?”
“We are about to undertake an armed raid in the Cardassian Union and Starfleet has sent us a crew of children playing pirate in a museum ship as our top cover? What about that is not a problem?!”
Sterling gave him a withering look. “We have a perfectly maintained and functioning Mustang class frigate, a full load-out of photon torpedoes, six of the best fighter pilots in the Federation flying the latest mark Viper, and a crew of willing, trained experts who know their ship inside and out. But if you would prefer to wait here until someone else comes along to deal with a single patrol ship and three fighters, we can leave.”
Lilac thought that the latest mark Viper went out of front-line service in the Federation ten years ago, but wisely said nothing. Zinn studied the group of cadets. Part of his expertise was in assessing both enemies and allies. He and Sterling locked eyes for a few moments. Zinn finally nodded and said, “Mon capitan, I believe we can work with these people.”
Lilac looked from the rock-hard Zinn in his antiquated Legionnaire’s uniform to Sterling’s young face. He said to Sterling, “You can guarantee the safety of my ships?”
Sterling looked him square in the eye. “As much as anyone can in combat, Captain. We will clear the way for you to land, protect you while you load up as many people as you can, and cover you on the way out and into Federation space, until you take your leave of us. I give you my word we will be there for you.”
Lilac shook his head, “This goes against my better judgment.  You have a mission brief for us, I hope?  Something at least?”
Sterling ignored the jibe. “Heather?” he stood while Heather slid a data chip into her PADD. Thompson handed out other data chips to Lilac, Zinn, and their aides. He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart. “You have just been handed your OPORD and FRAGOs for this raid.  Here is the overview of the operation, please feel free to interrupt with comments, questions, or suggestions.”
A star chart appeared on the wall. “We will leave The Badlands at maximum warp – Captain, your freighters will set the pace as best they can. We will join the usual trade route here, just inside Federation space and approach Orias III in close-formation, with the Archer in the sensor-shadow of your ships.  You will note that the Cardassian patrol ship stationed at Orias III flies a polar orbit rather than the more usual equatorial orbit. Captain, you must time our orbital insertion so that as we enter sensor range, the patrol ship is just about to round the south pole.  As soon as that ship crests the pole, the Archer will begin jamming their sensor platforms and communications. The timing here is critical, you understand?
“We will launch all six fighters at that time, and they will proceed to drop into the planet’s gravity well while the Cardassian is on the far side of the planet. Your freighters will follow as closely on the Viper’s tails as you can. By the time the Cardassian comes back over the north pole, the Archer will be in position to engage her and disable her while the fighters slip in unnoticed.”
Straw was keeping the various images clocking along with Sterling’s presentation, and paused with a diagram of a Cardassian base. “This is our best analysis of the layout of the camp that your sensor data covered, Captain. That data was rather sketchy as to the location of defenses, but we have filled in the blanks as best we can by utilizing what little we know of Cardassian standard procedures and common tactical sense.
“As soon as the Archer engages the patrol ship, we anticipate them launching their fighters from wherever they are based; Here we have placed them at this camp, deducing that they would be located at their command center with the overall Commander, the man you identified as Legate Kai. Those fighters will be engaged and destroyed as they attempt to climb to aid the patrol ship.
“Your freighters will drop down to the planet surface, at this point, below their sensor horizon and hug the surface as closely as you are able. Those Vipers not engaged with the Cardassian fighters will be in the lead and will engage and destroy any ground defenses. Your sensors showed us one fixed air-defense phaser position here, one missile facility here, and what looks like a transport yard here. We anticipate there being between one and three mobile air defense phasers present there. We will be using the fighters’ photon torpedoes to destroy these installations before they can be brought to bear, preferably within the first pass.
“As soon as you clear this range of hills here, you will set down in the camp itself here. From your notes and photos, you have indicated that these buildings are administrative and house only Cardassians. Feel free to crush them with your ships as landing space is a bit tight.” he grinned and indicated Major Zinn. “At this point, your troops will disembark and neutralize any Cardassian ground forces and begin loading as many of the Oriaslings as you can.
“We have planned on spending no more than two hours on the ground. By that time, other Cardassian facilities may be able to mount a rescue column. Our fighters will remain aloft and providing cover against such a possibility or against any other Cardassian resistance they may bring to bear while the Archer remains in orbit as top cover. Once you have loaded your freighters, we will escort you back to Federation Space where you will go your own way and we can honestly say that we have no idea where you have gone with them.
“Complete details are in your files. Are there any questions or comments at this point?”
Heather was as proud as she had ever been. Sterling had given the briefing with a maturity and a power of personality that she knew he had but he seemed to think that he lacked. That was her mate.
Zinn had been scanning through his files while Sterling gave the briefing. “A professional job, sir. Very thorough. Simple, straightforward, clean. I like simple. There are fewer things to go wrong.”
Sterling smiled, “Thank you, Major. We were able to access Starfleet intelligence data and they indicate that there will be no Cardassian forces within three days of Orias III, so we should be long since back in Federation territory before they can even arrive there to see what has happened.”
Lilac was still uncertain, but the plan seemed sound and the young human seemed confident and capable. And the money that was being provided by the Arcturian’s patrons made the job worth the risk, even with losing the Cardassians as trade stops forever more.  “When do we leave?”
“As soon as we return to the Archer, you set the pace, Captain and we’ll follow right along. We should be there in 24 hours and back here in 50.”

* * *
FEDERATION FRIGATE USS ARCHER, APPROACHING ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
MARCH, 2292
Thompson was trying not to stare at the aft end of the Orion freighter the Archer was following. Even at no magnification, he was sure he could see the individual bolts holding her warp nacelles onto the hull. Cadet Gazi wasn’t even blinking as his hands delicately caressed the helm controls. The tactical officer, Cadet Keita sang out, “We’re a little far out, but she’s just about to go under the pole, Captain!”
“Close enough.” he told the man. “Tell the fighters to launch in sixty seconds and signal Lilac to follow them down, activate the ECM system on my mark.” his heart was pounding. There would be no classroom analysis of his orders tonight. Either he would be dead or they would be. He had better get this right.
He watched the chronometer tick over slowly while the track of the Cardassian vessel was curving underneath Orias III, finally dropping off sensors behind the bulk of the planet. A few seconds later Keita said, “Fighters have all cleared the bay.”
“Mark, mark, mark. Helm, course 315 mark 330, maximum impulse! Get us as low as you can and as close as you can to the pole, I want a shot at her engines before she even knows we’re there. Weapons, ready phasers and arm the photon torpedoes, Defense, maximum shields and energize the defense grids. All hands, red alert!”

* * *
Heather sat in the cockpit of her Viper. Her gloves were in her lap and her mask was un-snapped from her helmet. She ran her hand along the cool metal of the canopy frame, looking closely at the fasteners and the paint, the instruments, the controls. She had never really paid attention to all the thousands of tiny details in this cramped box that had become so much of her world.  There was a faint whine from the APUs, the gentle hiss of the life support system and the occasional chirp from the computer. Her eyes looked out the cockpit at the packed hangar bay in the frigate’s aft hull. Sterling’s fighter was in front of hers, her nose tucked under his port wing. With Barton’s new paint job, it looked like a huge black and red demon was draping it’s bat’s wing over her. It surely did not look like a Federation fighter.
She could just see his head and upper back through the canopy. She wished she could hold him again. Last night had ranged from passionate to gentle and everything in between but it didn’t seem like enough. She wondered if Peggy and Mike felt the same way. She glanced over her shoulders, seeing Peggy’s golden eagle tucked under her angel’s starboard wing while Mike’s red dragon crouched under Andy’s starboard side and Inga’s bright white Pegasus was mostly hidden on Mike’s starboard side. Turning left, she saw Paavo’s beautiful gryphon sheltering under her port wing. Those two hadn’t anyone to turn to for comfort last night, no one to share their fears with. Her comm system came to life with Andy’s voice.
“Five minutes. Final systems check and cross-check. Weapons systems to stand-by, double-check the safeties.”
She snapped her mask back on her helmet, took a deep breath and then pulled her gloves back on. Her heart started to beat faster. She ran her checks and tapped a control on one of her displays. A few moments later her Viper started to broadcast her latest ‘find’.
There was laughter across the comm channels and she heard Paavo say, “Wouldn’t be a fight without her musty old music!”
Peggy asked, “What’s this one, Heather?”
Smiling behind her mask she said, “I thought it fit – I found it before we even left. It’s called ‘Blood and Roses’ by The Smithereens”
In his fighter, Andy just shook his head and smiled. The Dosadi always played music throughout their battles according to Rollin, but Starfleet preferred a more austere environment. He decided everyone needed the laugh right about now, and the familiar habit besides.
“Bay doors coming open. Ten seconds. Retarders to maximum. Throttles to 10%.”
His com system sang to him:

3I want to love but it comes out wrong
I want to live but I don’t belong
I close my eyes and I see
Blood and roses

“A little macabre.” he thought to himself. He looked up to the flight control booth and saw Barton give him a snappy salute. He returned her salute and the retarder fields released in three waves. A fast check showed all six Vipers spreading into a tight delta formation. “Stay on me…down we go.” He pushed the stick forward and the Viper began arcing down into Orias III.

* * *
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
MARCH, 2292
Fallon stumbled along at the end of the line of Oriaslings being marched out of the camp and around the back side. Kai had not given her any extra work or extra privileges for the last month, but she had found ways to make herself useful to her people, caring for the sick or injured or sneaking food back from the fields when she could. Nine years-old now, she felt closer to ninety. She had begun to understand her people’s philosophy much better though, simply accepting that which happened without a value judgment of good or bad. But she was so tired, and hungry and…There seemed little point to simply existing.
As they rounded another corner and came behind the administrative buildings, she thought she would be sent to the fields to work today. At least it was an overcast day, so it wouldn’t be so hot. There was a slight drizzle, but not enough to be much of a bother. She might even be able so hide some extra food for the sick people. It was worth the risk of a beating. They never lasted long and she was strong. She had beaten the monster. No matter what he had tried, he couldn’t make her be like him. She was better than him.
The guards turned the column into a large clearing and she realized with horror that she wasn’t going to be working the fields today. Or any other day for that matter. There was a large piece of heavy equipment with a blade on it, a line of Cardassian soldiers, and a long trench in the ground. And He was here. Much as she tried not to, she started to cry, the tears welling up in her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks. It wasn’t fair.

* * *
FEDERATION FRIGATE USS ARCHER, MANEUVERING, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
MARCH, 2292
Keita shouted “Target!”
Thompson ordered, a little too loudly, “Lock on her engines and fire phasers!”
The small, Gatun-class patrol ship had caught a quick glimpse of Lilac’s freighters coming into the system before she went under the pole, which was nothing unusual, but when their sensor platforms were jammed they quickly realized all was not well. She was running along at her best speed, weapons hot and shields up. Her captain was no fool.
Gul Rekta gave his own orders, “Evasive action! Fire forward phasers and missile batteries! What is that?!” A veteran  Cardassian officer, he had volunteered for this post as a likely place to retire to, but in his youth he had commanded much larger warships. “Frigate!” he answered his own question, surprised as he recognized the old design from his younger days. “Close with them! Comm, send a distress signal to Central Command.”
Back aboard the Archer, Thompson watched his phaser shot miss wide right as the little ship nimbly dodged and returned fire, two anti-ship missiles rocketing away from her hull “Fuck! How did you miss?! Evasive! Shoot those down!” The Archer shuddered as the enemy phasers found their mark, damaging her forward shields.
Thompson felt like he was going to throw up as the missiles rapidly closed with the Archer. “Bobby, hit those fuckers!!” and below decks in the phaser control room the two freshman cadets manning the  forward point defenses tried like hell not to wet their pants, their first shots missing the rapidly closing missiles but finally scoring hits close enough that pieces of the weapons smashed into the Archer’s shields.
Back on the bridge, Thompson wasn’t going to give the Cardassians another chance. “Lock on photon torpedoes and fire!!” The weapons operator got a solid track on the little patrol ship as it charged in and fired the powerful weapons at point-blank range, just before the Cardassian was below minimum engagement range.
The main view screen went white as the patrol ship exploded, the Archer rocking and groaning in the shock wave. Thompson sagged back in the command chair. They were supposed to disable the ship, not destroy it. He bit his lip. He had just killed…what, 20 Cardassians? Should he have used the phasers again? What if he had used only one torpedo? Should he have maneuvered more? The bridge was silent, except for people trying to get their breathing back under control.

* * *
Doran Turak was frustrated. He knew everyone in the unit assigned here at Orias III thought he was too by-the-book, or too young to know better, or that he was a snitch for the Obsidian Order. He wasn’t, but he wouldn’t mind having that chance either. There were rules for a reason. Everyone else liked to do things the easy way. He preferred to do things the right way.
Which was why he was here, sitting in one of the prepared positions in his Gatling phaser air-defense truck all by himself. There was supposed to be a sensor operator and a gunner, but of course they had told him to piss off, preferring to stay indoors where it was warm. Did it matter that they weren’t specifically ordered to drive a rotating patrol? Regulations called for such a patrol. So, as usual, he drove it himself.
He wished he knew how to operate the complex sensors that went with the powerful phasers, but he hadn’t been trained for that yet. He knew how to use the optical system, but when would you ever use such a thing? Everyone used sensors. He sighed and climbed up in the gunner’s position, running his hand over the big weapon. Regulations called for spending 30 minutes in each position before moving on to the next. There was no reason not to at least pretend he was a gunner while he waited. He unlocked the turret controls and slewed it left and right, tracking imaginary Klingons who were attacking Cardassia Prime.

* * *
Inga’s voice came across the comm channel, interrupting Heather’s play list, “Bandits, climbing, two o’clock low. Max range. Three bandits. Tally Ho!” her Viper banked right with Peggy’s sliding across and falling in behind her starboard wing.
She said, “I’ve got your back, Inga.”
Andy ordered, “Paavo, stick with them. Everyone else, with me, watch for air defenses. Lilac, down on the deck!” He watched as the freighters dropped like rocks, anxious to get as far away from the enemy fighters as possible.
Inga activated her ECM system and adjusted her scanners to improve her track on the incoming fighters. They were coming in fast, but not doing anything terribly interesting. “Head to head, come around left at max Q, weapons free. Paavo, angels high, right?”
She heard him chuckle and his Viper suddenly rocketed upwards, banking off to the left and rapidly disappearing into the cloud deck.  Her helmet cuing system was showing the three Cardassian fighters closing, and a pair of missiles launched off the second fighter.
Peggy’s voice came through her headset, “vampires twelve o’clock, boss.”
“No lock; panic fire.” The two missiles corkscrewed off below her, leaving a white vapor trail in the moisture-laden atmosphere. Seconds later, she and Peggy blew through the three Cardassian fighters , starting their turn even before they had completed the pass through. The enemy birds split up and she banked her Viper through as tight a left turn as the airframe would allow.
“Lock on…bird’s away.” came Peggy’s voice and she glanced right to see the Dagger streak away from the golden-feather painted fighter. The second pilot had evidently elected to turn the wrong way and had cut almost directly across her path, an easy kill for an off-boresight shot. She shook her head and continued trying to get a lock on the enemy leader, Peggy’s Viper staying close on her wing. She hardly even noticed the explosion falling away behind them as the other Cardassian split in two, tumbled, and then turned into a fireball.
The leader was proving a more difficult target however. He knew what he was doing with his bird, making full use of his jammers and shields. She had tagged him twice with phasers during the falling turning duel, but not solid enough to punch through.
“Boss, trailer coming in five o’clock low.” Peggy called.
“Paavo.” was all Inga said.
“On it.”
“Peggy, slot left.” she ordered.
“Wilco.”
The enemy pilot, detecting Peggy’s Viper sliding across Inga’s tail, had to reverse his turn, executing a beautiful barrel roll into an diving right turn, trying to take advantage of his fighter’s faster roll rate. Inga side-slipped her fighter wide, giving the Cardassian more distance in order to stay on his tail and using her thrusters to swing her own tail around in a skidding slide, stressing the airframe to its limits.  As they banked, the second Cardassian was trying to stay in the Viper’s blind spot, closing the range so he could get a solid shot in.
Checking her rear monitor, she saw the blinking warning sign that the enemy fighter was nearly within range and then she saw the streak of Paavo’s tan and gold gryphon dropping out of the clouds like a bolt from Zeus, the phasers turning the enemy fighter into a black and red smudge that disappeared behind them in seconds, Paavo’s ship continuing it’s dive through the smoke.
A moment later, there was a growling buzz in her ear piece and she said, “Solid lock. Bird’s away.” The Dagger streaked outwards, the enemy pilot desperately trying to evade, but to no avail, the missile exploding near his right wing-root. The damaged shields were unable to deflect the energy and the fighter began to come apart. As they flew past the cartwheeling enemy fighter, Inga saw him eject; Something she never thought she would see. In the Academy you were just ‘dead’ and had to return to base.
“Form up, head back to the objective, full throttle, watch for ground fire.” she ordered, thinking that she had just scored her first kill. She hoped the enemy pilot would be OK. He flew pretty well.

* * *
Legate Kai was enjoying the morning. The clouds and drizzle made it cooler than he’d like, but at least the light wasn’t as bright and it was pleasantly humid for once. His troops had been making good progress on clearing out the infestation of these stupid little creatures and had nearly finished the preparations for the Cardassian Outpost that would be here by year’s end.
He had decided that today they would start clearing out this camp as well, part of consolidating the system as the population reduced. They were so stupid. He had finally given up on trying to make any progress on teaching little Fallon how the world actually worked. The little thing seemed to have no concept of good, or bad, beyond what related to food or pain. He had been so sure they could be taught. Ah well, it had been an amusing game while he was stuck in this dreary job. Today he’d end that particular experiment and begin making real progress. It would not do for the Obsidian Order to decide that he was not accomplishing their goals.
He watched them shuffle into the field, his troopers cuffing them into lines. It was amazing the mess it made having to get rid of this many animals. Not done properly, it would be a serious health hazard for the incoming colonists. He pulled his gloves on and walked to the end of the line of troopers on his side of the trench. Ah, there was little Fallon. He was a good master and would put his own pet down.
Drawing his sidearm he ordered, “Take aim.” and was startled by a sudden explosion behind him, on the far side of camp. There were several more in rapid succession and he said, “What is going on here?”

* * *
Andy’s fighter was screaming through the thick air, his sensors scanning for the sensor emissions that would identify the air defenses he knew had to be there. Several symbols appeared on his face plate and he locked his torpedo onto the closest, a missile launcher that was even now searching for his birds. “Heather, phaser site eleven o’clock, Malloy, vehicle park two o’clock, go, go, go!” Lilac’s freighters were coming in fast and already settling down in the camp although it looked like one was coming down beside it. Things were going very well so far, assuming Inga’s group had taken care of the three fighters.
He throttled back and gave his tracking system another few moments to stabilize on the missile site in front of him. His sensors clearly showed the launcher slewing towards him while it’s sensors tried to burn through the jamming his Viper was putting out. As soon as the pipper turned green, he gently pressed the button on his right side-stick and the little ship bucked as the heavy photon torpedo streaked into the distance. A missile leapt off one of the rails and streaked into the sky. He immediately banked right and dropped as low as he could, the missile going wildly into the sky. There was a blinding flash as his torpedo exploded followed by another shattering series of detonations. “Hit!” he thought and grinned to himself. He went back to scanning for mobile launchers or phasers or any other threat.
Meanwhile, Mike thought to himself “What a cake walk.” The open lot was full of several types of vehicles, some of which were clearly air defense vehicles. “Stupid place to park those. Not much use to anyone.” He fired his torpedo and didn’t even bother to change course as the yard vanished in an instant. He curved his fighter around, scanning the ground as he headed back to escort Lilac’s freighters in. Nothing else to do. At least Peggy got to have a dog-fight. He had no doubt that she was fine. That woman could fly. She could do other things really well too, he smiled at the thought.
Heather rolled level, flashed over one of Lilac’s freighters – they were early, she thought, chopped her throttle and lined up her shot. The high-power Gatling phaser mount in front of her bird was facing the wrong way and had no chance to engage her, although she could see it rotating as its crew frantically tried to bring their weapon to bear. She fired her torpedo and watched it disintegrate and then looked across the camp, her fighter moving relatively slowly. There was a line of Cardassian troops near where one of Lilac’s freighters was settling down; evidently the pilot didn’t see them, or didn’t care. She lowered the nose of her Viper, her altitude dropping alarmingly.  She pressed the trigger, the phasers spitting green energy into the line of men and she pulled up and away, increasing her thrust while she went to look for more targets.

* * *
Fallon jumped when the first explosion went off. What were they doing now? Were they blowing everyone up? Wasn’t it fast enough to just shoot them? She saw Kai turn and heard him yell something. Maybe this wasn’t something the Cardassians were doing. There was a ripping noise over her and she looked up to see an angel drop out of the sky and shoot the Cardassians. She was too stunned to move as the explosions ripped through their line and several fired their weapons into the sky, having no effect at all on the angel.
The angel screamed off over the trees. She knew it was a ship of some kind. One that wasn’t Cardassian. But whatever it was, what it looked like even with the funny skin color, what it was, was an angel. The others were running, trying to hide, she should too. Instead, she looked at the monster. He looked at her.
Kai knew someone was trying to ‘save’ the little creatures. Clearly then, the way to foil their plan was to kill them now. He could see two big ships – LILAC! Settling down on the camp, crushing his office and communications equipment. He was out of the fight – he would have to rely on his men to carry the day. But he could make their raid a failure. He yelled at his men “SHOOT THEM!” and turned to do the same. He saw little Fallon was too stupid even to run. He smiled and raised his phaser. “Good bye, Fallon.”
Her eyes got big as she saw the phaser point at her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t. She didn’t want to die. She closed her eyes and let the roar wash over her.

* * *
Major Zinn had his mean stacked by the rear cargo doors. The doors, slow at the best of times, were already open. The wind of the ship’s movement through the air was sucking the rain into the hold and soaking everyone and blowing their camouflaged clothing around. It didn’t matter, they would dry.
He watched the trees coming up on either side of the sinking freighter and he raised his Thompson sub-machine gun. As commander, he would be the first out the doors. The five four-man stacks with him raised various remakes of ancient slug-throwing weapons and got ready to move and move with a purpose as soon as the ship grounded.
Everyone crouched, bending their knees to absorb the shock of landing. Seconds later, the ship hit the ground and he and his men charged out of the open doors. About 50 meters directly in front of him was a line of Cardassian troops. Some had weapons pointing to the sky, some to his left, some were on the ground. He aimed his Thompson and let loose at the Cardassian nearest him, watching as the burst of three nearly half-inch bullets stitched up the man’s left side in a roar, knocking him to the ground.
Cardassian’s normal uniforms provided some protection against energy weapons, but none whatsoever against high-velocity chunks of metal, he thought with a grin, moving on to engage the rest of the enemy line who were completely confused and disorganized. He and his men made short work of them.

* * *
When the first explosions went off, Turak nearly jumped out of the truck. In seconds he knew that their base was under attack. A real attack. He saw the transport yard explode and knew that the other gunners had gone with it. He was the only one left. And then he saw one of the enemy fighters rising slowly up out of the trees almost directly in front of him. It was painted like a human with big white wings. He slewed his sight to the right, trying to get the weapon to bear.
The fighter banked to the side, presenting a beautiful profile of the image painted on the fuselage and for just a fraction of a second it hovered nearly motionless in his optic. Terrified, he jerked the trigger and screamed at the horribly loud whine of the Gatling phaser in his ear and watched the image in his sight vanish in a brilliant green glare and puff of white. When he opened his eyes again, there was nothing in his optic but grey sky.

CHAPTER 13
“Well, I think we tried very hard not to be overconfident, because when you get overconfident, that’s when something snaps up and bites you.”
– Neil Armstrong – Earth (Human)
TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
MARCH, 2292
The roaring sound kept happening, so Fallon opened her eyes. She wasn’t dead? She saw the Cardassians spinning around and falling over, blood spraying out of them in time to the horrible tearing roaring sounds. There were strange people running towards them; Hardly any two looked alike, but they were all wearing the same ugly splotchy clothing, floppy hats with a shiny pin on them and the same sort of boots. They were carrying the strangest guns that she had ever seen and instead of beams of light, they spat fire and smoke and they were terribly loud.
One of them came over and knelt down by her. She just stared at the little pin on his funny green hat – it was a circle around an angel’s wing, with a hand holding a sword.

* * *
Major Zinn finished his drive through the line of Cardassians. The other four squads had split up, per the plan, and were sweeping into the camp, searching for any other troops. He made another pass back down the line, putting another burst into one trooper who seemed a little too healthy yet. Changing magazines on the Thompson, he bellowed to his men in gutter French, “Round them up and start loading them in the freighter! Remember, it’s not optional. The clock is ticking.”
Nimbly jumping over the trench he knelt down by a tiny little thing and said, “Bébé, allez dans le navire maintenant.“ She didn’t move, simply staring at him with her big black eyes wide and her mouth open. Standing up again, he forcibly spun her around and pushed her towards the ship, following it up with a gentle boot to the bottom. She finally got the idea and ran towards the cavernous freighter. He took his beret off and wiped his brow. Scanning the field with satisfaction, he put the hat back on, pulled out his PADD and checked on his men’s progress. He waved one of his Nausicaan squad leaders over; The man was truly a fright – over two meters tall with tusks and carrying a fully automatic 12 gauge shotgun, the mere sight of him was enough to cause death, he thought.  Time to get back to work.

* * *
Inga was leading her flight to the Cardassian compound as fast as they could go. She could see the freighters on the ground and several columns of smoke rising from the defensive positions, so it looked like everything was going according to plan. Heather’s Viper climbed up and began a wing-over turn, the angel paint job showing clearly in her enhanced visuals. Barton had done a phenomenal job. Then she saw a Gatling phaser open up from a small clearing. There was a flash of white, a cloud of smoke and the Viper spiraled frightfully fast, it’s trajectory taking it up in a ballistic arc; She screamed “HEATHER!”. She felt her blood go ice cold and thumbed the arming button on her photon torpedo saying, “He’s mine. Split up and look for any more of the little bastards.”

* * *
Turak couldn’t believe it. He had hit it! He shot down the enemy fighter! There was a hint of motion out of his left eye and he turned his head. There were three more! One of them was coming straight at him terribly fast – it wasn’t even making any sound. In an instant he knew he had no time to slew the Gatling mount around. Terrified he simply jumped out of the turret and fled, a stream of urine running down his leg. He had barely made it the few meters to the trees when his world dissolved in a blinding white light and a roar.

* * *
Heather struggled to stabilize her fighter. The inertial dampeners kept the rotation from banging her around too much, but her helmet had smacked into the canopy bow anyways. The instruments were spinning wildly, and the canopy was a green and grey blur. The roll rate dropped as she struggled and she heard the computer warning “Pull Up! Pull Up!” A moment later she brought the ship level, but inverted and saw the ground rising up above her. Jamming the right side-stick fully forward, the nose of the Viper swung back to the sky, while still trying to roll and yaw to the right.
She stamped on the rudder pedals and rotated the throttle as much as she dared, involuntarily ducking as the Viper slammed through the tops of some trees. The shields were gone, but the duranium fuselage shredded them and sprayed branches everywhere. Finally getting some altitude, she let the craft roll to the right and leveled out, racing away from the Cardassian camp, trying to assess the damage to her bird.
It suddenly dawned on her that there were several voices calling her name on the comm system. “I’m OK. I’m hit, but I’m OK.”
Sterling’s voice drowned out the rest. As Raid Commander, his transmissions took priority in the computer. “How bad is it? You’re trailing a lot of vapor from your right wing.”
She banked gently back towards the rest of the squadron who were systematically shooting the hell out of every clearing they could find, just in case. “Looks like I lost a chunk of my starboard wing-tip and there’s a hole in the same wing. Shields are gone. Primary coolant system and Primary hydraulics both losing pressure. She wants to roll right.  I’m OK. No need to abort. Still mission capable.”
There was a long silence. “Keep some altitude. Once they load up, you Paavo and Inga take lead on escorting the freighters. The rest of us will bring up the rear.”
For the next hour and a half, they flew lazy circles over the camp, watching Zinn’s Legionnaires herding long lines of Oriaslings into the freighters. It was apparent they were not being terribly gentle about it, using boots and shoves to encourage the little people to move faster.  Heather wondered what it would be like to be one of those left behind as the freighters began closing their cargo doors. How horrible must it be to see salvation literally right in front of you and then have it snatched away.
At least her fighter was holding together though. She continued juggling systems to keep it that way and that took her mind off of the plight of those abandoned on the surface. It helped even more when Andy’s confident voice came through her headset, “All right. Up we go. As soon as we clear atmosphere, recover on the Archer and let’s get out of here. Heather, if you can’t land safely on the Archer, you should be able to fit on one of the freighters and we’ll transport you over. We’ve got this nailed, people. Well done.”
Heather felt a surge of pride. They had done it. They hadn’t rescued all of them, but there were thousands inside the big ships. She patted the instrument panel. “Good job, little bird. Now just get me home.” She checked the tactical display and saw that the Archer would be on the far side of the planet when they cleared atmosphere. They’d have to match orbits with her, but it wouldn’t take long. Already the surface of Orias III was lost underneath the cloud deck. They had done it.

* * *
FEDERATION FRIGATE USS ARCHER, MANEUVERING, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION
MARCH, 2292
Thompson finally allowed himself to relax. For the last ninety minutes he had been continually re-assessing his commands during the battle with the patrol ship, wondering what he should have done differently. But now, Lilac’s freighters were lifting off the surface and all six fighters were right along with them. All they had to do was round the planet, load them up and then fly home.
Keita’s console beeped and he touched a control. His dark black face blanched nearly white and he shouted “CARDASSIAN CRUISER DEAD ASTERN!”
“What? That’s not…” the screen over Keita’s station showed the terrifying image of a Cardassian heavy cruiser that had just dropped out of warp.
“Helm! Full ahead! Full shields! Comm, call Sterling!”
“They’re jamming us!”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he fumbled with the buttons on the command chair, “Straw! You gotta get us more power. We need everything…” the Archer vibrated slightly from a long-range hit from the cruiser’s main battery.
“What the hell? I thought we were…”
“A god damn Cardassian cruiser just showed up!” For an instant, his mind flashed back to a test he had taken at the start of his senior year. It involved a disabled freighter that you went to help. And of course, it was a trap. Half a dozen Romulan warbirds suddenly surrounded your ship and destroyed it in minutes. A completely un-winnable set up that the instructors put together as a mind-fuck just to see if they could break you.
“We’re on it, Captain!” came Straw’s steady voice.
He thought for a few moments. Maybe not just to see if they could break you. The Archer was streaking along in her orbit, engines straining to force her lower and faster, although the frigate had no chance of out-running or out-fighting the enemy cruiser. Maybe what the instructors had said was right, the Kobayashi Maru test was to prepare you for that time when you simply couldn’t win. So that instead of curling into a little ball and crying, you faced your fate like a man, on your feet and fighting to the last ounce of strength.
Thompson sat back in his chair and looked around his bridge. There were nearly a hundred cadets on board ranging in age from 17 to his own elderly 22.  They were counting on him. Well, he decided, he couldn’t get them home again, but he could at least make their last moments something to be proud of. Besides, what was that stupid slogan old Professor Popski was always spouting off in Military History? ‘Who Dares, Wins.’
Cadet McKenzie, a 17 year-old New Zealander spun his chair around “We can surrender!”
Thompson gave him a withering stare. “Shut the fuck up, McKenzie.” The bridge was nearly silent except for the pinging of the sensor sweep and the occasional whir from the computer.
“No! I’m serious! We don’t have to die! All we have to do is…”
Cadet Captain James Moses Thompson stood up, his expression silencing the panicked young man. He walked the two steps to his chair and said quietly, “Cadet, you will close your mouth and man your station. The USS Archer will not surrender, ever.” He stood up straight and spoke to his bridge crew. “We are going to unfuck this situation and complete this mission. Is that understood?”
There was a chorus of “Yes, sirs!”, some with more conviction than others. The ship vibrated again from another glancing phaser hit on the shields.
“We’ve got six of the most bad-ass fighter pilots in the galaxy on the other side of the planet. We are going to lead this fat fuck directly into their guns and then we are going to help them cut that pig into bacon bits! Are there any questions about that?”
Stronger now, “No, sir!”
“Weapons, target aft phasers on their port nacelle. As soon as they’re in range, begin firing as often as you can. Just keep shooting that same damn nacelle. Nothing else. Let’s cut them down to size a bit before we let Sterling and his crew have them. Fire photon torpedoes from the aft launcher whenever you can get a lock. In fact, fire one now just to remind them that we are no one to fuck with!!”
“Yes, SIR!”
He moved back to his chair and sat down again. If he was going to die, he was at least going to go with some style. He said quietly, “Yarr. Avast ye scurvy dogs.” There were even a few chuckles around the bridge as the photon torpedo streaked away from the Archer. Since it had no lock on anything, it flew harmlessly past the Cardassian ship, but it made everyone feel better anyway.

* * *
Gul Kordat, in command of the Cardassian cruiser Vetor, watched the enemy vessel attempt to run. It had been fortunate that he was bringing a member of the Obsidian Order to Orias III when the distress signal arrived. They were close enough to respond in time.
His tactical officer spoke, “Gul Kordat, the enemy vessel is a Mustang class frigate. Federation design, but it has not been in service for many years. No registration markings and it appears to be in poor repair.”
“An easy kill.” he smiled. “Engage at maximum range. Let’s let them know their fate is at hand. Jam their comm systems, don’t let them talk to any friends they might have. Continue to scan for enemy vessels.”
“Yes, sir. Sir, they are also jamming, sensors are seriously degraded.”
The pursuit continued for a little while. The Gul watched as the little ship fired a photon torpedo at his ship, but without a lock on. Were they that terrified of death? Perhaps he should offer them the chance to surrender. Phagh. They were worms.

* * *
Sterling was plotting the course that would bring them to the Archer the fastest when his tactical plots went white. “What the hell?” he thought. He keyed his comm system and said, “Anyone else just lose their plot?”
Instead of the answer he expected, the computer answered, “Communications failure. Frequencies are being jammed.”
Jamming? Why the hell were they…His heart sunk. If there was jamming, that meant another enemy vessel had showed up. And it also meant it had more power than the Archer. He reviewed the status of his squadron. They needed heavy weapons, and they needed to cover the freighters, and he needed to communicate, and then go attack whatever had just showed up. And they were all low on power.
He waggled his wings and dropped even with Lynd and Malloy. Using hand signals he ordered Lynd to take his right wing and Malloy to stay on the freighters. Then he surged forward, using the same system to have Puurunen take his left wing while Inga stayed with Heather. The three of them increased power, climbing away from the rising freighters.

* * *
“Hull breach deck seven, casualties reported. Shields failing all over the ship, main deflector damaged, point defense phasers port-side destroyed, main security destroyed, hull breach sealed…” The Archer rang again from another hit by the Cardassians, interrupting Cadet ‘Jerky’ Jerkowicz’s report.
Thompson ordered, “Keep firing at that port nacelle! C’mon, get me another couple of torpedo hits and we can finish this fucker off. Jerky, all I care about right now is engines, shields, and weapons. If they’re broke, fix them and fast.” he leaned forward in his small bridge,  “Gazi, you can do better than that! Make her dance!”
Another torpedo launched out of the Archer’s aft end, and the bridge crew erupted in cheers as they saw it impact on the enemy vessel, followed by a bracket of phasers slicing across her port nacelle. Gazi did better, the tired old frigate seeming to remember her glory days and dodging like a skier on a slalom course.
But a cruiser is designed to take heavy damage, and has many more weapons systems than a frigate. As Thompson was about to congratulate Gazi for dodging the last several shots, the Archer shook from stem to stern when a shot pierced their shattered shields, hitting her directly in Engineering. The lights on the bridge went dark.
Down in Engineering, the main regulators had taken a hit, radioactive coolant was flooding the compartment and several fires were burning. Two cadets were already dead, scalded to death in an instant. When the radiation alarms began to howl, the rest started to run for the exits. The isolation doors were coming down to protect the rest of the ship. Cadet Chief Engineer Suzy Straw, nicknamed ‘Mother’ by her engineers, shouted over the alarms, the hissing of the coolant and the screams of injured cadets, finding a volume in her voice she never knew she had. “STOP RIGHT THERE!” She threw the spanner she had been holding into the bulkhead where the door was coming down and the first few cadets skidded to a stop, surprised. Mother never yelled.
“Get back to your posts! They need us here or we’re all going to die! Billy, break out the rad suits, everyone suit up as fast as you can while you work. It’s not bad – trust me! Saeed, get those hull plates out of the damage control locker and set up a shielded area by the main vents. Sally, help me! I need you guys!” and she ran into the heart of Engineering to try to bring the main engines back under control and restore the power distribution system.
The older cadets turned and started back into the smoky, radioactive hell that was Engineering, grabbing the terrified freshmen and sophomores as they ran. Seconds later, the isolation doors came down, sealing off the contaminated section and 18 cadets from the rest of the USS Archer.
On the bridge, Cadet McKenzie had found his courage, or at least a loyalty to Thompson. Manning the Environmental station he reported, “Main power back online, Captain! Engineering flooded with radiation and sealed off.” Realizing that someone must be down there for power to be restored, he worked at his console for a moment, setting up a high-speed air cycle to continually flush the space and try to give whoever was alive a chance. It didn’t look like they had to worry about running out of air anyway.
There was another terrible roar as the Vetor’s main phaser banks scored a direct hit on the photon torpedo bay, instantly killing the ten cadets who were struggling to load another of the heavy weapons into the aft launcher and ready it to fire. Ten more stories had come to a sudden end.
The Archer fired back, her phasers again scoring hits on the Vetor’s port nacelle.

* * *
Kordat watched another volley from his main phasers miss the wildly maneuvering little frigate, now trailing fire and smoke, and cursed at his bridge crew. “Are you blind? Why is this pathetic little frigate not destr…” the Vetor’s gravity wavered heavily from the Archer’s latest shot. They were surely not the worms he had first considered them. “Fire, damn you all!”

* * *
Thompson opened his eyes. He had blacked out for a moment. The air in the bridge seemed thin and his chest hurt. Why wasn’t anyone at their posts? He tried to breath deeply but it hurt. The bridge stations he could see were blasted and had evidently been on fire. He groaned and blinked to clear his vision; there was a hole in the forward bulkhead, he could see see the blue and white curve of Orias III rolling around through it. The force fields were holding at least. He wondered how much air had blown out. Why couldn’t he move?
He heard a motion to his right and saw McKenzie picking himself up off the deck and returning to his post. He also saw what looked like a chunk of hull former sticking out of his lower right chest, pinning him to his chair. He coughed up some blood. Fuck. Where the hell was Sterling? “McKenzie.” He ordered, his voice hoarse, “Take the helm.”
McKenzie stood up to do as he was ordered and sat back down again. Gazi’s charcoal figure was still at his post. “Helm’s destroyed, sir. So’s navigation, tactical, engineering, and science. Looks like Auxiliary Control has everything but environmental. You’re pretty fucked up, sir.” His eyes were wide and terrified.
Thompson tried to laugh, but it came out as a gurgle. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m fine, McKenzie, so clearly you don’t know what you’re talking about.” McKenzie actually smiled at that. “Keep manning your station, Cadet. We’ll kick their asses yet.” Thompson fumbled for the comm button on his chair, locking it open. “Auxiliary control, this is Captain Thompson, get ready to bring us about. We’re going to charge these assholes.”

* * *
Sterling could see the Cardassian cruiser growing rapidly as their Vipers clawed for space. He didn’t have to say anything to the two pilots on his wings. They were all low on energy. Only two of his birds had torpedoes left and no one had more than a couple of phaser shots available. But he could also see the Archer, clearly shot to shit and fighting for her life against the relatively giant cruiser.
The range numbers dropped rapidly, the cruiser taking no notice of them. At nearly the same moment, both Peggy and Puurunen fired their torpedoes, the cruiser starting to take evasive action too late. He watched both impact on the underside of the enemy ship, blowing chunks out of the hull.
A second later his computer informed him that enemy jamming had ceased and he thumbed the comm button, “Stay tight on me. Make what shots you have left count. Heather, any sign of any other ships?”
“Negative. We’re trying to change course, we’re coming straight up into that thing’s guns.”
“Roger. Peggy, Paavo, follow me in.”

* * *
Aboard the Vetor, the tactical officer shouted, “Enemy fighters coming up under us!”
Kordat ordered, “Evasive! Point defenses, engage them immed…” and he was knocked to the deck as the two torpedoes struck his ship. Regaining his feet he asked, “How many? What types?”
“Six Federation Vipers and three freighters, climbing fast.”
“Freighters? On screen!” His viewer showed a split screen, three fighters in outlandish paint jobs streaking in at him, dodging his defensive fire while another three equally outlandish looking fighters tried to run away, covering for three lumbering freighters as they left the planet’s atmosphere behind them.
He took only a moment to make his decision. “Secondary batteries, continue to engage the frigate, main batteries, take out those freighters, point-defenses, you will destroy the fighters. Who in the hell flies ships that look like that?”
There was no answer to his question. The Vetor began spitting death in all directions as phasers began to shoot at all ten of Sterling’s ships.

* * *
Sterling fired again, watching the green beams score deeply into the Cardassian’s hull. He hit at least one of the damnable Gatlings just before it would have been able to fire at Inga’s strafing fighter. He glanced down at his power meters. He was about out of everything. He turned off the safety overrides and funneled life-support and engine power into the phaser capacitor as he spun away from the cruiser.
Paavo’s voice came through his headset, “Sterling, I’m out, I’m not even sure I can make it to the Archer.”
“Paavo, you’re out, Malloy, we need you over here.”
“With you.” came the answer.
Inga said, “Sterling, I’ve got one shot left, maybe two.”
“Stay with the freighters.”
Peggy watched Mike’s fighter spin at an angle and begin thrusting to turn his vector back towards the Cardassian. His Viper quickly raced away from the freighters, streaking towards the big cruiser. She took a final strafing run along the Cardassian’s dorsal spine, her last shot a weak, low-energy blast that looked more like a flashlight than a phaser. “I’m empty, Sterling.” she told him as she angled for the freighters.
Heather was struggling with her damaged Viper. The control inputs had gotten very sluggish and she had no shields, no weapons, nothing with which to be of any use to her friends. She watched Malloy’s ship begin its attack run, the phasers firing as he closed with her bow. The big ship’s shields finally collapsed and his next shot scored a direct hit on the obviously badly damaged port nacelle.
Horrified, she saw the multiple-green beams of a Gatling phaser leap up from the aft end of the Cardassian cruiser and the whole right side of the Viper vanished. There was an endless agonized scream over the comm channel and her last view of him was the red dragon scales sparkling in the light of Orias as the broken fighter spiraled down into the planet, leaving a braided column of smoke and plasma. It was only a second or two before the computer filtered out the horrible sound. It just seemed like an hour.
The Archer was swinging around as well, pivoting so her bow was to the Vetor, her burning hull leaving a billowing trail spreading out behind her and masking the view of the Cardassian. The enemy cruiser hit the freighter under her again as well, destroying her shields and scoring light damage on the hull. Sterling’s fighter pushed over and began another attack run.

* * *
Aboard the Thorn, the holds were packed full of terrified, confused Oriaslings. Major Zinn and his men had moved along the sides towards the freighter’s shuttle bay, hoping to find some space there. When they came under attack, he had used this ship’s computer to tie in to a universal translator. He attempted to explain what was happening and to calm the frightened little people down. Several hits on the Thorn made it apparent that things were not at all going according to plan.
The Thorn rattled and groaned and Zinn felt the gravity shift. He felt that odd crinkly sensation he always had when shields were raised or lowered and he knew that they were now defenseless. He turned to his XO, shook the Klingon outcast’s hand and said, “It has been an honor, mes ami. More Majorum. (ed: ‘In the manner of our ancestors.’), n’est ce pas?”
Fallon had also tried to find some breathing space and was standing near the little man who had shot Kai. When she had seen him she wanted to be nearer to him and had moved steadily along the walls until she was almost next to him. He wasn’t speaking Cardassian, but she could understand him somehow. She asked, “Are we going to die now?”
Surprised, Zinn looked down. “Little one, it is OK. It won’t hurt. Be brave.”
There were several dull crunching and groaning sounds as something hit the back of the Thorn.

* * *
Thompson was losing more of his breath but at least the pain in his right side had faded to a dull pressure. “FIRE!” he said with all the energy he could muster. The battered Archer fired her last phaser. He could hear it. With nothing much working on the bridge, he had to wait for the report from Auxiliary control. “A hit! Port side, nacelle mount.”
“Let me know when we can fire again, Suzuki. Any contact with engineering?”
“None. They’re gone…Captain! They hit her port nacelle again! She’s falling away! She’s hurt bad! She’s on fire amidships! They’ve lost power!”
“Get us the hell out of here, NOW while we still can. Get Sterling’s birds aboard and get us out of here.”
“Yes, sir!”
He sagged back in his chair and closed his eyes. Holy shit, this was fucked up.

* * *
Sterling dove onto the Vetor from behind, angling for her main phaser banks and her bridge. He tried not to feel anything at Mike’s death, to focus on the job. The Cardassian fired again, helping him to pinpoint the emitters and he began to fire. She was obviously hurting, as she was rolling and yawing left after Malloy’s last shots had taken out her port nacelle. He had to take out the phasers or she’d still be able to kill them all.
The energy level indicators were blinking red. This would have to be his last shot. He caressed the trigger, watching only a single, weak green beam trace into the back of the Cardassian’s bridge. He made an aggressive turn to port, rolling up and over her spine when a young Cardassian gunner fired his phaser-3 directly into the rear of his port engine.
Sterling saw the hull come up and just had time to think ‘Heather’ before the nose of his Viper slammed through the primary hull of the cruiser, exploding almost instantly and severing the main power distribution networks on the enemy ship, leaving her burning and adrift.

* * *
It was a series of images that Heather would take to her grave. Mike’s braided plume of fire fading away into the distance and Andy’s Viper diving down onto the cruiser, his shots scoring solid hits and then a flash of bluish light reaching up to smash him from the sky, the demon-painted fuselage disappearing into the Cardassian’s hull before the middle of the ship was obscured by an explosion.
The enemy cruiser falling away to the left, her right side coming into view. Peggy’s fighter closing fast on the Thorn and her computer showing an enemy weapons lock on the damaged freighter. Instantly, Peggy’s Viper slid down between the two and a thick green line reached up from the ship’s right side and slammed into the little craft. The eagle painted on her fighter seemed to take fire, glowing brightly for an instant before it blew up, the debris smashing into the Thorn’s aft hull.
In seconds, they were out of range of the crippled cruiser, running as fast as they could.
Heather finally responded to the voices in her ear. Numb, she said, “We need to recover before we’re totally out of power. Nova two to Archer, can we land?”
There was no answer and she tried again before they responded. “Nova two, we don’t know. We’re trying to find out. Wait one.” It wasn’t Thompson’s voice.
She looked at the frigate. There was a hole where one of the hangar bay doors used to be. “Negative, Archer. Bay doors look like they took a hit.” Numbly, she realized that Barton and their maintenance teams were likely gone.  “We’ll have to recover on the freighters. Nova flight, recover where you can. Get a charge if they can supply power, we might have to do this again if they catch us. As soon as we can, let’s get to the Archer. We need to get into warp as soon as we can. Archer, once we’re recovered on the freighters, can we do a warp jump anywhere and repair what we need to get back to the Federation?”
There was a hollow laugh, “Believe it or not, we’ve still got warp power. I have no idea how. Engineering’s gone. Haven’t heard a word from them for a while. Bridge is gone too. Everything’s gone.”
She ran out of power while she maneuvered for the Thorn’s shuttle bay. Fortunately, freighters – especially Free Traders – make a lot of use of tractor beams and they were able to recover her while the other two ships took in Paavo and Inga.
She pushed her canopy up, got out of the cockpit and stood motionless in the tiny space for a moment before doubling over and throwing up repeatedly. She was still on her knees when Zinn came in. He avoided the spreading pool of vomit and helped her to her feet. He still remembered what it was like, that first time in combat. He wondered what had gone on outside; but clearly this strange-looking young woman needed to see that what she had done had been worthwhile. He pulled out his handkerchief – an affectation that went with the uniform – and wiped her mouth for her.
Taking her hand, he gently guided her into the cargo hold, stepping around Fallon, who had followed him in. She was staring at Heather’s fighter and the helmet still on her head. Zinn got her into the hold and said, “You must see what you have done, mademoiselle Heather. The many thousands you have saved.”
Her eyes still wide and her mind numb, she scanned the mass of little people without seeing them. She looked up at Zinn. “He’s dead. He blew up. He’s dead.” She wasn’t even blinking.
They heard a piping little voice and heard Fallon ask, “Who was he?”
Heather crouched down by the little girl. She tried for a moment to explain her mate, the best friend she had ever had, the person who made life worth living, who made flying everything, who sang with her, who held her, who…
Instead, she started to sing. The people in the hold rapidly fell silent as her voice began to carry.

“The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death ye will find him;
His father’s sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
‘Land of Song!’ said the warrior bard,
‘Tho’ all the world betray thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!’

She couldn’t finish. She began to sob, pulling Fallon to her and squeezing her tightly. And then she heard Zinn, his French accent and baritone a complete contrast to her own voice. He was quickly joined by several of his men, some of whom were injured.

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said ‘No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!

CHAPTER 14
“nIteb SuvnIS DevwI’.” (A leader must stand alone.)
– Klingon Proverb
FEDERATION TRANSPORT USS AMSTERDAM, THE BADLANDS, NEAR THE CARDASSIAN-FEDERATION BORDER
MARCH, 2292
Lieutenant Commander Raul Grijalva was alternating between worried and furious. The USS Archer was now almost 12 hours overdue for the most unusual set of mid-term exams he had ever heard of. Why the Commandant had pulled all the instructors off the vessel and allowed an all-cadet team to fly her to this particularly dangerous region of space he did not know.
And now they were late. Either they had gotten lost, or become damaged or were simply screwing off. The annunciator sounded, “Lieutenant Commander Grijalva to the bridge.” FINALLY! He thought, hurrying to get to the bridge. When he arrived, he wondered what had happened. Everyone was tight-lipped and white-faced. He glanced up at the image of the Archer and then did a double-take.
“Mother of GOD!” he said, as he took in the extent of the damage showing on her hull. “That’s battle damage! What happened?!”
“We don’t have communications yet, Commander.” the Amsterdam’s captain said. They all waited in silence as the range closed. Time dragged on as they waited. Finally the viewer wavered to life, showing the Auxiliary Control post of the old frigate. Facing him were a young male sophomore he recognized as Cadet Suzuki and the rather infamous half-Dosadi female senior, Cadet Heather.
Breaching protocol he immediately demanded, “Cadet Heather, what happened?! Where is Cadet Thompson?”
Heather’s fur was burned, oil-smeared, and matted. Her uniform was a disaster. Her voice sounded rather mechanical. “Sir, you and the rest of the instructors need to beam over and I can explain in person. We need damage control help, power, and medical aid immediately sirs. Our transporters are gone, the situation is critical. Send us everything you’ve got. I need to get back to work, sir.” And she cut the connection.
Grijalva was stunned. “Captain? Can you…”
“Absolutely. Get moving, Raul. That looks very, very bad.” And he began issuing orders to his crew.

* * *
Grijalva was talking almost before he finished materializing in the burned-out transporter room. “Where is Heather? I want a status repor…” There was no one there. The doors were jammed half open. He and the Engineering instructor, Lieutenant Commander Gordon stepped into the hallway as the next group of teachers started to materialize.

Gordon said, “Jesus, Raul. I’m getting to Engineering. Let me know what you find on the Bridge.” and he began to trot off down the corridor. He hadn’t even gotten halfway there before he passed the first dead cadet, a young woman who’s name he didn’t know.
The turbo-lifts were down, so Grijalva had to climb through the access tunnels to get to the bridge. He pushed open the hatch, finally emerging into what had been the nerve center of the old frigate. The darkened space stank of smoke and feces and burned insulation and death. “Merciful God.” There was no answer.
He saw Thompson, one of his all-time favorite students, with a chunk of tritanium pinning him to the command chair and a pool of dried blood on the floor. Thompson’s hand was still on the control console. The various work stations were blasted, scorched, and blackened. Much of Cadet Keita was missing, but what he could see was very recognizable as the tall black man. Cadet Gazi’s burned corpse was still poised as though he were steering the vessel. He had been one of the most promising helm students he had seen in several years. Grijalva shuddered, it was like the Flying Dutchman, a crew of the damned helmed by the dead.
There was a quiet beep from the Environmental station and he almost jumped out of his skin. “Hello? Who…” and he saw that the cadet manning that station was still alive, though injured. He quickly walked to him and dredged his memory for the name. Freshman…Kiwi…”McKenzie? What happened?” There was no answer, the cadet was totally focused on his console. Leaning over his shoulder he noticed that he was continually juggling life support controls, routing the majority of the remaining life support capacity to Engineering. “Cadet? Cadet! Report!”
He didn’t take his eyes off the readings but finally answered, “Yes, sir! Cadet Ian McKenzie, manning my post, sir!”
“Cadet, what happened here? What are you doing?”
“Sir, there must still be people in Engineering. We still have power. I am attempting to remove the radiation contamination from the space so that they have a chance. I will not abandon my post. The Captain’s orders, sir.”
Grijalva stood upright again, the cadet going back to ignoring him. There was a hole in the forward bulkhead – he could see open space through it. What in heaven’s name had happened to them?

* * *
Gordon came running up to what had been the entrance to the main Engineering spaces. There was a crew of cadets, including Heather, moving debris and trying to cut through the massive isolation doors. If those were down, it meant a disaster on the other side. “Cadets! Stop what you are doing!”
Heather straightened up, bleeding from a cut on her arm, and said “No sir, we will not. There are still crewmen alive in there.”
He was horrified. “You have communications?”
“No sir, but we have power and they’ve been managing that power for the last 14 hours. They have to be alive.”
“How close to getting through are you?” He stepped through the debris to the cadet with the plasma torch. “Almost there, sir.”
“Cadet Donnely. Watch the jacket on that torch – you’re running it too cold. Here.” he made an adjustment and the color changed slightly. “Cadet Heather, clear all but four people out of here.” he glanced again at the radiation alarms. “When this bulkhead goes, it’s going to contaminate everyone and everything out here. We’ll evacuate to the next isolation door and seal it off there.”
“Yes, sir.” Exhausted, she moved to follow his orders. Fifteen minutes later there was a tremendously loud crash as the heavy bulkhead fell inward. She looked up and saw a line of cadets in filthy radiation  suits come streaming out of the engineering spaces, many obviously wounded or suffering from radiation sickness. More radiation alarms were sounding. She counted eighteen of the twenty crew she knew were assigned there, and the last out was Cadet Chief Engineer Suzy ‘Mother’ Straw. She stumbled and Heather caught her, the two women staggering down the corridor.
Gordon stepped into Main Engineering. There were two bodies by the jury-rigged mains and what looked like a set of hull plates welded into baffles clustered around the main air vent. He could feel high pressure air streaming out of it. They had set up a shielded area and arranged to have positive pressure air to scrub out all the radiation they could. Must have been handling their duties in shifts. Damn, that was fast thinking, he thought to himself.
Wasting no time, he evacuated the ruined spaces himself.

* * *
An hour later, Grijalva, Gordon and the rest of the instructors, with assistance from the crew of the Amsterdam, had things mostly under control and the scope of the disaster was becoming apparent. There were almost 40 of the frigate’s crew of 85 either dead or missing and very few who were not wounded to some degree. They were finally able to take a few minutes to get a report.
Grijalva and Gordon were sitting in Auxiliary Control, trying to get more systems on-line when Heather and Straw finally reported. Both were filthy, wounded, and punch-drunk with exhaustion.
Grijalva asked, “What happened here?”
Heather spoke, “I alone am responsible, sir. I planned and led a rescue mission into Cardassian space. We were surprised by a Cardassian cruiser and took heavy casualties before we crippled her and escaped.”
There was a shocked silence. Straw spoke up, “Starfleet planned this, sir.”
Heather shook her head, “No, Cadet. We lied. Cadet Sterling and I wrote those orders ourselves.”
More silence. Grijalva and Gordon were completely stunned.
Straw said “Heather, I saw them authenticate. I know they were Starfleet orders.”
“Negative, Cadet. We hacked the authentication system. We were not going to let those people be wiped out. Someone had to act.” She stood at attention, looking straight ahead.
Gordon said, “You and Sterling wrote these orders? You stole a ship and went running off on some half-assed private rescue mission in Cardassian space? You attacked Cardassian warships?”
“Yes, sir. Cadet Sterling is dead. I alone am responsible for these orders. The other cadets were following what they believed were authentic orders from Starfleet Command.”
Straw whispered, “No. It’s not possible. You couldn’t.”
Grijalva said, “What have you done?” There was a long silence as he studied her. “Gordon, we have got to get out of here. If the Cardassians catch us, we’ll be lucky if they only blow us out of space. Finish getting the most severely wounded onto the Amsterdam and tell them to run as fast as they can for the nearest starbase. Have them send us a tug and as many escorts as they can. We are in very, very deep trouble. Have Amsterdam notify Starfleet Command of what we have just learned, have them tell the Cardassians that the criminal responsible is in custody and that this was an isolated incident, not an act of war.”
Standing, he ordered Straw. “Place this woman under arrest and lock her in the brig under suspicion of piracy, treason, murder, and conspiracy to commit all of the above. Get her out of here.”
Heather spoke again, “Sir! The brig was destroyed. Will confinement to quarters suffice? I will make no attempt to escape.”
Furious he said, “Get her out of here, Cadet Straw. Get her out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret.”

* * *
Heather sat in her quarters, alone. She had been alone for the past nine days. No one had come to see her, not even Paavo or Inga. She guessed that since she was under arrest, they hadn’t been allowed to. But someone should have come. Maybe Grijalva, or Gordon, even if only to yell at her or interrogate her, or whatever they did to prisoners. Almost anything would have been better than just being shunned completely.
They could have let her help with damage control, or with the wounded, or even clean up. Anything. Instead, she had just been left here, with nothing but her thoughts for company.  Those were almost unbearable. The first few days had been the worst. Constantly questioning the choice to rescue those little people. Wondering where that cruiser had come from – the intelligence files they had accessed said there wasn’t supposed to be anyone near Orias III. Wishing she had stayed low after shooting those troops on the ground so she wouldn’t have gotten hit and could have been some use in that last fight. Trying to think what she could have done to save them. Any of them.
An involuntary shiver went up her spine from the memory of climbing into the Archer’s bridge after the Thorn had transported her back aboard. Hoping, praying, that there was someone to rescue and finding only one cadet alive, burned, but still at his post and ignoring her completely. She breathed deeply, banishing the image of that blackened charnel house. She dropped to the deck and started doing pushups again, counting loudly to herself to keep the horrors away. Maybe tonight the nightmares wouldn’t come; The endless sorrow of watching her friends, her mate, die over and over again, all overlaid with Malloy’s hideous final scream.
Was this really a Starfleet mission? Were they really supposed to have done this? Even if it wasn’t, it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? They saved a lot of people. They were Starfleet – they were supposed to risk their lives to save others. But did Spruance really mean for them to find that data? She had to pretend this was all her idea or the Cardassians would go to war with the Federation. She had to.
The door to her quarters opened without even a knock. Two very large Starfleet security men were there, and they stepped into her quarters. She stood up and two others came in after them, holding phasers at the ready. The lieutenant in charge, the first one through the door looked at her with disgust. “Heather Wilkes?”
“Yes, sir. That is me.”
“You are under arrest for piracy, treason, multiple counts of murder and conspiracy to commit the same. Please place your hands together directly in front of yourself and make no sudden movements.” While he spoke, his partners had moved around behind her.
“That’s not really…”
The two behind him raised their phasers and he continued, “Please place your hands together directly in front of yourself and make no sudden movements. If you continue to resist, we are authorized to use any force necessary to take you into custody.”
She slowly placed her hands together thinking to herself that this was absurd. They were treating her like some sort of psychopath. The lieutenant placed force-cuffs on her wrists and they enveloped her forearm from her fingertips almost to her elbows, holding them uncomfortably close together and forcing her to hunch her shoulders.
She opened her mouth to speak and he said, “I advise you to remain silent as anything you say will be considered willing testimony, however I will record any statement you wish to make at this time.”
Her eyes wide, she closed her mouth and shook her head. He continued, “Come along quietly.” The man behind her gave her a moderate shove and she followed the lieutenant into the empty, smoke damaged corridors of the USS Archer for the last time. She kept hoping to see a friendly face – anyone. Someone had to know that she was doing what she was supposed to, that they had done the right thing. Instead, they hurried down to the burned-out transporter room, seeing no one. Less than a minute later, she found herself standing in a receiving room and as soon as she materialized, the force fields snapped on. She tried to determine where she was, but had absolutely no data. A brig somewhere. Maybe San Francisco? The guards hurried her forward again, the fields dropping as she moved into an adjacent compartment.
The lieutenant removed the force-cuffs and stepped back. The team moved back along the walls, covering her with their weapons as though she were going to leap at them and attack. She almost giggled, the first time she had felt any positive emotion in over a week. The force fields at the entrance cycled and a heavy-set woman came in to the room. She handed Heather a folded piece of cloth. “Remove that uniform. you have no right to wear that ever again. Put on the coveralls.”
“Where do I change?” she asked, stung by the statement.
The phasers came up again and the lieutenant said, “I urge you to comply. We are authorized to use whatever force is necessary.”
Her ears and whiskers drooping, she stripped out of the uniform she had worked so hard and for so many years to earn. Nudity wasn’t any big deal, but the shame of being forced out of her uniform was.
As she was changing the lady ordered her, “Undergarments as well.”
She struggled not to cry. She had done far too much of that these past many days. She hoped that Starfleet got her out of this soon. They had to. She had done what they wanted, hadn’t she? The coveralls didn’t even account for her tail.
Five minutes later she found herself standing in a small room with one wall being nothing more than a force field. There wasn’t even a monitoring post visible. She tried to ask the Security men as they left, “Where am I?”
As the force field flickered on, the lieutenant paused and looked at her. “Why should you care?” He almost said something else, but instead just looked disgusted and left.
Heather stayed there, looking through the flickering field at nothing for a very long time.

* * *
FEDERATION DETENTION FACILITY
2292
She had lost track of time. The lights dimmed slightly, periodically, and she thought that was probably ‘night’, but it wasn’t very much. No one came. She tried to make marks on the wall, but had nothing to scribe with. Her claws couldn’t even scratch them. Maybe they had forgotten about her.  No, the replicator still produced food from it’s rather basic menu whenever she managed to feel like eating. She knew she was losing weight. They must just be watching her from the various sensor eyes scattered throughout the cell.
At least her kits were OK, safe with Rollin and Nina and Grandpa Rollin and Grammie Heather. She wondered if they knew where she was. She shied away from that line of thinking again.
Shouldn’t someone come? An attorney? Spruance? Even a Security man to interrogate her? There was supposed to be a trial before they locked you up. She pounded on one of the security eyes and screamed at it, “I’m supposed to get a lawyer! You can’t just leave me here!! Even a…” she paused, her voice dropping to a whisper, “criminal…has rights.” Except she wasn’t really a criminal. It’s just that no one knew that. No one could know that until she found out if the Cardassians had decided not to attack because of their…her…raid. She wondered how many Cardassians had died.
The replicator didn’t have any other functions. It wouldn’t give her news, or books, or music, just simple food and water. This had to be illegal, keeping her penned up like this, alone, with nothing. She had taken to singing to keep her spirits up, trying to remember every song she and Andy had ever sung together. Too often she would break down in tears in the middle. Usually pushups or situps, done long enough, would end the crying.
Wasn’t there supposed to be mail? Or a priest or something?
She was startled to realize that someone was outside the force field. She thanked God and hurried closer to the field and stopped quickly. The someone was Cardassian.
He was sitting in a chair, just studying her. She looked back at him. Why was he here?
The Cardassian smiled. “Well. How are you today?”
She blinked. Whatever she expected, that wasn’t it. “I’m OK, I guess. Who are you?”
“You don’t know me?”
“No. Should I?”
“I simply assumed you did; That I had wronged you somehow since you felt the need to destroy my post, murder hundreds of my troops, and have me shot as well. I thought it must be personal. Did you decide to go on your killing spree because you were bored?”
“No! I didn’t go on a killing spree! It was a rescue mission! Who are you?”
“A rescue mission? Who were you rescuing? Were there some Federation citizens trapped on Orias III? And what sort of a rescue mission involves the death of over 200 sentients? You have an odd notion of rescue…’Heather’, isn’t it?”
“Those little people! The Oriaslings! You were murdering them!”
He chuckled, “You mean the way you murdered my men and the crews of the Vetor and Karn? My men, at least were sentient. Those little creatures you killed so many people for, are animals. Clever, yes. Sentient? No. Do you feel sorrow, at least? Even some flash of regret for the people you killed? No? Perhaps for your friends? The ones you left behind to die as you ran away with the freighters?”
She was getting angrier by the moment. “Who are you?”
He stood up. “I am Legate Kai, of the Cardassian Union. I will be prosecuting you under an agreement with the United Federation of Planets. I merely wanted to see what sort of…creature it was that had caused so much death and destruction. I understand that you aren’t even a natural being, that you are a construct. Is that true?”
Her ears were flat back and her eyes were slits of rage. “Fuck you.”
He laughed, “No thank you. I have standards. Enjoy your privacy. Per our agreement with the Federation, you will be kept in isolation so that you cannot contact co-conspirators.”
“Asshole. Where’s my lawyer?”
“That is still being negotiated, creature. There are so many things to settle before we get to your trial and inevitable execution.” He smiled again. “Well. I have enjoyed our little chat. Good bye.”
She tried to think of something to say as the tall, reptilian-looking man walked away, leaving her alone again, but came up empty. Finally, her anger cooled and she started thinking clearly again. So it was working. The Cardassians were negotiating, not attacking. And no one had come to see her because of them. For the first time in a very long time, she smiled. She would do her duty. She would maintain that it was all her and Andy’s idea, that they were just stupid, idealistic cadets. Starfleet had nothing to do with it.
There would be a trial, and they’d convict her of something, disobeying orders maybe, but not all the stuff they had said when they arrested her. And they sure weren’t going to execute her. The Federation didn’t have a death penalty – that was barbaric. All she had to do was hang tight for a little while, let things play out, and then Starfleet would make it all go away. She closed her eyes and thought of Andy, and Mike, and Peggy and all the rest. She would protect the others. It was all her idea. It would suck for a while, but they had saved so many. She would get through it. She would be strong. She had to be.

* * *
She had finally started tying knots in a thread she pulled from her blanket as a way to keep track of time. Each knot was a ‘day’. Now, if only she knew how long it had been before she figured that out…She decided that it had been nine days on the Archer, and a week, no, two, here before she started. So she tied 23 more knots in another string, and set that one aside. She would keep careful track of time. It must be April by now. She suddenly realized that her 22nd birthday had passed sitting in her quarters on the Archer.
The twins were eighteen months old now. They had almost been talking when they had left for Orias III. She wondered what their first words had been. She wondered what her family had been told. She dropped down to the deck and began doing pushups as fast as she could, counting loudly.

* * *
There were 30 knots in her string, plus the 23 in the first one. No one had come. She tucked them under the mattress again and looked at her blanket. For a moment she thought about not bothering to pull another string loose. What was the point? Finally she sighed and pulled another thread loose and tied her first knot.
She began to sing one of the twins’ favorite lullabies, another one of her ancient musical treasures. She didn’t know much about it, she had only found an untitled clip. But she hoped it was true. She hoped her kits hadn’t forgotten her. She hoped that Andy, wherever he was, didn’t blame her. Softly, she sang:

4Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight
Someone’s thinking of me and loving me tonight
Somewhere out there someone’s saying a prayer
That we’ll find one another in that big somewhere out there

And even though I know how very far apart we are
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
It helps to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky

Somewhere out there if love can see us through
Then we’ll be together somewhere out there
Out where dreams come true

She held the last note for a while, letting it draw out and hold all the sadness she felt. Then there was a slow, insulting, clapping sound. She looked out past the force field and there was Kai and two other Cardassians with phasers.
“What do you want?” she asked him.
“Your fate is at hand, creature. Your trial begins today.” He touched a control on his wrist and the force field dropped. “Please don’t resist. The public has a right to see you go through your trial before you are executed. It would disappoint the people if we had to shoot you here.”
She raised her hands for the inevitable force-cuffs and remained silent. She was marched along quickly and when they left the building she blinked in the bright sunlight. It looked like Earth. She was shoved into a transport and the APV moved along for about half an hour. The sun! Gods how she had missed the sun. And a blue sky. And real air!
Much too soon, the vehicle came to a halt. She was shocked to see a crowd of people – humans! It was Earth! – clustered around the entrance to what must be the court building. There were Starfleet Security troopers keeping the steps clear. Why were there so many people? What was going on?
The Cardassians pushed her out of the APV and she looked up at the deep blue sky and smiled, Everything would be all right. She was on Earth and there were Starfleet personnel here. It would still work out. They started up the steps and a woman lunged past one of the Security men and spat on her face. Heather recoiled, shocked and the woman screamed “YOU KILLED MY SON YOU FRANKENSTEINIAN BITCH!” before she was grabbed and shoved back into the crowd of people.
The resemblance was so strong, it was obviously Thompson’s mother. Before she could speak, the Cardassians hustled her into the building, moving away from the grumbling crowd. She couldn’t even reach up and wipe the spittle from her cheek. Those people were all here because of her? She realized that it wasn’t just Starfleet and the Cardassians who thought she had acted on her own. This was a lot bigger then she thought it was. Those people thought she and Andy had…They brought her into the court room and she tried to assess what she saw.
There were lots of Fleet personnel in the gallery, and lots of media people too, evidently. She wanted to throw up. This wasn’t at all like she imagined it would be. This wasn’t anything like any of the other times she had been in trouble. This was terrifyingly real. The guards led her to a table with a lieutenant (j.g.) sitting at it and shoved her into a chair. They removed her force-cuffs and moved off to the back of the room while Kai sat at the table across the aisle from hers.
The woman sitting next to her said, “I’m your lawyer, Heather. I’m Lieutenant junior-grade Alexander. We’ll get a chance to talk soon, there’s been a lot happening behind the scenes. Today you shouldn’t have to testify, we’ll just be laying out why we’re all here. We…”
“Attention on deck!” a Chief Petty Officer cried out and the military folks all stood to attention. Heather saw the judges walk in and almost sighed with relief. Admiral Angie Stone, Captain James T. Kirk, and a Cardassian. She couldn’t ask for a better sign that Starfleet was already getting things fixed!
Admiral Stone gaveled the court martial into session. She picked up a PADD and began to read. “Heather Wilkes, Attention!” She and her lawyer both quickly got to their feet. “You are accused of one count of treason, seven counts of piracy, 40 counts of dereliction of duty leading to the death of a teammate, and 273 counts of murder. The Cardassian’s have agreed to the dismissal of all lesser charges involved in the incidents of stardates 9251.6 through 9270.7, inclusive.” she looked up. “How do you plead?”
Before she could even open her mouth, her lawyer said, “Not Guilty, ma’am!”
She swallowed in a very dry throat. The list of charges was…insane. She looked at her Aunt Angie, who looked back at her with an icy, cold expression. Even Kirk was looking at her like she was evil; Kirk who had gotten away with violating the Prime Directive a hundred times, who had broken almost every regulation there was, and he was looking at her like she was disgusting!
Stone spoke again, “Heather Wilkes, you may be seated. Legate Kai of the Cardassian Union will be prosecuting this case and has an opening statement.”
Kai stood, smiling at her with his reptilian grin. “As we have agreed, we of the Cardassian Union, in the interests of peace, justice and fairness have renounced our grievances on the violation of our territory and our right to try this pirate – excuse me, sir! I am used to Cardassian jurisprudence – this accused pirate in our own court system. We have put our faith in Federation justice and wait to see how true to your claimed principles you are.
“We have incontrovertible evidence that this…constructed being…lied, cheated, and stole Federation property, then, leading a group of misguided students who had become used to her constant violations of rules and regulations, blasted into Cardassian territory where they slaughtered unsuspecting and innocent Cardassians for their own amusement.
“Now, we do not blame those poor students. No, they were clearly the victims of a system that tolerated disobedience. A system that encouraged free thinking and doing whatever one felt was right, completely disregarding the guidance of older, wiser heads. Sadly, forty of them paid the price for that folly. Instead, we will show that this…creature…is solely responsible for these crimes. And we demand that justice prevail!” He sat down.
Alexander stood up, “Ma’am. I apologize for being unprepared. As you know, my client has been kept incommunicado per Cardassian demands and I have had no time to confer, nor prepare an opening statement. I request a recess so that I may confer with my client.”
The three judges talked among themselves. Heather was trying not to shake. Finally Stone spoke again, “This court will recess until 0800 tomorrow.” and banged the gavel.
Instead of getting to talk to her lawyer, Heather was manacled again, loaded into the APV and taken back to her cell. She was sitting on her bunk, dejected and wondering what to do when the force field cycled and Lt. Alexander came in.
“Heather, how are you holding up?”
“They’re going to execute me.” She said.
“No, no they’re not. But I won’t lie to you, it’s not looking very good. The evidence is…well, it’s overwhelming. They’ve got depositions from your surviving squadron mates and the Archer’s Cadet Chief Engineer as well as copies of all the orders you issued.
Heather, you have to tell me the truth. Who put you up to this? This reeks. You’ve been set up.”
She looked up, “No. It was Andy and me. It was our idea from the start.”
Alexander studied her. “Heather, whatever they told you, they’re lying. They use up people like you and throw you away like toilet paper. Did they tell you they’d cover for you? That if you just danced like a good little puppet they’d make it all go away? They lie. Tell me who it was, Heather.”
Heather looked her square in the eyes. If she broke now and told on Spruance, the Cardassians would know they were set up. Whatever had been accomplished towards peace would fail. This was more negotiations than the Federation had ever had with them – this might even lead to an alliance. Something truly good beyond saving a few thousand people might come of this nightmare. “My mate and I came up with the idea. We wrote the orders. We issued the orders. We conducted the raid. There was no one else who knew what we were planning, or even suggested it.”
Alexander shook her head. “You are an idealistic fool. I’ll try once more – Do you know they are crucifying you in the media? ‘The First Traitor Ever at Starfleet Academy’, ‘Half-Human Murders Hundreds To Save Animals’, ‘Starfleet: Guardians or Pirates?’ – it goes on like that. The Cardassians have been granting interviews with widows and orphans and inviting reporters to visit the homes of the animals as well as showing the destruction your raid caused. They’re claiming that your fighters strafed the city indiscriminately, killing thousands of the animals along with the Cardassians. They’ve got sensor logs showing it.
“They’ve made a hero out of a young gunner who risked his life to save several of his mates and a cluster of the little creatures. Apparently, he almost shot you down before his vehicle was blown apart, killing everyone but him. They play that clip a lot. It’s very dramatic and of course your fighter is very identifiable.”
Heather was shaking her head and whispering “No, no, no, no.” She finally said, “We only hit Cardassians. We were careful. And they’re people not animals! Look at the report with the orders! Look at the interviews! I saw them, I spoke to them, they’re people! Use the gun camera logs from our…” she remembered that their powerless fighters had been abandoned on Lilac’s freighters.
“Heather, I know. And we’ll be introducing those orders. That’s the only thing I can do for you, unless you tell me it wasn’t you. I’ll try to get them to drop the charges or reduce the severity due to extenuating circumstances. It’s all we’ve got. But you need to know how you’re being portrayed out there. They are hanging you out to dry, sister. And they don’t care at all. They got what they wanted.
“The media has been taking an anti-Starfleet bent lately. They seem to go in cycles and when there’s been peace and prosperity for a long time, they start to ask what we need Starfleet for. They forget all the times Starfleet has saved this planet – and many others – and ask ‘what have you done for me lately?’.
She stood up. “I’m sorry, Heather. I’m not going to be able to do much for you. Unless…?” she left the question hanging.
Heather looked up at her. “Is there anything from my family? A letter? Anything?”
Alexander looked sad. “I’m sorry. The Cardassians demanded the right to be the ones holding custody over you, and they require that you be kept in isolation. You stay in Federation territory, but they are the ones in charge of how you’re handled as long as it stays within some boundaries. They seem to really want to make an example out of you.” She looked at Heather for a few moments more, seemed about to say something but instead, turned and left.
It was hours before Heather could lie down and sleep. And the nightmares came again.
CHAPTER 15
“This is a court of law, young man, not a court of justice.”
– Judge Oliver Wendell Holmes – Earth (Human)
GREAT LAKES TRAINING FACILITY, CHICAGO, EARTH
MAY, 2292
Lt. Alexander started the trial off with a bang. After Stone gaveled them back into session, she stood and said, “Sirs, I would like to move for an immediate dismissal of the treason charge.”
Stone looked back at her, “And why is that, lieutenant?”
“Ma’am nothing about the events described meets the definition of treason. None of my client’s actions aided any foreign government. In fact, her actions were in keeping with the very principles of the Federation Charter. She was directly responsible for the rescue of many thousands of sentient beings!”
Kai was on his feet a moment later, “Nonsense! Those creatures are not sentient. Why, they have less claim to being sentient beings than this…artificially constructed creature now on trial!”
Alexander pounced, “If that is the case, sirs, I move for immediate dismissal of all charges.”
Even Kirk said, “What? On what grounds?”
“If my client is not sentient then she cannot be responsible for her actions. Per the honorable Prosecutor’s own statement she can not…”
Kai interrupted. “Your honors, this woman is turning these proceedings into a farce.”
“Not at all! You have stated that there is a question about my client’s status. That should be determined scientifically and my client released on bond while she is examined and tested. If she is found to be sentient, then the trial can proceed.”
Heather was horrified at the implication. Of course she was sentient!
Kai snorted, “A transparent delaying tactic, lieutenant. You attempt to have this murderer and pirate let loose while an endless stream of tests and experiments are conducted and the victims of Orias III wait for justice!”
Stone finally banged for quiet. “Both motions denied, lieutenant. The trial will proceed. Now, do you have an opening statement?”
“Ma’am, I move for the dismissal of all 273 counts of murder on the grounds that she was only following Cadet Sterling’s orders and was therefore not responsible.”
Stone frowned. “Lieutenant, I’m sure you know we are having this trial to determine exactly what your client is responsible for. Motion denied. Now, do you have an opening statement, or will you continue trying to find spurious reasons for dismissing each charge individually?”
She cleared her throat. It had been worth a try. “Yes, ma’am, I do ma’am. Have an opening statement I mean, ma’am.” She glanced at her PADD and said, “Your honors, I will show that my client was, in fact, acting at the behest of higher authority and is therefore not guilty of the charges presented.” She sat down.
Kirk said, “That’s it?”
“Yes, sir.”
He cocked his head at her.  “Lieutenant, that was very…succinct. Thank you.” He turned to Kai, “Would you care to call your first witness?”
Kai stood. “I would. I call the criminal herself to testify! Forgive me – accused criminal.”
Heather stood, a little shakily and moved to the chair next to Admiral Stone. She felt completely ashamed at the fluorescent pink coveralls she wore instead of her uniform. Shouldn’t they have waited until they convicted her to take that away? The CPO swore her in and she sat down, trying to look confident.
“Well, ‘Heather’. Your day of reckoning is finally at hand. We’ll try to make this quick and painless for you.”
Alexander was on her feet again, “Your honors! Is the Prosecutor going to question the witness or torment her?”
Kirk simply said, “Please get to it, Legate.”
“Of course. Did you, or did you not steal information from Federation computers relating to the events in question?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kai blinked. “You admit it?”
“Yes, sir.” Alexander tried not to look defeated. This whole situation stank. It wasn’t what she wanted for her first trial experience as a JAG Attorney, but she figured that’s why she got the case; The folks behind this were going to make sure the young woman fried. Well, she was going to give it her best shot anyway. To hell with Starfleet’s smelly games.
“Then, did you forge a series of documents to look like official Starfleet orders?”
“Yes, sir.”
He was smiling. “And then, utilize those orders to steal a Federation frigate and six star fighters?”
“Yes, sir.” Heather finally saw, sitting towards the back of the court room, her parents. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. They looked completely stunned.
“You do not deny the theft?”
Honor, she thought. “Sir, I am under oath. I will not lie.”
“Well!” he smiled at the court. “Then this will take no time at all. Let us continue. Did you then invade sovereign Cardassian space?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then, lead your six fighters down into Orias III where you murdered two Cardassian pilots, and then proceeded to strafe innocent Soldiers – including myself, I might add! – and destroy Cardassian property?”
“No, sir.”
“You said you will not lie!”
“Sir, I engaged no other fighters. I did strafe a line of Soldiers who were on the ground, and I did destroy an air defense position that was attempting to engage myself and my team.”
“I see. But you issued the orders that brought the other killers to Orias III, correct? The pilots who did shoot down my fighters? And the frigate which destroyed my patrol ship?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you then attack and cripple the Cardassian cruiser Vetor?”
“I didn’t engage the Vetor, sir. My Viper was badly damaged by ground fire and I had no chance to do so. However, my team did engage the Vetor. We were trying to leave when they attacked us. We acted in self-defense.”
“Self-defense does not apply when you are the aggressor.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Tell me, where did the freighters go?”
“I don’t know, sir. We made it into Federation territory and they left on their own immediately.”
“But you confess to illegally accessing Federation computer systems, stealing the frigate and the fighters, invading Cardassian space, and shooting innocent Cardassians, is that correct?”
“I wouldn’t say innocent, sir, but on he whole, that is correct sir.”
Kai turned to the panel of judges. The Cardassian judge was looking smug. Stone and Kirk were keeping their faces carefully neutral. “Well, your honors, we may be done before lunch. The criminal has confessed. On Cardassia Prime, we would now move to the execution!”
Stone interrupted, “This is not Cardassia Prime, Legate.”
“Pity.” he said. “No further questions at this time.”
Alexander stood and walked towards Heather. “You maintain that you and Cadet Sterling wrote those orders yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All of them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The two of you managed to conceive of this entire operation on your own, wrote orders sending Commander Spruance to Kauai, handling the loading of supplies, torpedoes, parts and so on, all of the movement of the personnel involved…all without help?”
“Commander Spruance? You mean Captain Spruance, ma’am.”
“Ah, of course, you couldn’t know. Commander Spruance was convicted of dereliction of duty and negligence a couple of weeks ago and stripped of his rank, fined, and imprisoned for thirty days.”
“He didn’t have anything to do with this!”
“Not for this, for keeping you and Sterling on as students despite constant violations of many different regulations when policies and procedures called for you to be removed from the Academy.”
Heather closed her mouth, grinding her teeth. Alexander studied her.
“Tell me, Heather, if no one helped you write these…how did you and Sterling, not known for your computer skills, gain access to several very secure computer networks in order to create these orders?”
Heather realized they hadn’t thought through what they would say. There had been so many other things to do first. They always thought they’d have time to work out the details later. She stammered, “We found the access codes.”
“Really. Found them, eh? And where did you ‘find’ these very secure codes, Heather?”
She clammed up. She was furiously trying to think. Alexander didn’t want to give her a chance. “Sirs, I would like to consider the witness hostile. Will you order her to answer the question, please?”
Kirk raised his eyebrows. “You’re declaring your own client to be hostile to you, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Interesting tactic, Lieutenant. Heather, you will answer the question.”
“It was written down.”
“On what? Where were they?”
“On Captain Spruance’s desk. I went in to deliver some homework and he wasn’t there. There was a paper with the codes on it and I was curious. I took a picture with my PADD and Sterling and I figured out what they were.” Her eyes burned at the lies.
“I see. So, Commander Spruance violated every security protocol in the book by writing down access codes and then again by leaving them unsecured on his desk while he wasn’t there. Is that about it?”
“I guess so, ma’am.”
“That’s fascinating, Heather. So, armed with these codes, you and Sterling then…what?”
“We, um. We figured out what they were, and then we realized that we could help the Oriaslings and that no one else was going to. So we started planning out the raid and figuring out what all orders we needed to write to make it work.”
“A lot of work, planning out a raid that complex. Especially for two cadets with no fleet experience at all, no logistics training, no intelligence training. Even more so for two fighter pilots with no experience planning fleet movements. You are quite exceptional, evidently.
“Tell me, Heather. Who was it that actually wrote all those orders? Was it Commander Spruance?”
“No, ma’am. Sterling and I wrote every single one of them.” That much was true, she thought. There had only been templates and checklists in the data they had gotten – a guideline for what needed to be done.
“Amazing. And tell me, Heather; you say you decided to help the Oriaslings while you were browsing around on Commander Spruance’s access codes, is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And how did you learn about the plight of these poor people in the first place?”
“We stumbled upon a presentation in Captain …Commander Spruance’s files, ma’am.”
“Of course. What fortunate timing.” She turned to the court, “Sirs, I would like to call Commander Spruance to the stand.”
Stone blinked and worked hard to keep her face impassive. Kirk said, “And why is that, Lieutenant?”
“I believe Commander Spruance issued the orders and that Heather is covering up for him.”
“And I believe in the Easter Bunny, Lieutenant. We are not here for a fishing expedition or so that you can make a name for yourself. Do you have any further questions for this witness?”
Alexander was stunned. So were Heather’s parents. She said, “Not at this time, sir.”
“Very well. Legate, are you prepared to call your next witness?” Kirk asked.
Kai stood, a smile of triumph on his face. “I see no need, your honors. The witness has confessed to each and every specification! Several times, I might add.”
Kirk turned to Alexander, “Lieutenant, do you have any further witnesses to call?”
“Would it matter, sir?” she asked bitterly.
“Lieutenant, I will give you exactly one chance to rephrase your answer.”
“Sir. No, sir. Thank you sir.”
“This court is recessed until 0800 tomorrow morning when we will render our verdict. Dismissed.” he banged the gavel again.

* * *
Heather sat on the edge of her bunk with her head in her hands. She had wanted to see her parents more than anything in the world, and now she wished more than anything else that they hadn’t seen her. Her parents were heroes, decorated many times by both the Dosadi and the Federation. And they watched her confess to being the lowest form of criminal. And she had lied. Why weren’t Kirk and Aunt Angie helping her?
She had thought that her lawyer’s tactic to get the charges thrown out would work – that was their chance to make it something that would go away. Maybe this really wasn’t a Starfleet plan. Maybe she and Sterling read too much into it. Then she really was everything they said. Gods, she hoped no one told the twins.
And what had happened to Spruance?! Why did they go after him? Why was he in jail? Were the Cardassians so vindictive that they would go after their teacher? If they could make the Federation do that…maybe they were going to execute her.
After a few moments thought, she decided that might be for the best. At least then the pain and the nightmares and the shame would stop.

* * *
Captain Thomas Wilkes and his mate, Strike Leader Sooth were waiting outside the court room.  When Admiral Stone came out of the building, he called to her, “ANGIE!”
She skipped a step. “Wilkes.” and continued walking.
“Angie, what the fuck is going on in there?”
She only glanced at the pair of them as she walked. “A court martial.”
“Angie, that’s a railroad job and you know it! Heather’s no traitor! You’ve known her almost her whole life! She’s your niece!”
She stopped. “Captain, I cannot comment on an active court martial. The person on trial is immaterial. Only the evidence and the testimony. Please excuse me.” And she walked off quickly, leaving the two of them standing on the sidewalk in shock.
Sooth was holding Wilkes’ arm tightly, but not saying anything.
After a moment’s reflection he said, “This smells. We need to make a subspace call.”
Minutes later, they were in a private booth and Wilkes arranged for the connection he wanted. Marshal Jon’s violet face and greying-white hair filled the view screen. “Jons, have you been following what’s happening to Heather?”
“Of course. It’s the lead on the news across the galaxy. I’m so very sorry, Wilkes.”
Wilkes studied him. “Jons, I saw the testimony today. Someone put them up to this, somehow.” There was silence on the other end. “Jons, please tell me what’s going on.” more silence. The old man was clearly trying to decide what to say. “Jons, you have been my friend, my partner, even my enemy at one time. You have been an uncle to my children. I trust you with my life and theirs. In all that time, even when we were on opposite sides, I have never known you to lie to me, nor to be anything other than honorable. Please Jons. I’m begging you.”
He cleared his throat. He finally met Wilkes’ eyes. “Wilkes, your daughter is an honorable and decent woman. You can always count on her to do what is right – even when that is difficult and costly. All I can tell you is to have faith in God and be strong.” he looked very sad.
There was a long silence and Sooth said, “Can’t you do anything?”
Briefly he looked like she had struck him. “I’m sorry, m’lady. I have other duties to attend to. Please call again soon.” and he closed the connection.
They both stared at the blank screen. “What the fuck.” Wilkes finally said.
Sooth had been thinking. “He knows what’s happening, Wilkes.”
“It’s that god damn spy shit. Why is my daughter getting dragged into that crap?”
She said, “Wilkes, if he’s involved, it will be OK. I don’t know how but he’ll fix it. That’s what he was telling us – have faith in God and be strong.”
“Why would he get Heather involved? Why would he even be involved? There isn’t anything involving Hydra anywhere near any of this. I don’t get it.”
Sooth stood up. “Me either. But I think I feel better. Jons will fix it, Wilkes. He will.”

* * *
Again, Admiral Stone brought the court to session with a loud rap of her gavel. “Heather, do you have anything further to add in your defense?”
She shook her head, standing at attention. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
Neither Kirk nor Stone looked directly at her. “This court finds you guilty of all charges. You are hereby sentenced to serve out the remainder of your days in the penal facility on Ceres. Per the terms of our agreement with the Cardassian Union, you will be under their custody.
“This court is adjourned.” she banged the gavel again. She and the other judges stood and left the room.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved that she wasn’t going to be executed, or disappointed. Her lawyer just shook her head. “I’m sorry, Heather.” the Cardassian guards closed in on her, and she quickly found herself manacled and being hauled out of the room again.
In the back of the courtroom, Wilkes and Sooth just watched, trying to keep their anger under control.

* * *
That evening, Captain Kirk was sitting in his living room with his friend and Chief Medical Officer, ‘Bones’ McCoy. He had a glass of scotch in his hand and was looking down at the darkened bay and the blinking lights of the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Jim, that’s your third scotch in the past half hour.”
There was no answer. Kirk took another drink.
“Jim. You need to slow down. I’m not just speaking as your friend, but as your doctor concerned for your liver.”
Kirk looked at him. “I’m not in the mood for jokes, Bones. That kid is no more guilty of treason or murder than you or I.”
“If I recall we nearly got convicted of both more than a few times, Jim.”
“We never got railroaded like that though. I feel…dirty having been part of that.”
“Then why did you agree to do it, Jim?”
Kirk swirled the scotch and took another drink, frowning. “I can’t really say. It had to be done and I was one of the logical ones to do it. I feel like I should ask ‘but what is truth?’ and wash my hands.”
“Pontius Pilate doesn’t really fit you. And I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t have fur, or a tail.”
“I said no jokes, Bones. I feel sleazy.”
“So you can’t tell me why, but you can tell me this kid needed to go to jail for the rest of her life. No other way whatever is going on could happen, right?”
He finished his scotch and said, “That’s about it. That lawyer of hers though!” He smiled a bit, “She almost screwed everything up. She’s got potential. We may have to find more work for her. Do we need an attorney aboard the Enterprise?”
“Finally. A smile. That’s better. Jim, you’ve given orders a hundred times that led young men and women to their deaths.” Kirk scowled at him, “And I know every time it ripped your heart out. But that’s part of being what you are – a starship captain. Sometimes you have to do terrible things in order to save the ship. If you had to order that little girl to do what Spock did, in order to save the Enterprise, would you do it? Would you order her to die to save the rest of us?
“You don’t even have to answer. You’d hate yourself, like you do right now. You’d remember that order and wonder what you could have done differently every day, but you’d do it. Because like Spock said, sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”
“I just hope I’m never in a kangaroo court like that.”
“That’s why you’ve got me, and Spock, and Scotty and Uhura and all the rest; to get you out of those situations.”
“Who does she have, Bones?”
The door chime rang. McCoy raised his eyebrows and took a swallow from his own drink. Kirk called out “Come!”
Wilkes and Sooth stepped inside the apartment. Kirk stood, glanced back at McCoy and asked, “What can I do for you, Captain…?”
“Wilkes, this is my mate, Strike Leader Sooth of the Dosadi Imperial Marines. We’re Heather’s parents.”
“I’m very sorry about what happened.” Kirk said. McCoy just watched, silently.
“Captain, that was a joke of a trial. There were more procedural violations than I could count for a Court Martial. I’m not even going to go into the attorney she was assigned for a case of that severity. I’m not going to bring up the lengthy isolation she was kept in before trial. I won’t mention that she had no chance whatsoever to consult with her attorney. All I will say is that was the biggest miscarriage of justice I’ve ever seen and I want to know why.”
Kirk looked like he had bitten into something nasty. “There were changes in process due to the negotiations with the Cardassian Union. Concessions had to be made.”
“Did those concessions include selling my daughter down the river? Is that what this was about? Trade my daughter for a peace deal with them?”
“Captain, your daughter confessed on the stand. There is no question that she did everything she was accused of. There was nothing that could be done.”
“And you and I both know she didn’t just get some wild hare up her ass and decide to go do this all on her own! Why did you close down any inquiry into where she got those codes? Or the sudden infusion of knowledge in how to order fleet movements? This was a set-up and you know it! Are you the one who set them up? Was it you?” Wilkes was starting to get in Kirk’s face. Sooth put a hand on his arm.
Kirk wasn’t one to back down, especially not in his own apartment. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Captain.”
Sooth was steering him towards the door, but her nose was working. Kirk smelled ashamed. He was involved, somehow. When they reached the door, Wilkes fired a parting shot, “How would you feel if someone set your kid up like this? Wouldn’t you help them? Or would you leave them to rot?!” They stepped outside the door and it cycled closed.
Kirk threw his glass into the fireplace. McCoy said, “Jim, he couldn’t know about David.”

CHAPTER 16
“Getting through the nights is the toughest part. Being alone. Not having her there to talk to”
– Stuart Appleby – Earth (Human)
FEDERATION PENAL FACILITY, CERES
MAY, 2292
Heather sat on her bunk. Her new cell looked almost exactly like her old one. The grey was just a slightly different shade. She wished she had remembered to take her strings with her. Her mind a blank, she pulled some threads out and started tying knots again.
It didn’t take long. She stood up and walked over to the force field that made up one wall of her cell. Would they let her go outside here for exercise? Oh, wait, she was on Ceres. There wasn’t anything outside. She walked the few steps around her cell. Looked at the glittering little sensor eyes. She sat down.
She wasn’t going to cry again. She was stronger than that. There wasn’t anything bad happening. She just had to wait is all. She looked at the floor. Wait until she died. Let’s see…Dosadi normally live to about 80 and she was 22. 22 years old. Her eyes welled up. She had two kits. She wouldn’t ever see them again. Did they think she was dead? Wouldn’t that be better then them knowing what she really was? The Cardassians were going to keep her here, alone, to rot for what, sixty years? Would they let her have visitors? Did she even want any? Or something to read? How long was sixty years anyway?
She finally put her head in her hands and cried. Eventually, she curled up on her bunk and slept. When she awoke, she saw that there was a guard outside her cell; A Cardassian. He was reading something at the console he sat at. She said, “Hello?”
The guard looked up at her, but didn’t say anything. She tried again. “Hello? My name is Heather.”
A different voice answered, “You no longer have a name, creature. You have a number. You are Prisoner 624.” and Legate Kai stepped into her view.
“My name is Heather and I am a person, not a creature.”
Kai laughed. “624, you are whatever I tell you that you are.  I am your entire world now, I am, in effect, your god. Please me, and I shall reward you. Anger me, and I shall punish you.”
She snorted. “A rat god, maybe. Or an ass god. They said there are limits on what you can do to me. The Federation’s not going to let you just do whatever you want.”
“Oh, very good! You were paying attention. That is true, there are limits, but they are not many. I can’t torture you, or starve you, or engage in ‘cruel and unusual punishment’, whatever that may be. But make no mistake, 624, I can punish you. Or reward you as well! Wouldn’t you like something to read? Or music? I know you sing. Perhaps we simply started out on the wrong foot when you murdered my troops and had those disgusting outcasts you hired shoot me…”
Heather was no fool. “You’re not going to give me those things, you just want to see me beg for something.”
“Not true! If you answer some questions, I will give you something to read. For instance, was this really all your idea? As you can see, the Federation has abandoned you. You owe them nothing. They have taken everything from you and left you to me. Why protect them? Does that make sense?”
“No.” her whiskers and ears drooped.
“Then tell me! That would go a long way towards improving our relationship and making our time together more pleasant.”
She didn’t even pause. “I wish it wasn’t, but it was all our idea. I wish it was theirs! Then they wouldn’t have screwed me like this!” A small part of her mind flamed into hope that it was really Starfleet’s plan from the start. That what she and Sterling figured out was right. Maybe he was just here trying to see if they should go to war with the Federation or not. Maybe it wouldn’t take long, and then Aunt Angie could get her out.
Kai was actually surprised. “You’re serious? You would be a fool to protect whoever put you up to this. Why lie?”
“I’d be better off lying. Maybe if I made up someone you’d go after them. I could say it was Captain Spruance, maybe? Didn’t they put him in jail already?”
His expression turned from one of surprise to disgust. “Don’t patronize me. We know it wasn’t Spruance. Those codes were well beyond his access level. Was it Kirk?”
She sat on her bunk. “No.” she sighed. “Andy and I came up with it after we saw the pictures of those little people being murdered and tortured. There was one of a little girl, she made me think of my kits having that done to them.” her eyes welled up again, “I just knew we had to do something. And we were the best! We had those codes and we knew we could plan it and make everyone believe it was a real mission, real orders! They’d even authenticate! And it worked so well! Then that ship showed up and it just went so wrong. We didn’t think anyone would die. We thought we’d get like kicked back a year or something. Not this.”
“You didn’t think anyone would die? What about my pilots? What about my men those mercenaries you hired killed?”
“They weren’t supposed to kill anyone. They were supposed to just hold them hostage. We didn’t know how they worked. We just thought we paid them and they had to do what we said. I didn’t even know they killed those people until the trial.” she looked up at him, letting her sorrow show,  “We wanted to save people, not kill them.” Another set of lies, she thought. Fitting for a criminal.
Kai was studying her. “This really was your idea, wasn’t it?”
She slumped her shoulders, “Yes. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “You are sorry because you were caught and are now being made to pay for your crimes. Otherwise you would feel yourself a hero! The rescuer of all these cute little people! Bah! On Cardassia Prime, I would have you slowly tortured to death. Sadly, here I cannot do that.” He thought to himself, or maybe I can. He smiled. “I promised you something to read if you answered my questions, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” She smiled. That would be something, at least!
“Very well.” He motioned to the guard. “Bring the letter up on the replicator panel.”
A letter! Oh thank the gods! Maybe from her parents! Excited, she turned to the wall mounted panel and began to read. It wasn’t from her parents.
“Dear son,
We’re so glad to hear that you are serving honorably and that you are going to be promoted! You make us so proud. We’re also thrilled that you will be coming home for leave next week and…”
She couldn’t read any more. Part of her knew the answer, but she had to ask anyway. “What…is this?”
“Oh, it’s a letter! Sadly, it was unable to be delivered as the young man it was addressed to was killed when his air defense position was struck by a photon torpedo fired by…you. But don’t you want to finish it? It’s really quite touching. He was their only son and they thought the world of him. Don’t you want to know his name?”
Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open. She slowly shook her head back and forth.
“Ah, a pity. I’m sure he’d like you to remember him. Sadly, there wasn’t even a body to send back to his parents…” She had curled up on the floor and was crying. Smiling to himself, he turned and went back to the guard post. “Block off the cell, audio and visual.”
The guard touched a control and the force field turned into an opaque golden-colored space. Kai told him “Our sensitive Federation hosts won’t let us do much, however, I want this prisoner to pay for her crimes. Do not speak to her. Ignore her completely. Also, I want you to gradually change the cycle time for the lighting so that it is faster until it is, say 6 hours of night, and then 10 hours of day. Let her tie her little knots somewhat faster. And make sure you wake her for ‘inspection’ in the middle of every sleep cycle. If she falls asleep during the day, wake her at least once. Not enough to offend their delicate sensibilities, but enough to keep her off-balance and groggy.
Our dead demand justice.” He turned and left.

* * *
FEDERATION PENAL FACILITY, CERES
2292
She was tired all the time. They never let her sleep all the way through the night, they wouldn’t even let her take a decent nap. That had to be against some rule. She wondered if she’d use up all the threads in her blanket before she died. She’d gone through another 2 strings since coming here. She was so sick of being alone with nothing to do. Pushups and situps and exercises like that got pretty old pretty fast. No one talked to her, except to yell at her or tell her to stand up for inspection.
Except Kai. And she wished he wouldn’t talk to her. She wished he would die. He was horrible. Every day he would read another letter to or from one of the Cardassians who died at Orias III. One day he even had the last letter Thompson sent home to his mother. And the bastard sat there and read them aloud so she couldn’t even hide from them. She wondered what he’d do when he ran out of letters. She decided she really didn’t want to know. The letters were bad enough. She was studying the way the walls and the floor made a perfect Cartesian axis where they met when he called out to her again.
“Prisoner 624.”
“My name is Heather.” It was a rote response by now.
“I have a treat for you today, 624!”
She closed her eyes. Some awful new letter perhaps. “My name is Heather. Why won’t you leave me alone?”
He laughed. “But you spend so much of your time alone! I would think you would appreciate the company!” he motioned to the guard and a photograph appeared on the wall of her cell. A young Cardassian girl chasing a ball.
That didn’t seem so bad. It made her think of  Reighney and Aedan. They were doing so well toddling about when they dropped them off at Grammie Heather’s. She closed that line of memory off quickly. “Who is she?”
“Isn’t she adorable? So happy.”
This wasn’t quite like him. “Yes, it’s good to see a smile again.” she said.
“She doesn’t smile much any more, of course.”
She clenched her jaw. “We didn’t kill any children. You know that. We only shot at Soldiers.”
“Oh, no, no, 624. She isn’t dead!” he paused. “Of course, her father is. He was a maintenance tech aboard the Vetor. I believe it was your mate’s fighter that smashed into the hull where he was working and killed him.”
She lowered her head. Everything about this man was evil.
“But! I do have a present for you. I’m sure it’s something you’ll enjoy.”
“Let me guess, the ball she’s playing with or a photo of her brother or…”
“Why 624, of course not!” he interrupted. He reached behind the guard’s console and pulled up an obviously battered, smashed, and melted object.
It took her a moment and then she stepped back from the force field involuntarily and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Why, it seems you recognize it!” He held it up. The black bat wings were recognizable despite the melting and the fractures in the tough material of the flight helmet and the word DEMON painted across the front was still readable. “Did you know that almost all cultures have legends of angels and demons? Quite fascinating, really. I spent some time reading up on human demons. Very terrifying.” he was turning it over in his hands. The inside was stained a rusty brown and most of the back of the helmet was too damaged to identify, but the letters ST..L..G were still slightly visible.
He held it up. “Wasn’t your fighter painted like an angel? A human with wings? And your mate was a demon. A fascinating contrast. Perhaps one day you will tell me why you two chose such opposite avatars.”
Heather couldn’t stop looking at it. Her eyes were wide and staring.
“I think I’ll just hang this here for you to enjoy, 624.” he hung the helmet on the front of the guard’s console where she would have to look at it whenever she lay on her bunk or faced the front wall. He chuckled to himself and left.

* * *
FEDERATION PENAL FACILITY, CERES
2292
It was getting harder every day to bother with tying a knot in the string. But it was almost the only thing she had to do. She tried to schedule her exercises so that the running in place was a treat, a reward for making it through a morning, or an evening. It was hard to work up interest in eating too. Whenever she went to get food or water, the replicator flashed up a letter, or a picture of a young Cardassian, or one of the Fleet casualties and kept it there for a few minutes before it would deliver the food. Once it had been Andy’s picture.
And all day, every day she had to look at his smashed and broken helmet.
She was having problems remembering people’s faces. The twins were still clear. Andy was too. But Mike was getting fuzzy. And Peggy. She remembered when Peggy was fighting with her over Andy. Her green eyes were…no wait…they were blue…weren’t they? She was sitting on the floor and sang to try to keep her spirits up. She could tell already, today would be hard.
There was a song she found for Andy as a wedding present. She sang it to him in front of everyone at Grammie Heather’s for the reception. That was such a wonderful day. She’d replay every moment of that day in her mind today. That would get her through it.

5If you wait for me
then I’ll come for you
Although I’ve traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart

If you think of me
If you miss me once in awhile
Then I’ll return to you
I’ll return and fill that space in your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I’ll find my way back to you
If you’ll be waiting

If you dream of me
Like I dream of you
In a place that’s warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I’ll find my way back to you
If you’ll be waiting

I’ve longed for you
And I have desired
To see your face your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I’ll find my way back to you
Please say you’ll be waiting

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise
If it’s one that you can keep
I vow to come for you
If you wait for me

And say you’ll hold
A place for me
In your heart.
When she finished, Kai was there again. Gods how she hated him.
“Do you think anyone remembers you, Prisoner 624?”
“My name is Heather.”
“You didn’t answer my question, 624.”
“They do.”
He laughed. “If they do, I’m sure they wish they did not. I can only imagine the shame they must feel. A traitor in the family, a pirate, a thief, and a murderer. Why, even your own aunt convicted you! Have you noticed that no one has come to visit you? No letters? Nothing?”
She looked up. “You wouldn’t let them. And the only letters you show me are the ones you want me to see.”
“Why 624, your precious Federation would never allow me to keep visitors or mail from you. That would be cruel and unusual punishment!”
She glared. “You lie.”
“Believe what you will, 624. But they have all, mercifully, forgotten you. A stain on the honor of the Federation. Do you know that they conducted a full investigation of Starfleet Academy? They found so much damage had been done to the students by the incompetence of your instructors, that there had been so many casualties from your little killing spree, that they ejected your entire class.”
She shook her head.
He laughed again, “You have such charming beliefs, 624. But I suppose you need something to keep you going. And just think, we’ve only been together for five months!”
She tried to think. It had only been four months, hadn’t it? Had she lost count? It was so hard to keep track when they kept waking her up at weird times. She knew she was tired, but she didn’t think she’d made that many mistakes. Or had they taken one of her strings while she slept? Did she lose one?
“Well, 624. I think I’ll leave you a little early today. You may want to watch your diet. I think you’re getting a little chubby! That won’t do at all.” And he laughed his smug laugh again and walked away.
She looked down at herself. Chubby? She’d been losing weight. Hadn’t she? It had been so long since she’d seen herself in a mirror…What did she used to look like, anyway? Had she been eating because she was bored? No, she was pretty sure that she had been missing meals. With no clocks, how could you tell what meal it was anyway? Why wouldn’t they just give her a god damn clock or a watch or something!?

* * *
FEDERATION PENAL FACILITY, CERES
Sometimes, she could see Andy’s face in the helmet, like he was wearing it again, ready to go out and fly with her. That was always the best feeling in the world. He looked so damn hot in that helmet and flight suit. It was all she could do not to grab him and tear it off. She smiled, lying in her bunk, still staring at the helmet hanging on its peg. Flying with him was like sex. Not as physical, but the feeling of being one being, moving in total harmony. They didn’t even have to use the communicators when they flew. They just each knew where the other was going.
They would both dial the inertial dampeners down so they could feel the fighter move, feel the g forces, at least a little, when they banked, or dived, or climbed. They would take off and climb up above the clouds, up where you could start to see the stars and fly so close together the computers were screaming about it and their shields would spark off of each other. And sometimes they’d just roll around each other’s fighter, letting the birds find their own path. She remembered when they got the leadership of Nova Squadron. They almost got grounded that day too. They had gone out for a ‘training flight’ and ended up setting down on some nowhere island in the Pacific. That day she had torn his flight suit off. She grinned at the memory. It’s not like they spent very long on the ground. And it wasn’t their fault the damn island was some stupid monitoring site for endangered birds and had cameras feeding into the ‘net. She laughed and reached for the image of Andy, smiling and ready to climb in the cockpit, only to have it dissolve into Kai.
“Well, 624. Feeling better today, are we?”
Her smile instantly fell. She didn’t even sit up. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to let you know that you can feel a little bit better.”
She said, “Bet not.”
“Don’t be so negative, 624. I’m surprised at you! Only a year in and you’re already so unhappy? You have a very long way to go yet.”
She tried to think for a little bit. A year? She had given up on her knots. It was too hard to keep track. Sometimes it felt longer than a year. Maybe that was right. Only 59 more to go. She sighed.
Kai studied her and smiled. “Well, I just wanted you to know that the Federation finally settled our damage claims.”
“Damage claims?” Her mind had just a flicker of her old curiosity.
“Of course! Because you were a Starfleet Soldier, they were liable for your actions. There was quite a lot of damage, of course. You were very thorough in meting out your destruction. There was my entire administration center, all of the vehicles you destroyed, 3 fighters, a patrol ship, a cruiser, and of course settlements to the families of those you murdered.”
She lay there, staring at Andy’s helmet. She wouldn’t even listen. All he did was lie. They wouldn’t pay Cardassia money for what she did. She was a pirate. They weren’t at fault.
“Are you a fan of irony?”
“What?”
He smiled at her through the force field. “I just found it ironic that the amount they paid us was more than we would have charged you to buy all of those little creatures and ship them wherever you wanted. Your whole silly raid only resulted in the extinction of the entire species.”
“No. That’s not true.”
“Oh yes. We felt that the risk of another such mission was too high and got rid of them immediately. We had been trying to sell them for some time beforehand. Didn’t Dejan Lilac tell you that? Instead of causing so much death and destruction, you could simply have written a check.”
She curled into a ball and held her fists over her ears. It couldn’t be true. It was just more of his lies.

* * *
It hadn’t been too many days since he told her about the reparations. A week maybe? But he had that fucking smug little smile that meant one of his ‘special treats’.
“Good morning, 624!”
Was it morning? She thought it was evening. She had eaten today. Hadn’t she? Maybe not. Maybe that was yesterday.
“I have a letter for you today.”
She groaned and then cut it off quickly.
“No, you misunderstand! This is a letter to you!”
“What?” a small spark of hope flared in her heart.
“Shall I read it?”
Was he just going to tease her and then take it away? Make her beg for it and never read it? But maybe…”Yes, please.”
“Please? Why, how courteous! I’d be happy to. It just arrived today.” He pulled a chair around the front of the console and sat down. Picking up his display, he cleared his throat and began to read.
“Dear pilot,” He looked up at her, “I thought that was a very polite opening, considering. “
Considering what, she thought? And who called her ‘pilot’? Spruance? Did he write her?
But he was continuing. “My name is Rojan Kudat. I am 8 years old. Why did you kill my daddy?”
She flinched; He might as well have hit her.
He glanced at her, smiled, and kept reading. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He was supposed to come home and bring me a present. I miss him very much.” he looked up. “I think this next part is really very mature.”
Going back to the display he read “I know you’re a bad person but mommy says it’s bad to hate, even bad people, so I don’t hate you. She says I should forgive you. I forgive you. But I want my daddy back. I miss him very much.”
Kai deactivated the display and placed it back on the console. Heather was curled tightly into a ball again and crying. “Incidentally, 624. Glinn Kudat was one of the people you strafed with your fighter on Orias III. His family, at least, had something to bury.” He stood up and left.
Every ‘day’ after that brought another ‘Dear pilot’ letter. She dreaded the nights for the nightmares, but the days were almost worse. He had to be making these up. There wasn’t that much hate in the galaxy to ask children to write to the Soldier who had killed their parent in battle, was there?

* * *
FEDERATION PENAL FACILITY, CERES
Kai walked in to the small area of the Penal Facility that the Federation authorities had made his own. He only had a dozen guards here to cycle through, so it was a small post, but he was finding it enjoyable. Earth was a short journey away by shuttlecraft so it was easy to keep himself and the guards’ spirits up despite being so far from home. And they were learning much that was of value to the Union despite the travel restrictions the Federation placed upon them. He supposed they were learning as well by studying him and his guards. Ah well, it couldn’t be helped.
He was very pleased with his progress in destroying the criminal who had attacked him on Orias III. There really wasn’t much left to her. Which was a good thing as the Union was getting very tired of the expense of keeping them all here and the bad press. The Federation were making complaints about his little entertainments as well.
During the trial they had enjoyed the balance of the media attention. Since then, someone had publicized quite a lot of information about the treatment of the Oriaslings as well as trumped up scientific studies showing them to be sentient. It had become an embarrassment. Busybodies throughout known space were beginning to object to her imprisonment and his ‘cruel’ treatment of her. Finally, the raid had gone from being the action of a traitorous band of pirates to being a heroic, if misguided, mission to save cute little children from the evil Cardassians. Some fool had even made a bad entertainment about it. He shook his head, oh well. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy it in any case.
Even if the Union pulled them all out tomorrow, which was increasingly likely, the shattered shell curled up in its cell wasn’t going anywhere. He looked through the force field wall. She was still staring at the helmet. Her fur was matted and there was a strong smell coming out of there. Evidently she had given up on bathing some days ago. She was still eating occasionally and drinking, but not very often. He thought she had lost a significant amount of weight. Perhaps another month and she would simply execute herself from dehydration or starvation.
“Prisoner 624.” he said. There was no answer. Louder, “Prisoner 624.” Still no answer. “Prisoner 624!”
Finally, a weak, “What?”
“I simply wanted to wish you a happy anniversary! We’ve been together two years as of today. Doesn’t that make you feel proud?”
There was no answer. He smiled and went back to his quarters deep under the surface of Ceres.

* * *
There used to be a wonderful place. It was real, she thought. Or used to be. It had blue skies, and sweet smelling green grass. There were breezes that brought so many interesting scents and little feathered flying creatures that sang to you and if you sang to them, they’d listen and sing back. There were big fluffy white clouds.
And there was a man there, a brave man who loved her very much. They even had children together. That’s how she knew this place was real. They were real. She remembered holding them, and nursing them, and singing to them, and watching them sleep. They were so beautiful when they slept. And she could reach down and stroke their hair; they didn’t have fur like she did. They had hair, like the man did. But their ears looked more like hers, and so did their eyes. And the hair was red, like her fur. And they were learning to walk and talk and they were happy. There was a lake there, and they would go and swim in it sometimes when it was hot and it would feel so cool.
But best of all, she and the man could get into birds and fly like them. They could go anywhere they wanted to, they were so free. She remembered flying around the moon with him, diving down to race across the big, silvery grey plains and play hide and seek in the sharp-cut mountains and then diving back onto the huge blue ball. It wasn’t just a dream.
And there was home too. Her parents lived there. Her parents were real. They were heroes. Not like her, real heroes. And that place was wonderful too. Sometimes they would go out in the long ships and race the kaals across the water, watching them play tag with the oars. They were always faster no matter how hard you rowed. The sky was a different shade of blue there, but the clouds were still white and you could fly through them and around them and back into the sky, wherever you wanted to go.
Kai gave up on calling her number. She seemed to be in a different world now. She wasn’t even blinking as she stared at that helmet. The smell of unwashed body was quite strong. He asked the guard, “When was the last time she ate or drank?”
“Early yesterday she had a small drink. First time I’ve seen her get up in a while. The log shows she ate four days ago. Some bread.”
Kai wrinkled his nose. “Bathing?”
“Not for a couple of weeks now, sir.”
“A pity. If only I had another week or two.”
“Sir?”
He sighed. “Central Command has decided that the expense of keeping us here outweighs any benefit to the Union. We are being recalled.”
“That’s great news, sir!”
“I suppose. It will be good to get home to my family full-time instead of just a few days leave. My little girl is getting so big!”
The guard grinned, “I’m not a family man, sir, but who knows? Maybe I’ll find someone when we get home.”
Kai put his hand on his shoulder, “I wouldn’t rush into it.” and he smiled, “Leave everything as it is, grab your gear and let’s go home.”
“Who do I turn my post over to, sir?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure the Federation staff will figure out we’ve gone sooner or later.” and he laughed.
CHAPTER 17
“The candle burns not for us, but for all those whom we failed to rescue from prison, who were shot on the way to prison, who were tortured, who were kidnapped, who ‘disappeared’. That’s what the candle is for.”
– Peter Benenson– Earth (Human)
FEDERATION PENAL FACILITY, CERES
OCTOBER, 2292
Something was different. It had been quiet for a while. No letters. The pictures weren’t on the walls any more. No more crying children or blown apart, burned Soldiers. She wondered what ‘treat’ he would have next. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t paying attention any more anyway. It was easier to stay in her memories and a lot nicer. And sometimes she could sleep. Real sleep with no nightmares and no one shouting at her to stand up. Well for a little bit anyway.
Oh. He had come into her cell. She wouldn’t pay any attention to him here either. He was just going to do something else horrible.

* * *
“Heather?” There was no response. He asked again, “Heather?” Kneeling down he put himself directly in her field of view and put his hand gently on her shoulder. “Heather? It’s over now. It’s going to be OK.” She moved her head slightly to try to see around him, but that was all. Captain Spruance stood up again and Rollin Wilkes put his hand on his chest and firmly pushed him away.
“Heather, lass. Tis time t’go home.” He bent down and picked up the gaunt, filthy, young woman with her matted, knotted fur, cradling her to his chest. “t’will be fine now. We’re all waitin’ for ye.”
That got a weak “Grandpa?”
“Aye. I’m here now. Let’s gi’ home.” He carried her out of the cell and turned to leave the cell block.
She reached her hand out for Andy’s helmet and tried to explain that she needed it, but all that came out was a low mew. Wilkes looked at Spruance and said, “Gi’ tha’, lad.”
“Of course. We’ll take her to the sick bay and…”
“Nay. Ye’ll take us t’home now.”
He picked up the helmet,  “She needs a doctor, we can take…”
“T’wer nae a reques’.”
Spruance looked up at the big man, holding the wreck of his granddaughter in his arms, a student that he had taught and trained and then set up to take the fall. “Yes. Of course.” He handed her Andy’s helmet and she clutched it to herself like a life preserver.
While he was pushing the shuttlecraft towards northern England he heard Rollin singing softly to her while cuddling her to his chest and rocking gently back and forth.

* * *
NORTH YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND, EARTH
OCTOBER, 2292
“Here, let’s get those disgusting coveralls off of her. Heather, can you get something for her?” Nina asked when Rollin laid her in her bed.
“Aye.” and she hurried over to the closet. A few moments later, the younger Rollin came in with Dr. April.
“She needs yer help.” he said.
“Bloody hell!” he said when he caught sight of the emaciated, grimy young woman lying on the bed. “Rollin, I’m a vet, not a doctor!” But he began examining her anyways.
“Yer here, they’re not. An I trust ye.” he said in his odd half-Dosadi, half-Yorkshire accent.
After a few moments he opened his bag and began to work. There was the faint hissing of a hypo as he injected her arm and rear end with vitamins, tri-ox, and other medications. “She’s dehydrated and starved. I’d been following the story, of course, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He pulled out a bag of liquid and a tube.
“Wha’s tha?” the elder Wilkes asked.
“An IV set. It puts fluid directly into the patient’s veins. They don’t really use them that often on people any more, but it’s what I’ve got.” He parted the fur on her arm, searching for a decent vein and finally inserted the needle into the back of her hand. “Hang this up somewhere.” he handed the bag to the younger Rollin.
Nina came back in with a basin and a sponge. April looked up at her, “Good. That will help. She’ll be OK, that will make her feel a lot better.”
She smiled at him and began to sponge off Heather’s fur, gently scrubbing her down.
After a short while April said, “We need to get some food in her too. Nothing solid for a while though.”
Mrs Wilkes offered, “I’ll fix some broth. I’ll keep t’twins occupied as well. They nay need t’see her like this. ”
“Yes, perfect.” He checked her pulse and relaxed. “It’s not as bad as it looks. She’ll be fine.” He paused for a moment. “Physically at least. It will take a long time for her to regain her…mental balance. If what they’ve been saying in the news is accurate, she’s going to be very disoriented and confused.”
Nina nodded and continued to scrub softly at the knots and grime in Heather’s fur. The only reaction they got from her was if they tried to pry Andy’s helmet out of her hands. They finally left it alone.

* * *
There was a sound. A constant, soft drumming sound punctuated with the occasional rumble. She remembered that sound. Rain? She felt very strange. Maybe she had finally died. She had dreamed that Grandpa had come to rescue her and they flew away into the night. That couldn’t be real. He didn’t fly into space. Grandpa had never even left England before. It had been years and no one had come. No one talked to her except him. And he only said horrible things.
Someone was holding her head and pressing something on her lips. Her mouth opened automatically and she felt a warm liquid on her tongue and she swallowed involuntarily. If it was poison, it tasted good at least. It happened again. She felt so much better than she had in a long time. Everything was soft now. And smelled of fresh linen and burning peat and leaves and… She must have died. She wished she had died so much earlier, then. This was nice.
Heather slowly opened her eyes and tried to make sense of what she was seeing. What was Nina doing here? Her cell was gone she was…home? “Nina?” she asked, puzzled.
“Yes, little sister. It’s OK now.” She was cradling her head and offered another spoonful of broth. “Here, take more of this, please.”
Heather swallowed again. “Am I home? Is this real?”
“Yes.” She squeezed her. “It’s all over. You’re home and safe now. Back where you belong. Home.”
“How?”
“That’s a long story, little sister.” she smiled at her. “Before I begin, let’s do this.” She softly laid Heather’s head back down on the pile of pillows. She reached for the battered helmet Heather was still clutching. “I’ve got something better for you to cuddle, OK?” She tugged gently, with no result. She called out the open door, “Heather? Can you bring them in now, please?” She tugged again and Heather finally let it go.
A few moments later there was a child’s giggle and the twins toddled through the door and Aedan shouted “MAMA!” and both of them charged in and crawled up on the bed and swarmed her. Nina handed Andy’s shattered, burned helmet to the older woman with a sad look.
“Aye. I’ll pu’ i’ someplace safe.” She left the room while Heather was sobbing and holding the twins as though they would turn into smoke and vanish.
“Mama, don’t cry!” Reighney was afraid.
Nina put her hand on the child, “It’s OK, Reighney. She’s OK. She’s just missed you so much while she was away and she’s very happy to see you. She’s not mad or hurt. It’s OK.”

* * *
The next weeks weren’t easy, but the healing power of love and home is amazing. Her parents arrived quickly and while everyone spent time getting Heather’s mind back to the real world, most often it was Nina sitting with her patiently, explaining again and again what had happened to her and what was real and what was not. Holding her while she sobbed or helping her to get her strength back, but most of all, not leaving her alone.
“Heather, every single thing he said or did was a lie. Not even the time! Jons got us sensor logs – a lot of them were on the news. They were playing games with the lights to make it seem like time was going faster. It wasn’t several years, it was six months. Look at the twins, they’re not four.” she smiled, “Although they get into enough mischief they might as well be teenagers.”
“All the letters though. And the pictures. They were horrible.”
“Only a couple of those were real, Heather. The rest he made up just to hurt you. Just to be evil.”
“I killed all those people.”
“Little sister, you are a Soldier. That means you will sometimes kill the enemy – and yes, those enemies are people too. With mothers and fathers and wives and children and they’re just like you. And sometimes they’ll kill your friends. You know that. You’ve always known that. But because you are a decent and honorable person, he could hurt you with that. Because you are compassionate he could make it seem like you were being evil when you were doing your duty.
“You saved all those people, Heather. They were being slaughtered and you put a stop to it.”
“We only saved a few. I don’t even know how many got on the freighters. And then they killed all the rest. I was so sure that’s what Starfleet wanted us to do! We thought…”
“Heather, listen to me. There’s so much to tell you and we keep skipping around. Just listen for a while, OK?”
She nodded.
“Over eleven thousand of them got on those freighters. And no, they didn’t kill all the rest. Your raid put a stop to it for a while; They were trying to decide what to do and they had to rebuild the whole administration center. They started up again, but after your trial, things started leaking. Different media outlets started to change their tune. That whole set of images you saw, the one you said gave you the idea, that got out. So did some studies that were done on some of the ones you rescued. People all over the galaxy got upset.
“Even the Klingons were disgusted with the Cardassians. It was costing them a lot in time and money and resources to try to counter the bad publicity and it was hurting their trade. A group started up to ‘Save The Oriaslings’ and the Cardassians finally let them come in and ship them off the planet in July. They said they just wanted them off so they could put their colonies there and considered them nuisance animals. People all over the galaxy made contributions. It took three months but they got almost two hundred million of them to a new world in The Badlands. And one where the environment isn’t collapsing, unlike Orias III.  They just finished last month. There were waves of freighters and transports and every kind of ship you can imagine. All sorts of people wanted to get involved.
“You, and Andy, and all the rest are heroes! ‘Someone’,” she smiled, “somehow managed to steal copies of the log of the Archer and apparently, the fighters you abandoned on those freighters had logs as well.  Gun camera footage that showed the Cardassians were lying, that showed how careful you all were, how disciplined.
“You know, I didn’t know that fighters worked like that, acting like a big data array and synching up everyone’s record data on all of them. There’ve been all sorts of specials on Federation military technology. I had no idea it was so interesting. But they have all of the logs and sensor traps from all six fighters. The Cardassians made war heroes out of the gunner who almost shot you down and the whole crew of that cruiser, and the one pilot who survived, so they have their own heroes as well.
“Anyway, after your trial, everyone thought you were just what they said. It was ugly. Thompson’s mother was…awful. No one in the family believed it, we were all so shocked when you confessed – but we didn’t know. Then the information started coming out about what was going on and people started asking why wasn’t Starfleet doing anything? Why were only a group of cadets doing what was right, living up to the Federation Charter?
“There were lots of diplomatic explanations about sovereign territory and not going to war and how their hands were tied, lots of regret and so on. The more information came out, the less anyone believed them. And then, somehow, ‘Someone’ started leaking information about your imprisonment. The isolation was what got people’s attention at first. It just seemed…wrong.
“But then the fake letters started showing up on the news and people started talking about torture and cruel and unusual punishment. The Cardassians claimed that simply reading your mail to you wasn’t torture. There was a lot of pressure on both Cardassia and the Federation to accept that you did the right thing and grant you a full pardon. They tried to make the complaints go away and actually gave medals to the survivors of the raid. Except you. Thompson and Straw were awarded the Starfleet Medal of Honor.
“And that started looking even worse. Now, the Federation had recognized that they should have done something, but didn’t and here they were saying the people you and Sterling commanded were heroes, but you were a criminal. They had explanations for that as well, of course, how the others were ‘only following orders’ and that you had to be punished because you stole those codes and forged orders and lied and so on.
“The longer time went on, the more horrible things that…beast…did to you, the more people got upset and the worse the Federation looked for tolerating it. There’s a whole group out there called ‘Free The Angel of Orias III’, did you know that?” She smiled. “Of course not. Sorry.” She put her hand on the younger woman’s arm. “Heather, you’re famous. Not for being a pirate, or a traitor, or a killer, but because you and your mate stood up for what was right, even at an unbearable personal cost.
“Little sister, that is what the Federation is all about. And the more information came out about what was happening on Orias III and the more obvious it became that the Cardassians were lying about most of it, the better you looked and the worse the Federation Council looked. They eventually put enough pressure on the Cardassian Union that they pulled their people off of Ceres and abandoned any claim to what happened to you.
“They made a whole entertainment about the raid. The critics didn’t like it but everyone else did.” she chuckled, “It might have been a little over the top, but I liked it. The actress who played you did a good job. Of course they had a lot of inside information about you and Sterling. It was a little melodramatic. I think your Aunt Marin had a big hand in writing it.” She smiled again.
Heather was just staring at her sister-in-law. It was too much to take in all at once.

* * *
It was two weeks after she had returned home that Admiral Stone and Captain Spruance arrived. The evening sun was setting and the sky was grey. Their reception was rather chilly. Wilkes and Sooth were standing on the front porch as they came up the path, and Rollin Wilkes was towering behind them.
Wilkes spoke first. “What do you want, Admiral?”
She winced. “The Federation Council sent me. And I want to explain.”
None of the three on the porch moved. Spruance said, “Please, I promise we will not stay long and what we have to share is good news.”
Sooth put her hand on Rollin’s arm. “Let’s all go inside, all right? We should hear what they have to say at least. It would be dishonorable not to let them have their say.”
Wilkes said, “Fine.” And the group of the trooped in to the big dining room.
Stone said, “Wilkes, can Heather come down too? This is about her, and we have things to give her.”
He considered it. “If you hurt her at all, I will kill you both before you can get up from your chairs.”
Stone was shocked. Spruance said, “That’s about all I can expect, Wilkes. But this won’t hurt her, I promise.”
“I’ve had about all I can stand of Starfleet’s promises, lately.”
“Believe it or not, so have I. That’s part of why we’re here. We owe you this much.”
The elder Wilkes came down, bringing Nina and Heather. She was walking a lot better now and had regained much of her strength and mental balance. She sat down across from the two officers without saying anything.
Stone said, “Heather, I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be like it was, but they’re trying to make it right.” She held her hand up as several people looked like they were about to say something. “Please. Let me just say this first.” She pulled out a set of isolinear data rods and some real paper certificates as well. “First, the Federation Council has granted you a full and complete pardon for all of the convictions. Second, they have inducted you into the Karagite Order of Heroism for your actions at Orias III and Sterling has received several decorations posthumously including the Star Cross and the Starfleet Silver Palm. You have been retroactively graduated from the Academy with your GPA intact, so you are a summa cum laude graduate. You have also been retroactively awarded your back pay and are being offered a direct promotion to Lieutenant.”
Spruance actually smiled, “They’re offering you command of a three-ship squadron, Heather. It would be you, Paavo, and Inga again.” She blinked but made no other sign she had really understood.
The uncomfortable silence stretched out for a few seconds. Stone finally said, “We were ordered not to ever discuss this with anyone, ever, but I can’t stand it any more. Heather, we didn’t want to do this to you.”
A flicker of interest showed in her eyes and Stone continued. “They picked us to get to you. They showed us those god damn sensor logs and the pictures of those people being murdered and dissected. They said we had a choice, we could let them all die in their millions, or we could set you up. They said it would be easy – there weren’t any ships that were anywhere near there when the raid was supposed to happen! They fucked it up completely. They blew it on the defenses on the ground too. And Jesus they fucked up on what the Cardassians would do.”
She hung her head. “They told us you’d get like 30 days in a resort. That the Cardassians would just want a pro forma conviction and then they could put everything back where it was. You weren’t even supposed to miss graduation. They said it was the only way to save all those people without causing a war and would even lead to better relations with a people we don’t have much of any with. Everyone would win. You and Spruance would get a vacation and then we could quietly let you out and you’d have done a great service to Starfleet. Spruance was the only thing they got right.”
He spoke, “They demoted me and gave me thirty days in the brig. I was due another promotion, so I got right back to Captain a couple of months ago, and they restored me to my position at the Academy in time for the new school year. I feel like such a total slime, Heather. They weren’t supposed to go after you like that. The Intel people assured us they had covered all the angles. Better than 90% they said. Assholes.”
Mrs. Wilkes was frowning at the salty language, and even more at the story they were telling.
Stone continued. “They picked me because I’m your aunt. They said the fact that I was presiding over the court that convicted you would prove the lie to the Cardassians; that this was all your idea. They picked you because you and Sterling were the best, and because of the way you were always helping everyone else. They knew you wouldn’t be able to walk away and let those people down.” She lowered her eyes. “Any more than I could.”
Heather said, “So we were right. It was what we were supposed to do.”
“Yes, Heather, it was. You did everything right. Oh Christ, you did so well and I wanted to tell you at the trial, and then they let the Cardassians keep you isolated from everyone.” tears started to run down her cheeks. “I was so proud of you! I had to sit there in that god damn court room and pretend I thought you were a criminal and all I wanted to do was tell you how very well you did and oh god, Heather, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”
Spruance was struggling with his own emotions. “We knew you stuck with the story all through your time on Ceres. I still can’t believe you didn’t just tell them everything. It had to have looked like we were just throwing you to the wolves. Fuck, we did just throw you to the wolves. I don’t know if there’s anything we can do to make it right with you, Heather but…” he looked at her hopefully.
Wilkes was gritting his teeth and the elder Mr. Wilkes was gripping the back of Heather’s chair so tightly the wood seemed likely to splinter. Sooth was shaking her head slowly.
“Then I did my duty?” she asked.
Both officers answered, “Yes!” and Spruance continued, “And more, Heather. Starfleet – the real Starfleet not the cluster-fucking paper-pushers – know who you are and we’re proud of you. You are what we are supposed to be.”
“Did you try?”
“Try what?” Stone asked.
“To get me out?”
“Oh god, yes. Heather, both of us. We tried every day. We petitioned everyone, went to see everyone. I almost got court martialed a couple of times. I flew to Ceres once to try to see you, they had to use Security to keep me out and I almost got arrested.”
Mrs Wilkes, a true Christian, spoke into the silence, “He that hideth his sins, shall not prosper: but he that shall confess, and forsake them, shall obtain mercy.” She stood up and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll se’ extra places for supper.” and moved off into the kitchen.
The discussion had continued over supper and more details of the two officers’ struggles to gain Heather’s freedom came to light. After the dishes had been put up, Stone was feeling completely dejected. The more she talked about what they had done, the worse she felt about her part in it.
Wilkes looked at her, Sooth curled up next to him on the love seat. “Angie. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this.”
She looked at a man she had loved many years ago and still considered a dear friend. “I know.”
Heather swallowed. “I think I can.”
Everyone in the room turned towards her. Stone almost choked. Spruance said, “What?”
“I think I understand. You were as screwed as I was. Dad, do you remember what you told me about what Uncle Corin told you when his mate Nollos died?”
He nodded, “Honor means always doing the right thing, even if it costs you everything you ever had or hoped to have.”
“It was the right thing, wasn’t it? For all of us?”
Stone said, “Yes.”
She thought for a moment. “Was it worth it?”
There was no answer from anyone in the room as they all considered the price that had been paid.

* * *
TEMPLAR IV, THE BADLANDS, ALPHA QUADRANT
OCTOBER, 2292
Fallon, now almost ten years-old, ran over the wing of the Viper sitting on the grass outside their village. Lilac had said he would be back in a year or so to ‘salvage’ the abandoned birds. They had made sure that all three of the alien craft were well cared for, and kept clean. But this one was her favorite despite the missing pieces and the burn marks all over one wing.
Her friend finally caught her and yelled ‘TAG!’ She stopped running and he said, “You always run over here and stop. It’s so easy to catch you.” He looked at the glistening, white painted feathers. “Why do you like it so much?”
“Because it’s an angel. It’s my angel.”
“Don’t be dumb. There’s no such thing as angels.” And he ran off to continue the game.
She reached down and stroked the broken wing. She knew angels were real. She had touched one.

CHAPTER 18
“Justice will overtake fabricators of lies and false witnesses.”
Heraclitus– Earth (Human)
LAKARIAN CITY, CARDASSIA PRIME
FEBRUARY, 2293
Legate Kai looked in on his sleeping daughter and smiled. She was growing so quickly. The night was growing late and he was quite tired. There was still work to do, of course, but it would wait until morning. He stretched luxuriously and made his way to his bedroom where his wife had already gone to sleep.
The light of the moon shone into the room and added an air of mystery to the familiar setting. It was so nice to be home instead of on that miserable planet or that even more miserable asteroid where the humans kept their prison. Fools. Cardassian justice was much simpler. There was never a trial without the verdict being known in advance – and for a crime of that magnitude the punishment was always execution. How much more merciful would it have been to have simply shot that creature rather than to have to slowly destroy her mind until she died on her own, wallowing in sorrow, shame, and misery. Humans were a cruel species, though they maintained that they were somehow merciful.
He lay down in his comfortable bed and pulled the silken sheets up, relaxing contentedly. It didn’t matter. He was done with the whole messy incident and it had helped his career, despite the diplomatic mess. Allowing some bleeding heart group to come in and collect all those little creatures was quite a time and money saver for the Union. He smiled to himself. If only he’d thought of that himself.
In minutes, he was sound asleep, safe and happy in the certain knowledge that he was right in all things.

* * *
Something had touched him. He opened his eyes, cautious to remain motionless until he determined what was happening. There was nothing. Just the wash of moonlight. Then suddenly something straddled him and he tried to sit up, tried to shout a warning, but he was unable to move even a muscle. And then the thing leaned into his view.
It was horrible! The body was…translucent…he could see the blurry objects behind it. The face was a hideous red and black marbled horror with yellow eyes and fangs floating in mid air with the breath of a corpse. More than anything he wanted to leap up, to run or fight – it was a demon! But that wasn’t possible, they weren’t real! Why couldn’t he move?! He couldn’t even scream. Why didn’t his wife wake up? Someone had to come and help him!
The demon leaned its face close to his and he felt sharp pinpricks on his neck and jaw as it hissed its awful breath onto him. The eyes locked into his and he was powerless to look away. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare. Things like this didn’t exist! There were no demons!
It turned his head slowly back and forth, studying him. He could hear it’s breath hissing softly in and out as it examined him. He felt his heart racing. Why couldn’t he move?? And then the pain began. It started out slowly and then built beyond the bounds of tolerance. The demon leaned it’s face so close he could feel it’s foul breath on his skin, the yellow eyes burning into his. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. His brain tried to make him scream, but nothing happened.
The thing just stayed there, hovering in front of him while his body floated in an unending lake of fire and agony. The demon stroked his hair and hissed again, and the horrors in his mind were released. Every fear he had ever had, every terror locked away in his memory was set loose at the same time, each and every one more real than the last and all intermixed with the horrible agony he could do nothing about. And still, the demon just hovered there, showing it’s fangs and sending the scent of the damned into his nose while it stroked his hair in a perverse sign of concern.
Three hours later, the demon sat up. It reached a hand up to Kai’s arched neck and felt for a pulse. There was nothing. His face was locked in a rictus of unimaginable terror, the eyes locked open and bloodshot. It had taken longer than he thought, but that was a good thing.
Heather’s eldest brother Corin got off the corpse and checked to be sure that Kai’s wife was not suffering any ill effects from the anesthetic he had sprayed in her nose while she slept. In another four hours or so she’d awaken feeling fine. He collected the nerve-block from the back of Kai’s neck, and then the pain-inducer from the back of his skull. Finally, he removed the amygdala stimulator. Putting all three items back into his pouches, he patted them lovingly. Banned technology? Maybe. Useful? Definitely.
Stretching the kinks out of his back, he removed the demon mask and pulled the hood of his active camouflage uniform back over his head. Time to go and leave this poor heart attack victim for his family to grieve over.
An hour later, he was back aboard the Tarak and reporting to his captain on the details of the mission.
Captain Sorleth asked, “Anything unusual then?”
“Well, it took him a little over three hours to die from the terrors. He must have been a tough old snake. Not that I minded it taking longer. I don’t think he enjoyed it much.”
Sorleth laughed and then waved his hand over his nose. “Gods, when does that damn gum wear off? Your breath reeks like you’ve been eating rotting narek.”
Corin grinned, “I’ll go brush my teeth, sir. Would you please send a message to my Uncle Jons and let him know it’s done?” He was removing his contact lenses, leaving him with one yellow and one blue eye as he spoke.
“Absolutely, Lieutenant. Well done.”
“And Captain? Thank you for this.”
“We take care of each other, Lieutenant. Always. Now go take care of your breath. I’ll need you at tactical – we still need to get out of Cardassian space, cloaked or not.

* * *
Heather sat in the dark, alone. She listened to the soft sound of her breathing, letting her mind settle down. There was a faint hiss and then a quiet chirp. She smiled and pulled her gloves on, then snapped the mask over her face. She reached up and touched a control on the computer and her usual first song began to play.
There was a laugh on the comm system as she looked up at flight control and returned the launch officer’s salute. “More of Heather’s musty old music! Wouldn’t be a flight without it.” Paavo said. As her fighter rocketed out of the ship and into the stars, Inga asked,
“Bullet In My Hand again? Jeez, Heather, how about a random on that list?”
She chuckled, watching the stars wheel around her canopy. “Stay tight on me.”
Back in flight control, the young ensign working the console asked the launch officer, “So what’s up with her?”
“Beg pardon?”
“The name painted on her fighter and all their helmets with the wings on them? The flight leader’s is all scratched up.”
“You don’t know who that is we just launched?”
“No. I just came aboard at Betazed. What’s a ‘broken angel’?”
He just shook his head, “You must live in a hole. Let me fill you in…” and he began to tell the young man the story while the music came through the comm system.

6I’ve got a fast life and
A slow cuttin’ knife
I’ve been drinkin’ at a poisoned well
No home and a bag of bones
And nothin’ else left to sell
I know why I’m in this hell
I just don’t wanna believe
Past that line you just can’t tell
But right now

There’s someone lookin’ out for me
I came out of the darkness
With a bullet in my hand
I got one more shot at livin’
I’m lucky that I can
Cause I got a little roughed up
Yeah I really got fucked up
I came out of the darkness
With a bullet in my hand

I got a cold stare, the wound’s still there
But there ain’t much left to bleed
A short fuse that I still use
I’m my own worst enemy
Stare at the faces I once knew lined up just to bury me
There’s a long black car that’s waitin’ to leave
But right now

There’s someone looking out for me
I came out of the darkness
With a bullet in my hand
I got one more shot at livin’
I’m lucky that I can
Cause I got a little roughed up
Yeah I really got fucked up
I came out of the darkness
With a bullet in my hand

Cause I got a little roughed up
With a bullet in my hand
Yeah I really got fucked up
With a bullet in my hand

Can you see the light?
Can you see the light?
Can you see the light?
I can see the light
I can see the light

There’s someone looking out for me
I came out of the darkness
With a bullet in my hand
I got one more shot at livin’
I’m lucky that I can
Cause I got a little roughed up
Yeah I really got fucked up
I came out of the darkness
With a bullet in my hand

CYCLE 5 – FINALE
CHAPTER 1
“There is no substitute for face-to-face reporting and research.”
– Thomas Friedman – Earth (Human)
ANTICA, BETA RENNER SYSTEM
JANUARY, 2310
Lieutenant Commander Corin lay flat on his belly, watching the landing field below him. He and his 5-man team had been on Antica for a week, waiting and watching. This was a tremendous risk, but they didn’t give easy missions to the Raider Teams. They were expected to be able to get in, get the job done, and get out without being caught; usually without anyone ever even knowing they were there.
This time though, they were being used to send a message. The Anticans are a large, fur-bearing canine-like species native to the Beta Renner system in Sector 500. Purely carnivorous, they preferred to eat their food while it was still alive. Warp-capable and in a long-running war with their neighbors, the reptilian Selay, they were skilled fighters. Recently, they had attacked a Dosadi freighter, killed her crew and took her cargo. The Dosadi High Command hoped that sending such a message would put an end to any Antican thoughts of continuing the practice without the need for a devastating military action by the much more powerful Imperial Fleet, which truth be told, was badly overstretched at the moment.
Scattered out on the field below Corin’s perch on a low range of rocky hills bordering the field were nearly two dozen ships. These ranged in size from atmospheric craft to military patrol ships to a pair of large warp-capable transports. The buildings of the facility were squat, dome-shaped structures and the team had mined them extensively over the previous days. Finally, the vessel he was waiting for began landing,  a sleek, well-armed attack ship; About the same size as a Dosadi frigate. This was the same ship that had attacked and captured the Gatlon.
He spoke quietly, relying on the subcutaneous communicator to mask the transmission to his team. “That’s her. Sunset’s in 15 minutes – we go then. No change to the plan.”
Nothing was said in return. Nothing needed to be. He and his team had been working together on similar missions for fifteen years. The ship settled slowly onto the field as the sun slid towards the horizon behind Corin and his men. His chronometer tingled his skin and he began creeping towards the perimeter fence of the landing field, trusting to the twilight and his active camouflage battle dress.
There was a gate guard, a young Antican who was watching the attack ship and daydreaming, clearly bored with standing guard. He died without making a sound and without knowing anything about why. Corin slid his lifeless body to the ground, removing his knife from the young guard’s rib-cage and continued on through the gate, noting on his heads-up display that the rest of the team were on-schedule.
They made their way through the ships on the field, quickly planting their remaining charges where they would do the most good – for the Dosadi, at least. Meanwhile, Corin made his way to the Administration building. He stepped through the door, his silenced caseless-ammo pistol making virtually no noise as the sub-sonic rounds tore into the Antican at the entry point. There was none of the noise a phaser or disruptor would make and it killed just as well, he thought to himself.
In seconds he had charged up the stairs, the active camouflage adapting itself to the colors and lighting around him. Switching from the pistol to his phaser, he pushed the door to the command post open and stepped inside, reveling in the shocked looks of the Antican’s inside – including, he was sure, the captain of the attack ship.
“Everyone stand up and move to the far wall.” he said, the universal translator making sure that he was understood even if the unwavering phaser muzzle hadn’t already made it clear. With no real option, the Antican’s did as they were commanded.
“Who is the captain of that vessel that just landed?”
One of them stepped forward, snarling, but before he could even speak, Corin shot him through the liver – located mid-chest on an Antican. Watching the dying man writhe on the floor in pain, he spoke again. “Hopefully this will be all it takes for your species to learn that attacking Dosadi will bring you only death in large measure.” He indicated another man, “You – Move to the communications panel.”
He handed him a sheet of real paper. “Contact your higher authority and read this. Quickly.”
The Antican, watching Corin out of the corner of his eye, tapped some controls and began to read, “The Dosadi Imperium has elected to demonstrate to you the costs of attacking the Empire. The vessel involved and the landing facility supporting it have been destroyed. We could as easily destroy any facility on your planet, or your entire planet. There will be no further warnings. Any further attack on any Dosadi anywhere by any Antican will result in the extermination of your race.”
As he finished, Corin shot him, quickly moving on to shoot the remaining Anticans in the room, the open microphone picking up the sounds of slaughter. He stepped to the console and hissed in Dosadi, “Don’t fuck with us. Ever.” and closed the connection.
As he was heading towards the stairs, he killed two more Anticans who had come to investigate the sounds of phaser fire, continuing quickly out the door. Speaking again to his team, he said, “Get clear and let’s blow the place. Move, move, move.”
They double-timed back through the perimeter fence and when Corin noticed people beginning to exit the buildings, he ordered, “Blow it now.”
“Now?” came the puzzled response from Force Leader Veth, his demolitions expert.
“Now, now, now.” he repeated, followed by a ripping series of explosions across the field as the ships and buildings were torn apart.
There was no further conversation.
Two hours later, they were back aboard the ISS Tarak after finishing their mission debrief. The team was back in their usual civilian rigs and sitting in the team room aboard the cloaked Raider which was leaving the Beta Renner system far behind.
The Team NCO, Strike Leader Trion was clearly not happy. She was scowling at an officer she had followed and respected for many years. “Cap, what the hell was that?”
Corin was puzzled, “What was what, Trion?”
“That kid at the gate? What was the point to killing him? We wanted to leave witnesses, remember?”
Force Leader Ason added “And why blow the buildings so early? They were still coming out of them.”
Veth asked, “The plan was to give them a couple minutes to evac before we blew everything so that there were lots of Anticans telling the story of just what happened. So…?”
Corin shrugged, a fluid action in a Dosadi, “There were still plenty of them to tell the tale. And the kid was sloppy. And I didn’t want to have him getting lucky behind my back.”
Trion shook her head, “So rather than knocking him cold you killed him? Cap, you’re getting creepy.”
“What do you mean by that, Strike?”
The team exchanged glances, “Cap, we’ve followed you for a lot of years because we trust you. Because we know you. Well, Trellos is new, but she asked for this team because we’ve got a great rep. But, part of why we’ve got a great rep is because we kill when we have to, not because we can.”
He shrugged again, “We had to. We were supposed to send a message. We sent one.”
Soral, the team medic offered his observation. “Corin, I think you’re starting to like it too much. There’s a reason they promote people out of the teams after a while. You’ve turned down like 3 offers to move up to full Commander and go into planning instead of the field. Why?”
He looked at the medic, a man he’d worked side by side with for almost a decade. “I’m not interested in leaving the field. This is who I am, what I do. I’ve got no interest in sitting in a ship planning raids when I could be running them.”
Trion continued her probing. “Corin, you’re forty. You’ve been in regen, what, seven times? Eight? There’s only so many times they can grow stuff back.”
“You’re no spring chicken yourself, Strike.”
“I’m thirty-six.” she smiled, “But Corin, I AM gonna cycle out. I’ve got two kits and a mate and I’m getting too old to run around on exotic planets meeting interesting new people and killing them. And to be honest, I’ve always been able to go home knowing that I only killed when I had to. That my team only killed when we had to. I’m not sure I can do that this time. I don’t like that.
“I think it’s gotten too easy for you, Corin. I don’t think you know anything else and it’s getting to be waaay too enjoyable for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have the blood lust. Don’t go all crazy just because I made the message a little more emphatic than we planned. And I’m pretty sure I’ve got a few years of ops left in me yet.”
Trion kept pushing. “No blood lust, huh? Killing that kid because he was sloppy? Corin, when was the last time you spent time with someone who wasn’t on the team?”
“I visit my folks every time we’re back on Dosad.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. When was the last time you shared a bed with someone? Anyone? Or how about this, when was the last time you had a relationship with someone? Hell, even just for sex?”
His expression grew cold. “That’s not really your business, Strike.”
Her expression matched his, “Yes, it is. I’m the Team NCO. If it affects this team, everything is my business. And your mental state determines what happens to this team each and every time we go on a mission. If you’re more interested in death than in life, that is a huge issue and is very much my business.”
“I think we’re done here.”
“No, we’re not. Cap, Dosadi are a social species, and you’re the most isolated Dosadi I’ve ever met, and getting more isolated as the years go on. That’s not a good sign…”
He interrupted her, “I’m only half-Dosadi.”
“Who gives a fuck what genes make up that beat up old body of yours? My point is you’re not behaving normally, Cap. We’ve all noticed it. It’s been getting worse.” The rest of the team were nodding and watching Corin. She stood up, “Cap, there’s way more to living than just killing. We’ve all got mates and most of us have kits. Except you. We’re worried about you – and ourselves as well.” She put her hand on his shoulder, noticing the scars under her hand.
He put his hand on hers. “You guys are my family, Strike.”
“Then listen to us, OK? Cap, you gotta find something to live for, or you’re going to take us all down with you.”
He nodded and looked at the table top while the rest of his team got up and left the room.

* * *
ELETHA, DELTA ERANI SYSTEM, DOSADI IMPERIUM
JANUARY, 2310
Ceena sat upright, panting heavily in the hot desert sun. She looked up at the pale blue sky, noting that the afternoon clouds were already starting to build. Turning to the young reporter who had been following her and her husband Tir around for the past several days she said, “We’ve only got a few more minutes before we should head back unless you want to enjoy the monsoons.”
“No luck on that root you’re looking for?”
“Really, you’ve been talking to us for days now! I’d think you’d have picked up more on what we’re doing. It’s the Zolar root.”
The young human smiled, “I remember, and I know it’s a big export of this planet, and I know it’s popular because it acts like an intoxicant on many humanoid species – one without a hangover! And I also know that it affects your species like catnip does on Earth cats.”
She laughed. “You’re bad. You listen a lot more than you let on.”
“Well, that IS my job, Ceena.”
“And I’m sure you know that our main interest in Zolar isn’t because it’s an intoxicant, but because of the photo-genetic properties. We’re beginning to suspect that the concentrations of dilithium in this planet have a lot of effect upon the root and that may be one reason it’s so unique. The mitochondria seem to have no relationship whatsoever to any other photo-genetic species in the alpha quadrant and that’s caused some problems for our main research!”
“I’m afraid the science of that is way beyond anything that I can follow.” He paused as Tir came up to the pair of them.
“Found one, but it’s going to take some time to get a decent sample without destroying the plant, and judging by the sky, we don’t have that kinda time if we want to stay dry.” he said.
She stood up, the young reporter marveling at the flowing grace with which the Dosadi moved. “We can always come back tomorrow. We’ve got plenty of data to play with for tonight anyway.” She moved to her husband and rubbed the top of her head under his deep tan colored chin.
“Perhaps we can talk more about the Wilkes Clan then? Since your work seems to be on hold for the next little bit?”
They were packing up their instruments and tools and Tir asked, “Why all this interest in them? And why come to us? We’re not really related you know.”
“Well, not by blood. But from what I’ve learned of the Dosadi, your parents are considered part of the family, as are you, and your father has been closely involved with Captain Wilkes and Storm Leader Sooth for a number of years.”
Ceena and Tir looked at each other. Tir answered, “Well, yes, Dad and Captain Wilkes ran an import/export business on Dosad together, which is how we met.” and he squeezed his wife.
“See, that’s something my readers would be interested in learning about as well! A Dosadi married to a Hydran? That’s not a mix anyone on Earth would think would ever happen! I’m guessing there’s quite a story there.”
Ceena laughed, “Not really. My father-in-law would bring Tir with him when he came to visit and we just fell in love is all. Pretty basic stuff, really.”
They began loading their gear in the back of the ATV float they were using to explore the desert region to the west of a small mining village.  When they got everything loaded and were about to get into the passenger compartment, there was a terrific peal of thunder in the distance.
“Wow!” Ceena exclaimed, “That’s the loudest thunder I’ve ever heard!”
The reporter said, “We need to find someplace to hide, right now. That wasn’t thunder.”
Tir asked, “What was it then?”
“That was an explosion – look.” and he pointed up in the sky. Visible in the far distance were flashing lines of green, dark specks diving down from the sky and growing clouds. More rumbles and bangs began to reach them.”
“What the hell?” Tir asked.
“I’ve done plenty of war reporting; we need to get out of here, but not to the village. This is about to become a war zone and they’re not going to be picky about who they shoot.”
Tir put the vehicle in motion and began to bounce across the desert, away from the mining village.
Ceena asked, “Who would be stupid enough to attack the Imperium? We’re too far from the Klingons or Avatans. Romulans? The supply line would be insane.”
The human said, “We can figure the who and the why out later, but right now I’d really like to get someplace safer.” He was facing out the rear of the ATV, sensor logging the attack, watching more incoming vessels engaging the defenseless mining village they were leaving behind them.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, MANEUVERING, ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
Legate Dukat of the Cardassian Union leaned back in his chair and smiled. Three years of planning and toil. Just setting up the staging base hidden within the Torelli Nebula had taken a year of secretive efforts. But finally, the day of action had arrived. 200 ships had dropped out of warp around Eletha and were closing fast.
Gul Tennekt gave his orders to his staff. “Send the destroyers after their patrol craft. Begin the bombardment of ground defenses. After five minutes, launch the fighters. When they report air supremacy, launch the assault craft. Move quickly while their defense network is still struggling with the Obsidian Order’s charming little virus.” and he chuckled.
Within seconds, nearly twenty vessels responded to his commands, with a dozen destroyers charging towards the four 20-man patrol craft the Dosadi had in orbit. Eight of the big Sartan-class cruisers were already taking up orbit around Eletha and targeting ground facilities with their heavy forward phaser arrays.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI PATROL SHIP ISS FORETH, MANEUVERING, ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
The alert siren was wailing, but his ears were ringing so badly that Lieutenant Commander Karon could barely hear it. The lights were sparking on and off again and something was on fire. He coughed “Where the hell did they come from?!”
His helmsman, wounded, answered back “No clue. One second they weren’t there, the next they were shooting everything.” Meanwhile, he continued to drive his little ship in as erratic a fashion as he could. Their few remaining weapons were firing constantly – with so many ships around them they could hardly miss.
Karon looked at his tactical display, now completely clogged with Cardassian warships and weapons. There really was no hope that they could salvage anything out of this but honor. “Ramming speed. Aim for that cruiser.”
The helmsman grinned back at him, “Honor above all!” He plotted his course, the engines straining to their maximum output, the Foreth trailing fire, smoke, and debris as she rolled towards a Cardassian cruiser that was moving into orbit.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, MANEUVERING, ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
Dukat leaned forward and frowned. The Dosadi didn’t seem to ever do what was expected. He watched a nearly-destroyed patrol ship slam into one of his cruisers. Shields weren’t going to stop 2,000 tons of mass moving at high-obrital-speeds no matter how much energy you put into them. The cruiser exploded almost instantly, the detonation causing further damage in the packed fleet. They hadn’t tried to surrender. They hadn’t even tried to abandon ship.
Gul Tennekt spoke, “All enemy vessels destroyed, Legate. We are bombarding their ground defenses now. As expected, it appears that the virus was unable to take out the transporter-jammers, so we will do a standard assault.”
“What are our losses at this time?”
The Gul swallowed. “Two cruisers and a frigate destroyed, three destroyers and two frigates damaged, but repairable. Several ships report light damage to shields or hull.”
“From four patrol craft, with no warning? When the operation has concluded, I will expect an explanation of your crews’ performance, Gul Tennekt.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave the orders that sent the fighters and assault ships down onto the planet surface. The outcome was not in doubt; Only the cost in men and equipment. And he was beginning to worry about what that cost would be. The Dosadi were even more insane than he had believed.
CHAPTER 2
“Women rescue men just as much as, if not more than, men rescue women.”
– Criss Jami – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI RAIDER ISS TARAK, UNDER WAY, ALPHA QUADRANT
JANUARY, 2310
The Tarak’s captain, Commander Lagos, cleared his throat which quieted the Raider Team sitting in the briefing room with him. “I don’t have a lot of information for you, which always means you’re getting handed some sort of nightmare. It’s supposed to be a simple recon, but even the Korat are in the dark so something has gone really, really wrong.
“Folks, I’m sorry about this. I know we haven’t even made it home from your last mission, but High Command received a cut-off distress signal from Eletha about 24 hours ago. Nothing since then at all. For those of you who don’t spend all your time reading up on our industrial capacity, Eletha’s a fairly new find for the Imperium. It’s very dilithium-rich and in the last four years has become our sole source of dilithium. We’re even exporting the stuff now.
“Anyone here a fan of Zolar?” he eyed Soral and Ason, “I’m sure not.” they grinned back at him. “Eletha’s the sole source of that particular recreational treat, so I’m sure there will be lots of motivation to find out what’s happening.
“We’re going to try to keep this very simple. We go in cloaked, see what’s up from orbit, drop you folks down on the ground for a recon, you sneak about for 48 hours, then we pick you back up again and off we go.
Any questions?”
Corin laughed, “A walk in the park. Suurrreee. I like a plan that has no assumptions and nothing but fact.”
Lagos managed a hurt expression, “Well, we do strive to provide you with only the very best in mission briefings.” He grinned at the team, “If it were easy, they’d send the regular navy, right?”
Sixteen hours later, the Tarak was still cloaked and falling slowly into the Delta Erani system, doing her very best to look like a hole in space.
Corin was standing at the back of the bridge and even his half-Dosadi nose could smell the tension and stress in the bridge crew.
“Don’t use the thrusters if you can avoid it – let the gravity pull us in. Just make sure we don’t run into any of those bastards.” Lagos ordered his helmsman. There were nearly 200 ships clustered thickly about the planet and all of them were looking for the expected Dosadi response.
He looked at Corin, “We are not going to be able to de-cloak or use transporters in that mess, Corin. You’re going to have to jump.”
“You’re still sending us in? We know what’s happened – The Cardassians captured it.”
“We need to know their disposition on the ground too, Corin. Defenses, troops, our civilian population there, facilities status, all of it.  If we’re going to retake this, we need to know. If we can get some decent intel now, we can move before they expect anything other than a probing attack. Before they get their defenses set.”
“So, a space dive with wing suits, that’s always fun. And how in the hell are we supposed to get off again?”
Lagos said nothing.
“Lagos, you are not leaving my team down there for however long it takes the Imperium to retake that.”
the Tarak’s Chief Engineer spoke up, “It’s risky, but I think I know how we can do ONE transport. But we’d better be really fast and if there’s a jammer down there, it’s not going to happen.”
“Do I want to know what you’ve got in mind, Chief?” Lagos asked.
“Probably not.” he laughed. “The timing’s going to have to be perfect. We slide up right underneath one of those big battleships, almost touching their shields. We drop out of cloak, transport the team up, go right back into cloak and sneak out as fast as we can.”
Lagos said, “Chief, if anyone even looks out the window at the wrong time they’ll see us. They’ll sure as hell detect the transporter beam. And if the team’s not right where we expect them to be at exactly the right time, nada.”
“That’s the beauty of using a battleship. Big enough to hide under so even any sensor hits they get will just look like a bad return from the battleship and who’s going to question one of the command ships using a transporter? It’s expected.”
Corin laughed, “You’re crazier than we are. All right then, there’s a chance of getting out of this with our skins intact. Let’s make it happen.”
By the time the Tarak had settled into an orbit behind one of the Galor-class battleships, he and his team were already geared-up and waiting in the shuttle bay on the back of the angular Raider ship. The heavy, stiff, wing-suits were designed for a fall from orbit, but a space jump was always risky. You had to avoid being detected as something unexpected, avoid over-heating and coming in like a meteor, and avoid running out of air. There was also the risk of destabilizing and spinning around so fast that the centrifugal force literally blew the top of your head off.
“All in a day’s work.” Corin thought to himself. He spoke to his team, “Comm check.”
Getting a series of clicks back in his ear, he ordered, “Kill the bay lights. Open the doors. LZ’s in your eyepiece, let’s not cluster on the way in, shall we?”
He watched the dirty tan planet moving slowly underneath them. Their LZ was a few klicks into the desert past a small mining village that appeared to be just to the west of the Cardassian command post. All they had to do was drop in, recon the village, move into the CP and see what was there. Disable any transporter jammers and make it look like a normal maintenance failure, get transported back up and go home. Easy.
He realized that he was seeing the planet, but not really seeing it. A few years ago, he would have marveled at the beauty of an alien planet a thousand klicks under his feet. He used to love space dives. They were rare, difficult, and always stunning. But somehow, the beauty had been lost to him. Now, it was just another target. He decided that was better; Certainly more professional than mooning over pretty colors like a love-sick kit.
His eyepiece flashed green and he and his team swan-dove off the end of the Tarak, becoming visible to every sensor out there as they left the egg-shell like confines of the cloaking field. He activated his de-orbit thruster, giving it a couple quick kicks to increase his separation from his team as they began dropping towards the surface of Eletha.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
“The overnight watch sucks.” the young Cardassian manning the sensor station on the Galor’s bridge thought to himself. He watched the tracks of the many warships in orbit around this dirtball and daydreamed about the young woman who was operating the science station.
A few tiny dots appeared behind his vessel and he briefly glanced at them and their track information, but there wasn’t anything interesting about them. Just more debris from the brief battle when they took the planet. Might be some pretty meteors for the troopers down on the surface. He wished he could take her down to watch them, maybe with something to drink and some music. He smiled and began adding more details to his fantasy.

* * *
30 KM ABOVE ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
Corin was satisfied with the dive so far. The team had split up nicely and all he could hear in his ear-piece was the heavy breathing of his team as they held themselves stiffly, struggling against the increasing bite of the atmosphere. The entire jump took almost 15 minutes, but the last 5 were the most difficult.
He let his eye scan over the symbols representing the various team members and noticed that Trellos was having difficulty. The young intel specialist was getting buffeted around and he heard her grunt a couple of times. The worst part was that there wasn’t a god-damn thing in the world he could do to help her. She had qualified on space diving, of course, but this was her first operational drop and she was carrying more equipment than usual.
Then she started to tumble.
Trellos knew she was in trouble almost the moment she left the Tarak. They had loaded her up with extra sensors and commo gear and she hadn’t been entirely happy with the balance, but everything had checked out. As soon as the atmosphere had started to hit her, she had begun struggling with her angle of entry. Something kept trying to flip her over – some extra bit of drag – and she was having a very hard time compensating. It required that she bend her back at an almost painful angle and hold it, with her arms held slightly away from her body. She had to make constant tiny adjustments to keep her head down and her track straight.
After 10 minutes of this, her muscles were screaming with exhaustion and the fine motor control she needed was fading fast. She tumbled once, but quickly managed to regain her attitude, only to begin spinning. She corrected that and tumbled again, several times, before she managed to get her head down again, spots dancing before her eyes from the g-forces. She was dropping at over 1,300 km/h and her suit temperature had kicked up to well over 200oC. Hot enough that she could feel it even through the heavy material of the suit.
She was panting heavily and sweating, something that Dosadi physiology only did in an emergency.
Everyone in the team was watching her struggles on their eyepieces, hearing the loud panting, occasional grunts and hisses from the young Group Leader as she fell behind them, the extra drag from her tumbles slowing her down.
“Fuck…fuck…fuck….” she kept repeating quietly as she fought with the atmosphere of Eletha. The altitude was dropping fast, but she was still a long way from being able to deploy her first streamer. She tumbled again, making three full revolutions before she could regain some control. She was spinning now – she decided to accept that, it wasn’t too fast – but she’d have to stop the spin before she deployed her chute. The suit was beginning to feel like it was on fire. The angle she was holding wasn’t ‘clean’ – the drag was increasing faster than the suit could dump the heat.
She couldn’t make it. She could feel her last, fatal tumble start and she knew there was no way she’d be able to pull out of this one. Maybe it was for the best – it had to be quicker than roasting to death in her wing suit. “Sorry guys.” was the last thing the team heard from her.
A moment later, Corin watched her trace get yanked off the top of his eyepiece and then he lost her data feed. “God DAMN IT” he thought to himself. What a total fucking waste. He was already juggling team assignments in his mind as he pulled his first streamer, guaranteeing that he’d be head-up and moving at a slow-enough speed to pull his chute. Veth was her backup on Intel, and Soral would have to take over as backup on Comms. The mission was already going to hell and they weren’t even on the ground yet.
He pulled his second streamer only a few seconds after the first – they didn’t last long – and decided that he was low enough and slow enough for his chute. Even if he lost his helmet, there’d be enough air to keep him alive, at least. Even if he passed out, the automatics would pop the chute in another couple thousand feet anyway. The rest of the team had come to similar decisions and he noted that they were already spreading out further to help prevent sensors from detecting a cluster of bird-sized objects that didn’t move like birds. He wondered if there even were birds on this planet.
His chute opened with the usual bone-jarring shock and he pulled it in tight so that he’d fall at a faster rate, steering towards his marked LZ. In another few minutes, he’d be on the ground and they’d see what there was to see.

* * *
ELETHA, DELTA ERANI SYSTEM, DOSADI IMPERIUM
JANUARY, 2310
Ceena, Tir, and Argus reporter extraordinaire Jonathon Nelson were trying to decide just what to do.
Ceena asked, “How long do we have to hide? Our supplies aren’t going to last forever.”
Nelson answered, “I’m not sure. I’ve got neutrality; I’m on Hydran credentials and I’m a reporter, that’s usually all it takes for me to move freely most anywhere, at least as long as there’s not active shooting going on. Even then, you can do some good combat reporting, you just can’t move between the lines very easily. I say let’s give it another day, and then I’ll go in to the village and see what’s going on. See  if it’s safe for you two – Tir, you should be fine, but Ceena, I’m not so sure about.”
Tir said, “Well, if you and I go in and leave Ceena with the supplies, she’s got enough for almost a week by herself. And we could sneak more out to the desert where she could pick them up…”
“And here I thought a planet named after my mother would be safe.” she laughed.
Nelson laughed with her. “Seriously? They named this after your mother?”
“Not actually – they just have the same name. My grandparents weren’t supposed to be able to have kits, so they named her Eletha – it means blessing. When they discovered dilithium deposits here, they named it Eletha too.”
“Ahhh! I like your first idea better.” He was about to say something more, but there was a sudden noise outside like a large sack of potatoes being dropped off of a roof. The three of them looked at each other and Nelson made a ‘shush’ motion with his finger. He stood up silently and peeked out of the small cave they were sheltering in. He didn’t see anything, certainly nothing that looked threatening.
He took a half step out of the entrance and he shouted in surprise as a pale blue gossamer fabric blew onto him, entangling him. “Jesus! Fuck! What…” It took him a moment to calm down and try to pull the silky sheets off his face. By the time he managed it, Tir and Ceena had come up and were holding handfuls of the stuff.
“What is it?” Tir asked.
“I don’t know.” Nelson answered, his heart still racing. “It’s not heavy enough to have made that noise though.”
Ceena was gathering it up, pulling at it. “It’s stuck on something, and there’s a lot of it.”
“Probably the rocks.” Nelson said. They continued tugging at the fabric, pulling at it and following the stuff around the entrance to their little cave and towards the broken ground surrounding it. “What the hell is that?” he asked, pointing towards some low scrub and rocks  a few meters distant that had been smashed and now looked blurry and indistinct.
Tir said, “It’s a parachute – look – shroud lines!”
“I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.” Nelson said.
Ceena cried out, “It’s a person – she’s hurt. come quick!” and ran ahead of the other two. When they arrived, she was kneeling next to a bloody, burned, Dosadi face lying in the scrub, but the body was hard to make out. It wavered and looked a lot like the brush and rocks she was lying in.
Nelson, standing over the other two, holding his hand up to his glasses and taking the scene in said, “Holy shit. Active camouflage. I didn’t think that was even real.” Tir and Ceena were checking the woman over.
Tir glanced up at him, “Stop playing with the damn camera and help us. We need to get back in the cave and get her some first aid, she’s not dead.”
“Yeah, sure. Be careful of her neck and back – keep them straight.” He and Tir picked her up while Ceena supported her spine and the three of them made their way back into the cave where they laid her out flat on the ground.
Ceena got out the first-aid kit from the ATV. “Get that stuff off of her, she’s got a lot of injuries.” While Tir and Nelson started to cut her uniform off her, she tried to treat the burns and the bleeding head wounds.
“What is this thing?” Tir asked as they struggled with the heavy suit with it’s interconnecting fabric membranes. It had turned almost the same color as the cave floor and was difficult to see.
“A wing suit. It lets you ‘fly’ a looong way when you drop in from orbit. She’s gotta be some sort of Dosadi commando.” Nelson answered. “I’ve never reported on a battle where they were used. The people who see them used don’t usually live very long.”
“She’s messed up is what she is.” Ceena said, “Both legs are broken, her shoulder’s dislocated, she’s got a fractured skull, some of her ribs are broken and her head and face are burned. The first aid kit can’t handle all of this.”
While Ceena and Tir were treating the wounded commando, Nelson was checking out the gear they had removed. “Folks, this isn’t good for us. This isn’t good for us at all.”
Ceena, irritated with him, snapped, “And why is that? It’s a hell of a lot worse for her. Stop poking through her stuff.”
“I don’t even know what half this gear is and I’ve been doing combat photojournalism for years. But I do know that whoever she was with is going to need it and come looking for it. And whoever shot up that village is going to come looking for them. We may want to find someplace else to be.”
“So what, you want us to just leave her to die?”
“She would have died anyway, Ceena. We don’t want to be around when either of them come looking for her and her equipment. It’s going to compromise my neutrality if I’m helping a combatant.”
Tir said, “To hell with your neutrality then. Medics are always neutral. But fine, you don’t have to help her, just I don’t know, keep watch or something, or leave, I don’t care. Just don’t sell us out, OK?”
Nelson shut up. What did he owe these people? What did he owe his story? He watched the two of them working over the injured commando, letting his sensor record the entire scene. This was risky as hell, but it could also lead to some of the best war reporting in years – daring commando raids always played well with the public and he was literally in on the ground floor. Assuming he survived – that was always the tricky part.
But, would he compromise his journalistic integrity if he actively helped save her life? Or would his readers see him as compassionate? How would his Cardassian readers see him, if he chose one side over another? He finally decided to do nothing, to remain an objective observer.
And he had to make sure the records stayed safe when either side showed up. Soldiers were always so spastic about secrecy. But he had dual feeds for just that reason, he chuckled to himself. No one had found the second cache yet and it was unlikely they ever would unless they cut his belly open.

* * *
Trellos opened her eyes and saw only darkness. She was surprised that she could even open her eyes. She hurt all over, but that was a damn sight better then being dead. Pulling her streamer early had been a total desperation move, but it looked like it worked. She must not have been high enough for the low pressure to kill her. She had a vague memory of her helmet getting torn off by the shock and incredible burning heat and that was pretty much it.
“Shh.” she heard someone say in Dosadi, “You’re badly hurt, OK? Don’t try to move.”
“Where am I?” She wondered if the Cardies had captured her. That would be very bad. It wasn’t like she could pretend to be a tourist.
A middle-aged Dosadi woman leaned over her, “You’re in a cave on Eletha. You landed badly outside and we brought you in here. What were you doing? Are there others with you?”
“Collaborator.” Trellos decided, but only said, “I’m alone. I was bringing medical supplies to the civilians here.”
Nelson laughed, “Group Leader, beyond your personal kit, none of what’s in that ruck are medical supplies.”
Her eyes tracked over to him, What the hell? She thought. A human? Why was there a human on Eletha? He must’ve got her rank and ID off of her tags. How long was she out?
It didn’t help her confusion any when Tir said “Shut up, Nelson.”
“I don’t understand. Who are you people?” she asked.
Ceena said, “I’m sorry we should have introduced ourselves. I’m Jons Ceena of Hydra, and this is my husband, Jons Tir. We’re xenobiologists studying the Zolar root. This man is Jonathon Nelson, he’s a reporter for Argus who’s doing a story on my family for some reason or other.”
Trellos tried to think. Something about this was jogging her memory but it was so hard to think through the pain in her body and the splitting headache she had. “I don’t understand, you’re a Dosadi but your…husband?… is a Hydran? Like your mate?”
“Yes, it’s a long story.” she smiled. “Nelson put your shoulder back in it’s socket for you, that’s asking a lot of a reporter.”
She needed to get in touch with her team, but if this was a trap…maybe they were collaborators and they were trying to get her to bring the rest of the team in. Damn she wished her head would stop hurting long enough to think clearly.
Ceena asked her “Do you need to get in touch with the other Soldiers? So they can come and help you? Our first aid kit can’t fix most of what’s wrong with you. I don’t think you’re going to die, but you’re pretty messed up.”
As foggy as she was feeling, contacting the team was the very last thing she was going to do. “No, I’m alone. I told you that.”
Nelson snorted and Ceena glared at him.
“Well, you’re safe for a while. Just relax – here’s a water tube. If you need anything, we’ll try to get it for you.”

* * *
VILLAGE OF SONGTE, ELETHA, DELTA ERANI SYSTEM, DOSADI IMPERIUM
JANUARY, 2310
Corin and his team were ghosting along the outskirts of the mining village of Songte, sensors recording audio, visual, and sensor traps. They had already mapped a number of air defense positions in the distance. Coupled with the Tarak’s own logs, they should be able to fill in almost the entire network here. But this little mining town had been blasted. Corin wasn’t sure why – there was nothing here. No defensive positions, no garrisons, no anything. Just a hundred or so roundhouses with families. Why waste time shooting it up? It looked like two, maybe three ships had strafed through the village hitting about a third of the houses. There were still bodies lying in heaps.
There were also roving patrols of Cardassian troops. Corin made sure to note that they were from the Ninth Order, a division with a particularly brutal reputation. The twilight was making it much easier for them to avoid being discovered and they moved into the outer edge of the village. The entire team dropped flat and froze as they heard a snarling Dosadi curse, a Cardassian scream and the sound of phasers a moment later. A block ahead, they saw a pair of dead Cardassian Soldiers mixed with two dead Dosadi, evidently a mated pair.
“Fuck these animals!” the Glinn in charge of the squad cursed. “I am not taking any more casualties on this sweep, they’re all insane! Kill all of them that you find, on sight.”
Corin and the team had scanned the better part of two companies of Cardassians clearing the village – well more than they could hope to deal with. There was a faint questioning hiss from Trion and Corin responded, “Negative.” He heard a shot from within the roundhouse he was hiding next to and peeked through the deep window.
He was moving through the door long before any part of him that he still recognized made a decision. There was a second shot. The door was already kicked in and he had that lovely slow-motion feel that he sometimes got in combat. It was addictive, that feeling when you had all the time in the world and your enemies were moving in slow motion. He stepped silently through the door, noticing that it was thin and had splintered easily. It was always interesting the patterns a door jamb made when it was breached.
He brought the silenced, caseless-ammo pistol up and squeezed the trigger at almost the same moment the Cardassian trooper fired his weapon at the child in front of him. Corin noticed the kit was staring straight at him, not at the Cardie. Must’ve been turning her head away so she didn’t have to see it coming. The other two Cardies were barely moving, turning to look towards Corin, the bodies of two adult Dosadi lying in front of them. He saw the fan-like spray of blood and brains out of the side of the first Cardassian’s head and shifted his point of aim to the second man, the sights lining up neatly in the center of the tear-shaped ridge in the center of his forehead. Courteous of them to have evolved such a clear aim-point. Two quick, gentle strokes of the trigger and he half-stepped to the side, letting the pistol track onto the last Cardassian. There was a certain joy to moving like this, like an obscene ballet.
The last man had realized something had gone horribly wrong, but in the poor light and with Corin’s active camouflage battle dress, he had no real context to explain what was going on. His phaser was swinging around, but he died without knowing what it was that had killed him and his men. He collapsed into a heap with a wet sound less than two seconds after Corin’s first shot. Corin quickly cleared the remainder of the room and ordered “Bring it in.” to his team.
He holstered the pistol and knelt down. The two adults were obviously beyond saving, but the kit looked like there might be something left. He started checking her over. The phaser had been knocked off center by his first round and had taken a chunk out of her left side, up by the armpit. Bloody, but definitely not fatal. She looked like she was about six, he decided. Black fur – a very rare mutation. Pulse was strong though.
“What the fuck, Cap?” Trion asked. Soral pushed past and opened up his med kit.
Corin didn’t say anything, standing up and watching Soral work. The rest of the team slipped into the roundhouse with puzzled expressions on their faces. He wasn’t entirely sure what the fuck himself.
“Cap, we don’t have time for this shit.” Trion said again, “We’ve got most of a battalion of pissed of Cardies out there and when they see this they’re going to know it wasn’t some miners who blew these three away.”
“I know. I…I just…couldn’t…” he shook his head. “Ason, rig the house like the door had an IED on it. We’ll trip it on the way out. Miners use explosives all the time. They’ll buy that.”
The little girl opened her eyes and started to cry. Soral tried to quiet her, but was having little effect.
Corin knelt back down by the child and said, “Shush. I need you to be strong and brave, OK? You mustn’t cry or they’ll find us. All right?”
Her eyes wide, she clamped her mouth closed, her bright green eyes boring into Corin’s deep, sapphire blue eyes. Her expression was a mix of terror and fascination and Corin’s was one of total puzzlement. The two of them stayed like that, silent and motionless for several seconds until Soral said, “What the fuck?”
Corin shook his head again and said, “What is that, the phrase of the day? Come on, get the house rigged and let’s get out of here.”
Trion said, “Corin, we’ve got no camo for the kit. We can’t leave her and we can’t take her with us. So now what?”
“Here. Hang on.” he stripped off his ruck and uniform top. “What’s your name?”
“Rileeta.” she sniffed, holding her injured side but never taking her eyes off of Corin.
“Okay, Rileeta, this is going to suck for you, but you have to do this, OK? I need you to climb on my back and hold on. It’s going to hurt and it’s going to be hard to breathe and you have to hold on for a long time and not make ANY noise at all, OK? Just accept that it sucks, OK? If you make noise, they’ll find us and kill us.”
Veth snickered, “Cap, you can’t talk to kits like that.”
She said, “Okay. I can do that.”
He said, “What the…” and at Corin’s glare, shut up and went back to wiring in the detonator he was putting into the explosives.
Corin crouched even further down and the little girl climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He put the active camouflage top back on, and loosened the straps of his ruck before pulling it on over both of them. “You OK under there, uh, Rileeta?”
Trion was shaking her head. “You’re gonna run how far with that extra 20 kilos cutting off your air?”
There was a muffled “I can do it. It hurts. But I can do it.”
“I’m not that old Strike. It’s just PT, right? There’s some broken hills like 10 klicks into the desert. We can hide there and figure out how to recon the CP. We’ve got 40 hours to get this done. Plenty of time. We just don’t want to be late getting to the transport point or we’re stuck here.” He stood up and tried not to let the strain show on his face. He fooled no one.
“You picked a funny time to rejoin the world, Cap.”
“Shut up, Strike. Let’s get out of here.”
They had barely gone a hundred meters when the roundhouse exploded, lighting up the darkening sky and raining burning embers down across the village. “Good…Timing…” he panted, knees already feeling the extra weight. The damn little thing was strong he thought to himself, trying to force his wind-pipe open as he ran.
Two kilometers out of the village he signaled for a halt. Sagging down he said, “Hey, kit…Rileeta, you gotta let me breathe.” She said nothing but relaxed her death-grip on his neck some.
Trion came up, and ordered “Split his ruck up, guys.”
“Negative.” he panted, shaking his head.
“One team, one fight, Cap. We’re only as strong as the weakest and you’re carrying more than anyone. Play macho on your own time, not ours.”
She started pulling items out of his ruck and he said, “Fuck you, Strike.” but didn’t stop her. He drank deeply from the water bladder in his ruck. She peeked down the back of his uniform top.
“You OK down there?” The hot smell of sweat was strong outside of the jacket; she could only imagine what it must be like inside it. But the kit only looked up and nodded, panting for all she was worth.
An hour later, the team had reached the edge of the hills and took up defensive positions, the planet’s twin moons casting eerie pairs of shadows across the desert landscape. Corin stripped his ruck and uniform top off gratefully and the poor kit collapsed in a heap. He flopped down next to her and gave her his water-tube to drink from, “Hey, you did great Rileeta! You did it!”
Her fur was matted and wet from both of their sweat and the bandages Soral had put on her were blood-soaked. She said nothing, just looking up at Corin.
Soral came over and checked her over again, “It’s OK, Rileeta, you can talk now. We’re safe here for a little while. Just keep it quiet, OK?” He gave her a hypo-spray of pain killer and she jumped at the hissing sound.
Trion asked, “Now what, Cap? If they run an air search, they’ll find us here.”
“Let me just catch my breath, then we’ll find a place to laager. Then we can plan out the main recon and exfil.”
“Can I cry now?” came a very soft, very wide-eyed question from the little black-furred kit.
Soral said, “Oh yes, sweetie, you can cry now.” He held his arms out to the child and instead, she moved closer to Corin, buried her face in his chest and bawled for all she was worth.
Corin put his hand on her back, uncomfortably trying to soothe her and said to Soral, “Don’t even say it.”
Soral smiled, gave a ‘who, me?’ gesture and moved back to his spot on the perimeter.

CHAPTER 3
“Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”
– Albert Einstein – Earth (Human)
ELETHA, DELTA ERANI SYSTEM, DOSADI IMPERIUM
JANUARY, 2310
There were some sort of desert-dwelling insects outside that made a quiet little chirping sound. Trellos was glad that there was something she could use as an alarm if someone came near; they’d go silent when one of her three guards came in or out of the cave. At least she was starting to feel a little better. Whatever the woman had put on the burns had helped a lot and the pain-killer had finally started to make her head feel less like there was something inside it burrowing out.
She needed better information on who these people were and what her status was. It was even money that what they were telling her was just a front to get her to talk or to lead her team into a trap. So, it was her turn to interrogate them.
“You’re a reporter?” she asked Nelson, wincing at the vibrations that talking sent through her skull.
“Yeah. I work for Argus. You might have seen some of my stories before. I covered the negotiations on Cantor IV and I did some war reporting in the Klingon Empire and some with the Federation. I did a whole series on Captain Archer, Captain Pike, and Captain Kirk, I called it “ENTERPRISE” – did you see it?” She shook her head and he continued,  “Never done much with the Dosadi though.”
“So then what brought you here?”
He hooked his thumb at Tir and Ceena, “Those two.”
“Xenobiology is news, now?” This was how you figured out what was really going on. You pulled at the loose threads – the items that didn’t fit.
He laughed, “Not even I can make xenobiology news. No, I’m working on a story on their family. The whole family is one big oddity and they keep cropping up in major events over the last fifty years or so. It’s just strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like I said, it’s strange. I mean, c’mon, you’ve got a Dosadi married to a Hydran. Who ever heard of that?”
She thought to herself, that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put a finger on it yet. The headache and pain killers made her mind feel like it was stuffed full of gauze. “Is the whole family like that?”
“Pretty much. Her father-in-law runs a business with another mixed pair, human and Dosadi! She’s considered a sort of niece because her father is good friends with the human.”
A chill went down her back. “A human?”
“Yes! And he’s in Starfleet, but his wife is an Imperial Marine and their kids!”
“What about them?” This wasn’t possible.
“Well, one of them damn near caused a war between the Federation and the Cardassian Union 20 years ago, another one went into the Imperial Navy and vanished, the other two don’t seem to be anything all that strange…yet.
“What was her name? The one that almost caused the war.”
“Heath…wait, I didn’t say it was a girl. How did you know that?”
She laughed, the broken ribs turning it into a cough. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”
Ceena and Tir picked up that something strange was happening.
“What’s wrong?” Ceena asked.
Trellos asked, “What was your name again?”
“Jons Ceena. Why?”
“What are your cousin’s names? The Dosadi ones I mean.”
“Corin, Nollos, Rollin, and Heather. Why? What’s going on?”
Trellos laughed again, ending with a racking cough. “The gods have a sense of humor. That’s all.”
“What’s so funny? I don’t understand.” Ceena was getting annoyed. Tir was becoming concerned.
She pointed at Nelson, “Can you hand me that…no…the other one…yeah, that one. I need to contact someone.” she tried to hold the repeater unit up but her injured ribs and shoulder made that impossible.
He began to worry. “Wait a second. Who are you trying to contact? We’re not exactly in a safe place here you know.”
She smiled, “I’m going to contact my team leader. Lieutenant Commander Corin. Her cousin.”
Nelson’s jaw dropped, “What the fuck?”
Two kilometers away, Corin’s eyepiece began flashing the numeral 6 in red, nearly on top of their position.
He said, “Trion, you seeing that? Is that a malfunction?”
“Systems check, everyone – penetration check, shift IFF code.” she ordered.
Veth said, “Still got it. How is that possible?”
Corin pulled his uniform top back on. “Gear up, we’re going to find out. If someone’s hacked our system we are well and truly screwed. Rileeta, you have to stay here.”
“I don’t want to! I want to go with you!”
He knelt back down, “Listen, I know you want to help but you can’t do what we do, OK? The team is like a family. We always, always, always, do what is best for the team. We look out for each other, protect each other, no matter what. I know it will be scary to be here by yourself, but we need you to stay here – guard our rucks and don’t make any noise at all, OK? We’ll be back soon – trust me, OK?”
She shrank into herself. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
He smiled, “I promise. We won’t be long, just don’t move and don’t make any noise and you’ll be fine. We’ll be back in about an hour. That’s not very long.” and the team moved out, disappearing into the rocks and the dim, broken shadow-pairs from the two moons.
Twenty minutes later, the team was in a rough semi-circle, using their optics to examine the entrance to the cave where Trellos’ symbol was locating. Veth said, “Getting some thermals, Cap.”
“Anything anywhere else? This reeks of a trap.”
“Not even a whisper. It’s quiet, Cap. Too quiet.”
“You watch too many bad entertainments, Veth. Ason, how close can you get?”
“I’ll steal their pants and be back before they know I’m here, Cap.”
“Leave the pants, just get close enough to get a view in that cave and tell me what you see.”
There was a pair of clicks in his ear and he watched Ason’s symbol take a wandering course close to the cave entrance. He was perhaps ten meters from the entrance when he reported in. “Cap, something is seriously weird here.”
“What have you got?”
“It looks like Trellos, I think. But there’s another Dosadi female, a human male, and a Hydran male.”
“You’re not very funny, Ason.”
“Sending a feed now, Cap.”
Corin’s eyepiece blanked and showed an enhanced close-up into the cave. There was a Dosadi female lying flat on her back and from what was visible, it was Trellos. Hard to tell if she was alive or dead, but the thermal overlay made her look either alive or very recently dead. And sure enough, there was a human, another Dosadi and a Hydran.
The Dosadi turned toward the cave entrance and he was looking directly into his cousin’s pretty face. “Okay, looks like we caught a break. It’s Ceena. And yeah, that’s Tir. Ason, make contact, don’t scare them to death, OK? We’re gonna get our gear and the kit and we’ll be right up. Keep the feed live and add audio, if this goes pear-shaped, I want to know before you do.”
There were a pair of clicks in his ear and Ason’s symbol began slipping towards the cave.
Half an hour later, the rest of the team joined him in the cave and Soral began doing what he could for Trellos.
Corin set little Rileeta on the ground and turned to his cousins “Ceena! Tir! What the hell are you two doing in this mess? What happened?”
Nelson was in heaven. He made sure to fade into the background as much as possible and was trying to capture everything going on at the same time.
Ceena and Tir gave a brief overview of why they were on Eletha and how they had been fortunate enough to be away from Songte when the attack came. She finished by asking, “What’s with the kit, cousin? And why are you here?”
Corin glanced at Rileeta, who was sitting as close to him as she thought she could get away with. “The Cardies were killing everyone. Three of them shot her folks, and shot her. I didn’t manage to save the parents, but…”
Nelson interrupted, “You took on three Cardassian Soldiers by yourself?”
“Yeah, that’s kinda what we do. Who are you?”
Trellos coughed and said, “Reporter, Cap.”
Corin’s face went blank. “A reporter?”
He held his hand out, “Jonathon Nelson, Commander. I’m reporting for Argus – don’t worry, I won’t be sending anything up without your…”
Corin had drawn his sidearm and had placed the silencer flat against Nelson’s forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ve got no time for reporters and we can’t risk being compromised.”
Nelson’s heart was hammering. This was closer to death than he’d ever been. “I’m neutral. I’m not going to…”
“Sorry.” His finger dropped down to the trigger and there was a small whispery voice in the darkness.
“Is he a bad person?”
Nelson’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t religious at all, but at just that moment he was offering a very heartfelt prayer to any god that would listen. The silencer was a cold circle in the middle of his forehead and it wasn’t moving at all. He wondered if his glasses would record the flash when it fired.
“Well, sort of, Rileeta, it’s complicated.” His finger was still on the trigger. Why didn’t he fire? This idiot was a massive security risk to this mission and any others if he went and reported on their tactics, gear, members – why did he give two shits what some kit thought?
The team were watching Corin, but no one was saying anything.
“What did he do wrong?”
“It’s not like that. It’s what he might do. See, he puts the team at risk. He puts all of us at risk. They might find us because of him.”
Nelson was whispering, “No, no, no I swear it, I won’t do anything, nothing you don’t want me to do I swear it.”
“Like you said I would if I cried? Would you shoot me?”
His finger moved up along the frame, “Of course not, Rileeta. No one’s going to hurt you.” He paused for a second, and re-holstered the pistol. Nelson began to shake uncontrollably.
Trion offered, “A little tense there, Cap.”
“Yeah, a little. Listen, you – Nelson was it? Walk with me, all right?”
His eyes widened, “Are you going to…”
“No, not like that. But you and I need to have a heart to heart, just you and me. Outside. Everyone else, wait here. I’ll be right back.” his nose twitched at the sudden strong scent and he glanced at Nelson’s chalk-white face, “Sorry, we’ll be right back. Both of us.”
They stepped a few meters away from the cave entrance and Corin turned on the reporter. He spoke in a calm, casual tone as though he were discussing the weather. “I’m going to regret this, I’m sure. When we exfiltrate, you will surrender to me every bit of data you record in its raw form. I will give you back what you may have. You will not report anything I do not specifically approve. If you ever make me even suspect that you are going to break your word on this, I will find you and you will wish that I had only killed you. There is no place in this galaxy where you are safe from me. Do you understand me?”
Nelson, mute, only nodded. He had interviewed killers before. Sick men who enjoyed tormenting their victims. He had once done a special on cannibal serial killers, spending hours talking with them. Not one of them filled him with an icy certainty of his own frailty like the blue-eyed thing standing in front of him right then.
“Give me your word of honor.”
“I swear it, sir.”
Corin nodded, “All right then. Let’s get back inside.”
On the way back in, Nelson surreptitiously checked his pants for wetness.

* * *
Corin looked around at his team. The cave was too small to exclude all the civilians; there was just no help for it. “Okay, the original plan is pretty well screwed. We’ve got one badly wounded teammate, four civs, and we’ve still got to recon the Cardie CP, disable their transporter jammer and get to the rally point in 38 hours, almost exactly.” He glanced at the count-down chrono showing in the upper right corner of his eyepiece. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Trellos said, “We’ve got a couple of advantages out here – the transporter jammer is pretty weak. I bet Trion and I can set this gear up as a bastardized pattern enhancer and they can get us all in one go.”
“One go is all we get. But they’re expecting six, not ten. And they’re expecting us at a rally point in the middle of Korel, not way the hell out here in the desert. Try again.”
Veth said, “Well, we just need to find some way to signal them – tight-beam maybe?”
“The Tarak is in the middle of 200 Cardassian ships and tucked underneath a battleship. Anything we send to her, the battleship at least is going to hear, more likely everyone anywhere near her. It would be like shouting ‘We are here!’ Try again.”
Rileeta’s quiet little voice chimed in, “What if you whispered?” No one had told her she wasn’t supposed to contribute. Ceena put her arm around her shoulders and said, “Shhhh.”
Corin actually smiled at that. “Then they wouldn’t hear us, Rileeta, but thank…”
“Actually, Cap, we might be able to make that work. We could split it up into a whisper.” Trion said.
“Strike, if you’re being funny, now is not the time.”
Trellos asked, “Pico power, Strike?”
“Yeah. If Lorenth is on defense, he’d notice it. And our shield harmonics are different than theirs – they wouldn’t modulate.”
“Okay you two, what the hell is pico power and what does that have to do with shield harmonics?”
Trion said, “It’s sort of a shot in the dark, Cap. A whisper on a scream, if you will. See, the theory is we tight-beam a message to the Tarak. But not using regular systems. We beam it in overlapping harmonic frequencies – chosen to oscillate against the shield harmonics on the Tarak. Each pulse is just a pico-watt more than is needed to reach the ship. But when all the harmonics add up when they hit the shields, it’s enough to cause feedback and the shields surge up and down in strength.
Anyone on the defense console would notice it, and Lorenth is sharp, he’d figure out the surges were code pulses in a second. But see, the Cardies’ shields run on different frequencies than ours so they wouldn’t get the oscillation effect and the amount of power in any one frequency is so low, they’d never notice it.”
Corin studied his Team NCO. “So this depends on you two being able to jury-rig all our commo gear and intel gear into some mad-scientist transmitter, send a message that we don’t know they’ll even recognize as a message, decode it, and beam ten of us up out here, instead of six of us where we’re supposed to be. Right?”
“Well, it’s even a little worse than that. We wouldn’t even really know if it was reaching them or not because the power is too low. We’d have to guess at the power level; we’ve got a pretty good idea of the right range, but we don’t want to use too much or the Cardies will hear us, or too little and it won’t get through.”
“You realize that if this doesn’t work we’re going to be sitting out here trying to survive until the Fleet comes and retakes this dirtball, right? And they’ll be trying it without all our intel?”
“It’s either that, Cap, or we leave Trellos and the civs to rot while we go home. Your call.”
“Cute, Strike. But it’s always my call.” He considered the very few options he had. “How long to rig up your pico-thingy and the pattern enhancer?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to waste any time starting, Cap. It’s not like we’re wiring up a door chime here. And we’re gonna need all of Trellos’ fancy intel gear. Especially the frequency analyzers and the sensor traps.”
Corin thought for a moment. “Fine. People have been collecting intel with eyes, ears, and nose for a lot longer than we’ve had these pretty toys. Veth, Ason, Soral, you’re with me. Leave everything but the water and two rations and we’re outta here.
“We’ll be back in 37 hours so we’ve got a little lee-way. We need to seriously hoof it here, gentlemen. It’s 40 klicks to Korel and it’s crawling with Cardies. Should be fun!”
He stood up and Rileeta said, “I want to come too!”
Ceena said, “Shh, you can’t, kit. They’re going to be running as fast as they can for hours and hours and then sneaking around so no one can see them. Then they have to run back as fast as they can. You can help here, you’ve got little hands and those two can use your help.”
“No! I wanna go with him!”
Corin knelt down, “Hey, remember what I said about the team? It’s always all about the team. You do what is best for the team, not just what you want. And this is my cousin! So she knows what’s best for the team too. You should always listen to her.” Rileeta looked up at Ceena, her ears and whiskers drooping. He asked her, “Can I count on you Rileeta?”
Veth shook his head, “Seriously, Cap, you can’t talk to kits like that. They don’t…”
She glared at Veth. “Yes. I’ll stay here.”
Corin grinned at her and Veth grumbled, “Why doesn’t my kit ever listen like that?”
CHAPTER 4
“SuvwI’pu’ qan tu’lu’be’” (There are no old warriors.)
– Klingon Proverb
TOWN OF KOREL, ELETHA, DELTA ERANI SYSTEM, DOSADI IMPERIUM
JANUARY, 2310
As usual, the team had made it to, and through Korel without attracting attention. Years of experience operating in hostile territory brought with it a cadence and a flow that only the worst of luck could break. A number of Cardassian troops had come within a whisker of one or another of the raiders, and never noticed a thing.
They were moving back through Korel, hitting the holes they missed on their first pass when a large Glinn stepped out of a roundhouse that the Cardassians were evidently using to quarter their troops. Ason silently melted into the scattered scrubby bushes that surrounded the home and put his face flat in the dirt, trusting to the dim light, broken shadows and the technological marvel of his active camouflage uniform.
Everyone else froze as well, seeking cover quickly and quietly while trying to get a supporting field of fire. Corin raised his silenced pistol. The range was almost 40 m, a long shot for the little sub-sonic rounds but…The Cardie looked up at the twin moons and stepped towards Ason’s hiding place. Corin lined the sights up and began the rhythm of marksmanship; Steady platform – his arm was braced against the wall of the house, his right forearm resting on his left wrist. Consistent sight picture – the back of the target’s head was a clear dark circle surrounding the three dots of the night sights on the pistol. Breath control – He inhaled and let his finger drift down onto the trigger.
And the Cardassian stopped, inches short of Ason’s prone form. Everyone on the team prayed that he would simply turn around and go back inside. Instead, his hands fumbled at the front of his uniform – even from behind the team could tell he was doing something; Was he reaching for a weapon? Had he seen Ason?
When he began to urinate on the Dosadi weapons expert, the splashing sound coming clearly through Ason’s comm system, the difficulty became controlling their laughter. Worse, this particular Cardie officer seemed to have a gigantic bladder. The splashing kept going and going…
Soral was biting his lip. He knew if he lost it now, everyone would. The certainty that this would expose the team was enough to keep his humor under control. After the slaughter they had seen, they all needed a laugh, but now was not the time. The Cardies had evidently taken significant casualties from the Dosadi civilians and had responded savagely. Pay-back would have to come later, though.
Finally, the Cardassian Soldier let out a sigh, put himself back into his uniform and headed back inside. Poor Ason stood up and tried to quietly shake as much of the piss off of himself as he could – Corin could see the irritation and disgust on his face through his optics. That had shown excellent discipline; Later, the team would give him plenty of shit for that particular event though.
They started moving again, scouting troop locations, sensors, weapons systems, communications points, vehicle storage points – anything they could find. And always, there were the bodies of Dosadi civilians. Age seemed to provide no protection from the Cardassian’s wrath. Corin estimated that perhaps 40% of Korel’s population had been killed in either the initial attacks or reprisals since then. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and to try to rub some of the aches out of his knees.
He thought to himself, “This used to be a lot easier.” The eight hours it had taken them to cover the 40  km to Korel had been brutal, but the 18 hours they had spent creeping around town going up, down, crawling, kneeling and sprinting had been worse. His right knee was swollen and stiff; He had twisted it on the run in and the abuse it had suffered since hadn’t helped.
Later, he would reflect that his own self-absorption was what let the Cardassian escape his notice. He stepped away from the roundhouse he had been hiding by just as a young Cardie came out and walked directly into Corin. Corin was fast. His combat knife was in his hand and streaking into the young man’s sternum in the blink of an eye.
The Cardassian was faster. His left hand grabbed Corin’s camo-blurred wrist and the two began a silent struggle in the moonlight. The young man drew his own knife and Corin was forced to grab his wrist – but the young Cardie was dangerously strong. Corin felt like his own wrist was going to break.
There was no sound as the two poured every ounce of energy and effort into trying to force the other man to drop their weapon, or to strike with their own. But the Cardie was bigger, stronger, and most of all younger. Corin was panting and his right knee was slowly collapsing and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. It finally folded under him with a wet snap, leaving him struggling against the Cardie’s weight as well as his strength, his own knife completely under his enemy’s control and the enemy knife inexorably dropping down on him.
The Cardie jerked, his eyes locked open and his arms went slack. Corin pushed his arms away, but his right hand was numb; he couldn’t even feel his knife any more. The Cardassian rolled off to the side and slid into the dirt and Corin looked up to see an elderly Dosadi pull his pick-axe out of the body’s upper spine. He thought to himself, “What the hell? They still use pick-axes?”
The old man held his hand up to his mouth and then waved Corin away emphatically. He sat down on the dead Cardassian and took out a small flask. From the smell, it was Dosadi whiskey. He smiled at Corin as he struggled back to his feet, his right leg refusing to bear much weight. At Corin’s questioning look he simply smiled and waved good-bye, taking a long pull from his flask.
Corin shook his head and limped away as quickly and quietly as he could. He hoped they killed the old man quickly. He wished there had been some way to have saved him, but he had clearly made his choice. He would find out who that man was and honor him for saving his life.
The leg was almost useless. It was getting harder and harder to move quietly. The rest of the team was already on the outskirts and he was almost three blocks short and moving slower as time went on. His eyepiece showed him Soral and Veth looping back towards him, coming in from behind and from either side, following procedure to see what the problem was.
When they got to him, they quickly slung their weapons, draped one of his arms over each shoulder, and made a seat with their other hands, carrying him quickly to where Ason waited for them, covering the approaches to the rally point.
“What happened, Cap?” Veth whispered while Soral was checking his leg out.
“God damn Cardie walked out of a roundhouse straight into me. We got into it, knee gave out.”
“You leave a body?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it though. Some old man hit him in the spine with a pick-axe. He’s just sitting on the body drinking whiskey. He’s taking the heat for us so we’d better get the hell out of here with this intel.”
Soral looked up, “Cap, I can’t fix this. Your ligaments are gone. I can brace it, but…”
“Do it. I can make it.”
“You’re gonna run 40 klicks on a busted knee? Even if you make it, you’re gonna lose the knee.”
“So, I do regen again. Brace it. We gotta get moving.”
Soral shook his head and began doing what he could for his CO. There wasn’t much to do, so it didn’t take long. A hypo-spray of pain killer, another of anti-inflammatory, and a stiff, tight wrapping was about it.
Corin stood, the leg took some weight and he tried not to grimace. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
Veth snorted. “Screw that, Cap. One team, one fight. Let’s make tracks.”
They took turns setting the pace, always keeping Corin’s limping, sweating form close at hand. Sometimes, despite his protests, they’d carry him for a few hundred meters. Corin always remembered that run in the increasing daylight as the longest, most painful 12 hours of his life. Whenever they had to hide, it meant dropping down flat – instantly and silently. And then getting back on his feet. Every time his knee moved, he could feel bone grinding. The knee itself felt like someone was shoving metal wires through it with every hopping, dragging step. Below that, his lower leg and foot were numb and wooden. The Cardie had evidently cracked his wrist since that had swollen painfully as well and his right hand was almost as useless as his leg. The pain had long since passed the point where he could keep tears from running down his cheeks.

* * *
Back in the cave, Trion turned to Trellos and said, “It sure looks like it’s working. If we got the power levels right, and if they’re paying attention, and if the Cardie’s don’t pick up on it, we should be out of here in just about two hours.”
Trellos asked Rileeta, “Did you get that optical cable stuck on the blue thing?”
There was a muffled “I think so.” from behind one of the small boxes Trellos had been carrying. The little black furred kit pulled her nose out of the box and said, “I did!”
“Ceena, it’s a good thing she was here – it’s a lot easier with tiny little fingers!”
Rileeta smiled at the praise. “Did it work?”
The younger woman used her good arm to press a control and there was a snapping sound. All four of the devices that had been modified sparked and exuded a golden glow. “Yup! You did it, Rileeta!” She turned it back off again. “We’re good, Strike. The enhancer looks good. I don’t think we should turn it on until just before they’re gonna energize though or the Cardies will probably notice it.”
“Yeah. Assuming they make it back in time.” She was eying her own count-down chronometer. The team was due in a little less than an hour.
Ceena and Tir had been spending their time going over their research data and discussing it’s significance to their overall thesis. Nelson finally couldn’t stand it any longer.
“How can you two sit there and be so calm? They might not get back. This might not work at all. We might not get out of here, you know.”
Ceena said, “What’s to worry about? Corin’s a professional and so is his team. This is what they do, all day, every day.” she shrugged, “And if we don’t get out of here, so what? The Imperium will retake it eventually. And you and Tir are neutral. You just head back into the village and you’re fine.”
He shook his head, “Not fine. They’re going to wonder where we were. And if they figure out a bunch of Dosadi commandos are sneaking around on their planet they’re going to ask us some very pointed questions. And the Cardassians don’t ask nicely.” he swallowed and continued, “Besides, your cousin isn’t going to let me go anywhere.”
“You worry too much. He’ll get here. Saving people is what he does.”
“I thought he just killed them.” Nelson rubbed the spot in the middle of his forehead again. It still felt chilly.
Rileeta piped up again, “He saved me!”
Nelson thought to himself, Ah, a human interest story. Bloodthirsty Killer Saves Child; That could be a good one. Making sure he had a good angle in the poor light, he said, “He did? How did it happen, Rileeta? Can you tell me the story?”
Trion watched the timer in her glasses count down while the child told her tale.
“Those ugly people came and they blew up a lot of houses from the sky and then they came to our town and told everyone that we were theirs and we had to do what they said and they’d kill anyone who didn’t do what they said!”
Nelson smiled, the kid was photogenic as hell. She looked like a three-foot high black cat with a piping, clear voice and bright green eyes that glowed in the dim light of the cave. “And did everyone do what they said?”
“No! Some people fought them, but they killed them. It was awful. And then they would kill other people who didn’t do anything! They started going into everyone’s houses and looking at everything and if they didn’t like it or if you did anything they’d kill you! I saw them kill people. I didn’t like it, it was so scary. I ran home and hid.”
“Did your parents tell you it would be OK?”
She looked at him, “They really weren’t my parents. Well sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mommy died when I was really little. She got really sick and she never got better.” Her ears, whiskers, and tail were all drooping. Nelson zoomed in tight on her face, the downcast eyes making the very picture of sorrow and loss.
“Was that here?”
“No, we used to live on Dosad. I liked it there. It was green and there were lakes and trees and all my friends were there and it wasn’t as hot and Daddy smiled a lot more, but after Mommy died, he got really sad and he just couldn’t get very happy any more. “
“So he moved you here?”
“Yes, he said he wanted a..” she thought hard “fresh start?” she nodded in satisfaction, “He said we could like start over and it would help him not be so sad about Mommy because it was so different. He used to fix big machines. He said they needed people to do that here.”
“Did you like it here?”
“A little. There’s so many different smells and all the plants and animals are different and there’s these cute little furry animals that run around at night and they have bright eyes and long fluffy tails and really big ears and if you give them treats they’ll be your friend and they’re really small and they sort of sing to you when they want a treat. But I miss the water and the trees and the grass and my friends.”
Nelson wondered when the child was going to inhale, but she was getting away from the main story…”What happened to your daddy?”
Ears and tail drooped again. She looked down at the floor. “A little bit ago something went wrong in the mine. They said something blew up.”
Zooming in tightly on her face. “And then what happened, Rileeta?”
Tears were welling in her eyes. “He died.”
Ceena moved to her and he pulled his focus out. She glared at him while she held the poor thing close. Nelson was used to being glared at. One advantage to the sensor glasses was that you could adjust them just by sliding your finger along the temple. Usually the subjects weren’t even aware there was a camera involved at all. “I’m sorry, Rileeta. That’s awful.”
She sniffled, “I miss him.”
“Of course you do, hon. So did you go to an orphanage or something after that?”
Ceena snorted, “You don’t know a damn thing about Dosadi, do you Nelson?”
“Not really.”
“Children are everyone’s responsibility, not just their biological parents. We don’t have orphans. We’re one big family. We take care of each other, always.”
“Well how do you figure out where an orpha…someone with no living parents goes?”
“They’ll go stay with their next closest relatives usually.”
“But she’s out here with no relatives?”
Rileeta looked up from snuffling in Ceena’s fur. “I really liked Doran and Seel, and they liked me so I stayed with them and they took care of me.”
“See?” Ceena asked.
“Did that happen right after the accident?”
“They’re the ones who told me about Daddy. They said I could stay with them if I wanted. And I did.”
“So how long was it until the Cardassians came?”
“Not very long, I guess. Not even a year.”
“And did your…I mean did um…Doran and Seel fight them?”
“No! They didn’t do anything! We didn’t! We were having dinner is all! And they smashed our door and laughed at Doran and made us all stand up. We didn’t do anything!!”
“What did they do?”
She sniffed again, tears running down her face. “They shot us.”
He panned the camera down to the bloody bandage around her chest. “But they didn’t kill you?”
“They tried!! Corin didn’t let them! He flew into the room and killed all of them so fast they couldn’t even move! He used that funny little gun that just makes a like spitting sound it just went pffft! Pfft pfft! Pfft pfft! And I fell down and it hurt so bad I thought they killed me and then he was telling me I’d be OK. He wouldn’t let them kill me.”
Yeah, I know that gun, Nelson thought to himself and shivered. “What will you do now, Rileeta? Where will you stay?”
Ceena stared at him. The child’s adoptive parents weren’t even buried yet and he was asking her to plan out her future.
“I’m staying with him.” She announced with all the certainty of a child.
Trellos stifled a laugh and disguised it as a cough. Trion’s face spoke volumes. Ceena said, “Oh, kit, that might not be for the best, he’s uh…he works a lot and he…”
“I don’t care. He’s awesome.”
She tried again, “But kit, I’m sure you have relatives back on Dosad who will worry about you. Don’t you…”
“I don’t think so. My gramma and grandpa died before I was even born and I don’t have any blood-cousins. He’ll keep me safe and I’ll be really good and I’ll be like the best kit ever.”
Nelson kept the focus wide on the two females. Trion decided to change the topic and he panned over to her. “Well, they’re late – but I’ve got them on my tracker. Something’s not right though, they’re moving slow and they’re still a few klicks out. We’ve only got an hour and a bit so they’d better step it right up.”
He asked, “How do we know if it’s working or not?”
The old NCO looked at him with scorn. “We’ll know if it’s working in 62 minutes when we materialize aboard the Tarak or when we’re still sitting here enjoying your scintillating conversation.”
“Oh.”
Another half-an-hour had passed and Trion was getting worried. “I’ll be right back. Something is not right and I need to get eyes on them.” Ceena and Tir looked at each other, and Ceena made sure she gathered the kit into a loose, group hug.
Trion slid up to the line of rocks that partially screened the cave mouth from the open desert and slowly poked her head over. Training her optics towards where she knew here three teammates had to be, she waited patiently for the image to stabilize. Then she frowned. They were maybe a klick out but she could see them. Their active camo was masked by muddy brown stains and two of them were half-carrying a third who was struggling to run. There was no way to separate the images in her eyepiece and know who was carrying whom. She tracked up and behind them – in the distance was a Cardassian patrol craft flying a lazy course. She didn’t think it had seen them, but if they weren’t under cover in another fifteen minutes or so, it surely would. She watched for a few moments, checking their pace. It looked like they would make it – barely.
She poked her head back into the cave, “Nelson, you’re with me. Move.”
He came out into the evening light, “What do you need?”
“Start running – I’ll explain on the way.” They took off towards the struggling trio. “One of our guys is hurt. You’re going to help me carry him back so we can all get under cover and get out of here before that patrol over there finds us and kills us all.”
“I can’t! I’m a neutral! I…”
“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t give you an option.”
He shut up. In about five minutes they reached the three men. She ordered, “We got him – you two get to the cave. Move it!”
Corin was still hobbling forward, his fur sweat-stained, muddy and matted. There was blood soaking his pant leg. Trion showed Nelson how to make a seat with their hands, “Hop on, Cap.” But she didn’t wait for him, swinging her arm into his rump and scooping him up. “RUN Nelson. If you fucking drop him I will rip out your god-damn lungs and eat them while you watch.”
He believed her. Fervently, completely, and passionately. He ran. A few minutes later, they ducked into the cool air of the cave and he fell to his knees vomiting and gasping for breath. The three men were flat on their backs, shaking with exhaustion. Corin was trying to find some way to take the fire out of his knee and Rileeta had one hand stuck almost entirely in her mouth, staring at him in horror.
Panting, Trion said to Trellos, “Two minutes. At minus 20 seconds, turn that sucker on and at plus 40 turn it off. There’s a patrol out there. Ceena, Tir, put all the gear inside the enhanced space. Don’t dally.”
The clock ticked down and Corin panted out, “I’m OK, Rileeta. Just tired and a little banged up. It’s OK.” She squirmed her way out of Ceena’s arms and plastered herself to Corin’s filthy side, wrapping her arms around his chest. He gave her as much of a squeeze as he could with his left arm. “It’s OK.”
“Mark.” Trion said. The timer in her eyepiece turned red and the seconds ticked up.
After thirty seconds she said, “Lorenth…”

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI RAIDER ISS TARAK, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
“…you blind fucking ASSHOLE.”
The transporter crewman looked at her and said, “What the hell, Strike? What’d I do?’
It was some time before she could get a coherent answer from the weird mix of people lying all over her transporter platform, laughing. Looking the disheveled group over, she keyed the comm system, “Medical team to the transporter room, two non-urgent litter, one walking wounded.”
When the medical team arrived with a pair of floats, they started loading Trellos and Corin on while the other medics started scanning Rileeta and the rest of them. Nelson kept his glasses running; He had heard of the Raider class starships but like active camouflage, he had suspected they were more rumor than fact.
A female med-tech told Rileeta, “Hey now, you’ve got to let go of him so we can get him on the float and I can check you out!”
“NO!”
“Look, if you try to scratch me one more time I’m going to sedate you!”
“PFFFFT!!!”
Corin chuckled, “Leave her be, I’m pretty sure that float can handle the extra weight. She’s had a bad time of it.”
The tech frowned, “Yes, sir. Can you at least tell her to let me scan her? That bandage is filthy.”
“Ri, settle down, she’s trying to help. They’re on our side. Well, usually.”
She gave Corin a look just this side of open disrespect. “Thanks, sir.” And began pushing the float towards sick bay. By the time they had gotten there, Rileeta had settled down, but was still clinging to Corin and eying the tech suspiciously. The rest of the group were walking along behind the floats, still catching their breath and trying to settle in to the drastic change of scene.
Nelson had decided that he had landed in the pot of gold for a reporter. The family he was investigating was even more interesting than he thought! There were so many different stories he could pursue here that he could probably make the rest of his career off of just these people. Assuming Corin didn’t kill him, of course. He needed to find a way to be able to publish…Perhaps if he died instead? Considering Corin’s choice of career, that seemed likely; All he had to do was just keep following along and wait. He smiled to himself and continued capturing the scene. He had enough data storage available to capture months worth of basic visuals and audio.
Ceena swore, “Damn, I left a bunch of my favorite tools in the ATV.”
Trion said, “We’ll get ’em back for you.” She grinned evilly, “Sooner than the Cardies expect, I’d bet.”

* * *
Up on the Bridge, Commander Lagos was watching the underside of the Cardassian battleship he had been hiding under slide slowly past. “Any sign they noticed us?”
The defense officer answered, “Not sure. Scanner activity picked up right before we went back into cloak. Maybe?”
“Come left two degrees and speed us up as much as you dare. We need to clear that datum if they got a hit.” The Raider began to slip away from the bigger ship but it was apparent that the Cardassians had been alerted to something.
“Two frigates coming in, sir.”
“Cuddle up behind that destroyer. Silent running – everything non-essential off, maximum power to the cloak.” The helmsman gently curved the Tarak up and over a Cardassian destroyer that was in a higher orbit than the battleship. Every light in the Raider went dark, life-support blowers shut off, and all work not directly related to keeping them moving stopped. Even conversation came to a halt; Anything that might produce any sort of energy that the enemy sensors could detect.
Down in the pitch-black Sick Bay, Rileeta clung even more tightly to Corin. “It’s OK.” he whispered, “Just be quiet for a little while and it’ll be fine.” He felt her snuggle into the space between his left arm and his chest and he gently patted her back.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
Gul Tennekt asked his defense officer, “Anything?”
The man shook his head. “No, sir. But, I swear to you, there was something there. One sweep, nothing, then a solid hit, then nothing again.”
“A hit on what?”
“It hadn’t firmed up. But here, sir, look.” he brought up the sensor logs. “That’s a warp drive signature.”
The science officer came over, “It’s a fragment if it is one. Look, that’s not right. And the level is very, very low.” She shook her head. “Maybe an echo from one of the other ships, or interference from someone else’s sensor sweep. That’s almost touching us.”
“I don’t think so. Look, there’s a mass indication too.”
“So if it’s a ship, where did it go? A cloaked fighter? Or shuttlecraft? There aren’t any cloaking devices that small. And if it is, why would someone drop out of cloak for a couple seconds then go back in? While they’re right under us.”
Legate Dukat, watching and listening as always, ordered, “Order two ships to come in and do a search all around us. Make sure there isn’t anyone spying on us.”
Tennekt issued his orders and told the rest of the fleet to increase their sensor sweeps. They watched as two frigates began nosing under and around their vessel.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI RAIDER ISS TARAK, MANEUVERING, ELETHA
JANUARY, 2310
Whispering, Lagos ordered “Good – keep hopping us from one ship to the next. Once we get past that transport, increase speed to full impulse. Get ready to do a short jump – that nebula over there. We’ll just sneak in there, get some solid navigational data and get the hell out of here. What is that nebula?”
“The Torelli Nebula, sir. It’s kind of a mess in there. Lots of H+, H2+ and debris. It’s extraordinarily dense. We can hide there, but if we move very fast we’re going to leave a wake and our sensors are going to be degraded.”
“Fine. Just so long as we’re away from these charming fellows.”
A few minutes later, the Tarak shook herself like a racehorse in a starting gate and made the short hop  into the edge of the nebula. Lagos relaxed, “Thank the gods, I wa…”
“Enemy cruisers dead ahead!”
“Maintain silent running, all stop! What the hell? Where did they come from?!” The Tarak dropped her speed to nothing relative to the motion of the materials that made up the nebula. Two Cardassian cruisers sailed slowly towards them, leaving a roiled wake behind them as they went.
“Sir, they’re gonna hit us.”
“Drop us down as fast as you can without leaving a wake…” The Tarak began descending, slowly. “Keep the main viewer on the trail ship.”
The crew watched the cruiser swelling until it filled the viewer, then almost close enough to touch, flew past and away behind them. Everyone on the Bridge exhaled with relief. Lagos asked, “Why would they be cruising around in here? Something stinks. Follow their wake. Same speed they were making. Maintain silent running, but turn the life-support back on, the air’s getting stale.”
An hour later, they found what they were looking for. The sensor operator said, “Sir, there’s a base in here!”
“All stop. Get as much sensor info as you can on that without them knowing we’re here.”
“Gods, sir, there’s a whole fleet around it. A half dozen cruisers, frigates, destroyers, freighters.”
The defense officer spoke, “Sir, the cloak isn’t working very well in here. We left a wake and we’ve got to be showing up on optical if they’re paying attention. Ah, shit, increased sensor probes. They’re noticing something…”
“Back us up out of here, now. Half the speed we came in. reciprocal course, move!” The Tarak began creeping backwards and in seconds it was apparent that they had passed beyond detection range. “Helm, get us the hell out of here. Change course, straight up, as soon as we can get a fix, warp us for home.” He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand along his ear. He was getting too old for this shit.

* * *
Down in sick-bay once the lights had come back on, the medics resumed checking everyone out. Trellos was the most seriously injured and they sedated her almost immediately. When they had finished their checks, Corin asked, “So how’s it look for her, Doc?”
“She’ll live. We can fix the breaks easily enough and the torn up shoulder. There’s some swelling in the brain I’m concerned about and the burns all over her head are infected with something. With the skull fracture, I want to make sure that infection hasn’t gotten to her brain. Just being careful is all.”
“I appreciate that. You’ll let me know as soon as you have anything solid?”
“Of course. But. “
“I hate it when docs say ‘But’”. That’s always bad news.”
“Your leg. It’s pretty well ruined. I can fix the fractured wrist easily enough, but you absolutely destroyed your lower right leg.”
Ri was still curled up on Corin, watching and listening.
“So what, another course of regen?”
“Corin, it’s almost entirely a closed wound. Several of the tendons are ripped off, and you’ve turned most of the actual knee joint into powder and fragments. The tibia has split and part of that has ruptured through your shin. You apparently broke the ankle at some point and continued to run on it. That’s such a mess it’s not even funny. Do you know what I’m going to have to do to you so that the gel has a chance to fix that?”
“What, cut it off?”
He snorted. “You’d be in regen for about two months and therapy for six, and with your records, I’m not even sure it would work. You’ve been in regen more than anyone I can find data on. Corin, your cells aren’t capable of being infinitely copied and forced to regrow again and again. The only chance I’ve got to make this work is to cut your leg open like gutting a fish, take out the fragments, actually stitch your tendons back on, leave the wounds open and stick your whole leg in the gel and let it work from the inside out. Assuming it even works again.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun.”
“I’m going to have to put you out, you know. I can’t use pain-killers while your leg’s in the gel.” Two other med-techs had come up on either side of Corin and Rileeta was watching them warily.
“Not happening, Doc. We’ve got work to do yet, and I need to be awake for that. I’m good with everything else – I’ll tough it out.”
“No, you won’t. I need the leg to be motionless and your vitals to be stable. Pain depresses healing response and as exhausted as your cells are, I need every advantage I can get.” He nodded.
“Look Doc, just…” There was a hissing sound as one of the tech’s pressed a hypo onto his shoulder and Corin sagged into unconsciousness.  Rileeta attacked, swiping with her claws and trying to push the man’s hand away.
She shouted, “NO! HE SAID NO! GET AWAY!!”
The tech yelled and pulled his arm out of reach, “Hey! Back off, kit! We’re trying to help him!”
“GET AWAY!!”
Veth laughed, “Damn, that kit’s got some fight!”
Trion knew she should say something, but she was enjoying watching the kit take on three adults and holding her own. There didn’t seem to be any real harm for a few minutes.
Ceena came to the rescue as the Doctor and both techs were trying to grab the frantic, hissing, spitting kit and keep all their fingers attached at the same time. She yelled, “RILEETA! Stop that right this instant!”
Her ears were flat on her head, her fur was spiked out and she was kneeling on Corin’s chest. She whipped around to look at Ceena. “But he said NO!”
“Rileeta. Corin told you I know what’s best for the team, right? That you should listen to me?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Then I need you to get down right now and let them help him. Corin is my cousin and he can be the most stubborn, pig-headed idiot in the galaxy when it comes to his own health. He does things he would never tolerate from his team. Do you understand what I mean?”
“He doesn’t take care of himself?”
“Right. He takes care of everyone else and he’ll kill himself to do it. We need to not let him do that. It’s up to us take care of him because he won’t take care of himself, all right? The team needs to help him whether he wants us to or not.”
The rest of the Raiders were trying not to smile. Soral was studying a particularly fascinating piece of wall.
Ceena continued. “You need to apologize. And get down.”
The little girl looked up at the adults who had given her plenty of room while Ceena was talking. “I’m sorry.” She got back down to Corin’s side and took hold of his hand.
The doctor said, “Um, all the way down, please. We need to work on him and we can’t do that with you right there.” he looked at Ceena for some back up, but Rileeta climbed down on her own.
Ceena said, “That’s better. Now let them finish fixing your burn and then we’ll go find where they’re going to have us sleep.”
She moved meekly over to the diagnostic bed that they had set up for her and let the wary techs remove the soiled, twisted bandage from her chest.
Nelson just smiled to himself. He could run a whole series on the feisty little girl. Her dedication to the cold-hearted killer was completely adorable; people across the galaxy would eat it up.

* * *
It was midnight aboard the Tarak when the night-duty tech went in to check on Corin. He sighed loudly. The kit was back. For the third time tonight.  He noted down the vital signs, checked to be sure the sedation was holding and that his leg was where it belonged and looked at the kit.
Evidently the civilian female had cleaned her up; she certainly smelled better and her fur looked sleek and fluffy. He’d never seen anyone with all black fur before. He knew it was possible, it was just very rare, and very pretty too, he decided. One day he’d have kits of his own; He hoped they were as loyal as this little one.
He moved over to a storage compartment and took out a blanket. Moving back over to the pair, he tucked it around the little girl and gently stroked her head. She made a quiet little sound and snuggled more tightly into the crook of Corin’s arm.
The tech smiled and went back to his console. No real point to having her taken back to her quarters again. She’d only come back. Better to just let her sleep.

CHAPTER 5
“Without love, our earth is a tomb”
– Robert Browning – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI RAIDER ISS TARAK, UNDER WAY
FEBRUARY, 2310
Ceena explained to Rileeta, “Ri, he’s not going to know what’s happening when he wakes up. He’s trained to be very, very dangerous and he would hurt you before he even knew it was you. Get down now before I get cross.”
The little girl looked at Ceena, trying to gauge just how serious the demand was and decided she wasn’t going to be able to push this any further. She climbed off of the diagnostic bed and the unconscious Corin and went to hold Ceena’s hand. Ceena seemed impervious to wheedling, whining, begging, or even raw cuteness. Rileeta felt that she would have to figure out some method to get her own way, which was the only sensible way, usually.
The doc just shook his head and administered a hypo to Corin, and stepped back. He woke with a start and a quick assessment of where he was and what was happening. Still groggy, he asked, “What the hell?”
Doctor Newel said, “Welcome back, Corin. You’re a lucky old bas…” he glanced over at the kit and coughed, “…man, aren’t you? We finally got the regen to work. You’re leg’s healed up and you should be back to your old self once you build the strength back up. Just a couple of weeks of slowly building PT should do it. We’ve added to your collection of scars though.”
He squinted and blinked a couple of times. “Did you put me out?”
Trion guffawed, “What do you think, Cap? Had to get your leg fixed and that wasn’t going to happen while you were being your usual pig-headed self. Relax, he talked to me first.”
“Strike, you go waaay past your authority sometimes.”
“Yup. That’s why I’m the best Team NCO there is. Deal with it.”
Rileeta was squirming and trying to get her hand free from Ceena. The older woman finally gave the girl a swat on the rump and leaned over, “Kit, you need to settle down and mind your place.”
She looked up at Ceena with her big green eyes like she had just been murdered, her free hand going to her rear end. It had less than no effect on the older woman, who had raised three mixed Hydran/Dosadi children of her own in a very strict society. They locked eyes for almost a full second before Rileeta looked down at the floor.
Corin asked Trion, “What’s our status? Everything good?”
“Yup. You’ve been out for twelve days. We’ve got a ton of intel, we’re about a day out of Dosad, everyone but Trellos is up and around and she’s awake most of the time and gonna be fine. Our reporter friend is in heaven, sticking his nose anywhere that won’t get him shot. At least when he’s not trying to decide if you’re going to kill and eat him as soon as you wake up. And this little black monster…” she hooked her tail around Rileeta, “has been a complete brat.”
The aforementioned monster stuck her tongue out at the non-com’s back.
“If you’ve got a numb spot on your left side, or your arm’s asleep it’s because she’s been pretty much attached to you. We pick her up, unhook her, take her back to her quarters and half an hour later, she’s back here. The med-techs finally gave up taking her back at night. I, on the other hand, have never surrendered. But I gotta tell you Cap, she’d give you a run for your money on stubbornness.”
She casually turned her head back towards Rileeta, “And you, I believe I said that if you stuck that tongue out at me again, I would slice it off and feed it to Nelson…” her hand came up with a small knife that slid open with a ‘snikt’.
Rileeta quickly pulled the offending tongue back where it belonged and clapped her free hand over her mouth, her ears flat back, tail puffed out and her eyes wide. She shook her head back and forth.
Corin laughed, “Maybe give her a pass, just this once, for me, OK Strike?”
She cocked her ear at Corin, “You sure, Cap? You might regret it later.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Next time, it’s yours.” He tried not to laugh at the child’s expression. “How have you been Rileeta?”
“I’m OK. That gunk smelled awful. And your leg looked horrible!” she put on her best hurt/cute expression and continued  “And they were mean to me and…”
“If they were mean it’s because you needed someone to be mean to you. Complaining about it won’t get you anywhere.”
She was shocked. These people were not normal. They were the strangest, most interesting people she’d ever met. They all had kits but Trellos, some younger than her, some older, and Veth had a little girl that was exactly her age. But none of them cared if she looked cute, or cried, or anything! The only thing that had any effect upon them was simply never quitting. But they didn’t quit either, and Ceena was like stone. She didn’t put up with anywhere near as much as the rest of them. She could get away with the most with Soral, so naturally he was the one she wheedled the most.
“Um. Well, there’s no other kits here and they let me look at all the stuff and I got to see the place they  steer it and…”
Ceena interrupted, “Ri, hold on for a little bit, OK? We’ll let you get him all caught up in a while.”
She sighed heavily, but stopped talking.
“Doc, I can get up?” Corin asked.
“Yes, but your balance is going to be off and you’re going to be weak for a while – you’ve been immobile for almost two weeks.”
“I’ll work through it. Gonna have to. Lots to get done before we make orbit.”

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI RAIDER ISS TARAK, IN ORBIT OVER DOSAD
FEBRUARY, 2310
The Raiders, along with the four extra-teammates that they had ‘acquired’ on Eletha finally boarded one of the Tarak’s shuttlecraft for the ride down to T’Elesh on Dosad. Unlike the Federation, the Dosadi eschewed the use of transporters most of the time. They were expensive in terms of energy required, and had a history of horrific accidents. ‘History’ may be too strong a word, considering there had been fewer than a thousand transporter accidents in over a century of use across the galaxy, but to the Dosadi, one was too many. Especially when you could fly. They were all dressed in their usual shore-going rigs, which unfortunately only reinforced other species’ view of the Raiders as pirates. Calf-high soft boots, dark blue trousers with a bronze stripe down the leg, and loose, white linen shirts that were laced closed, and a crimson sash.
The Raiders enjoyed the distinction; The uniform was close enough to the regular fleet’s arrangement but added that dash of style – at least to their eyes – that they enjoyed. The Raiders were an extremely elite group; There were only a dozen of the Raider class starships and only 24 six-man teams in the entire Imperium. There wasn’t a single one of them without a Warrior’s Pendant and the honor tattoos around their left eyes tended to extend well onto their face and forehead.
It was late afternoon in T’Elesh when the shuttle set down in the landing field. As soon as the team left the shuttle, they were naturally mobbed by their loved ones. Unlike most Dosadi Imperial Fleet vessels, there were no families aboard the Raider ships. Corin, Nelson and Rileeta were the last three off the shuttlecraft. Corin watched his namesake, Corin and his mate Eletha rubbing happily against Ceena and Tir. It was one of the fun things about coming back to Dosad, watching his team reunite with their mates, parents, and kits. He gave them a wave and a smile.
He slung his ruck onto his back and limped towards the edge of the field with his two charges. Nelson and Rileeta had only the clothes they were wearing. Veth broke away from his mate and kit for a moment. “Cap, you sure you don’t want me to take the little one or the reporter-man tonight?”
He laughed, “Veth, your first night home is all yours. Tomorrow you can have Rileeta, I think she’ll be thrilled to be part of your family…”
She interrupted, “Nuh-uh! I wanna stay with you!” and held his hand more tightly.
“Don’t be silly, kit. I’m a loner, you’d be bored and unhappy. Veth’s told you about his daughter, you’d like her! And Nelson I want to keep close to me where I can keep an eye on him.” he grinned at the human, not unkindly, “Though I’d bet he’d be happier with you.”
Nelson, wisely, kept his mouth closed for a bit. Veth only said, “All right, Cap. But tomorrow, we’ll be looking forward to having her with us.” He bent down and rubbed his jaw along the little girl’s head, who nuzzled him back, giving him a quick Dosadi kiss, with a fast little rough-tongued lick.
They began to walk away from the field and Nelson asked Corin, “So, Commander, where’s your family? Isn’t there anyone here for you?”
“I didn’t want to bother my folks. We’ll walk to where they usually stay. No reason for them to walk all the way out here. Besides, they’d worry if I was limping like this, even though I’m fine.”
Nelson thought to himself that they were probably right to worry. But his excitement was growing with every step. He was about to meet the very core of his research – Captain Thomas Wilkes and Storm Leader Sooth. He couldn’t have caught any more of a break on this story. It was like a dream come true!
When they turned at a roundhouse that was no different than any other, he was a little puzzled. He hadn’t seen much of any buildings that indicated any different social status – they were all pretty much alike other than color, decoration, and the plants that clustered around them. Yet he knew these two to have a very high status in both business and military circles; and there were rumors that the Captain was involved in intelligence operations as well. Considering the events he had been involved in, Nelson considered that to be quite likely true.
Corin called out, “Mother! Father! I’ve got some guests!”
Wilkes and Sooth both came out of the small kitchen buried in the back of the roundhouse and Wilkes said, “Jesus, Corin, you don’t need to sneak into your own home! When are you going to let us know you’re coming home so we can meet you at the field?” But he embraced his son warmly. Sooth wrapped them both in a hug.
“I don’t like to be a bother.” Before his parents could object that they could never see their son as a bother he continued, “I’d like to introduce Jonathon Nelson, “
“Just Jon is fine.” he shook Wilkes’ hand and then Sooth’s. She was the first Dosadi he’d seen use that gesture rather than their usual, gripping each other’s right shoulder with your left hand. It had been explained to him that this left each person’s belly open and vulnerable to the other and showed trust. Quite the difference from the human gesture which tied up your weapon hand so the other person didn’t have to worry about you drawing your knife – unless you were left-handed, of course.
Before Corin could continue the introductions, Sooth knelt down and said, “Oh she’s adorable! Who are you, little one? Where did you come from?”
“I’m Rileeta! He rescued me!”
He quickly explained, “Can’t really talk about it, Mother. But she doesn’t seem to have any family that she knows about. It’s only for tonight…”
“Nuh-uh!”
“…then she’ll be staying with Veth’s family. Their little girl’s the same age.”
“I’m gonna stay with YOU!” she stated firmly.
Sooth smiled at her son, “Good luck with that, Corin.”
“Yeah, we’ll work it out.” he assured her. “Um, Nelson’s a reporter for Argus and he’s taken an unhealthy interest in our family for some reason.”
Wilkes raised his eyebrow. “A reporter? What is there to report on us? We’re not all that unusual when you get right down to it.” He ran his hand through his thinning, grey hair.
Nelson chuckled. “You’re being overly modest, Captain. I’ve studied your family rather extensively, including your and your wife’s military records as well as that of your daughter. There’s the business you ran with Ceena and Tir’s father, the rumors of espionage…I’ve got a million questions! I would be honored if you would grant me an interview – I think my readers would find your family fascinating!”
Corin reminded Nelson, “I’ve let Nelson know that he’ll be giving me every single bit of data that he has recorded since we met, and that I’ll give him what he can have, and that he won’t be reporting anything that I do not specifically approve of. And the glasses are sensor traps, just so you know.”
Nelson shivered. “Absolutely Commander! I have no interest in trying to report on anything you do not want me to. No interest at all.” he assured him. “These…” he tapped the glasses, “…are standard for any Argus reporter. They’re well known. I’m not trying to conceal anything here.” he swallowed nervously.
Wilkes smiled tightly, “I think we can grant you an interview since Corin will be checking over your data. I have a feeling he was rather…emphatic…about that particular demand.”
“Very. I would call it unforgettable.”
“That would probably be wise.” he agreed.
Sooth decided to calm things down a little bit, “We were just making supper, you’ll all stay won’t you? Some of our friends are going to be here any moment as well, it’s always more fun with more!”
Corin looked uncomfortable for a moment then decided, “Sure! I don’t think the replicator where I usually stay has worked in ages anyway.”
Wilkes snorted, “Replicators. This is real food, son.”
Nelson asked, “You don’t use replicators? You grow your food?”
“And hunt it, Nelson. The Dosadi prefer real things to technological wizardry. We’ve got a replicator, we just don’t usually use it. Trust me, real food tastes better.”
“But…it’s identical to a molecular level. It can’t taste any different. And you actually kill living animals?”
Sooth laughed, “Yes, just like every other living animal does. It tastes different because you’ve put real effort into gathering it or hunting it and fixing it instead of just pushing a button. And believe me, supper tonight is going to taste extra good to me since I was nearly his supper.”
“What?”
Wilkes said, “I’ll be right back – gotta get it into the oven.”
Sooth continued, “It’s narak. A big nasty predator that we have. It’s a real challenge to hunt them – we use spears – and he gave me a serious run for my money.” She turned around and Nelson saw four fresh parallel red weals down her back.
He was dumbfounded. “You do this often? You prefer this to having food delivered to you safely and easily?”
“Of course!” she said. “We don’t hunt narak all that often, but there are a lot of animals that we hunt as food. And where is the fun or challenge in stalking a wild computer console? Life is about challenge and constantly improving yourself. That’s hard to do when you’re surrounded by softness all your life.”
“How can you have enough animal life to support all of you hunting all the time?”
She smiled at him, “Is this the interview?”
“Part of it!” he laughed, “I think I should have spent more time studying Dosad and the Dosadi!”
“We’ll catch you up, don’t worry. There’s only 2 billion of us on the entire planet. The rest is wilderness. We don’t breed very fast. In fact, with the Imperium’s recent expansion, we’re usually hard pressed to grow our colonies. Our cities are as much a part of the wild as they are cities. We don’t like artificial things.
“But that doesn’t mean we don’t use them, of course. It’s just that given the choice, we’d rather sit on a chair we, or one of our friends, made, under a tree, smell the breeze, and eat something we made from food we grew or caught and live rather than become part of our machines.”
He said, “You’re an entire planet of rednecks.”
She looked puzzled. “What’s a ‘redneck’?”
“Sorry.” he grinned, “It’s an ancient stereotype, usually negative. It was meant to imply that the person was uncultured, ignorant, and afraid of progress. I was trying to make a joke and I think I blew it.”
She laughed, “You need to use that one on my daughter Heather. She’s always digging around in the history books of Earth looking for music and entertainments from half a millennium ago!”
“Would it be possible to meet her? I would love to ask her about her involvement in the Orias Incident.”
Her face clouded. “That was a very unpleasant time. I would be cautious about broaching that topic. Especially around Wilkes.”
“I meant no offense.” he glanced at Corin, but the man was sitting there rubbing his knee and watching little Rileeta explore the roundhouse.
“No, no – none taken. You’ll learn about us, Nelson. At least if you spend any time around us, and I have a feeling you will be. Relax, we’re not the savages the Federation, especially the press, makes us out to be.”
He grinned at her, “Touche’, madame.” He was going to say more, but several other Dosadi began rapping on the door and streaming inside, all of them bringing something to eat or drink, many of them with some sort of musical instrument.
He sat on the floor next to Corin and asked, “Do they entertain like this all the time?”
“Huh? Oh, that’s right, you don’t really know anything yet. This is a normal supper for Dosadi. It just varies where it’s at. Tomorrow it’ll be at some other house. They don’t really ‘own’ the roundhouse, this is just one they’ve stayed at so long that everyone knows they can find them here. It gets to be a habit.”
“But…there’s all the, I assume that’s booze, and instruments and…well isn’t this a celebration of some sort?”
He looked sideways at the human. “Isn’t every day that you’re alive a celebration? If anything it’s a celebration that the narak didn’t get to eat Mother.”
He laughed, “Well, what if you want a quiet dinner alone, or with your wife?”
“Then you stay home, and let people know you don’t want company tonight. But you’re always welcome to find someone who’s got an extra place at their table.”
“I have a hard time seeing you hosting a big, boisterous party like this.”
“I’m a little different. I like to be by myself most of the time. I like the quiet.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Nelson shivered again and thought to himself, yeah, the quiet of the grave.

* * *
It was hours later when the dinner started breaking up. Several people were finding soft places to curl up while others headed back to their own usual homes. Little Rileeta was already asleep, curled up in Corin’s lap and Nelson was trying to absorb everything he had learned that night.
He had expected Corin to be the center of attention since he was freshly home from a mission. Instead, he kept to himself, didn’t join in the music, and rarely contributed to the conversation while Nelson and Rileeta had been the main attraction.
He had learned that Rileeta’s black fur was extremely rare and considered beautiful; He had expected her to be seen as ugly, like an albino on Earth. He also learned that the child sang quite well and that she definitely enjoyed having an audience. The contrast between her and her chosen protector couldn’t be greater. He grinned and thought, “Beauty and the Beast.” a 600 year-old fairy tale come to life.
He had also learned that Dosadi whiskey hit like a hammer and had virtually nothing in common with Synthehol. His head was buzzing and his balance was shot. He wondered how many of the people curling up in the Wilkes’ home were drunker than he was.
“Corin?”
“What?”
“Can I stay here? I want to keep talking with your parents. It’s not like I can escape the planet.” he laughed. “Besides, I don’t think I could outrun you or your friends.”
“You’re right. You couldn’t.” Corin leaned close to him and met his eyes. “Remember that, Nelson. Even if I die, my team will make sure you don’t make public anything we haven’t approved. We look out for each other, always.”
“Jesus, you don’t need to keep threatening me. I get it, all right? I’m not stupid.”
Corin sat back, “I just want to be sure there’s no mistakes, Nelson.”
“You’ve made it very clear.”
Sooth came in and rubbed her son’s ears. “Corin, will you stay here tonight? We’d love to have you.”
“No, Mother. I’ve still got work to do tonight. I’m only a few streets away it’s not like I’m far.”
“We miss you is all.”
He smiled up at his mother. “The gods alone know why. I think I scared half the folks here tonight just by being here. I’m not really the singing type.”
“Don’t be silly. People aren’t afraid of you, you’re just…a little overwhelming sometimes. You wear that…what was it your grandmother called it? ‘pirate costume’ and half your head is covered with your honor tattoo and you just sit there and…well, Corin, you put a wall up. People respect you, and they respect what they see as your wish to be left alone. If you want to be part of the group, you have to open up too.”
“Mother, do we always have to have this conversation? I like being alone. And I don’t put up a wall. I’m just not quite what people choose to have as a friend. I’m not that sort of person and I’m fine with that.”
“I’m your mother. I’m supposed to worry about you. I don’t suppose you…”
Corin interrupted, “Mother, please. When would I have time to meet a girl, much less get to know one, and even if I did, what girl would be interested in an beat up, broken down old Soldier who’s gone way more than he’s home? You don’t have to ask me that every time I come home. I promise you that if I ever do you’ll be the first to know!”
Nelson watched the exchange. Sooth frowned, clearly stung. “Corin, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push. I just want you to be happy. I know what it’s like to be isolated and I…”
He set Rileeta down and stood up, “Mom, I’m fine. I promise.”
Nelson thought to himself that even monsters had mothers, evidently, and they were no different than any other parent in the galaxy.
Corin glanced over at him. “He was hoping to sleep here so he could keep pestering you and Dad. Is that OK? I’m fine with taking him with me.” Rileeta had stood up and had her arms wrapped around his leg and her head leaning on his thigh, her eyes half-closed.
“That’s fine. If you can pry the little one off, we’ve got a spot that’s just the right size for her.”
But when he tried, she became very clingy and difficult. He shook his head, “I think she’s still afraid to be alone. I guess she can stay with me tonight, I’ll make sure to get her to Veth’s early enough tomorrow night though. Poor thing.” He picked her up and rubbed his head under his mother’s chin. “I love you, Mom. Even if I’m not very good at showing it.”
“We miss you, Corin. Even if you don’t know it.”
He grinned at her, and said to Rileeta, “All right, Ri, you get your wish. But you’re going to be bored to tears.” But she was already asleep in his arms.
He walked the short distance to the small roundhouse that he liked most. It was close to his parents and was rarely used – it was just the right size for one person. Occasionally a young couple looking for privacy would use it, but that was unusual. He hoped it was empty tonight and in fact it was.
Opening the door, he touched the wall plate and the light panels glowed faintly. It was dusty, as usual, and the few things he liked to keep were still here although they had been moved around some by other occupants. When he went to put Rileeta down, she clung to him and whined, so he decided not to fight that particular battle right now.
Instead, he sat down at a PADD tie-in and took his device out and connected it up and began working on some of the many reports he had to write. He finally got Rileeta to at least curl up in his lap instead of across his shoulder, which made it possible to type with both hands. When she flipped over and wrapped her arms around his waist, he looked down at her.
Sound asleep. No evidence of the phaser wound remained. He absentmindedly stroked the silky black fur on her head, softly rubbing one ear and she started purring in her sleep. She was so tiny. He thought to himself that it had been some time since he had touched another person in a non-violent way, outside of his team or parents. He wondered if she were scared of him at all. He had a lot of scars and a few patches of missing fur. He knew what he looked like.
He shook himself. Must have been daydreaming, he decided. That wouldn’t do. Glancing at the chrono on his PADD he realized he’d been sitting there staring at the sleeping child and stroking her head for almost half an hour. Ah, to hell with it, it was late. He carefully stood up, lifting Rileeta as gently as he could, his knee twinging a bit. There was a nice little sleeping spot in the corner that he gently laid her in. It took him a while to find a blanket, but he tucked it around her and then went to his own favorite place to sleep.
He awoke with a start, drawing a knife from under his pillow as she curled up next to him, dragging her blanket along with her. What the hell? Definitely going to have to make sure he got her to Veth’s tomorrow before she got all sleepy and difficult. He sighed resignedly and draped his arm over her and went back to sleep. Poor kit.

* * *
When he awoke the next morning, an hour or so before sunrise, it took him a moment to remember why there was a warm lump curled up next to him.  He looked down at the little kit. She was rolled up in her blanket except for one foot sticking out. He smiled and disentangled himself from her. He made his way over to his clothes storage and took out some PT gear. A light shirt that could be soaked with water to help with cooling, a pair of shorts, and some running shoes.
She sat up while he was getting his shoes on, rubbing her eyes and looking at him sleepily. “What are you doing?”
“Good morning, Ri! The day’s half-over already! Time to get some exercise in, get my leg back up to strength and keep the body in shape. I won’t be gone long.”
“I wanna come too!” She started trying to unwrap her blanket and stand up.
Corin watched bemusedly as she struggled. “You don’t have any PT clothes, kit.”
“Can we get some?”
“Um, I don’t know, maybe later, I guess.” He wondered where you went to get that sort of thing. Then decided she wouldn’t be here long enough to worry about it.
“I’ll do it in my regular clothes!” She started pulling on the same, tired clothes she had been wearing aboard the Tarak.  The crew had hooked her up with a couple of sets, but she had managed to pretty well wear out, tear, or stain all of them but this last outfit.
“Kit, I doubt you can manage it. I run, I do exercises, I swim, then I walk back. That’s a lot of work!”
“I can do it!”
“You sure, Ri? You’re not just going to quit, are you?”
“No!” she looked fierce, “I never quit!”
“Yay! That’s the spirit. All right, Ri, you can come – let’s see how tough you are!” He decided she at least deserved a chance to try; It would be interesting to see how far she managed before she gave up.  On a thought, he grabbed his empty ruck and slung it on his back. “All right, you ready to go?”
“Yah!” Fully awake now, she was like a tiny, black-furred warp drive.
“Let’s make tracks!” He started out the door at an easy lope and quickly slowed his pace to a crawl so that her much shorter legs were able to keep up at something other than a sprint. He decided this was harder than running fast, but the kit had some guts. They made it two full kilometers before she started lagging behind, panting and hiccuping. He slowed again for her.
Another half kilometer and she was really struggling – but she hadn’t quit. He stopped, put his hands on his knees and said, “Ri, can you help me out? I need to carry some weight while I run now so my leg can get stronger and I don’t see any big rocks. Can I stick you in there and carry you?”
Gasping for breath and panting to try to cool off she could only nod. He smiled and took his ruck off and then realized that a three foot high kit wasn’t going to fit in his ruck sack. He thought for a moment and then, inspired, pulled a slim knife out of the left strap and cut a hole in either side for her legs. “There! It’ll be like when we ran into the desert, except it won’t smell as bad.”
She wrinkled her nose, but was too busy panting to speak. He put it back on and crouched down as low as he could go. “Climb on in, Ri! Thanks for helping me.”
After a few minutes struggle, she managed to haul herself into the ruck and found that it wasn’t as bad as she thought. It was like a seat – She hooked her legs around his waist and rested her hands on his shoulders. He grunted and stood up, adjusting the ruck so the weight sat on his hips instead of his shoulders. “How ya doing back there, Ri?”
“Fine. I didn’t quit! I told you!”
“You’re doing great, kit! Let’s get moving! I’ve loafed long enough.” He started off at something closer to his usual pace, heading towards the big lake. More than one person shot them a startled glance as he loped past, Ri’s black-furred face peering over his shoulder. It was another 3 klicks to the lake, but he made fair time despite his leg. It was only when he got to the shore, the deep sand really sucking the energy out of his legs, that he began to struggle, and slowed to a walk. At his favorite stretch of beach to swim, he crouched back down and slipped the ruck off, unceremoniously dumping Ri into the sand with a laugh.
“HEY!” She started to work her way out of the modified pack while Corin stretched some of the kinks out of his muscles.
“Let’s stretch out a bit before we swim, OK? Don’t want to cramp up in that cold water.”
She looked at the big lake and paused before saying, “OK.” And began following Corin’s movements.
“Here, we’re trying to stretch the shoulders and upper chest out – put your fingers together like this and…” he noticed there was a woman sitting on the beach staring at them. “um…” This beach was usually deserted at this hour. He was slightly annoyed that someone was here today. “And like flip your hands over and stretch way up to the sky!”
Ri dutifully stretched out, trying to do everything that he did and doing a fair job of it. Corin was impressed, she really did have a lot of spirit. Veth was going to have his hands full with this one. He said, “That should about do it, Ri. Put your clothes on the ruck and we’ll swim out a klick, then back and they’ll wick most of the water off of us so we’ll feel nice and cool on the walk home!”
“Um.” She did as she was told and looked at the water again.
“Let’s go!” he started to head into the gentle waves. After a moment, he looked back and noticed she wasn’t sticking right next to him like she usually did. “Hey, Ri, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how. I only ever gone wading.”
He laughed, “Well I’ll be dam…Well, now’s a perfect time to learn, Ri. C’mon, I’ll teach you.”
“I’m scared. There’s stuff in the water. What if it bites me?”
He knelt down and looked her in the eyes. “Ri, you don’t ever need to be afraid when you’re with me. I will never let anything bad happen to you as long as I’m with you, OK? We’ll start slow – it’s fun!”
The woman seemed amused by the situation, which only annoyed Corin more. He took the little girl’s hand and led her slowly into the water. By the time it was up to her waist, her eyes were wide, her ears were flat back and she was doing her very best to crush his hands.
He stopped, “Just stand there for a little bit, Ri. See? Nothing bad is happening, is it? Just feel the water. It’s just like wading, right?”
She nodded, but didn’t relax her death-grip.
“Let’s go another step, OK? I won’t let anything bad happen, Ri. I’m right here.”
She moved farther out, gasping as the water came up almost to her chest. “Da…Corin!!!”
“It’s OK. Just stand there, I’ve got you – Feel how the waves kind of lift you up? See? Your body wants to float, not sink. Just relax and let the waves move you. I’m not going to let go.” She stood there for some time, feeling the waves gently push her back and forth, feeling the water lift her and then set her back onto her feet on the sandy bottom. “See?”
She nodded, her ears going up and forward as her fear slowly turned to curiosity.
“Ready for another step? It’ll get right up to your chin! But nothing’s going to happen, OK? I’m right here. I’m not going to let go.”
She took a cautious step, feeling for the bottom, but still gasping and starting to struggle as the water came up over her chin.
“Relax, Ri. I’m here – It’s not going to hurt you. Just relax and let it lift you just like it did a minute ago.” He pushed up on her hands a little bit. She finally started bobbing slightly, her breathing slowing down some.
“There ya go. Just relax. See? Easy, isn’t it?” He waited a moment. “When you’re ready, I want you to just lean back and let your feet come up, OK? I won’t let you sink. I promise, Ri. You’re just going to lie on your back and float, nice and comfy. She shook her head emphatically.
“Only when you’re ready, Ri. I know it’s scary. But I know you can do it, too. I won’t let you sink.” It took almost a minute, but she finally took a deep breath and leaned backwards, squeaking as her feet came off the bottom, but Corin’s hands moved under her back and held her high in the water. “There you go. Relax, breathe, kit. It’s OK.” As she slowly relaxed, he said, “Just arch your back now.” and he began lowering her until she was actually floating, keeping just his fingertips touching her back.
“You’re floating, Ri. It’s all you.” A movement on the beach caught his eye and he noticed the woman had gotten up and was leaving the beach. “Finally.” he thought. He let the kit float for a little while longer, getting comfortable with it. “Want to go back to the beach now? I think that’s a lot for one day!”
“Yes, please!” she said.
“Okay. Here’s what you do – you just keep floating and kick your feet slowly up and down – I’m going to stay right with you. Yeah, just like that. See? You’re swimming!” They were only a few meters out so it didn’t take long for her to kick her way back. “Just stand up now, Ri.”
She put her feet down, clearly expecting the bottom to be where it had been, and Corin laughed as she found that she had been floating in about 8” of water. She rolled onto her knees and splashed him. That, of course, turned into a water fight that lasted some time, leaving Corin completely soaked.
“Well, would you like to learn another way to exercise?”
“Sure. This is fun! Can I learn how to swim more tomorrow?”
He was about to agree when he remembered that she was going to go stay with Veth’s family. “Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, Ri.” They walked back onto the beach. “I’m going to show you something that not very many people on Dosad know at all. Raiders do this to exercise and to train our minds to be calm. It’s something from Earth. Do you know what Earth is?”
“Where humans live?”
“Dam…dang, you’re smart for a kit!” Corin was impressed. He hadn’t expected a kit to be quite so…people-like. “This is called Tai Chi and it’s thousands of years old. It’s all about moving smoothly and with complete control of all your muscles. Here, let me show you how to breathe.”
“Breathe? I know how to do that.” she snorted.
“Really? But do you ever pay any attention to how you breathe? Or what it feels like? Do you use your nose more, or your mouth?”
“I…well, I…” she stopped, puzzled, “I don’t know. I just breathe.”
“Well, let me show you one way to do it and pay attention – this is called qigong. Then we’ll start learning taolu, which is the different ways we’re going to move.”
“Those sound weird.”
“They are. But they’re fun and if you can learn them, you’ll know more about yourself and you’ll feel more alive than anyone you’re ever likely to meet.”
“Cool!”
He grinned at her. “It really is. I learned how to do this back on Earth in a place called Beijing.” But here, let’s begin. And for the next half an hour, Corin taught the little girl some of the basics of Tai Chi, despite it’s having been created for an entirely different species on a planet many trillions of kilometers away from the beach she was standing on, with an alien sun coming up over the city of T’Elesh.
They finally put their gear back on and started walking back towards the place Corin stayed. “You did really well, Ri. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” she smiled at the praise. “Can we eat now? I’m starving!”
He realized that the food he had at his place was field rations – they were easy to store, easy to eat, and served the purpose of fuel. Not quite suitable for a young kit. The replicator was broken so he’d have to go find someone who was up and who had some food they’d share, or go pick some up from a trader. “Um, I’ll have to go and find some food, Ri, I’m not really used to having people stay with me.”
“What do you eat?”
“Field rats, usually. They’re easy.”
“What are field rats?”
“Rations – dried food, it’s not very good, but it’ll keep you going.”
“I’ll eat that too!” she decided.
He laughed, “Well, you can try it, but you probably won’t like it.” He decided there wouldn’t be much point to really getting a lot of chow, she’d be gone in a few hours anyway. “Veth and his mate have a lot more stuff that’s good to eat! More like my parents do. You’ll love it there.”
She pouted. “I want to stay with you.”
“You’re being very sweet, Ri, but you’d be bored staying with me. I’m not really built to take care of a kit, even one as smart and as tough as you.”
“I want to stay. Don’t you like me?”
“Oh, Ri, you’re a sweetheart, of course I like you. Everyone likes you. But I’m never home, and I’m old and scary and that’s all there is to it. If you can talk this much, we’re not walking fast enough! Step it up!” and Corin increased his pace until the little kit was almost trotting to keep up.
If anyone had accused him of running away, he would likely have taken them straight to the challenge ring.
When they did make it home, Corin broke out a field ration pack and split it up. “You sure you want to try this, Ri?”
“Yes!” She reached for some dried meat and began chewing at it furiously.
Corin smiled and thought that the kit really did have a lot of heart. Not what he expected at all. She seemed quite different from what he remembered of his team’s kits. There were some sweet treats in the ration, designed for quick energy and he let her have those. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.
She chewed a little bit longer. “It’s dry.”
He laughed, “Yeah, I guess they are.”
She looked at him hopefully. “Do you have any iceetreats?”
He remembered those from his own childhood. Come to think of it, they were one of his favorites too.  “No, I don’t, but that does sound really good. You know what, I’m going to go see if um..” he suddenly realized he had no idea who his neighbors were. He knew what they looked like, but didn’t know their names. And he’d been coming back to this particular roundhouse for a lot of years. He was pretty sure they were the same people who stayed there the whole time. Embarrassed and angry with himself he said, “Hang on, Ri, I’ll be right back.”
She had caught the change in his scent and wondered why, but she only nodded, wondering if she had done something wrong.
Corin got up and walked to the nearest neighbor’s home, knocking on the door frame. When the man slid the door aside, his surprise was obvious. “Good morning! I’m sorry to be a bother, um, I’m Corin, I live next door there.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve seen you, of course. Got the impression you preferred privacy, didn’t want to intrude. I’m Relan.”
Corin could see his mate looking around an interior wall, shock plainly evident on her face. More embarrassed than ever, he said, “Well, thank you, that’s very polite. I’ve got a young house-guest for the day and I’m afraid my replicator hasn’t worked for some time. I…uh…I’m in the Fleet so I’m not home much. I was wondering, do you have any iceetreats?”
“I can replicate some for you, of course! Come in uh, Corin.” He ushered him in, and introduced his mate, “This is Seetha. Our neighbor Corin has a young guest for a few days…”
“Just the day, actually.”
“Of course. Be right back!” and he trotted off to the kitchen area. His mate struggled to maintain the conversation. They knew little about the man who lived next door sometimes. They knew he wasn’t fully Dosadi – anyone who looked at him knew that – and that half his head was tattooed and that he was a Raider. That was impossible to disguise. The rumors that went around about the Raiders ranged from the heroic to the terrifying. Looking at the heavily muscled, badly scarred man standing in her great room, she tended to give the terrifying more credence.
“So, uh…your guest…who is it?”
“It’s a little girl named Rileeta that I…well, I’m responsible for her right now. She’ll be staying with one of my…friend’s families after today, they’ve got a kit of their own who’s six as well, so she’ll fit in. I’m not really set up to have a kit around.”
“Oh dear,” She could only imagine how this Raider ended up responsible for someone else’s kit, but she was pretty sure that the story was horrifying. “Do you have any toys for her?”
“Toys?” He didn’t have toys. He had weapons, explosives, training equipment…”No, I don’t really think so. I don’t even have any clothes for her, I’m going to need to…”
“Oh no, our kit’s just now seven, so we’ve got plenty. Let me get you some things for her.”
“That’s not really necessary, she’s only here for the day…”
“It’s no problem. It won’t hurt in any case. Wait here…”
So Corin found himself standing alone in someone else’s great room, wondering what the hell had just happened. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He looked around, noticing that they had pictures on the wall of family and a little male that must be their kit. There were some bits and pieces of art displayed, a small drum and flute, and the clutter that any family accumulates during life. It reminded him of his parents’ home when he was a kit. He tried to think what he had on his own walls and drew a blank. There was a picture, of…something. Someone else had hung it there when they had stayed. He thought it was of the lake, maybe.
Relan came back in with a cluster of wrapped iceetreats, a sort of frozen yogurt-like treat in different flavors. “Here you go…” he glanced around, looking for his mate.
“She went to get some things to loan to Rileeta for the day.” he explained. “I’m sure she doesn’t need…” she came bustling back in with a folded set of clothes, a small puzzle, and a couple of childrens books.
“Here, this will help her to be a bit more comfy today and some things to keep her occupied, and these will be warm for her to sleep in.”
“I’m sure Veth’s family will appreciate that. And so do I!” he hastily added on. “I…Thank you, very much. I should probably get back before these melt.”
Seetha said, “Of course. Feel free to come by any time! I’m sure she’d enjoy meeting our son.”
“Yes, we will – next time she’s staying with me, I’ll make sure she does.” He smiled and clumsily tried to juggle the stack of things in his arms and slide the door open. “Thank you again!” He finally made it out the door and headed back to his place cursing himself for not having met those people long ago. How idiotic did he look? How rude?
Seetha and Relan just looked at each other. “HE’s got a kit staying with him?!” he said.
“She’s probably curled into a ball in a closet. He gives me the shivers. I heard the Raiders just kill everyone they encounter. They don’t really fight like Warriors at all.” she shook her head.
“I don’t think so. Did you see his face? I’ve never seen anyone with an honor tattoo like that. And those scars!”
When Corin went into the roundhouse he stayed at, he called out, “Ri, I’ve got some…” and then saw that she had gotten into his knives. There were a variety of them scattered over the floor and she was closely examining a razor sharp human tanto-style knife that was one of his favorites. “Careful kit! Put that down right now before you cut yourself!”
She looked up at him. “I’m careful. I know they’re sharp. Oh! You got some!” She carefully set the knife on the floor and scampered over, helping herself to two of her favorites.
“Yeah, my neighbors are really nice, they gave you some things too.”
She said, “Oh! What is it? Can I see?”
He laughed at her excitement, “Sure. Um, looks like some books and a puzzle and uh, some clothes you can work out in and something fuzzy to sleep in too.” He took his own iceetreats and dug in, marveling at how good it tasted. The kit was happily exploring her new things while devouring her own treat.
Smiling, he decided to get to work on the reports he had left un-done last night. There was always more paperwork to do.  He didn’t know how long it had been, but he had gotten a couple items checked off his list when Ri crawled into his lap. He gave her a squeeze and kept working. At least with her, he didn’t need to worry about her seeing any confidential information. Anything in his reports would be several years beyond her reading ability.
She sighed and flopped across his lap, head hanging off one side, legs and tail off the other. He patted her back and continued to work. It wasn’t long before she flipped over the other way, sighing heavily.
“That’s MY name!” she told him.
He realized that he had typed her name while he was describing the actions in Songte on Eletha. “Yah, it is.” he used his finger to outline the angular Dosadi script, going from top to bottom on the letters of her name.
“Are you writing about me?”
“Sort of, kit. I have to tell my superiors what happened, so I’m writing down the whole story here.”
“Oh.”
He went back to typing.
It hadn’t even been five minutes before she reached up and touched his ear. He flicked it away, but she did it again. He finally looked down at her. “Why are you doing that?”
“How come you look different than everyone else? Like your ears are really funny looking. And your fur is a different color.”
“So’s yours, Ri.”
“Yeah, but my ears aren’t. And your face is shaped funny too.”
“Gee, thanks!”
She giggled. “I just meant it’s different is all.” She went back to exploring the shape of his ear. “So how come?”
He looked at his report and sighed. “Well, I’m pretty different, Ri. I’m not really Dosadi. Well not all the way.”
“What?”
“You met my mom and dad last night, remember?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Well, Wilkes really is my blood-father. I’m half-human and half-Dosadi. That’s why my ears are so round, like his even though they’re still more like mom’s, and my eyes are blue like hers, and my fur’s the same color as his hair used to be – that’s the little bit of grey fur on top of his head.”
She thought about that for a little bit. “That’s weird.”
He laughed, “Yeah, it kinda is.” He waited a few moments and then started working again only to have her interrupt again.
“Why don’t you have a mate?”
“No reason, I guess. Well, it’s complicated.”
“You always say that when you don’t want to tell me something.”
“No I don’t! It really is hard to explain.”
“Why?”
“It just is, kit.”
“Try?”
He thought to himself that he had no idea how parents put up with this all twenty-hours a day. “Well, I guess because I work a lot. I’m a Soldier, so I’m not around people a lot, and I look pretty scary.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
He smiled at her, “Thanks, kit. But I know what I look like. I’m pretty banged up, I’ve got a lot of scars, I’m missing fur where the scars are, and I really don’t have a lot of time for finding a mate.”
“Soral says you’re afraid.”
Corin’s eyes widened. “Oh, he does, does he? Afraid of what?”
“He said you’re afraid to love someone because you don’t think anyone really cares about you and that you’re afraid to try.”
“I’m going to have to have a chat with Soral.”
“Don’t be mad at him!”
He squeezed her, “I’m not really mad, Ri. But he’s just saying what he thinks, that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Are you afraid?”
He was going to just tell her no. It was easier. But when It came down to it, he wasn’t totally sure himself. “I’m not really sure, Ri. I haven’t thought about it a lot. Maybe a little, I don’t like getting hurt, and the only people who really do care about me are the team. I’m not all that loveable. I’m not even very nice.”
She hugged him as best she could, trying to duplicate the gesture she had seen him use. “I think you’re nice. You save people.”
He squeezed her back. How do you explain to a child that your main job is killing people and that saving her was a mistake that was likely to get him in trouble for putting the team at risk? “Thanks, kit.”
He reached his hands up to the console and saw her staring up at him from his lap. “What?”
“I’m bored.”
He shook his head. He wasn’t likely to get anything done until he dropped her off at Veth’s this evening. Ah well, it’s foolish to keep fighting a losing battle. A few hours more wouldn’t make any difference to these reports anyway. “Told ya.” he tickled her, getting a squeal and making her curl into a ball. “What do you want to do then?”
“Explore! This is really different than where we used to live!” Glancing out the window, he was surprised to see that it was already afternoon. She must have been playing quietly longer than he thought.
“Okay, explore it is. Do you remember where you used to live?”
“Not the name. But the buildings looked different and there were a lot of little lakes, not that really big one.”
He guessed she was probably from the other side of Dosad. There was an area over there that was broken up into thousands of rivers and lakes and small mountains. “Well, let’s just walk around for a little bit and see what T’Elesh is like, OK?”
“Yaaay!” She bounced off his lap and quickly changed into her new clothes.
When they headed out the door, he noticed that the weather was changing – dark grey clouds were beginning to cover the sky and the temperature was dropping. It was going to storm this evening. “Well, pick a direction!” He noticed more than a few people were either peeking out windows at him or subtly casting glances their direction as they were out and about. Was it that odd that he’d be out walking with a kit? After a block, he decided that evidently, it was.

CHAPTER 6
“…they plot, but Allah also plotteth; and Allah is the best of plotters.”
– Koran – al-Anfal 8:30 – Earth (Human)
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
FEBRUARY, 2310
Legate Dukat drummed his fingers on the table top. It was a human nervous habit that he found useful as well. The documents in front of him supported the young sensor operator’s belief that there had been a ship next to the Galor – there had been an unexplained transport either to or from the surface of Eletha at nearly the same moment the sensor sweep had detected something.
But what sort of ship? From which power? Were they beaming something or someone to, or from the planet? And what? Why? How did they manage to sneak even a cloaked ship in between all of the ships of his fleet – and then escape again. The Romulans were the most likely people to be using a cloak, but this would be a very long way from home for them and they had little love for the cat-people. Perhaps the Klingons? They also made use of cloaking devices on their war-birds. But sneaking about like this simply wasn’t their style. They used cloaks for advantage in battle, not for spying. And although technically allied with the Dosadi they spent plenty of time fighting with them as well. The two powers seemed to enjoy brawling with each other like a pair of drunks.
He picked up the PADD with all it’s charts, graphs, and analyses. There were plenty of stories about the Dosadi utilizing small, fast, heavily armed and cloaked ships as pirate vessels, but not a lot of hard data. The Federation considered them ‘Raider-class starships’. But all of the information he had in hand indicated that such a ship should have been detected unless it were almost sitting on top of the Galor. Why would they go to all the trouble to sneak a ship in, transport something down to the surface and then leave? Perhaps they were dropping off scouts? But how would they get the information off again? That didn’t quite fit the Federation assessment of them as primarily used for piracy.
Swiping his finger along the screen he checked Dosadi fleet dispositions again. The Imperial Fleet was badly over-stretched. There was simply no way that the Imperium could bring any sort of force to bear in under six months; Much longer than the four months it would take for the Union to bring in the First and Twelfth Orders and an additional 50 ships to cement their hold on Eletha. With the reserve fleet safely hidden in the Torelli Nebula, any Dosadi response was going to be a disaster for them. By the time the battle was over, the Dosadi would be lucky to hold on to their existing territories without worrying about trying to retake Eletha again.
Well, he decided, the Dosadi weren’t the only ones with specialized forces. The Obsidian Order had teams of specialists who could go down on an enemy planet, learn what was of interest to the Union, and be gone before they were detected. Such a team had already been dispatched and was awaiting his order. It was time to get a sense of what the cats were up to. Their military had its headquarters in a city called T’Elesh; for these troopers, that was more than enough information. He leaned forward and issued the order that would send ten of the most lethal sentients in the galaxy into action.

* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
FEBRUARY 2310
“That’s the Imperial Fleet Headquarters, kit. That’s where the team has to go to talk to our commanders and get our orders.”
“I thought you were in charge.”
He laughed, “No, only of my team. I’m not a very high rank. I’m a lieutenant commander. There’s a commander that’s in charge of our group of three teams, and a captain who’s in charge of our force of 12 teams, and an admiral who’s in charge of all 24 teams.”
“Oh!” she said, looking up at the big tower-like building. “Are they all like you are?”
He smiled, “Pretty much. But our team is the best.”
“Do you have a name like ships do?”
“Nope! We’re just Team Six.”
“Is the Tarak your ship?”
“Not my ship, but it’s the only one our team uses. When we’re not aboard her, Team Eighteen is. We take turns, see? She’s got two crews as well. And they take turns flying her.”
“Wow.” She looked up at the beaten up old Soldier. She reached up and grabbed his hand. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”
He laughed again, “Oh, no you don’t kit. Trust me on that one.”
She decided to ignore him. They continued to explore through the sprawling city, the buildings in small clumps surrounded by forest. The sky continued to darken as they walked, and the wind picked up, the long corn husk-like leaves rustling and making the trees shimmer. Outside of the area where he usually stayed, there were no more stares or odd looks. To those they passed, he was just a middle-aged man out walking with his daughter.
About two hours after they had started, Rileeta, still holding his hand, said, “I’m getting tired. When are we going home?”
“Well kit, that’s good timing. We’re only about a block from Veth’s place. They’re really looking forward to you staying with them! They’ve got a little girl too and she’s just your age.”
Rileeta’s shoulders slumped and she took her hand back. For once her ‘hurt-look’ was genuine. In a small voice she said, “But, I want to stay with you. I want to learn how to swim and more tiechee and…”
“Ri, you were bored to death in just a few hours. You’d end up hating me if you were forced to stay with me for very long. I get on people’s nerves pretty quickly.”
As they got closer to Veth’s, she tried again, “I promise I won’t get in the way or bother you or anything!”
“You never bothered me, Ri. I’m just doing what’s best for you. You’ll love Veth and his mate and they’ve got toys and books and clothes and things to do. I don’t know anything about how to take care of someone your age.”
She was going to say something else, but they were already turning into Veth’s and the younger man was sliding open the roundhouse’s door. “Hey Cap! Good afternoon, Ri!”
Corin waved and said, “Hey Veth.” They clasped each other’s shoulders and he continued, “We were just out exploring the town and ended up right near you, so I thought we’d stop by a little early.”
“Sounds good. We’ve been really looking forward to having you here, Ri. I’ve told Feros and S’eth all about you and they can’t wait to meet you.”
Rileeta was pouting and feeling like she was being dumped.
Veth continued, “Come on inside, both of you. It’s only about an hour until dinner – can you stay, Cap?”
At the mention of food, Rileeta perked up some. “I’m really hungry!”
He laughed, “Well what did you have for lunch?”
“We had field rats for breakfast!”
He shook his head and looked at his CO. “Cap, did you not get any food into this kit? She’s not a Soldier, you gotta feed them, and not just dried rations.”
“I, uh, guess I lost track of time.” he followed his demolitions expert into his home. Another little kit was holding onto her mother’s tail and peeking shyly at Ri as they came in.
Rileeta wanted to stay with Corin, but she also wanted a friend. She was a little nervous.
S’eth said “Hello.”
“Hello.” Rileeta answered back, just as shyly.
“Your fur is really pretty.”
“Thank you.” she smiled. “I like your eyes. They’re nice.”
Corin was extremely uncomfortable. He had absolutely no idea what to do, so he was taking his cues from Veth who was just standing there, watching the two kits get acquainted. He kept feeling like there was something he should do or say or something!
“Do you like to read?”
Ri perked up. “I love to! Do you have books?”
“Ya! Do you wanna go see them? I’ve got a puzzle that’s like a book you have to put together too!”
“Okay” Ri finally moved away from Corin, following S’eth into another room. He realized he had been tensed up and nearly holding his breath.
Veth smiled at him, “She’ll be fine, Cap. S’eth’s a great little kit, she’ll help her settle in.”
Corin had always thought that Veth’s mate was one of the quietest people he’d ever met; she so rarely spoke. “Thank you both. I really don’t know how to take care of a little one like that.”
Feros looked at her mate’s commanding officer; the man who had so often sent him into deadly danger, and as often made sure he came home again. Her nose told a story that mere sight would not. “Are you sure you want her to stay with us?”
What did she mean, was he sure? Of course he was sure. Hell, he’d forgotten to feed the poor thing. Troops he could take care of. Weapons he could take care of. Kits? He had no idea what to do. “Of course I’m sure, Feros. It’s really for the best.”
She didn’t say anything, but her ears, whiskers, and eyes told Corin she didn’t believe him.

* * *
LANDING FIELD, T’ELESH DOSAD
FEBRUARY, 2310
Gul Kalekt crouched low, facing the rear ramp of the little cargo lighter that was dropping down from the Orion freighter now in orbit around Dosad. Her cargo was legitimate, as was her passenger manifest. There were simply ten extra passengers, not that anyone would see them, of course. He checked his team, looking for any reflection or light peeking out from their ghillie suits. They were stacked in three lines, ready to move out quickly.
The interior lights went off. “Control, lighter three-three, I’m losing lift – gonna come down hard.” said the pilot. Seconds later, the little shuttle slammed down almost in the forest on the edge of the clearing. The ramp dropped instantly and Kalekt and his team were into the forest and on their bellies in the undergrowth in only a few moments. The ramp came back up again, and the ten Cardassians began slowly moving more deeply into the woods. Their camouflage suits would mask them from anything but a specific sensor sweep. Naturally, it was raining, he thought. For his next mission, he was going to request a desert planet.
Moving slowly and cautiously, it took a lot of time and effort to make any real distance and it was fully dark by the time they had oriented in the city and determined where the Imperial Fleet Headquarters was. Fortunately, the Dosadi city was heavily forested, providing plenty of places to hide and conduct surveillance and mapping operations as they went. They had 30 days on this enemy planet, and then they would leave exactly as they arrived with no one the wiser.
His lead scout raised one hand and pointed forward and the entire team melted into the shadows and undergrowth. Kalekt tapped the side of his goggles and the night turned to day. Walking towards them was a heavily-built Dosadi male. Nothing to worry about.
And then the man stopped. His nose twitched and he squinted into the woods. Five different weapons were instantly trained on him, but Kalekt gave no order. They would wait. Bodies were always difficult to dispose of and they had a long time to go without being discovered. If they could get away without having to eliminate this civilian, they would. Their scent should be masked from a Dosadi nose. Why was this damn fool sniffing? Had those damn sensitive cat ears heard something? He would hold off firing as long as he could.

* * *
Corin sat back from Veth’s table, “That is so much better than field rats.” he patted his very full belly. Ri and S’eth had been whispering together throughout the meal and the little kit ate enough for a full grown troop. She surely seemed settled in – and he was thrilled to see that it looked like she had made a friend. Listening to the rain outside he said, “Gonna be a fun walk home in this.”
“So, why not stay, Cap? You’re always welcome here, you know that.”
He had stayed with them fairly often, but tonight that just wasn’t a good idea. He needed to put some space between little Ri and himself so that she could adapt into her new family. “Nah, thank you though. I’ve still got a lot of work to do from our last trip.” He stood up and stretched. “Ri, you doing OK?”
She looked at him smugly. “I’m fine, thank you.” and she and S’eth giggled.
That was a little confusing he thought. “Well, good night then, everyone. I’ll probably swing by tomorrow and see how everyone’s doing and you and I can compare notes on our trip, Veth.”
“Sounds good Cap. Enjoy the walk!”
“Rain or shine, it’s always fine!” he laughed and let himself out. Standing in the dark, the rain coming down and the wind blowing his fur, he looked up at the sky. He enjoyed storms. The energy that was around you was invigorating.  But tonight he really wanted to stay in that warm, dry room and share the company of that family. He was a little sad that she hadn’t at least given him a hug good bye. Bah. He was becoming a sentimental old fool. He strode off into the wind and the rain.
While he walked, his mind kept running over the events of the past few days. The kit really had done well and he hoped she fit in well and quickly with Veth’s family. She learned fast, too. If he ever did get around to finding a mate and having a kit – gods forbid – he hoped they turned out like her. Well, maybe a little less stubborn. No one should be that pig-headed.
He stopped suddenly. There was a scent of…something. Almost like…lubricant? He sniffed the breeze again. The rain was making it hard to figure out what it was and where it was coming from and the wind kept snatching the scent away. There shouldn’t be any lube out here. Did someone spill something? He looked into the dark, wishing his eyes and nose were as sensitive as a full Dosadi’s. Not quite lube…it was…reptilian too?
He took a half step towards the low brush and trees that bordered this part of the path and sniffed again. Nothing. Just the occasional faint hint of something he could almost put his finger on. Maybe someone was oiling up snakes. He laughed, decided he had been in the field a little too long after all. Ri would think he was paranoid. He shook himself and headed for home.

* * *
Kalekt heaved a large mental sigh as the Dosadi civilian finally laughed and walked on down the path. He glanced across the nearly invisible mounds that were his team; They had to be as relieved as he was. He always wondered, after these little encounters, if the man ever suspected how close he was to death right then. He waited a few more minutes to be sure neither that man nor anyone else would come down that path again and then signaled for his team to move out.

* * *
Corin stepped into the house, and shook as much rain out of his fur as he could. The house was dark and had chilled with the night air. He touched the wall plate and the panels lit dimly. Scattered across the floor were the puzzle, several books, and a set of Ri’s clothes that she hadn’t put away. Not that she really had a place to put them away, he decided. After staring at them for longer than he should have, he decided he’d have to make sure he returned those tomorrow to…Seetha and Relan, that was their names. It was nice of them to loan them to her.
He sat down and turned the console on, ready to pick up where he had left off. He put his hands on the device and just stared at it. Her name was still glowing at the top right corner of the page. He hadn’t even finished another page before she started fiddling with his ears. He smiled at that. Nosy little fur ball. He turned around and looked down at what she had been doing.
The puzzle had been completed – evidently that hadn’t given her much trouble at all. It was really pretty to look at too. Whoever had designed it had made it a work of art as well as a child’s toy. He stood up and folded the clothes, stacking them on a low table. He wondered if she had finished the books. He picked one up. It was a simple story about a kit going out to play with friends and meeting all sorts of different people. It was cute. He put that on the table too.
By the time he had worked through the few books he had borrowed, he was thoroughly uninterested in working on that report. He wondered what she had done with the iceetreat wrappers. Probably stuck on something. A brief search finally convinced him that she had actually put them in the recycle chute. It would be converted into matter for the replicator…assuming he ever got that fixed. He probably should.
He sighed and sat down at his work again. Discipline was going right out the window, he decided. Here he was with work to do and he was just wasting time. There was a song they had been singing at his folks’ house the other night, it was a good tune. Maybe if he had some background noise he could focus. He spent a few minutes tinkering around looking for it and finally found the song. It started playing and instead of concentrating on his work, he actually listened to the lyrics.
Snorting, he cut it off. Some sappy sad song. Not at all what he needed to get some work done. Silence would be better. He finally got angry with himself and got busy.
It was almost two hours later when he finally finished the report. There were more to write, of course, but he would get those done tomorrow. A good, hard run, a long swim, and he’d be nicely focused. He stood up and stretched, putting his hands on his back. Definitely need more PT, he thought. Body gets stiff too fast these days. Without even a glance at the stack of things Ri had borrowed, he went to get ready to sleep.
Laying down in his favorite spot he stretched out and listened to the wind and the rain outside with his hands behind his head. As he pulled his arms down, his left came to rest on rumpled blanket. He had evidently forgotten to put that away. The little kit’s scent was still all over it; he’d have to make sure to wash that tomorrow. He pushed it away and tried to relax.
Finally, the storm worked it’s magic and he was sound asleep.

* * *
He opened his eyes only enough to see what was happening. It was still raining hard and the wind was blowing even more. The door slid further open; whoever was sneaking in was trying hard to be quiet and failing miserably he thought. He slid his hand under the sleeping pad and pulled out the phaser concealed there. He brought the sights to bear and watched a small, dark form slip inside and try to slide the door quietly closed.
Shaking his head, he quietly tucked the phaser back under the pad and pretended to be sound asleep. Rileeta walked as quietly as she could, but the water dripping off of her might as well have been a drum to Corin’s ears, and her shoes were squelching. She stopped part way across the floor and took her soaking wet things off and tried again. Now, he was listening to the wet pad of bare feet and he could smell wet fur. He was struggling not to laugh.
Finally she crawled in between his chest and his right arm; She was shivering and soaking wet and cold. He should get up right now and take her back to Veth’s. They’d be frantic when they found out she had snuck out in the middle of the night. How the hell had she made it from there to here? It was over two klicks in the dark and there was no way she remembered the wandering path they had followed to Veth’s yesterday.
Well, he shouldn’t take her back until she’d had a chance to warm up anyway. At least she had a dry set of clothes here still. And somewhere was that warm nice fleecy thing Seetha had given her to sleep in except, he remembered he was pretending to be asleep. The poor thing was still shivering, and his fur and the bedding was soaked now. Why had she come all this way in the freezing rain? The kit was clearly pig-headed, and nuts besides.
He waited while Ri fell asleep. When he was sure she was really asleep, although she was still shivering, he pulled her blanket away from the wall and tucked it up and over her. It would be better if he could have gotten a towel and dried her fur off, but that would spoil it. She thought she was being stealthy and had managed to pull her grand plan off and for some reason he really didn’t want to ruin that success for her. She snuggled into him and made a quiet little squeak and started purring.
He was a long time getting to sleep after that, watching her sleep instead.
When he woke up the next morning, she was still curled into a ball next to him. He shook her shoulders and she opened her eyes and yawned, her fangs showing white against the pink of her mouth and the black of her fur. “Hey there, Ri. Where’d you come from?”
She looked down and didn’t say anything.
“Ri, you’re supposed to stay with Veth and his family. Didn’t you like them? They sure seemed to like you.”
“They’re really nice.” she admitted.
“What about S’eth? I thought you guys were friends.”
She looked up and smiled. “She’s my best friend. She’s really smart and awesome.”
“So…why are you here again?”
She looked down again, “I want to stay with you.”
He stood up and went to get his PT clothes on. “Ri, come on, we talked about that.”
She thought to herself “you talked about that”, but he was continuing.
“I don’t know anything about kits, or how to take care of you or anything. You’ll be lots better off and have more fun at Veth’s. And I’m sure S’eth wants you to stay there!”
She got up and put on the clothes she had worked out in the day before.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“I want to run again and swim and learn more tiechee.”
He laughed, “You like PT? All right then!” That certainly deserved a reward. “But it’s two words, kit – Tai Chi”
She tried again, “Tai Chi.”
“Yup! You got it!” He picked up his ruck, looked at the holes he had cut in the bottom corners and thought that it wasn’t much good for anything other than carrying a kit on his back any more. To hell with it, it was a good workout.
Like the day before, she refused to quit, and he ran her until he thought she was going to throw up, and then let her catch her breath while he got ready to carry her. And just like the day before when they hit the beach, he dumped her into the soft sand. Also, just like the day before, the same woman was sitting there, watching the sun rise.
She was about his age, he decided, and her fur was elegantly marked, though she had no warrior pendant nor an honor tattoo. Her eyes were typical Dosadi gold and she seemed amused by their workout. Well, he decided nobody asked you, lady. He again coaxed Ri into deeper water, much more easily this time and got her to float.
“Perfect! Now, you know how to move around on your back, let’s try on your front, OK?”
“I’m scared to!”
“Don’t be. I won’t let anything happen to you, OK? Here’s what I want you to do. You’re just going to roll over and start paddling your hands and feet. I’m going to hold you up so you won’t sink, OK? Nothing’s going to happen.”
It took her almost a minute to decide to give it a try, but she finally flipped over and immediately began to sink, but Corin held her up with her face out of the water. “You can float on your face too, Ri, but you have to hold your breath while your face is in the water. But right now, just paddle. That keeps your face out of the water.”
She began thrashing at the water and he eventually managed to get her paddling properly. “I’m going to let you hold yourself up, Ri…But I’m still right here. You’re fine.” Her ears went back, but he went slowly so that she could feel her hands and feet pushing herself up out of the water. “There you go!” He was holding less and less of her weight as she got a feel for it and in a surprisingly short time, she was paddling around him on her own.
“You’re swimming!”
The expression on her face was one of triumph while she swam in slow circles around him. “When you get tired, you can roll onto your back too, but today, just put your feet down and you’ll be standing up, OK?”
Sputtering a little bit she said, “OK” and a minute or two later headed towards the shore and put her feet down, bobbing under the water briefly and coming up spitting.
He laughed, “Hold your breath before you do that next time.”
But she wasn’t mad or scared, the smile of pride lighting her face up like a spotlight. “I DID IT!!!”
He gave her a hug, “You sure did, Ri. You’re a fast learner. Ready for some taolu?”
“YES!” She splashed quickly onto the beach. Smiling, he followed the little girl onto the sand and began working her through the first, basic forms. He was focused on making sure her postures were correct and hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else when the woman asked,
“Isn’t it a little early to teach her how to kill people?”
Startled and angry at himself for a lack of situational awareness he snapped, “What?” She had walked quite close to them.
“That’s what that is, isn’t it? Some military thing you do to kill people?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s an exercise that tones the mind and body. We use it to develop inner peace and a balance between the physical and the mental.”
“It looks very strange. You are a Soldier, aren’t you?”
He was still irritated. Who was this nosy woman? “Yes. And who are you?”
“My name is Yun.”
That threw him a little bit. “Yun? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone named like that before.”
She smiled, “I just moved here from C’orelan. It’s literally on the other side of the planet.”
“Oh! I’ve not met too many people from that region, um, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s rather well known for being fairly isolated from the rest of Dosad.”
“That’s one reason I wanted to go somewhere totally different. Can I know your names, or is it a military secret?” she smiled again. He thought she had a very nice smile. Her whiskers arched up, her ears came well forward and her eyes lit up. But she clearly didn’t think too much of the Dosadi military. Who ever heard of a pacifist Dosadi?
“I’m Corin and this is Rileeta.”
“HI!” Rileeta chirped with a big smile.
Yun crouched down, “You’re adorable! I’ve never seen anyone with black fur before. Is this your father?”
Corin swallowed backwards and coughed to clear his throat.
She piped up, “No. I want him to be but he doesn’t want me.”
“He doesn’t? It sure looks like he does to me!” she looked up at him.
Still trying to clear his windpipe he said, “No, no it’s not that, I’m a loner, I’m gone too often and I’ve got no idea how to take care of a kit.”
She stood up and smiled at him. “For a loner with no idea how to take care of a kit, you look like you’re doing a pretty good job to me.” She studied the tattoo on his face while he tried to think of a reply. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you. Try not to corrupt her too early. The galaxy doesn’t need any more killers, I think. If people got to know each other better instead of fighting all the time, we’d all be better off.”
He honestly had no idea what to say to this woman. Her world was totally different from the one he had inhabited for the last twenty years and more. She turned around, her tail brushing across his calf and she looked over her shoulder with a smile, “Bye!”
Corin stood there dumbfounded for several seconds as she walked off. What the hell?!
Ri looked up at him and whispered, “She likes you.”
He snorted, “No, Ri, she most assuredly does not like me. She’s a little crazy – I’ve heard of people like her, people who think that everyone can just get along and that Soldiers just cause problems. She’s probably never been in danger, ever, because Soldiers keep her safe. But she hates us because we have to do mean things to do so.”
Ri tried to understand that, but only got a little bit of it. “She does so.” she stated with finality.
He shook his head, “We’re losing focus here, Ri. Let’s finish up our forms so we can get home. And I’m sorry, I still don’t have anything but field rats.”
She took up her stance again, “I don’t mind.”
Heading home, he kept the pace up to forestall any further conversation on topics he was far from comfortable with. Unfortunately for him, when they arrived at his house, Relan was also just coming back from some errand. “Good morning, Corin! I see the little one is still here.” and he smiled.
Corin answered, “She seems to have snuck back during the night from where she’s staying.” but he reached down and rested his hand on her shoulder, “Must be crazy.” he teased her.
She ducked away from his hand and stuck her tongue out at him.
Relan laughed, “Well, you never know, I suppose. Um, I hope I’m not intruding, but my close friend Tarana fixes all sorts of gadgets and I asked her if she’d stop by and look at your replicator today. You said it was broken, right?”
Surprised, Corin said, “Uh, yeah. It hasn’t worked in a while. I keep meaning to fix it, but I never really seem to get around to it.” Someone else was coming up behind them and he looked over his shoulder. It was another neighbor, and another one he had no idea of their name. What the hell was happening? He’d been here for years and no one ever bothered him on his morning workouts. Didn’t civilians sleep in?
“Who’s this little one? I’ve never seen anyone with fur that color! She’s so pretty!” the woman said as she walked up.
“I’m Rileeta!” she volunteered with a smile.
Hesitatingly, she asked Corin, “I didn’t realize you had a kit…um…sir?”
“I’m Corin, she’s not really mine, I’m just sort of responsible for her today, she’s staying with a friend’s family but she seems to like PT in the mornings.”
Rileeta reached up and grabbed his hand, being her most adorable.
“Well, I hope you’re not planning on just making her run all day!” she laughed.
He smiled, “No, She’s got some books inside…”
“I finished all of them.” She said.
“You did?” Damn, the kid was a fast reader for such a little one. “I’ll have to get some more for you then, just to last you until we get you back over to Veth’s.” He was hoping that would be only a few hours.
The woman brightened up, “Wait right here! Our kit outgrew all of her things from that age and we haven’t given them away yet. Just in case…” and bustled off.
“Um, that’s really not…” but she was long gone.
Relan offered, “Her name’s Teesa.”
He blushed. “Thanks, I haven’t really been as much of a neighbor as I should have been, I guess. I’m away a lot.” he finished lamely.
“You’re a Raider, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in that uniform anyway.”
They didn’t really try to hide it – folks had commented that for a secretive group they went out of their way to advertise themselves. But while they made it obvious what they were, they kept the details of exactly what they did very secret.
“Yes. So you can see why I’m not really set up to take care of a kit.”
Nervous, but curious as well he said, “Well, no one is if they try to do it by themselves you know. It’s a team effort to make a person.”
“I’m kind of a loner, It’s part of my job. And the risk is too high to have a mate, why set someone up for that sort of heartache?” He was getting irritated. Had this man been talking to his mother?
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry!” Relan explained quickly. He was really hoping that Raiders were more honorable than some of the stories made them out to be. When he had been talking with his friends about their strange encounter yesterday, he had heard that they killed casually and didn’t really fight with honor. That they were essentially bullies who had been sent out into the stars to eliminate anyone the Emperor or the Korat found to be a nuisance. He did not want to be seen as a nuisance.
Corin caught the sudden scent of fear from his neighbor and hastened to make amends. “No, not at all! I’m sorry if I looked angry, it’s just a bit of a sore point with me. I apologize, I took no offense.”
There was nothing wrong with Rileeta’s nose either. She wrapped her arms around Corin’s leg and said, “He saves people. He’s teaching me how to swim and Tai Chi and I’m going to be just like him.”
Glad of the change of subject, Relan said, “Wow! That’s a lot! Uh…what’s Tai Chi?”
Corin put his hand on her back, “She learns really fast. It’s an exercise practice I learned on Earth. It’s kind of a Raider thing.”
“Sounds interesting.” in truth, he had no interest in pursuing anything relating to Corin’s military habits. “So…” and he stopped with relief, seeing his friend coming down the path. “Ah, here’s Tarana! I hope that’s OK? I don’t mean to intrude, I just thought it would be the friendly thing to do.”
“Not intruding at all. I appreciate it! And I’m sure Ri will as well. Maybe she won’t have to eat field rats today!”
“I don’t mind! They’re really chewy though.”
Fifteen minutes later found the group of them inside Corin’s roundhouse while Tarana was taking the replicator apart. Relan was looking around curiously, looking for some sign of individuality in this space and finding none. “It must be hard to be away so often and for so long.”
“It can get tiring sometimes, but I love what I do. In the teams, you really feel like you make a difference.”
He looked at the scars all over Corin, especially the fresh red lines and bare skin down his leg. “It looks like you get hurt a lot.”
Corin shrugged. “Cost of doing business is all.”
There was a laugh from the replicator panel. “Um, it really has been a while since you used this, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Why?”
She took out a stack of field rat cartons and wrappers from the recycle chute, some of which were dated years earlier. She kept pulling more of them out of the chute’s compression feed. “It doesn’t do a lot of good to keep stuffing things into the matter feed if it’s not using them…”
“I really meant to get it fixed, I’ve just been busy is all.”
“Well, the good news is it’s an easy fix.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“You’re going to hate me.” She smiled and winked at him.
Relan was astonished at his friend’s courage. What would possess you to tease a psychopath?
“I am? Why?”
She finished emptying the chute and fiddled with something. The panel lit up and gurgled briefly. “The breaker just needed to be reset.” And she started closing the machine up.
“Oh, what the f…” he caught himself.
She laughed at the older man, “You’re kinda cute when you’re mad at yourself. I’ll have to tell my mate to watch out or I’ll trade him in on an older model.” and she winked again. Ri giggled at Corin’s expression and covered her mouth with her hand.
He was saved any further embarrassment when Teesa poked her head inside, “Can I come in? I’ve got some things for the little one…”
Corin was completely flustered. Why were all these people taking such a sudden interest in his life?  “Sure, but it’s not really necessary.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” she said, looking around curiously. “I’ve got some clothes for her, and some books and some games and things.”
What she had was a large box, stuffed full of ‘things’. Where the hell was he going to put all of that crap? She was only going to be here for another couple of hours! He hoped she’d just put it down and leave but instead, she started going through the entire contents of the box with Ri who was making a series of delighted noises.
Tarana said, “Mind if I test it out? I’d bet a little breakfast snack would taste good to everyone!”
“I’ve got some wor…” but she was already punching buttons on the panel and then handing food out to the knot of people cluttering up his living space. He made an exaggerated sigh and took the plate she was handing him along with another one of those brilliant smiles.

* * *
Some miles away, sitting in a comfortable room, Nelson, like Corin, was distinctly uncomfortable. You never knew where the threads of a story would take you, but the twists and turns of this one were getting ridiculous. No one in their right mind wanted to be ‘interviewed’ by any intelligence service and the Korat had a fairly unsavory reputation; He had seen entirely too much of Dosadi military operations and technology recently. Did Corin think that he had sent something to Argus? Did the Korat? Right now, Argus expected him to be on Eletha; he may have been written off already after disappearing during the Cardassian invasion.
Wilkes glanced at him, “Relax, Nelson. You’ve watched too many spy stories. If they wanted to kill you they’d just kill you. They don’t make a big production out of it. Why waste the time and effort?”
“Easy for you to say. You’re on their side!”
“And who’s side are you on, Nelson?” he asked amicably.
“No one’s! I’m neutral! I’m just a reporter.”
Wilkes snorted. “No one’s on nobody’s side, Nelson. Everyone has an agenda and a point of view. I’ve seen the media push one story line over another and I’ve been on the wrong side of that push before. It’s not a lot of fun.”
“I wasn’t even a reporter when the Orias Incident was going on. Hell, I was barely in primary school! I had nothing to do with any of that.”
“You’ve obviously studied it, so you know what I mean.” He would have liked to continue the conversation, but the current chief of the Korat, Paral, came in and sat down at his desk again.
“Sorry for the interruption. Business must go on.” he said. He was young to hold the position he was in and considered quite good looking. “Mr. Nelson.” he studied the younger human. “You’ve been some unfortunate places.”
“Unfortunate?” That didn’t sound good at all.
“Yes. We’ve analyzed the data you’ve recorded with these, he held up Nelson’s sensor glasses, “and you really have captured an awful lot of very sensitive and restricted data. Much of it relating to our tactics, operations, and classified technology. More than enough to qualify you as a spy.”
“It wasn’t my intent to be any of those places, sir, I got caught up in the events and had no choice where I was taken or what I saw. I assure you, I’m no spy! I’m just a reporter. My bureau at Argus will confirm…”
“Yes, we’ve already checked with them and with a few other sources in both Hydran and Federation space. Everyone happily agrees that you are indeed a reporter. Which doesn’t preclude you’re being a spy. Why didn’t you simply turn the glasses off?”
“I always leave them running. It’s an old habit. Besides, at least this way you know exactly what I saw and you don’t have to take my word as to what I did, or didn’t see. I did not try to obtain any information that I wasn’t supposed to!”
“And yet, you have all of this sensitive information. Habits can get a man killed, you know. They’re dangerous.”
“Argus will not sit quietly by while you murder me.”
Paral laughed. “We don’t work that way, Mr. Nelson. But were we to try and convict you, I assure you that’s exactly what they would do. In fact, they have disavowed assigning you to any specific story. Apparently, you are on your own here.”
He started to protest again and Paral said, “Mr. Nelson, let me put you at your ease. I did not bring you here to terrify you or to simply confiscate your data. I came here to offer you a story. The chance of a lifetime.”
His jaw sagged open. “A story?”
“Yes. It ties in nicely with your research on Captain Wilkes’ family in fact.”
“What’s the story?” He was very interested, but also sensed a trap.
“It’s the story you’re already a part of. The battle for Eletha.”
“You want me to report on that? You guys got your asses kicked.”
“The fight’s not over, Mr. Nelson. You’ve done war reporting before. We’ve studied the work you’ve done and it presents a fair and balanced picture of combat operations. We would like you to do that same thing for the next phase of this fight.”
“Why?”
“The press will report on the events there no matter what we do. Especially the Federation press, as unfettered as they are. We would like to get our story out before anyone else does.”
“I’m neutral. I won’t lie for you, or for anyone.” he said automatically.
Paral smiled. “That’s why you’re being given this chance, Mr. Nelson. If you were partisan, we wouldn’t be able to use you. But you have a reputation for being scrupulously neutral. Your actions on Eletha support that. You refused to provide any real assistance to our wounded Raiders, despite a very real risk to your position there. Except under duress, of course.”
“I’m sorry about that, but were I to…”
“Mr. Nelson, I’m telling you that is being seen to your advantage.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s wise, Mr. Nelson. In any case. We are still going to filter and restrict what data you can send. With one exception. There will be a battle to retake Eletha. You will be attached to a unit that will be fighting there. We are going to allow you a live sub-space feed to Argus from the moment the battle begins to the moment the battle ends, under the control of the commander of that unit. You will do your usual combat reporting and the people of the galaxy will see the truth for themselves. Especially the Federation.”
“A live feed? Unedited? You’d seriously allow that?”
“The circumstances are unusual. We need the Federation to see what has happened on Eletha and that our actions are just. We will also allow you to edit together the footage you shot while you were there during the Cardassian attack and we will make available to you information from the Raider Team you were with. That will be broadcast just before the battle begins.”
“What’s the catch?”
Paral leaned back. “There is no catch, Mr. Nelson.  You are free to refuse. If you do, we will simply confiscate all your data and return you to Argus with nothing. Captain Wilkes has assured me that his son has made it very plain what will happen to you should you decide to share information about this matter that we do not approve of. “
Nelson said, “VERY plain.” and shuddered.
Paral smiled again, “Or, you can accept the risk for what will likely be the greatest combat reporting in the past several centuries as well as adding to your original story on Captain Wilkes’ family. The risk is actually far greater to you in accepting, than in refusing.”
He thought about it for almost ten seconds. “I accept. What unit will I embed with? One of your ships?”
Paral’s smile became almost predatory. “Tell me, Mr. Nelson, how do you feel about space diving?”
CHAPTER 7
“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal”
– Irish tombstone – Earth (Human)
T’ELESH, DOSAD
FEBRUARY, 2310
The same afternoon Corin’s replicator had been repaired, he finally managed to drag little Rileeta back to Veth’s home. He started out with an apology, “I’m really sorry if you were worried, it’s been something of a hectic day. Did you get my message that she was safe?”
Veth said, “Yeah, Cap, but S’eth told us where she went this morning.” The little kit hung her head.
“So that’s how she knew how to get to my place from yours.” Corin laughed.
“I think they’ve got you outnumbered, Cap.”
He shook his head, “We talked about it some more. She knows she’s better off here, Veth. It won’t happen again.”
Ri said, “But that nice lady brought over all those things and your replicator’s fixed and…”
“Ri, you’ve seen how I live, I barely pay attention to my own needs. I’ve got a nasty temper, my neighbors are scared of me…”
“Not the pretty one who fixed the replicator!”
Veth said, “What’s this?”
“Veth, don’t start. She’s got a mate, it’s not like that.”
“And there was that lady at the beach!”
“Ri, shush.”
Veth laughed, “Cap, you turning into a ladies man?”
“Don’t make me kill you, Veth.” Ri was surprised at the comment, but everything she could see and smell said that it was a joke, and it looked like Veth was taking it that way.
“You couldn’t if you tried, Cap. You’re getting old, after all.” But he was smiling. “Hey Cap, can we go talk a minute?” The two left S’eth and Ri together to share the story of Ri’s adventure. When they had stepped outside, he continued, “Cap, you sure this is really the way to go?”
“What do you mean? Was she causing problems?”
He shook his head, “No, she’s really good. Especially for someone her age. Hell, I’m hoping she’s a good influence on S’eth! They really seem to be close friends already. Feros adores her and she seems to really like us.”
“So, what’s the hang up? Looks like a perfect fit to me.”
“The hang up is you Cap.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t just assign a kit to a family like she’s a troop you’re moving to a new unit. She has to want to be there and they have to want her there. If you just dump her, it’s going to really mess her up, make her feel unwanted, and unloved and isolated. That kit thinks you are just shy of a god. She told S’eth and Feros both how you saved her and pretty much every single thing you’ve ever said or done.
“She is sure that she wants to grow up to be just like you in every way. My kit sees me that way. Ri likes me, she likes all of us. She loves you, Cap.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not really mutual. Veth, you know me, can you honestly say you can see me raising a kit? I have no idea what to do. Hell, I forgot to feed her! I don’t know a damn thing about raising a kit and I’m not interested in learning.”
Veth studied his CO. “Not so sure about that being mutual or not, Cap. And it’s not that hard to raise one, at least if you’re willing to take a little help now and again.”
“I don’t need any help, Veth, and I don’t need a kit. What I need is to get back to my place and get back to work without all the distractions.” He raised his hand to forestall further objections. “Don’t make me into something I’m not.”
“Everyone needs to change sometimes, Cap. If you stop changing, you’ve died.”
“You make a lousy philosopher, Veth. Stick to blowing things up. Listen, I’m gonna head back before this storm rolls in.” He looked up at the black clouds filling the sky. “Gotta love winter weather. Gonna be cold and nasty tonight.”

* * *
Finally! He thought to himself that evening as he worked. There had been entirely too much socializing the past couple of days. But now, it was peaceful and quiet and comfortable. He knocked out the remainder of his backlogged work and decided it was time for some chow.
He stood up and walked over to the now-working replicator. He glared at it for a moment and got out another set of field rats. Stupid gadget anyway. He sat down where he could look out the window at the storm and chewed the dried meat thoughtfully. Maybe Veth was right about that whole change thing. He’d been in the field longer than any other Raider. Maybe it was time to take that promotion. He’d be in charge of three teams and have a lot of input into operations and training.
Looking down at his leg he remembered that fight with the young Cardassian who had almost killed him. He had been so damn young. Things weren’t healing anywhere near as fast as they used to, and he couldn’t recover from extended runs or field ops like he used to either. And it started hurting a lot more, a lot faster. He rubbed along the side of his knee. Doc had said that it would heal up fine, but he was starting to wonder about that. It still hurt all the time and wounds never used to do that.
Could he really leave his team? Well, Strike was talking about retiring. And Veth was getting up there too, at least as far as any normal scale went. Then he could find a mate, have some kits, settle down, and Mom and Dad would be happy. He laughed at the image of himself in some scene of domesticated bliss. He simply didn’t fit in that sort of tableau, unless it was a surrealist painting. Like a narak in a nursery.
He stood up, stretched and yawned. There was a cold breeze coming in the open window, so he slid it closed and began to get ready to sleep. At least today he had remembered to put away all of Ri’s things. He guessed it made sense to at least keep them here so that she could come and visit occasionally. She really was a good little kit.
He laid down and was almost instantly asleep, listening to the wind and the rain lash the roundhouse’s deep windows.

* * *
Gul Kalekt was not enjoying this particular mission. Dosadi weather stank and the civilians moved about everywhere at all hours of the day and night. At least cover was easily available and the Dosadi lack of exterior artificial lighting made that even easier. But any motion required extreme care – Dosadi noses, eyes, and ears were very sensitive. But they had finally managed to get a remote sensor aimed at the Dosadi Imperial Fleet HQ building and well concealed. They were now creeping back towards the hide they had prepared. They would set sensors on other buildings in the coming days, and then collect them in turn before they headed home. Not many people in the entire galaxy knew that the Cardassians could penetrate building sensor-shields and he intended to keep that secret intact.
Thankfully, the layout of the Dosadi city allowed them to have a hide virtually in the middle of town. As long as no one decided to come traipsing through the middle of the woods, they were fine. The lead scout held his hand up again and everyone dropped into concealment. Kalekt tried not to sigh. It was after midnight, there was a strong wind and freezing rain. These people were insane to be out in this crap. If they had any sense at all they would be inside, warm and dry with something to drink.
He looked where the scout had indicated and had a hard time seeing anyone or anything. Finally he saw a small, very dark shape slipping down the path. That was strange. His enhancers finally resolved the image – it was a child, all black, and struggling to make progress in the rain and the mud. The entire species was nuts. They laid still, their weapons tracking on the idiot child as it slipped and slid past them, continuing wherever it was these people went in the middle of the night.
After it had gone, they resumed their own journey. At least the hide had some protection from the wind and rain.

* * *
When the door to his house started to slide open again, Corin sat up, shocked. There was no way…But sure enough, finally struggling through was little Rileeta, soaked to the skin, muddy, and shaking so badly she could barely make the door work. “What the hell?” he stood up and walked towards the girl. “What are you doing here, Ri? You’re freezing!”
Shaking, her teeth chattering and trying not to cry she stuttered out “I..I..m..m..s…s..sorry! I w..w..anna s..s..staay hhheere.”
“Ri, we gotta get you warmed up, let’s get you in the shower before you turn into an iceetreat.” He picked the shivering child up and carried her to the fresher. Turning the water on to luke-warm, he said, “Get those soaking wet things off.” but she was shaking so badly he had to help her, finally lifting her into the warm water shower. After a few moments she wasn’t shaking as badly but was obviously still waiting for him to yell at her.
“You’re crazy, Ri.” he said gently. “Here, let’s get that mud off of you too.” he handed her a scrubber and a bottle of soap. “Let me get you something to sleep in, we can’t take you back to Veth’s in this weather.” and he left the fresher.
Fifteen minutes later, she came out wrapped in a towel, and looking very meek. He handed her the fuzzy warm sleeping shirt that his neighbor had given him and looked at her sternly. “Ri. Why did you go out in this mess? You could have frozen to death you know.”
She didn’t say anything, looking down at her feet while she put the shirt on.
He just shook his head. “Let’s talk about it in the morning. You’ve gotta be exhausted.” He went back to his favorite spot and she crawled in after him, curling up next to him again, holding onto his arm.
“Please don’t make me leave.” she whispered.
“Ri, why? You know you’re better off there. We’ve talked about this.”
“No, you talked. You didn’t listen to me. You just wanted to get rid of me.”
“That’s not true and you know it. I just don’t understand why you want to stay here? It doesn’t make any sense. What’s here that’s not there? They’ve got…”
“You.”
He laughed, “Ri, I’m not that loveable and I’m a lousy parent.”
“I want to stay with you.”
“Are you going to sneak back here every time I take you home?”
“This is home.” she said stubbornly.
“Are you? That’s not very nice to Veth and Feros and S’eth.”
“S’eth helps me. She’s my friend. She thinks I should stay with you too.”
“She’s going to get in trouble for that again.”
“She knows. She doesn’t care.”
He blinked. “What do you mean she doesn’t care?”
“She says it’s the right thing to do and her dad says you should always do the right thing even if you get in trouble.”
“Well yes, but this isn’t the right thing.”
“Veth thinks I should stay here too.”
“What?! He didn’t tell you that!”
“No, we heard him and Feros talking. Everyone thinks I should stay here. They think you’re wrong.”
Corin shook his head. Outnumbered indeed. “So you’re gonna keep sneaking back here.”
“Yes.” she held his arm tightly.
“I guess the only way you’re gonna learn how bad an idea that is will be for you to stay for a few days then. You’re going to hate it and you’re going to end up hating me too. I don’t know how to take care of a kit.”
She turned her head over her shoulder and looked up at him, hope in her eyes. “I can stay? You promise? I won’t bother you or be bad or anything!”
“For a few days, anyway, Ri. Until you get tired of it and want to go home.”
She rolled over and wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face in his side.
He squeezed her back and said, “Ri, you are nuts. Let’s get some sleep – PT in the morning!”

* * *
The following morning Yun was at the beach again, watching their workout and the sun rise. When they came out of the water, she came sauntering over. “Do you teach anyone how to do that slow moving thing?”
“Tai Chi!” Ri supplied helpfully.
“Uh, I guess if you want to learn I can. I’m a little surprised you want to learn a military exercise though.”
“I like learning new things.” she smiled at them both. “And it doesn’t look terribly violent, moving so slowly.”
Corin relaxed a little bit, “Well, I don’t usually like killing before breakfast. That’s more of an afternoon thing.”
Yun laughed, “Well, it’s important to keep a schedule. Are you going to be bringing her out here every morning? I hadn’t seen anyone on this beach for the last month. I thought it was my little secret.”
“Well, at least until she gets tired of it. Looks like she’ll be staying with me for a little while – and this used to be my secret spot.”
“Loner, huh?”
“Anyway, let me show you how to breathe first, then we’ll get to how to stand and how to move. It’s all about control, and calmness and smooth movements…”
When they had finished, Yun said, “That’s a lot harder than it looks!” They sat down on the soft sand and watched Ri scamper about. Even with the colder winter temperatures, the weather was fine this morning, the rain washed sky a clear, pale blue.
Corin grinned, “Isn’t it amazing how hard it is to move slowly? Seems like it would be easier than running or punching, doesn’t it?”
“You seem really nice. Why are you in the military?”
Corin took offense, “What, nice people can’t be in the military?”
“I’m sorry, that sounded rude – I just meant you’re not what I expected from a Soldier, especially not a Raider. I’ve heard…I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be nasty.”
“What have you heard?” he demanded.
“Look, I really am sorry. You’re really the first Soldier I’ve ever talked to. In C’orlean, we spend more time on art and poetry and philosophy.”
“It’s fine.” except it was clear it wasn’t fine. “There are a lot of stories that go around, they’re usually crap. Which ones did you hear?”
She really wanted to change the topic, but had trapped herself. “Well, that the Raiders weren’t um, very nice. That they’re mostly bullies and killers.”
Corin clamped his jaws together. He sighed, “I’ve heard that one before too. We’re not what people say we are. We’re not pirates, we’re not murderers, we’re not crazy, we’re not bullies. We’re just very, very good at doing what needs to be done. We pay the price so that you folks don’t have to and get to be philosophers and artists and call us bullies and crazy.”
“But we aren’t at war with anyone are we? No one is trying to invade Dosad or anything like that.”
“You might be surprised what is going on out there that you never hear about. The Emperor doesn’t publicize everything that happens.”
She decided this was a good time to change the subject, “No, I suppose he doesn’t. Are you going to go to the memorial games next month? They were always huge back home.”
Ri had been splashing about in the waves and playing in the sand. Corin looked over at her, “Yes. There are a lot of people I want to remember, and see remembered by others. And there’s a man I don’t know whom I need to honor. It’s important. How about you?”
“I always go. I did even before I lost my mate, I think it’s important to remember people, to share their stories.”
“Is that why you moved here? Did he just die recently?”
She looked down, “It feels like it. But no, it was twenty years ago. I just can’t let him go yet. I thought if I went someplace totally different, maybe I’d be able to.” Dosadi mate for life, and it wasn’t uncommon for the surviving member of a broken pair to lose themselves in grief. Usually their close friends would pull them through and help them to find someone new, but that wasn’t always possible. Sometimes they would just give up on themselves, sometimes they would just stay alone, but remain within their circles of friends. Occasionally, like Yun, they would try to restart their lives by going someplace totally new.
“What was he like?”
She smiled. “He was so gentle. He was an artist – he was brilliant, a glass-painter. His works are almost magical.” Glass painting was a Dosadi art form but not one that had achieved wide popularity in the galaxy. It wasn’t images painted on glass, it was images painted with glass. Faint tints and changes in the material allowed the artist to create a single flat pane with images built into the glass. In many ways it resembled stained glass but with a fluidity and level of detail that stained glass could never achieve. In addition the degree of opacity and polarity could be tightly controlled so that in the finest works, the image could only be seen by looking at a particular angle and in all other respects the glass appeared clear.
“I’ve only seen a few of those,” Corin admitted, “But they’re spectacular. I’ve seen one that just lit up when the sun shone through it. Always looked like magic to me.”
She stood up and brushed the sand off her fur. “I need to get going…Maybe I’ll show you one some day. I kept a couple of his pieces when I moved.” She smiled down at him. “Good luck with your kit.” She turned to leave, this time brushing her tail under his chin. “Bye!”
Corin watched her walk away across the beach. He couldn’t decide if she was more irritating or interesting. Come to think of it, it had been a long while since he found someone interesting. And why was she bothering to talk to him? She couldn’t be that interested in learning Tai Chi. But she couldn’t be interested in him. Soldiers were clearly not high on her list at all. Maybe she just wanted to be around a kit; a lot of childless females seemed to like other people’s kits. He noticed Ri had been asking him something. “Sorry, what?”
“Is she going to come back tomorrow, too?”
“I think so. I’m not sure.”
“I hope so. She’s nice.”
Corin laughed, “Well, she sure doesn’t think much of what I do. But we should head home and get some chow – no more field rats for you!”
“Yaaay!” she helped haul him to his feet and they headed home.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI FRIGATE ISS SANGET, IN ORBIT OVER DOSAD
MARCH, 2310
Nelson looked down from the open bay at the back of the frigate. They had let him have his sensor-glasses back for this, at least. The training had been very thorough. He’d done half a dozen simulated drops. He could do this. But as he watched the green and blue ball turning below him, an icy river of fear was dropping down his back.
His instructor asked him, “Well? Are you going to jump or admire the view for a while longer?”
Wilkes laughed, “Give him a second. Humans have a much stronger fear of heights than Dosadi do. He’ll get there.”
Nelson looked at the older man gratefully. Despite a somewhat rocky start, he was growing to like and respect him. He was afraid it was going to tint his reporting on him and his strange family. He looked back down, trying to find his courage.
“Think of the story you’ll be able to tell with the clips from this, and from the real drop, Nelson. You’ll be the first reporter ever with a combat drop. But you’ve gotta get through this first.”
He closed his eyes, flexed his knees and dove off the edge of the deck, leaving the gravity field of the frigate and falling freely. The com system in the bay broadcast his voice for several seconds: “HHHHOOOOOOOLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYY FFFUUCCCKIINNGGG SSSSHHHHHHHIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!”
Wilkes laughed again, turning to the instructor and asking, “Not quite ‘Geronimo’, was it?”
The old Force Leader looked puzzled. “Geronimo?”
“Never mind. Ancient Earth history. Make sure you keep a tape of that, I’m gonna wanna play that when he gets back on the ground.” They watched him tracking straight down into the thickening atmosphere, clean and true.

* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MARCH, 2310
Kalekt and his team were nearly ready to go home from this miserable world with it’s too-bright yellow-white sun, it’s freezing cold temperatures and constant rain. With it’s insane populace who wandered everywhere, seemingly without rhyme or reason, straying from paths into the forest on a whim at all hours of the day and night. But they had made it through and had collected a staggering amount of intelligence. All their remote sensors but one had been collected and they were slowly moving towards that one. They should have it tonight, then one more night in their hide and they could board the lighter for the Orion freighter that would take them home.

* * *
Every two years the different Dosadi districts put on a festival of remembrance called Mirru’chev Spelar’t  – or memorial games. Part multi-state state fair, part ceremony, part music festival, part athletic competition they were always something special. Beyond remembering those who had died in the past, they allowed people to meet those from other social circles. Many young people found their mates at a memorial games and many other people formed friendships that broadened their own web of friends. It was a peculiarity of Dosadi culture that remembering the dead turned into such a celebration of life, and all that was good about being alive.
They lasted for seven days and no two were alike. You could walk from one end of the games to the other and pass groups of people competing in sport, in one-on-one combat, or simply telling the stories of friends, comrades, and loved ones who were no longer able to tell their own tale. Then you might pass a group of bards competing for the adulation of crowds, or a solemn dedication to the gods, or places to enjoy food or drink, or to trade for works of art.
Tonight was the first night of T’Elesh’s memorial games and Corin was hurrying little Ri along. The list of friends he wanted to share stories about was long, and this year he needed to be sure to tell the tale of the old man who had saved his life. It had been his tradition for many years, on the first night, to raise a glass for each story he had to tell on later nights. Despite the festive atmosphere of the games, the memories of the men and women he had led to their deaths, or who had failed to come home from their own missions put him in a somber mood and tended to make him more isolated than usual. He glanced up at the sky. With any luck it wouldn’t rain tonight.
Ri could tell that he was in a different mood from what she had seen before and it made her nervous. She was excited to see the games though – Eletha was too raw, too new, to do much in the way of a memorial and she had been too young to really pay attention to the one she had gone to there. There were lights visible in the deepening twilight though, and music and there were already all sorts of interesting smells coming down on the breeze as Corin led them along the path. She thought he looked very handsome in his Raider uniform and hoped that Yun would be there to see him. She was nice and she was just perfect for him to make friends with. She was lonely too.
Finally they arrived in the big, open green that was clustered with raised platforms, tents, rings, and places to sit. And everywhere were people. More people than she had ever seen before! Right in the front was a pair of bards and people playing instruments, evidently having a musical fight. The far group was playing a fast-moving old tune about a battle in Dosadi’s ancient history and the crowd was loving it.
Corin laughed and said, “I might’ve known. Look, Ri! That’s my sister, Nollos!”
“Huh? Who? Where?”
He pointed at the woman standing on the platform watching the other band. He worked his way towards the front of the crowd and caught her eye. Her face lit up with a feral grin and she said something to her teammates who began putting down Dosadi instruments and picking up strange looking Earth instruments instead.
“You’re just what I needed, Corin! They wanna step it up, fine, we’ll step it up! Come with me.” She began to drag him towards the platform.
“Hey, wait a second, I don’t wanna go up there!”
“Don’t be silly, you’ll love it. C’mon!” Ri giggled as the woman pulled on his arm, forcing him to follow along. Nollos whispered to him, “This is one of our most popular songs, you don’t have to do anything, OK? Just stand there. The crowd will love it! We’ll crush those guys over there!”
“Nollos, I really am not the type…I don’t want to…” but she shushed him as the other team finished their tune to the loud cheers of the crowd. After they settled down, they turned back to Nollos and her team, many of the fans wondering what the instruments they were holding were. She had become quite popular across Dosad but that didn’t mean everyone knew that much about her or her music and stories.
She spoke, her voice going husky, the throat mic sending her voice out across the crowd. “This is an old tune from Earth that my sister found for me! I think you’ll like it – it’s about WHISKEY!” The crowd cheered and she said, “Well, there’s whiskey in the chorus anyway.” and they laughed along with her. The musicians started to play and the strange sounds of an electric guitar and human drums and cymbals began to blast across the crowd.
As I was goin’ over the high Dosadi Mountains
she moved behind Corin so the people in front couldn’t see her.
I saw Captain Corin and his money, he was countin’
and she peeked her head out over his shoulder to the cheers of the crowd. It wasn’t often a Raider got fun poked at him.
I first produced my pistol
She reached into his sash and pulled out a small phaser, despite his attempt to grab her wrist, the crowd roaring with approval.
and then produced my rapier
Her other hand came up with a traditional Dosadi flat-bladed knife from his boot, brandishing them high as she stepped out beside him, pretending to ‘cover’ him with his own weapons.
I said, “Stand and deliver or Loreth she may take ya”
She smoothly pocketed his weapons and whipped his sash off, with a look of triumph. Corin’s hands went to his waist and he wondered when his sister became a pick-pocket, while the crowd cheered her dexterity and audacity.
I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny
I took all of his money, yeah,
She jumped off the stage, landing next to a man and his mate and child, sidling up to him with a big smile while she sang.
and I brought it home to my mate.
He swore that he loved me, no, never would he leave me
But Loreth take that old man, yeah, for you know he tricked me easy
She pushed at his chest and he stepped back while his friends clapped him on the back and cheered.
Musha rain dum a doo, dum a da
Drink for my daddy, oh
Drink for my daddy, oh
There’s whiskey in the jar, oh
She took hold of the man’s arm and dragged him towards the stage.
Being drunk and weary I went to my love’s chamber
Takin’ my mate with me but I never knew the danger
Leaving him, she jumped nimbly up on the stage, her voice never missing a beat.
For about six or maybe seven, yeah,
She pointed at Corin,
in walked Captain Corin!
There were a few good-natured boos and hisses amid the cheers.
I jumped up, fired my pistols and I shot him with both barrels
She waved the phaser in Corin’s direction without ever pointing it at him and the crowd cheered again.
Yeah, musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, ha, yeah
Drink for my daddy, oh
Drink for my daddy, oh
There’s whiskey in the jar, oh
Yeah, whiskey, yo, whiskey Oh, oh, yeah Oh, oh, yeah
By now, people were singing along with the chorus and she jumped back down to the ground again, moving from one man to the next and stroking their faces while she sang and the band sent the driving beat across the crowd.
Now some men like a fishin’
but some men like the fowlin’
She came to a uniformed Soldier and poked him on the chest.
Some men like to hear, to hear the cannonball roarin’
A number of his fellow troops cheered loudly.
But me, I like sleepin’,
With a big smile and an exaggerated wiggle to her hips she quickly walked back to her original victim,
‘specially in my lover’s chamber
and then jumped back onto the platform, wrapping Corin’s sash around her wrists.
But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain, yeah
Musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, heh, heh
Drink for my daddy, oh
Drink for my daddy, oh
There’s whiskey in the jar, oh, yeah Whiskey in the jar, oh
Musha rain dum a doo, dum a da
Musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, hey
Musha rain dum a doo, dum a da
Musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, yeah
The strains of music faded away the crowd roared for more. She hugged Corin tight to more cheers and handed him back the things she had stolen from him. She whispered to him, “That was perfect, Corin! Thank you!” and gave him a quick Dosadi kiss.
Ri was delighted and raced up onto the platform to hug Corin and Nollos, shocked, said, “Who’s this?!”
The other band had evidently elected to try things a bit slower and was playing a softer ballad this time.
“This is Rileeta, I’m sort of responsible for her, I guess.” he explained as he tried to put his uniform back together.
“He saved me!” she volunteered.
“YOU’RE taking care of a kit?” she checked his nose with the back of her hand, “Are you feeling OK, big brother? You’re not planning on turning her into an assassin or something are you?” she teased.
He shot her a disgusted look, “No, not this week anyway. Check back with me next week. Where did that song come from?”
She smiled, “Heather found it for me. It’s really popular, but this is the first time I’ve been able to really get the crowd involved. It took the guys forever to learn how to play those weird old Earth instruments but it’s such a totally different sound people really love it.”
He waved at his sister’s teammates who were busily switching back to other instruments “Hey guys!”
“Never thought I’d see you with a kit, Corin!” the man who had been playing guitar said.
“Yeah, me either.” he agreed with a laugh.
“Hey, we gotta do the next song, are you going to be at mom and dad’s later?”
“I dunno, maybe tomorrow. I need to take care of some remembrances tonight.”
She frowned, “Corin, you drink too much when you do that.” She pointed at Ri,  “You can’t do that with her. You’re a rotten drunk.”
He started heading off the platform with Ri tagging along, “I’ll figure it out, Nollos. You worry about me too much.”
“And you don’t enough. It averages out. Thanks for helping me.”
They left, Ri holding his hand, but looking over her shoulder at the musicians. He started making his way through the crowd but heard her begin, “Okay, instead of a ballad, I’m going to tell a story! A heroic story of three hundred warriors facing down a million foes!” The band started playing a soft accompaniment on the Dosadi version of a bagpipe, the trusk.

* * *
Nelson was enthralled. “That’s your daughter?”
Wilkes and Sooth were standing with him at the back of the crowd, holding hands. She said, with all a mother’s pride, “Yes. Doesn’t she sing wonderfully? Wait’ll you hear her tell a story! She can use her voice to really make it come alive.”
“It’s amazing. And I can’t believe she did that to Corin! I thought he was going to flip out!”
Wilkes said, “Yeah, I’m more than a little surprised myself. She made it work though.” He thought for a moment, “Nelson, you’re going to want to steer very clear of Corin tonight, OK?”
“I hadn’t planned on looking him up, but why?”
He frowned. “He’ll be drinking a lot tonight. He’s a mean drunk.”
“If it’s OK with you two then, I’ll stay right close to you. Any chance you can introduce me to your daughter? I hadn’t been able to find much on her in my research.”
Sooth smiled, “She’ll be staying with us tonight. It’ll be really late before everyone heads home tonight, but she’ll be there in the morning too. Things usually don’t really get started until around ten or eleven after the first night.”

* * *
Corin and Ri hadn’t gone more than a hundred meters before Yun caught up to them. “So, you’re an entertainer too?”
He laughed, “No, that’s my sister. I didn’t know she was going to drag me up there like that.”
“That’s you’re sister? I’ve heard of her. She’s quite the bard. I’ve got some of her stuff at home. I had no idea you had someone some famous in your family.”
“I’m not really used to it either.” he admitted.
Ri reached up and took both adult’s hands as they walked along.
“So, any other famous people hiding out in there?” she smiled at him.
He thought she had a nice smile. Friendly, even if she did think he was some sort of psychotic killer. “Not really. There’s four of us…”
“Four? Big family. Um. Can I ask a personal question?”
“Sure, I guess. I may not answer it though.” he cautioned.
“You look…a little…different.”
He sighed. “You know that’s my sister, but you don’t know why we look different?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever read why she looks like she does. I just assumed she had herself made to look different so she stood out from the other bards. And it works! I never connected that to how you look. She’s marked differently than you too.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, we’re all different. Our father is human.”
She was clearly shocked. “Really? I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“It’s not, really. We’re…” he sighed again. “We were put together in a lab by a mad scientist on Earth. There was only supposed to be one of us, but all four eggs turned out to be viable, much to his surprise.”
“Mad scientist?”
“Sorry, old joke. He was a brilliant man, but I think he was more than a little nuts. It’s not exactly a hybrid you’d think of, you know?”
The walked on for a little bit. “So you’ve got another two siblings?”
“Yup. Another sister who’s in Starfleet and a brother who’s a farmer on Earth. Nothing terribly weird.”
“I had no idea. I’m sorry if that was a rude question.”
“Nah, I’m used to it.”
Ri chimed in, “His parents are really nice and his mom’s got really pretty blue eyes and his dad’s pink because he’s a human!”
“Well! Imagine that!” She squeezed Ri’s hand.
Corin finally found the tent he was looking for. “Would you two do me a favor?”
Yun asked, “What is it?”
“This is something of a tradition for me, every memorial, I drink a glass of whiskey for each of my friends and teammates who didn’t make it home. It’s my way of remembering them and sharing something for them that they can’t do any more.”
She looked at him, “That’s got to be a lot of whiskey if half the stories I’ve heard are true.”
“About Raiders?”
“No, about you.”
“ME?” He was a little surprised. “How did you hear stories about me?”
“I asked.” she laughed at his expression. “It’s pretty normal, really, Corin.”
“Yeah, but how would you feel if I asked people about you?”
“Feel free.” she smiled smugly. “No one here really knows me yet.”
“That’s cheating.”
“Oh well.” she smirked. “So let me guess, you want Ri and me to go and find something else to do while you drink for your missing friends?”
“Would that be OK? Ri? I’m not going to be any fun to be around for the next couple of hours, I’m just going to sit here drinking stuff that smells awful and remembering people you’ve never even heard of.”
She pouted. “I bet you’d have more fun if you went and looked around with us.”
“I’m sure I would Ri. But I need to do this for my friends who aren’t here any more. It’s a tradition.”
Yun gave her arm a little shake. “Come on, Ri, it’ll be fun just you and me. We can go see all sorts of fun things and then come back and get your fath…Corin.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Yun. I really didn’t know how I was going to do this – I was really glad to see you.”
She smiled at him again, “Just remember, you owe me now.” And led little Ri off into the games.
Corin headed into the tent and got a bottle of green Dosadi whiskey and as he always did, began to drink a glass for each and every one of his friends and comrades who weren’t around to drink their own whiskey any more. This year, he started with one for the old man on Eletha who’s name he still didn’t know.
As he drank, he became more and more depressed. He’d raise the glass and say a name, remember the person while admiring the color, and then swiftly drink it down. Every memorial, it took longer to get through the names. Every time, it got harder to keep from just smashing the table. So many of them died pointlessly. Accidents or bad luck or on missions that were a complete waste of time and effort. So many had left behind mates and kits and all of them left behind friends and loved ones that he could no longer bear to face.
Also as he drank, people gave his table a wider and wider berth. The Raider uniform was one thing, but the dark expression on the face of the scarred, strange-looking man slamming down the whiskey was more than enough reason to find somewhere else to be.
How many of those had died because of his orders? Because of his stupidity, or lack of strength, or speed, or skill, or awareness? How many because he was too fucking dumb to say no to one mission or another? How many had died so that he and the rest of the team could go home instead of them? How many because he didn’t train them properly, or because he didn’t make the risks clear or remind them of some failure of attention? How many because he wasn’t there? There were so many faces.
And then there were the faces of the people he had killed with his own hand. Shooting someone in combat was one thing. But he had used a knife, or a garrote, or other special equipment more times than he wanted to count. And their faces just wouldn’t go away. It was easier to keep them quiet when he was busy, or working out. But when he drank, it was as though all his mental discipline went away. It was one reason he didn’t drink often. It let them out. And they just wouldn’t go away. Each of them demanded remembrance as much as his teammates did.
It was as though they said that it was such a small thing; he had ended their stories so it was up to him to at least remember them, to carry them with him. Such a small thing to ask, wasn’t it? To simply remember a face every couple of years? There was a young Antican face that stared at him with empty eyes. And a promising young Cardassian warrior. Probably neither of them had mates. Hell, they had probably never even kissed a girl. Those were new ones. Hadn’t had time to get used to those two yet.
He shook his head and the vision cleared to be Yun’s concerned face and Ri’s bright green eyes peering at him, her head barely above the table top.  Yun asked, “Corin? Are you OK?”
“Course I’m OK.” he snapped, angry at being surprised.
She lifted up the empty bottle. “Did you drink all of this by yourself? In just the last couple of hours?”
“Hours?” It hadn’t been hours. Damn woman was nuts. “What’s it to you? It was mine to drink. I like whiskey.”
She was surprised. So was Ri. “I was just worried, that’s a lot of…”
“Stop worrying about me. Everyone needs to fucking stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”
Ri’s ears were back, her eyes wide. This was scary. “Corin?” she asked in a tiny little voice.
“You need to figure out I’m not some hero, I’m not what you think I am. I kill people. It’s what I do. I’m fucking dangerous.”
“I…I…didn’t…” she blinked back tears.
Yun took her hand. “Ri, he didn’t mean it. He’s drunk. He didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. We need to go and come back later on.”
He tried to pour another glass from the empty bottle. “Maybe if everyone just left me the hell alone I wouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Ya think?” He watched them walk away.
How long had he been staring at that damn empty bottle? Maybe get another one? No, he finally decided. He should probably go…somewhere. Not home. There was something awful at home. He wasn’t too clear on what that was right now. Too many other things yammering in his head for attention. He’d figure it out later. He stood up and made his way out of the tent.
It had always been a point of pride for him that no matter how hammered he got, it never affected his balance or coordination. And in truth, it had been some time since he had his last shot. Time got goofy when he drank though. It was late, he knew that, but he wasn’t too sure how late. He had left his chrono at home, like an idiot. Forgetting equipment now; That was a sure sign he shouldn’t be going into the field any more. Or maybe he should. That was one way to shut the damn voices up. Maybe find some useful way to not come home again.
He shouldered his way between two people who were walking towards him like they owned the damn path, hearing their loud ‘oofs’ as they bounced off him. He was just going to keep walking but he heard one of them say,
“Hey! You owe us an apology! You don’t just smash into people like that!”
He turned around, angry, and heard the other one, maybe his mate, say “Shhh! Don’t start…”
“You got something you want to say to me?” He stepped towards the male. He was small, slightly pudgy, and wore glasses; an odd affectation in this day and age. He looked meek. His mate was overweight and smelled frightened.
The little man swallowed and looked up at Corin, the white of his shirt bright in the darkness. “Yes. You ran into us. You owe us an apology.”
She tried to pull her mate away again, “Don’t, he’s one of those Raiders. Don’t make him mad…” But he pulled his shoulder out from under her hand.
“No. He’s wrong. I’m not going to just let him do whatever he wants because he’s bigger or crazy or whatever. He needs to do the right thing.”
They were attracting a small crowd.
“You ran into me little man. Next time you need to watch where you’re going. So you might want to listen to whoever that is before I have to teach you a lesson.”
She was frantically trying to get her mate to walk away.
“We did not. Everyone saw it.” He swallowed again. “Either apologize or…or…I’ll make you apologize.”
Corin laughed. “Seriously? You want to challenge me?” It would be fun to take this little mouse and make him understand his place in the world.
“If you don’t apologize, yes.” There were a few murmurs from the crowd. Corin wasn’t paying all that much attention. The man’s mate was almost in tears.
“No, no he’s not serious. He’s just had a bad day. We’ll go.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Corin said. “There’s a ring right over there, let’s go and you can ‘make me’.”
In the few minutes it took them to get to the ring and strip down for the challenge, Corin’s brain had cleared slightly. As he took his place in the ring, he noticed that there didn’t really seem to be anyone cheering for him. In fact, there were likely to be a few more challengers after he finished little mousey-man. What the hell was wrong with these people?
The little man entered the ring and looked at Corin. He smelled absolutely terrified. His mate was in tears and his friends’ faces were grim. He said, “Are you going to apologize?”
Corin snorted. “For what?”
“For running into us. For being rude. Just because you’re some super duper killer type doesn’t mean you get to be a bully to everyone else. You’re supposed to do the right thing. You’re supposed to be someone people can look up to, not someone everyone’s afraid of.”
Corin was stunned. “I’m not a bully.”
“You are too. Fine. You won’t apologize. Let’s fight then!” he took up a rather clumsy stance and began to slowly advance on Corin.
It would take about three seconds to absolutely destroy this man. He had no idea what he was doing.
Corin watched him move cautiously closer. He hadn’t even taken his own stance. Bully? He wasn’t a bully. He defended these people. He protected them.
How much courage did it take for this weak little clerk to challenge him?
The man paused. “Well? Are you going to fight or just stand there?”
If he protected them, then what was he doing about to break some poor little man into pieces? He looked over at his opponent’s mate. She had both her hands over her mouth. Did it take any courage for him to step into the ring with someone who had no chance at all? To pick a fight just because he wanted to break something?
He was in the wrong. What he was doing was wrong. The little man punched Corin across the face.
“Fight!” he shouted. Corin had barely noticed the blow. It lacked power and he had probably done more damage to his hand than to Corin’s jaw. He punched again, hitting Corin in the belly with almost no noticeable effect.
“I’m sorry.” Corin said.
“What?” the man stepped back, his guard still up.
“You’re right. I was wrong.”
The shock was obvious. “Are you going to apologize? I’ll hit you again if I have to!”
Corin hung his head, ashamed. “Yes. I apologize to you and to your mate for running into you, and for being rude. I’m sorry. I was…I mean I had been…I’m sorry. I have no excuse.”
Stunned, he said, “Well. OK then. I misjudged you.” He reached his hand up to Corin’s broad, scarred shoulder. After a moment, Corin did the same, ending the match. The man’s mate pounced on him in a second, never doubting her mate’s courage or asking more of him than he could give. His friends cheered and hoisted him up with a laugh, carrying him off.
Corin thought that that man would get his first honor tattoo before he left the games tonight. Maybe his being such a despicable ass wasn’t all bad. He sat down in the ring, alone, and wondered what the hell was wrong with himself.

* * *
At least it wasn’t raining, Kalekt thought to himself as his team crept back towards the hide. They had managed to collect the last remote sensor and it was mission accomplished. But there was some sort of festival going on that brought the civilians out in droves. They were everywhere. Getting back to their hide meant they would have to cut entirely too close to the big green that was the center of activity, and to a path they had been up and down too often for his comfort.
Using hand signals he ordered the team to cross the path, one at a time. They were half-way through the crossing when their luck turned.  The man dashing across caught his foot on a root at the same time a child ran around a corner of the path and she saw something fall.
Everyone on the team froze in place. The child came scampering up, her parents strolling around the same corner perhaps 20 meters away. The only sensible thing to do was shoot all three of them immediately. As Kalekt brought his sights to bear on the little girl, he hesitated, his thoughts going back to his own daughter. Maybe she would keep going, but no, she was crouching down to look at the trooper in his ghillie suit, suddenly seeing a man.
With a child’s terrified shriek they were undone.
The male came rushing forward and there was nothing else to do. Two phaser shots screamed into the night, dropping the adults as they hurried forward, but the damage was done. Yelling ‘MOVE!’ to his team, he saw another male ducking behind a tree further down the path. And he had a communicator.
Alert sirens began to wail as they ran and artificial lights clunked on, casting a garish light throughout the forest paths. Perhaps the shadows they created would help. But he could hear the shouts of alarm and anger as people came rushing towards the disturbance. Where the hell did all of these people come from? Didn’t they have someplace to be? What would possess them to charge into the woods after an armed team of Soldiers? Didn’t they have enough common sense to run away from gunfire?
And the damn Dosadi senses were working against him as well. The noise they made running through the forest was helping them to close in on his team. They had to break contact, to get away. He yelled an order that moved his team to a bounding retreat. The first three men stopped and turned, covering their back path and Kalekt sprinted past as a phaser took out a chunk of tree by his head. He dropped to the forest floor.
Turning around he saw his men engaging a ragged skirmish line of Dosadi – and all of them had weapons of one sort or another. What the hell?! Was the entire planet armed? One old man was carrying a spear. There were too many to keep them away. He shook his head and ordered, “BOUND!”
He and his men leapt up and ran to the next line of three troopers who were providing cover fire. When he and his three troopers dropped and turned to fire he noticed that there were only two…There was a loud bang as the missing man’s dead-man switch went off, destroying the secret gear and data rods that he was carrying.

* * *
Yun was still holding Ri’s hand as they walked away from the memorial games. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find Corin, sweetie. I’m sure he’s fine though.”
“Why was he so mad at me?” Yun had managed to distract the child with all the interesting things to see and do at the games, but that had only been putting off the inevitable.
“Oh, Ri, he wasn’t really mad at you. He was drunk. You know what that is, don’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, lots of people on Eletha did that. But he was too mad at me, I smelled it. And he yelled at me.” Her ears, whiskers and tail were all drooping. “Doesn’t he like me any more? Did I do something wrong?”
Yun stopped them and crouched down to talk with the little girl. “Ri, you didn’t do anything. And he does too still like you. I think that’s why he said what he did.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sweetie, his whole life, everything about him is fighting people and hurting people and…”
“He isn’t like that! He saved me!”
“I know, Ri. He’s not a bad man. But he’s a Soldier. They have to do horrible things. And he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. And that scares him and makes him angry because he doesn’t know what to do.”
“What scares him? I didn’t think anything scared him.”
“You do, Ri. I think you absolutely terrify Corin.”
“ME?”
She sat down, tucking her legs under herself. “Yes. Because you are soft, and sweet, and full of life and love and he has no idea what to do with someone like that. He’s trained to be hard, and cold, and full of death and violence.”
“Why would that be scary? Isn’t the other one scary?”
“What we don’t know is scary, Ri. Have you ever heard a scary noise and been really afraid, and then found out it was something silly?”
“Yes, that happens a lot.”
Yun squeezed her hand. “That’s what’s happening to Corin. He loves you and he doesn’t really know how to deal with that. And because he’s afraid, he said mean things. He didn’t mean them.”
Ri thought about that for a while. “Huh.” she finally decided.
Yun stood up, “Do you know how to get home? I’ll walk with you all the way. He’s going to be…Well, he might still be drunk when he gets home, Ri.”
“I know how. I’ll show you!” And she led the way down the path.
Behind them there were some high pitched noises and people shouting.
“What’s all that?” Yun asked. “The games are getting noisy!” Then the town’s alert sirens went off and lights began coming on along the path.
“What’s wrong?” Ri asked, afraid.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been here long enough; do they go off very often?”
“Me either! I don’t know! What do we do? Is that shooting? It doesn’t sound like Corin’s gun.”
“Ri, we need to find someplace to hide. Where’s the nearest house?”
The little girl thought hard. “It’s back the way we came, I think. But that’s towards all the noise!”
“Is it very far?”
“I don’t think so. We can run!” They started off at a lope, but had gone no more than a few paces before Yun twisted her ankle and went down.
“Damn! OW!” She wrapped her hands around her ankle.
Ri was getting scared. The noises were coming closer, and so were the shouts. “Yun! Get up! Please! We need to run!”
She struggled upright, but her left leg wouldn’t bear much weight. “Okay, Ri. We’ll get there. Help me and we’ll make it.” They began hobbling towards a lone, small roundhouse a few dozen meters ahead. There was a man standing in front of it with a phaser in his hand. “Thank the gods. We’ll be fine, Ri.”

* * *
Corin was still sitting in the challenge ring when his ears perked up. Phasers made a sound that was impossible to mistake when they fired. Who the hell was firing off phasers tonight? Idiots.
Then the sirens began to wail. He stood up, seeing the lights going on in the forest and hearing shouts and more phaser fire. Like Soldiers everywhere, he ran to the sound of the guns.

* * *
Kalekt was panting and in pain. Some idiot had actually shot him in the leg with an arrow, getting a phaser to the head for his trouble. An arrow! It was as though his team was trying to fight a rear-guard action against an entire planet of lunatics.  There was only him and Glinn Durel left now and he was wounded as well.
Durel knelt down, grimacing in pain. “There – We can use that house as a bunker. Gotta be better than trying to fight through these damn woods any more. They’re everywhere.”
“Right. OK, you hit the guy with the phaser, then we run for it. I’m out of power.”
“Ready.” Durel’s shot was on target and the two of them jumped up and started to run for the little house across the path. They hadn’t gone more than a couple of meters when another shot came from behind them and Durel was gone as well.
Kalekt was desperate. As he cleared the wood line there were two more Dosadi; a woman and a child. He needed a shield. His knife was out in a flash. The woman said something like “Wait! We can talk…” and then she went down quickly while he grabbed the screaming child and held her in front of himself while he backed through the sliding door into the house, looking at the Dosadi streaming down the path and out of the woods towards him.

* * *
Sooth, Wilkes, and Nelson had come up the path from the main part of town in time to see Kalekt’s last run into the house. All three of them recognized Rileeta immediately.
So had Corin, arriving at a dead run. He skidded up to Yun’s crumpled form, his phaser in hand, covering the doorway while he grabbed her by her trousers and dragged her back. Then Soral was there and he let the medic take charge. Her entire chest was soaked with blood and her eyes were closed. Her mouth was wide open and her tongue had fallen out to one side. He had no idea if she was alive or dead and no time to figure it out.
It took a few minutes for Corin to understand what had happened while he was trying to organize the group around the house. Wilkes and Sooth came over, towing Nelson along. Corin turned to his father, “Captain, you’re the ranking officer, Starfleet or not. How do you want to handle this?”
Wilkes looked at the little house now surrounded by lines of armed Dosadi, many of whom were military, all of whom were armed. “What a mess.”
Kalekt shouted from within the house, in Standard, “I’ve got a hostage and I’ve got a dead-man switch on enough explosives to level the entire house. Don’t be stupid!”
Wilkes said, “Well, so much for rushing him or sniping him. Got any ideas, Commander?”
Corin thought for a few moments. How many times had his team been a heartbeat away from this sort of disaster? How would he have reacted? “I think so. Maybe. Trust me?”
“How drunk are you?”
“Pretty fucking drunk, sir. But I can make it work, I think. I’m responsible for her.”
Wilkes studied his son. The voice from the house called out again, “I just want to leave! Give me safe-passage off planet and I’ll release the child! No one else has to die!”
“All right, Commander. It’s on you.”
Corin looked at Soral and some other medic he didn’t know working on Yun. That was likely to be a good sign. If she was dead, they wouldn’t be so focused on her. He stepped in front of the door to the house. “I am Lieutenant Commander Corin, Dosadi Imperial Navy. Who are you?”
Kalekt peeked through the opening, seeing Corin standing alone and in full view. If he had any charge left in his phaser, he would be an easy shot. Did they know he was empty? No, they were just all insane.
“If you kill me, this entire house will blow up.” he said. “All I want to do is leave.”
“No one will bother you while we talk. You have my word of honor.”
The Cardassian thought that he might be able to talk his way out of this after all. The Dosadi were well known to hold their code of honor above life itself.
“I am Gul Kalekt, Cardassian Union. Are you in a position to negotiate?”
Corin laughed, “Gul Kalekt, no one on this planet is in a position to give you what you want. You will die here. The only question is how many other people will die with you and who they will be. And how you die, of course.”
“I will kill this child.” He pressed his knife into Ri’s throat, making her choke.
“Possibly. And you will die instantly afterward, having accomplished nothing and having dishonored yourself and your family. We are the same, you and I.”
“What? How are we the same?”
“I lead Raider Team Six, Gul Kalekt and like you I have led my men on and off of dozens of planets. I’ve even been on Cardassia Prime twice. I know what it’s like to hide for days in the mud and the muck, praying that no one stumbled on you. My team was more fortunate than yours though. Our luck held.
“You and your men fought bravely tonight. With honor. Would you die with your final act being the murder of a child?”
“Then let me leave!”
Corin shook his head. “No one will allow that, Gul Kalekt. Dosadi are used to death. We would mourn her and remember her and you would achieve nothing at all.”
“It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to achieve anything any other way either!”
“I can offer you a death with honor.”
He snorted. “I see. I just come out and let you kill me. I’ll pass, thank you.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I offer you what I would hope for if I were in your position. A warrior’s death, and my and my team’s bodies being returned home with our story.”
Kalekt watched the odd looking Dosadi. “You would send us home?”
“Yes. Not your equipment, of course. But you and your men’s bodies will be returned to your people, with honor and with the story of how you died. I know what happens to teams that don’t come home, Gul Kalekt. The mission status board gets marked ‘Overdue’, and after a while, some clerk comes along and erases their line and moves their records into a ‘deceased’ file. And no one really knows what happened.
“Come out, and you and I will fight, man to man. If you kill me, there will be others until you are finally slain. But you will have died fighting warriors. Not children. You will have killed, or at least tried to kill, your nation’s enemies. You will die with honor. But make no mistake, you will die tonight, Gul Kalekt. But how you die is entirely up to you.”
The rain that had been threatening all night finally started down. Corin didn’t appear to notice at all while he waited for the Cardassian’s answer.
Kalekt was holding the little girl tightly, his heavy, curved knife pressing against her throat. She had given up struggling. Again, his mind recalled the image of his own child. The thought that he would never see her again was terrible. Would it be better if she at least knew what had happened to her father? He looked out at the Dosadi standing patiently in the rain. What would he do were their positions reversed? If some alien raider were holding his daughter with a knife to her throat, and no way out. He wondered if that man out there had children. Probably not or he wouldn’t be so calm. Were someone holding his daughter hostage, he would be enraged.
He studied Corin again. He was smaller, but held himself with the confidence of someone who was as well trained as Kalekt was. Shorter, less reach. He thought he could take him. He looked down at the child again. It hadn’t really been good odds that this would work anyway. He called out the door, “I have your word on this?”
Corin answered back. “Yes.”
“How do I know the others will do as you say?”
Corin snorted. “No one would break my word for me. But, I will order it right now that if you come out and fight with honor, that you will face us one on one until you die and then your and your men’s bodies will be returned to your people along with the story of what happened.”
Gul Kalekt stood up and set Ri down. She instantly ran out the door and wrapped her arms around Corin’s leg. He walked into the bright rain-splattered glare of the well-lit path and faced him. “She is your child?”
He put his hand on her head. “Yes.”
The two officers looked each other in the eyes for a long time while the rain came down. Kalekt nodded finally and said, “We might have been friends, you and I.”
Corin smiled. “I think so. I wonder how many times throughout the galaxy men like us have met like this and realized we have more in common then not?”
“I have a letter – on my honor it is only a letter – to my wife and daughter. You will see it delivered?”
“The contents, yes. I swear it. Give it to that man there – he is in command of this situation.” He peeled Ri off his leg and pushed her towards Wilkes.
“A human?”
Corin grinned, “Don’t ask. It’s complicated.”
The Cardassian tossed a data rod to Wilkes and asked, “Bare hands or knives?”
Nelson was beside himself. He could retire off of the stories he was getting around these people. Entertainments! Books! Articles! All he had to do was survive it all.
Corin said, “Your choice, Gul Kalekt. But here on Dosad, we fight in the nude. No armor, nothing but you and I.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant Commander, and I’ll choose knives. But I’m wounded – I have a chunk of an arrow stuck in my leg.”
“And I’m drunk. It evens out.”
Surprised, Kalekt laughed. “I wish we had time for a drink. But I suppose not.” He started stripping off his ghillie suit and uniform, exposing nearly as many scars as Corin had.
Corin also got ready to fight, “Someone will raise a glass to you at the next memorial games, Kalekt. You will be remembered, with honor.” The two backed away from each other. Corin raised his flat-bladed Dosadi knife to his face in salute, and the Cardassian did the same with his curved blade.
For those of you who are fans of popular entertainments, real knife fights are not like what you see there. Especially between experts. They very rarely last more than a couple minutes and they are always bloody for both participants. They usually come down to luck or a minor mistake.
Corin and Kalekt had closed with each other several times, each leaving bloody slashes down the other. Kalekt was limping on his wounded leg and struggling for footing in the muddy path. Corin’s claws were helping with traction, but the Cardassian had reach and strength.
They closed again, locked together for a moment. The watchers struggled to see what had happened as they both staggered, seemingly holding each other up. The Cardassian coughed, bloody foam coming out his mouth. He took a faltering half-step back and brought his right hand up to hold Corin’s wrist, the hilt of his knife sticking out of Corin’s lower right abdomen. Corin’s slim, flat-bladed knife had slid in-between the small bones of Kalekt’s blocking hand and into his chest just above his heart.
The Cardassian met the Dosadi’s eyes again. He managed a smile and collapsed into the mud. Corin staggered a step away, dropped his own knife and put his hands on the hilt of the blade stuck in his liver.
Soral grabbed his hands, “No, Cap. Leave it be. Sit down, let me fix that. Don’t move it. Dammit Cap, take your fucking hands off it.” Wilkes and Sooth came over and pulled his arms away while Soral worked on him with his med-kit.
“Thanks. It’s right on the artery. Gonna need to be really fast on this. Hey!” He called to the other medic, “Garoth, I need you for a second.” The man came over quickly.
Soral moved over to the side a bit more. “I need you to pull that out the way it went in. You’re probably gonna nick the artery so he’s going to bleed like a stuck teeg, but I’ll close it up right away quick. On three…One…Two..Three!”
The man slid the knife out of Corin’s gut and a fountain of blood followed the blade out, but Soral deftly used the wound-sealer, closing the gash in the artery, then working backwards through the injury in the liver and out until he was able to pinch the skin together and close it up, leaving yet another livid scar on his commander’s body.
“Damn, that hurt Soral.” he said.
“Duh. You got stabbed. Cap, one of these days I’m not going to be here and your luck’s going to run out.” He continued to work on his other wounds. The wound-sealer was a temporary patch, much like stitches. Complete healing took time.
Wilkes and Sooth let go of his arms, sighing with relief and he sat up, rubbing along the wound. “Hey, Earth cats have nine lives and I’m half-Earth, so I get nine lives too. I’m pretty sure I’ve only used six or seven.”
Soral laughed. “Closer to eight, I think.”
Corin got slowly to his feet, “How’s Yun?” only to have Ri plaster himself onto his leg again, her face buried in the bloody fur.
“Who?”
“The woman you were working on a few minutes ago. The one he stabbed. Is she OK?”
“She’s fine. Got hit in the lung. Lost a lot of blood and collapsed the lung so they took her to the medical bay is all. She a friend, Cap?”
“Yeah, I think she is.” He looked around, and people were already beginning the cleanup. “I wonder what they were after?” he asked.
Soral looked down at the dead Cardassian. “Makes you think, doesn’t it? Does it all just come down to luck?”
Corin had no answer for him.

CHAPTER 8
“The purpose of training is to tighten up the slack, toughen the body, and polish the spirit.”
– Morihei Ueshiba – Earth (Human)
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MARCH, 2310
Several hours later, Corin knocked softly on the entrance to the medical bay. “May I come in?”
The doctor on-duty said, “Certainly. You don’t need to be so quiet – everyone’s stable and awake.”
He looked across the room. It looked like there were almost a dozen who had been wounded badly enough to be sent to the center. There had been ten who had died and another fifteen who hadn’t been wounded severely enough to send in. He saw Yun sitting up, looking slightly shell-shocked.
“How are you doing?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t drank quite so much earlier tonight.
She stared at him, “I don’t understand any of this. Why?”
“They were doing their jobs.” he shrugged. “You just got in the way was all. It’s just bad luck.” Rileeta was peering around the room, still holding tightly onto his leg.  “Ri’s OK, as you can see.”
“I know. Your father told me. But what were they doing? Why did he try to kill me? I didn’t do anything!”
“Dad was here? How come?”
“Your mother and father both were and that other human. They came to see how everyone who was hurt was doing. I’m supposed to go there for dinner tomorrow night. Well, tonight I guess. It’s almost morning now.”
He shook his head. That had to be mom, trying to hook him up with someone. “Nelson was here? I haven’t thought about him in ages. I kinda stuck them with him.”
“He was really nice too. He showed me what happened.”
“How….oh. Those stupid glasses. Are you sure you’re OK? You look a little…off.”
She took his hand. “I’m all right. Thanks to you. And Soral. I just don’t understand. Why didn’t he at least talk to me?”
Corin shook his head. “Yun, it was a battle. He didn’t have time to stop and get to know you and explain what he was doing and what he needed. He was trying to get away and we were trying to stop him. You just got in the way. It wasn’t your fault, it was just freak chance. Like if a narak came down out of the mountains and attacked you.”
“But what did they want?”
“We don’t know. But it’s not going to be good for us, whatever it was.” Her hand felt warm, and soft. “Are you going to be OK? It’ll take you a little time to come to terms with it. Kinda like Ri will. But she’s tough. Aren’t you, kit?”
She nodded and reached her hand up to the red line on his belly, visible under the white of his shirt. “Does it hurt?”
“Not any more. But it sure as h…it sure hurt at the time!”
She looked at Yun. “It hurt a lot, didn’t it?”
“I don’t remember it, Ri. It felt really hot for a second and then I fainted. I don’t remember anything else. Why, sweetie?”
“I thought he was going to kill me. It hurt really bad when they shot me on Eletha. I don’t want it to hurt like that any more.”
“Someone shot you?!”
“Yun, that was on a miss…”
“Corin saved me then, too. He killed all of them really fast and then he ran with me on his back like forever and we hid in a cave and Trellos was hurt really bad and I helped make a secret radio and they went and spied and he got hurt really bad and and then we got on a ship and flew here!!” she finished breathlessly.
Yun looked at Corin. “You do this a lot?”
He laughed, “Not exactly this, no. I don’t usually come home from missions with kits.”
She leaned back and shut her eyes. “Thank the gods. I don’t think I could be your friend if things like this kept happening.”
Ri noticed that Corin hadn’t let go of Yun’s hand yet. “He saved both of us.”
Shaking his head he said, “Not really, Ri. Soral saved her, not me. Saved me too.”
“Did so.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stubborn.” He let go of Yun’s hand. “You’re really going to be at mom and dad’s tomorrow night?”
“Yes. Your mom said she’d introduce me to your sister. I’ve got a lot of her performances.”
“So you said.” he thought for a moment. “Maybe we’ll swing by. Rest up so they’ll let you out of here. I hate being in these places.” Taking Ri’s hand in his, he led her out, although Ri was looking over her shoulder at Yun who gave her a wink.

* * *
When they returned home from their morning workout the next day, Relan was outside again, this time with his own young kit. A little male perhaps a year older than Rileeta. Corin tried to remember if he’d ever seen this man out and about this early in the years he’d been living here and he honestly had no idea.
“Good morning, Corin!”
“Morning, Relan.”
“I was hoping to run into you today. I heard about what happened last night at the games.”
Corin was horrified – he had hoped that his shame would go mostly unnoticed. “Uh…”
“Everyone’s talking about it. The way you stepped up and killed that bastard, man to man. I got to brag a little since you’re my neighbor and all. “
“Oh, uh. Um, thank you. A bad night all around.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I know your little one hasn’t met much of anyone yet and I wanted to introduce my son – let them get to know each other a bit.” His son was standing by his side, looking curiously at Rileeta who was half-hiding behind Corin. “This is Lorac.”
Corin had no idea what to do. Fortunately, the little boy said, “Hello.”
Rileeta said, shyly,  “Hi. I’m Rileeta.”
Relan told his son, “Why don’t you two go play for a little bit while Corin and I talk?”
“OK.” the boy allowed, and Corin gave Rileeta a gentle push forward.
They walked a very short distance away and Corin heard him ask, “Why is your fur that color?”
Corin asked Relan, “Sorry if I’m a little clueless. I don’t really have any experience around kits.”
Ri answered Lorac, “I dunno. It just is. Why do your ears look funny?”
“My ears don’t look funny!”
Relan was ignoring the two kits, “No one does until they have one, Corin. They’re pretty easy to take care of when you get right down to it.”
Lorac was continuing, “I bet you’re just dirty.”
“Am not!”
Corin wasn’t sure which one went after the other, but they were rolling around on the ground growling and hissing. “Uh…They’re…”
“Don’t worry about it. They’ll work it out. You said she was only going to stay a little while?”
“You sure? Ah, yeah, I guess. We’re gonna see how it works out I guess.”
“Well, she sure seems to be settling in.” There was a loud yowl and Relan quickly stepped over to the two of them and lifted them both up by the scruffs of their necks, one kit in each hand. “What was that?”
“SHE BIT ME!”
“HE PULLED MY EAR!”
Glaring at the two of them he pronounced, “Then you both need to apologize, right now.”
They both looked down at the ground, their feet dangling a few inches above it. Rileeta finally said, “I’m sorry I bit you.”
He answered, “I’m sorry I pulled your ear.”
Relan said, “That’s better. Now go play and stop making so much noise.” and he set them down. They wandered off towards the house.
The last thing Corin heard from them was Lorac saying “It is pretty cool that your fur’s that color. I never seen anyone that color before.”
He asked Relan, “That’s normal?”
Laughing, “Yeah. You’ll learn.” And then, “I mean, you know, if she stays with you. I’m not trying to tell you what to do or anything.”
Corin shook his head, “No, I appreciate the advice. I think she’ll get tired of me pretty quickly. I have to work a lot. She’s gonna get bored sitting around watching me all day.”
His neighbor cocked his head at him. “You’re gonna teach her at home?”
“Do what?”
“School? You know, reading, writing, math, history, music…that sort of thing?’
Dumbfounded, Corin said, “I have no idea. I didn’t even think about it.”
Relan laughed “You really don’t have any idea what to do with a kit, do you? I’m sorry and I don’t mean to be offensive, but that makes you a lot less scary.”
“Scary? I don’t try to be scary. I hope I haven’t…”
He hastened to make his meaning more clear, “No, that’s not what I meant. Um, I know you aren’t trying to be scary, but well, you keep to yourself except to run and all anyone really knows about you is that you’re a Raider and disappear a lot and usually when you come back you’ve got more scars. No one knows anything about you. Everyone’s wondered about what you do and there’s lots of rumors, and that’s why you’re kinda scary. No one knows what to expect.
“I have to tell you, I’m so glad I got to talk with you a little before last night or I’d probably be afraid to talk to you at all. Everyone heard how you killed that Cardassian in just a few seconds…”
Corin muttered, “He damn near killed me too.”
“..and it would just add to the rumors. But now we’re sort of getting to know something about you. It helps. You’re not just this mystery any more.
“But anyway, if you want, I’ll take you to meet Lorac’s teacher. I think you’d both like him. He does a lot with books and I know she likes to read. I think she’d learn a lot from him over the years.”
“Years?”
Relan laughed again. “Well yeah, Corin. How long were you with your teacher?”
“I just…I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” And he realized that he hadn’t seen, or heard Ri in the last several minutes, which was probably the longest time she’d been out of his sight in days, excepting last night.
“Relax. They’re just off playing somewhere. They’ll be fine.”
He shook his head, he had a lot to learn if he was going to keep taking care of her.
“I’ll tell you what, we’re out at the games tonight, but if you want to come over tomorrow night we’re having a bunch of friends over for supper. They’ve all got kits about the same age as ours, might be good for her. And we can maybe give you some idea of what to expect.”
He realized that this was the first time someone who wasn’t in his team or his family had invited him to their home in very many years. Had he really been that isolated from everyone? He was just busy wasn’t he? And did he really want to take all this on? He thought of all the things he had gone through in his own childhood and all the difficulties he had put his parents through. Could he even do that? How had they managed to raise four kits and manage their Starfleet and Marine careers?
Relan watched Corin’s face while he thought. “Kinda awesome when you think through it, isn’t it?” Corin looked up at him and he continued, “It’s not as scary as it seems. It’s actually a lot of fun. So we’ll see you tomorrow night, right? “ He gave Corin a wave and turned to go back into his home.
After a few moments, Corin continued on to his own house. But part of his mind was still wondering where Ri had gone and if she was OK.
The sun had already gone down when she came back. He was very proud of himself for not going looking for her. “Did you have fun?” he asked.
Her face broke into a thousand-watt smile, “Yes! I like Lorac. He knows S’eeth too, and I got to eat lunch with them and …” he listened to her tell the story of her day in warp-speed sentences with barely a pause for breath.
And he had no real understanding as to why he enjoyed listening to such pointless prattle.

* * *
When they arrived at Wilkes’ and Sooth’s home, Ri had decided she was starving to death. They went inside and she immediately scampered towards the smells coming from the kitchen area. He looked at the people gathered there and noticed Yun immediately, looking much better than she had just a few hours ago. He also noticed Nelson and his sister sitting close together studying something on a PADD he was holding. He frowned at that.
Yun giggled and he turned back to her. “What?”
Nelson and Nollos were absorbed in whatever was playing on the PADD. She glanced at them and she said, “You are so easy to read.”
He sat down by her and asked, “What do you mean, read?”
“Never mind.” There was a happy squeal from the kitchen and Wilkes came in a moment later with Ri slung over his shoulder like he was bringing back a haunch of deer.
“I’ve got dinner here, we just need to cook it up!” She squealed again and kicked to get free. “Ahhh! It needs more preparing! Back to the kitchen with it!” and he trotted off, bouncing the kit up and down on his shoulder.
Yun said, “You’ve got a nice family, Corin.”
“There are days I think they’re all crazier than I am.”
“That’s what I said.” she agreed, smugly.
He rolled his eyes. “What are those two working on? I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him with those damn sensor-glasses off.”
“I’m not sure. They’re making something. They keep talking about samples and clips and cuts and fades and beats. I’m not sure it’s any language a universal translator can make understandable to normal people.”
“Hey. Nelson.”
The man looked up. “Oh, hi Corin. Sorry, we’re kinda occupied here.”
“Where have you been? You been staying out of trouble? Just because I haven’t been…”
Wilkes came back in and interrupted. “Son, you can mind your own business on that.”
Surprised Corin looked up at his father, “I thought that was my business.”
“Nope. Not any more.”
“And why is that?”
“You’ll be told when you need to know.”
“Oh, come on Dad. That’s the oldest dodge in the book.”
“Suck it, son. I outrank you, and I’m your father.”
Nelson had a huge smile on his face. “Thank you, sir.”
“No worries, Nelson. You keep doing what you’re doing, Corin’s going to have plenty to keep him occupied here shortly as well.”
“Oh?” Corin asked.
“You report to Captain Vanos tomorrow at noon, son. Things are heating up faster than we wanted.”
“Ahh. Yeah, I thought they might.”
“Enough with the shop talk.” Sooth came in with Ri helping to haul food in.
Sooth explained, “We wanted to meet your friend. She tells us she just moved here.”
He looked at Yun with a long-suffering expression and she winked back at him. “So I understand it, Mother.”
“Oh don’t be so prickly.”
When supper had finished, Yun had learned quite a lot more about Corin and his family and he had learned very little about her. He let his thoughts wander back over the supper as they walked in the late-night mist. He found that he had enjoyed himself a lot. Nollos, and surprisingly, Nelson, had taught Ri a new song and helped her sing it with a pure, clear voice. The conversations had been fun, with lots of funny family stories being shared including a few about his parents that he had never heard. Nelson and Nollos had both been making notes on his PADD.
That was something he was getting concerned about. When had Nelson met her? They had barely been on Dosad a month and a half. But when they were getting ready to leave, the two of them had exchanged a hug – something that surprised Yun as Dosadi didn’t ‘hug’. Their shoulders were arranged slightly differently. It was, on this planet, a gesture unique to his family. Nollos was a little flaky and he worried that the reporter was going to take advantage of that to worm away confidences. Not that it mattered, he wouldn’t dare report anything that he didn’t…
Yun interrupted his thoughts. “Hey! You awake in there?”
“Sorry.” he said, chagrined. When had he taken her hand?
Ri almost bumped into him. “I’m tired.” She was rubbing her eyes.
He was about to suggest that she burn through it by walking faster, but remembered late night walks with his parents. How often had Wilkes or Sooth carried at least one of them home? He bent down and picked the little kit up and put her on his shoulder. She promptly fell asleep.
Yun watched him get the girl settled. “You’re doing pretty well for someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, Corin.”
He shook his head, “My neighbor’s been telling me everything I’m doing wrong. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this at all.”
They walked along in silence for a little while. “Is it hard, living with what you do?”
He winced. “Sometimes. But it needs to be done.”
“I never used to think so.” she looked down while they walked. “I still think if people could just talk to each other, things like that wouldn’t have to happen. Nelson showed me what you and that man who stabbed me said to each other. You liked each other. And you had to fight until one of you died.”
“We were a lot alike. We did the same job, just for different sides. There wasn’t anything personal in it. Just business. I’m sorry you and Ri got caught up in it.”
“I wish there didn’t have to be different sides. So many people get ‘caught up in it’ who don’t want anything to do with ‘it’. They just want to live their lives.”
Corin sighed. “That is ‘it’, Yun. People need to be fed, and they need energy and room to grow and all the things that go into living in our galaxy. There are sick peoples out there too, who want to prey on everyone else and decent people need to be protected from those people. Which takes more energy and food and materials. And there’s only so much that can go around. As long as there’s any difference in what one group has from another or how one group wants to live compared to another, there’s going to be a need for people like me. That will only stop when everyone is exactly the same and living in exactly the same situation as everyone else. And I think that would be more horrifying than the occasional conflict. That sort of terrible universal sameness – I can’t imagine anything worse.”
She let the matter drop. “I’m glad there are people like you, Corin. You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met. But you’ve got horrible things inside you and I think you could so easily become someone…terrible and cruel and cold and that scares me.”
He looked sideways at her, but wisely said nothing.
“I heard what happened, Corin, before you came and saved us.”
He hung his head.
“That’s the part of you that’s frightening. You like hurting and you like what you do too much. I think it’s getting hard for you to tell when you’re supposed to hurt and when you’re supposed to protect.”
His throat closed up and he blinked hard.
“You’re so close to that line, aren’t you? What is there keeping you from…becoming what you are supposed to protect us from? Is that why you’re so afraid of Ri? Are you afraid you’ve already gone too far past that line?”
“I don’t know.” he said, honestly.
Neither said anything a while longer.
“For what it’s worth, Corin, I don’t think you’ve gone too far, yet. I think there’s a chance for you. You did the right thing with Uthin.”
“Who?”
She grinned at him. “That poor little man you challenged? He’s my neighbor. I heard the whole story this afternoon.”
“Oh, what the fuck.”
She laughed. “It’s hard to admit you’re wrong, Corin. But you did. And he feels better about himself than I think he ever has. His mate thinks he’s a hero, his friends are amazed, and his kits think he’s one of the gods themselves.”
“He has kits?”
“You didn’t know? He said they were right by his mate. Didn’t you see them?”
“No. I had no idea. I…I was pretty drunk.”
“Yeah. I noticed. But you did the right thing, Corin. In the end.”
They came to Corin’s door and he paused. “Yun…Would you want to stay with us tonight?”
She studied him in the dim light of the stars. The moon had long ago set, and Ri’s black form, asleep over his shoulder, was an indistinct blob. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?”
He half-laughed. “Yeah. That obvious, was it?”
“A little.” she watched his face for a moment more. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’d like you to stay. And I think Ri would love it.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’m a little nervous too, Corin. I’m not sure how much I trust you, yet.”

* * *
There were still a couple hours left before dawn when he startled himself awake. Yun was spooned up against his belly and Ri was a little puddle of black fur snuggled up to her. For a moment he was terrified that he had struck out in his sleep, but the soft breathing sounds coming from both of them made it plain they were both still sleeping. There was a faint scent of cinnamon coming from Yun’s fur and he tried to think how long it had been since he had shared a sleeping spot with a friend like this.
Did he really want to keep going down this path? But she was right. The direction he was going was…frightening. That was what his team had been telling him when they left Antica. But it was much easier to keep doing what he knew, what he loved, what was useful than it was to try to turn back and be something he wasn’t. Why did these two give a crap what he did? He wasn’t that loveable. Did they feel obligated? Or were they just…attracted to the fact that he could protect them? Maybe they really did care? That was hard for him to believe.
He closed his eyes and listened to them sleep. In the silence, he could barely hear Yun’s heart beating and he fell deeply asleep listening to it.

* * *
IMPERIAL TRAINING GROUNDS, T’ELESH DISTRICT, DOSAD
APRIL, 2310
Nelson hurt more than he ever had. Every square inch of him was sore. He was soaking wet, covered in filth and bruised from head to toe. The ruck on his back was cutting through his shoulders to his navel, and the floppy bush hat on his head seemed to be doing more to keep bugs on his face than to keep the sun off it. You would think that after six weeks of this sort of training, it would be easier.
He ran, and an automatic weapon opened up somewhere in front of him, splattering the mud nearby. He dove into a hollow behind a rock, the standing water sheeting up around him. The squad that was with him engaged the crew manning the weapon and he got back to his feet, running after them, trying to wipe the mud off his sensor-glasses as he ran.
They reached the squat building that was their target and he bent over with his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. An old Dosadi force leader, missing an eye and one arm stopped the timer on his PADD and looked at them.
He spoke quietly, almost cheerfully. “Well. I guess that wasn’t too bad if you wanted to make a career out of one assault. I would have thought though, that since you’ve already done this twice today that you’d be a little bit faster than that. It’s not like we move the strong points around…much. It’s not even eight kilometers from start to finish so I’m not quite sure where you’re having all this difficulty.
“In any case, I have faith in you despite all evidence to the contrary. Do it again! Perhaps if you hike back to the start this time instead of getting a ride you’ll be more familiar with the route…”
Nelson straightened up, exhausted and frustrated and said “FUCK me!”
The old Dosadi looked at him, “I don’t think you’d enjoy it nearly as much as I would Nelson. Perhaps if you don’t live up to my expectations this next run, I’ll take you up on that suggestion. It may motivate you.”
His squad grabbed him and began hustling back towards the start of the exercise before he could get himself in any more trouble.

* * *
IMPERIAL NAVAL HEADQUARTERS, T’ELESH, DOSAD
APRIL, 2310
Corin and his team were being briefed by their Battleforce commander, Captain Vanos. “From the pieces of their equipment we recovered, we believe they were monitoring several communications and headquarters facilities. But we have no idea what they managed to capture, or what they managed to send back to Cardassia. And that’s the problem.
“If they know what we’ve got planned, we’re seriously screwed. Which means we’re going to have to go now, with what we’ve got instead of waiting for the main fleet elements to arrive.
“Eletha has become our only source of dilithium. Without it, we are seriously fucked as a culture. Further, the Cardassian’s evidently knew just when to hit us. Our fleet is scattered across the Imperium. If we don’t restore Eletha within about six months we will essentially be defenseless.”
Corin asked, “What do we even have here?”
Vanos sighed. “Not a lot. We’ve got three old Thorin-class assault carriers, with no fighters and no crew, a half dozen Cosad-class corvettes, a pair of old Dorsai-class battleships, perhaps twenty destroyers…All told, we’ve got about 70 combat vessels, a couple dozen assault transports and about 45,000 Imperial Marines.”
“Most of those ships are going to be broken down for parts, sir. They’ve got more than three times that many front-line combatants. And what good are carriers with no fighters?”
“WE don’t have any fighters. The Federation is loaning us a full Wing of their latest Nighthawk fighters. That’s 54 seriously nasty birds. We’re going to double load the assault carriers since we don’t have enough crews or logistics support for them to reload. And when aren’t the Dosadi outnumbered, Commander? We win anyway. The rest of it isn’t your concern.”
Corin shook his head. “And what’s our role? Do we get to do a single-handed assault on Cardassia Prime and capture it?”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Commander. Your team has been selected for a special assignment. You will do a wing-suit assault on the air defense sector command that you scouted in Korel on Eletha. You will destroy or disable it and retreat into a blocking position, here, and hold that position until relieved.”
“Oh, is that all!”
“No, Commander, that is not all. You will have an embed.”
“A what?”
“The Emperor has decided that it is vital that we tell the story of Eletha to the galaxy. The Cardassians have been pushing the story that Eletha has been historically part of the Cardassian Union and that the Dosadi are squatters. They also maintain that they have not harmed any of our colonists except in self-defense and that they are welcome to continue to live there as citizens of the Union.
“We need Federation help. We need the political backing of other friendly powers; our forces are badly over-stretched at this moment. We need all the friends we can get. We need to show our best face in this fight; You’ve already taken the lead on that with the information you brought back and the reporter as well.”
“Oh no, sir, you do not mean…”
but the Captain was still talking, “He is creating a broadcast for us made up of the information he and your team brought back. We will set the stage with that. When the battle begins, the reporter will be given a live data feed, it will be run through a SWACS that will act as a production center, adjusting which feeds are going out at any given time and providing commentary, maps, and so on. He will drop in with your unit and accompany you throughout the battle, under your orders. But Commander, you are to understand he is a neutral, a non-combatant, and you may not control what he sees, hears, or records.”
“You have got to be shitting me, sir! He can’t do a space dive he’s…”
“He’s been fully qualified on wing-suits, Commander.”
Corin and his team were just staring at the captain. “You want us to do a combat drop, assault a heavily defended position, and then hold a road-block with a reporter watching our every move and broadcasting it live to the galaxy? Are you insane?”
“Watch your tone, Lieutenant Commander. This has been decided and approved by the Emperor and his staff. You’re not being given an option. You are expected to succeed, and to show the very best of our people and our military in the process. We need this, Commander. We need Eletha. And we need our friends to have our back while we get our shit together. The entire Imperium is at risk.
“There is one other thing, Commander. You are to consider the reporter, Nelson, to be a mission-essential asset.”
Corin shook his head slowly. Trion looked like she had found a turd in her drink and the rest of the team had the hollow look of someone who’s been given a death-sentence. “And when do we get to go on this special assignment, sir?”
“At least a week unless something else horrible happens, but very soon. You will remain ready to go with no more than an hour’s notice in any case. Are we clear on this Lieutenant Commander?”
“Yes, sir. We are, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
As they walked away from the briefing room, Ason said “This is some serious bullshit. I’m getting right pissed off about this crap.” And then groaned as he realized that his anger had set himself up again.
“Well, better than being pissed on, isn’t it, Ason?” Veth, Soral, and Trellos said in unison.
Completing the joke, Trion said, “And he would know!”
He flipped them the bird, an Earth gesture the team had adopted from Corin, and said, “Hate you all.” with a smile.

* * *
That same day, older veterans across Dosad began to find that there was still some hope for a warrior’s death. Men and women who had resigned themselves to a secondary role, at best, in their society began to walk with a new spring in their step and then quietly vanished from their communities.
Scrap yards were harvested, storage depots emptied and traders found their shelves emptied of food.

* * *
Their week long mobilization-warning was nearly up and Corin was struggling with what to tell Yun and Ri. She had spent most of the intervening nights with them; He missed her when she wasn’t there. She was supposed to be over again tonight; He would tell them both and they’d figure out what to do with Rileeta.
When she did arrive, she had a large package with her. Ri was on fire with curiosity. “What’s that? Is that for me? What is it?” Her nose was working overtime, but telling her nothing.
“No, Ri, well, sort of. It’s for you both. It’s something special.”
Corin looked at her, “A present? Why?”
She laughed, “Because I like to give special presents to special people.” She bit her lip. “This is really special to me, Corin. I want it to be special to you, too.”
She tore the covering off of the package and held it up. Corin gasped in surprise. It was a large, framed glass-painting. A Dosadi longship cutting through the waves under a pale blue sky with a few scattered cotton-candy clouds under the yellow-white Dosadi sun. The tints within the glass were subtle and there was  a faint ripple to the glass in places, making the waves and her emerald sail appear to move with the slightest motion of the viewer’s head or eyes.
Smiling with pride, Yun said, “There’s more. Here.” She touched the side of the frame and the entire scene came alive with light, making subtle textures in the wooden hull and mast visible as well as adding depth to the spray from her bow.
“I’ve never seen…”
“There’s more.” She touched the frame again and the frame light extinguished. “Turn off the light panels, please, Ri.”
The little girl jumped up and touched the wall control and the room went dark, except for the faint, phosphorescent glow of the glass-painting. The amount of light was just enough to make the scene visible to Dosadi night-vision and added a ghostly quality to the image, as though it were floating in mid-air, not entirely real.
“Wow.” was all Corin could manage.
“Okay, Ri.” Yun said and the little girl turned the lights back on.
Corin was hypnotized by the painting. “I think that is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“It was the last piece he ever did. I think it’s his best.” She ran her finger down the smooth, cool glass. “Where should I hang it?”
“I can’t accept that!”
“Why not? It’s mine to give. He made it for me.” She stood up and looked at the walls. “Corin, you’ve got hangars right here for it. I bet you’ve never even looked at your own walls.” She tested the solidity of each hook and then placed her painting on his wall.
Ri clapped delightedly “It’s beautiful!!”
“Yun…It’s a loan, all right? Whenever you want it back…it’s yours. I can’t take that.”
She rubbed her tail under his chin. “Corin, I need to let him go. You’re helping me with that, more than you know, I think. And I think you need more beauty in your life and less…well, less blood and death.”
He stood up and wrapped her in a hug, letting her figure out how to place her arms with her different shoulder structure. Ri ran over and wormed her way in-between them both. “Are we a family now?” she asked suspiciously.
Corin looked at her. The tone of her question didn’t fit the words. “I don’t know what we are, Ri. We’re…well, we’re something. Not a family, I don’t think. But something more than just three people.”
“Good.” she said, satisfied. “My families always die.”
Corin was shocked. Yun said, “Oh, Ri, that’s horrible! No one’s going to die.”
He knelt down and looked her in the face. “Ri, no matter what there will always be someone to care for you and love you, OK?”
Yun caught his tone immediately. “Wait. Corin…What are you saying?”
He looked up, “Yun, there’s a mission coming up very soon. I have to go.”
Ri looked at him, her eyes wide. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave. You have to take care of me!”
“I’m a Soldier. This is what I do. I go on missions, and then I come home again.”
Yun looked disgusted. “Why do they keep sending you? You haven’t even finished healing from the last batch of wounds. I’ve seen you run, Corin. I know what’s happening to your knees. Is the galaxy going to fall apart if you’re not there to save it??”
Ri turned away from him and buried her face in Yun’s thigh, snuffling loudly. She patted her on the back. “You can’t say no?”
He shook his head. “Our team’s got a very particular assignment. We’re…” he tried to think how to tell them without saying things that he shouldn’t. “Everyone will be depending upon us.”
She was angry. He could smell it. Ri was in tears. “This isn’t fair guys. You know this is who I am, what I do, this shouldn’t be a surprise.”
Yun wiped her hand across her eyes. “Tell me you’re going to come back. Tell me you’re not going to end up like that Cardassian or just disappearing and nobody knows what happened to you. Promise me.”
He hung his head. “I can’t promise that, Yun.”
“Then at least promise me you’re going to fucking try to come home. You can promise that can’t you?”
That even surprised Rileeta. But after a second she sided with the older woman, glaring at Corin. She hissed, “Yeah, promise!”
“I promise you both I’ll do my best to come home, all right?” he reached up for Yun and she pushed his hand away.
“Don’t. Just…Not…Give me a minute, OK?”
“Sure. I’ll go get some food.”

* * *
That night after Ri had fallen asleep, he picked her up and took her to a smaller sleeping spot so that he and Yun could have a bit more privacy. He came back to his favorite spot and curled up next to her. She was still quite obviously upset. He put his hand on her shoulder, “Yun? It’s not fair being mad at me. You’ve always known I’d go on another mission.”
“But not so damn soon. Don’t they give you time to heal between them? Time to live before you have to go out and kill and get shot up and broken again?”
He pulled her close. “When they can. They can’t this time. It’s bad, Yun. They haven’t told people what’s going on, but someone screwed up and we got caught…Well, we’re really in a bad place is all I can say.”
“Then that means they’re desperate, and that means that they’re going to take a huge chance and that means they’re sending you into something no one with any sense would ever do.” She turned over so she was facing him. “Corin, you are nothing like anyone I’ve ever even liked before. I don’t know why I like you, but I do. Maybe it’s because there’s still something left inside of you that can rescue a poor little girl and let her wrap you around her little finger. Whatever it is, I don’t want to watch that die, and I don’t want it to just disappear into space. I want to see where we’re going to go, together or apart or whatever happens to us. But I want there to at least be an us.
“I know your type, Corin. You’d throw your life away in a second if it meant saving someone else. Will you please remember that there are people who love you and care about you and want you to come home?”
He stroked her face, “I’ll remember you want me to come home, at least.”
She scowled and turned over again. For a while, he didn’t say anything, cuddling up to her and trying to soothe her without really starting back on difficult topics. After a while he nuzzled the back of her neck, softly.
“Corin, stop that.”
“Not really the right mood, is it?” he grinned.
She turned over again. “It’s not that. Well, I haven’t been with anyone since my mate died, so that’s part of it, but Corin…” her expression hardened. “I’m not sure I trust you enough to get that close to you. That means more to me than most people, I don’t think I could bear being that close and then having you just…vanish.” She shook her head and watched his eyes in the dim light. Then she turned over again.
He curled up against her again, looking at the faint glow of the glass-painting over her arm.
“Corin?”
“Hmmm?”
“Maybe…if you come home.”
He squeezed her tightly.
As expected, he awoke a few hours later when Ri wormed her way back in-between them both. He leaned down and softly kissed her cheek, and fell asleep watching the longship faintly glowing in mid air.

CHAPTER 9
“Battles are won by slaughter and maneuver. The greater the general, the more he contributes in maneuver, the less he demands in slaughter.
– Winston Churchill – Earth (Human)
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, IN ORBIT OVER DOSAD
MAY, 2310
Wilkes saluted as Admiral Nolin walked into Engineering. “Good morning, sir!” The man was old – over 90. But despite an entirely grey face and missing teeth, he still had a powerful personality. He studied Wilkes.
“Wilkes. Can you get this old girl to fight again?”
He smiled, “Yes, sir. I pretty much started my career on her, it seems only fitting that I’d finish up with her too. And this is better than seeing her broken down for parts.”
The old cat gripped his shoulder. “I remember first meeting you. Always knew there was something special about you. It’s always better to go and meet Loreth rather than making her come to you.” They walked down the lines of engineers. Most were either still in training or long since retired, with a scattering of serving NCO’s stiffening their ranks. But there would be no families aboard any of the assault fleet this time.
“What’s our overall status?” the admiral asked.
“Well, we’re a little short on dilithium but we’ve got enough to get there and fight like hell for a while, at least. We’ve got a full load of the old Countach anti-ship and Lynx anti-fighter drones, and a full load out of photon torpedoes. The new fighters don’t fit in our launch tubes, so we’re flying them straight off the decks. We can charge them, but we’ve got no facilities for handling or storing the Federation’s new Avenger or Dart missiles so they get what they’re loaded with and that’s it. They can generate their own Hellraisers though.”
“What’s a Hellraiser?” he asked.
“A sort of mini-photon torpedo. Warhead yield is in between a Dart and an Avenger, but they can keep shooting them like a phaser as long as they’ve got charge. And the Nighthawk’s carry a lot more charge than our old Tomcats did.
“We’ll be short on food and most of the crew facilities aren’t working any more. But we don’t have a full crew anyway, so that’s not that big of a deal. It’s pretty much a one way trip, sir.”
Nolin grinned at the younger, old man. “But what a story we’ll make, Wilkes!”
“Speaking of which, sir, Nollos wants you to use this for your pre-battle speech.”
“I don’t always do that, Wilkes.”
“Sir, you’ve done that before every fight I’ve ever been in with you.” he laughed.
Nolin glowered at him with a wink, “So what is it?”
“It’s a speech some general gave before a battle in ancient Earth history. She said it’ll push a lot of buttons with a lot of the races in the Federation and the Klingons will love it. I guess the general was really outnumbered and was supposed to lose, but won anyway.”
“She wants you to time it so that you’re starting that five minutes before we drop out of warp.”
Nolin studied the paper. “This is Shakespeare, Wilkes.”
“Oh. I thought it was something historical.”
“You’re from Earth and you don’t know Shakespeare? This is one of his greatest works.”
Wilkes laughed, “I didn’t spend much time reading old plays, sir.”
He looked at his Chief Engineer and shook his head. He sighed and admitted, “This is going to be a disaster for your family, Wilkes.”
“Maybe, sir. But it’s who we are.”
Nolin gripped his arm. “I won’t waste them, Wilkes. But I may have to spend them.”
He nodded. “I understand. Honor above all, sir.”
The old cat’s eyes lit up and for just a moment, Wilkes saw his commander as he was in his prime. “Honor above all, Wilkes.” and he turned and strode out of the Engineering spaces.

* * *
“I might be in my sixties, but I still remember my way around this old boat!” Corin thought as he walked into the old east living pod. There were people putting gear down and trying to make the space as livable as possible. A lot of them were just kits, he thought. He let his eyes track through the large space. The plants had long since died and a lot of the ceiling panels no longer worked, leaving dropouts in the blue ‘sky’. There were a fair number of old Delos hands here, helping the kits figure out what to do. He wondered how many of the young ones had even been in space before.
There were nowhere near as many as there should be to give the Delos a full crew, but they had enough, he thought. He moved towards a knot of kits who were supposed to be his deck crewmen and began getting them squared away.

* * *
Eletha ran her hand down the edge of her old console in the Delos’ disruptor targeting section. Power began to flood the various stations and she could hear the equipment spinning up. There was a young trainee standing behind her who said, “It looks a lot different than what we trained on.”
She grinned at the other veteran sitting at the console to her right. “Well, this takes more skill than that newfangled crap they’ve got you playing with now.” She stood up, “Have a seat and I’ll run you through the differences. You’ve got about two weeks to learn how to shoot straight and as long as I’m in command of this section, you will shoot straight.”

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT TRANSPORT ISS K’PATH, IN ORBIT OVER DOSAD
MAY, 2310
Imperial Marine Crewman Arlos leaned over and whispered to his friend. “Where did they find that old fossil?”
His friend watched the old Storm Leader in her heavy battle armor inspecting the other Marines two ranks in front of her. “I dunno. And what’s with that pink heart on her helmet?”
The elderly man to her right elbowed her into silence as Sooth continued her inspection of the troops who would be leading the assault into Eletha. When she had finished her inspection she moved back to her center position and a very old Commander limped in. She saluted and said, “I think we’re ready, sir.”
He scanned over the assembled troops. “How many of you haven’t even finished your training yet?”
About half of the hands went up.
“And how many of you haven’t been in armor for over a decade?”
About a third of the rest of the hands went up.
“And how many of you think this is the most fucked up, idiotic, stupid operation ever conceived by any military planner ever?”
There was some laughter and all the hands went up.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why it’s going to work.” He began limping down the front rank. “The Cardassians aren’t going to be expecting anything like this. Everything about this plan goes against common sense, good military planning, and plain old decency!” Another set of chuckles.
“We are going to hit those bastards with a level of violence unseen since the dawn of history. The speed and raw power of our attack will confuse them, confound them and seriously fuck them UP!” There were some ragged cheers.
“No matter what you think of your training, your skills, or your physical ability, what will carry you through this fight is courage. No matter what happens I want you to think ATTACK! Your every thought must be on taking the fight to them, through them, and over them. If you stop, I want it only to be long enough to pull out their bloody fucking guts and carry them forward like a banner!”
He returned to his position at the head of his formation. “Give up on thoughts of going home. They will keep you from reaching it. Let the Cardassians spend their time wishing they were going to go home. You spend your time making sure they DON’T go home and at the end of the day, YOU will be.”
He let his eyes scan across the collection of Marines assembled in front of him. “Spend the next two weeks well. When we get to Eletha, I want you moving so fast in your excitement to get at those bastards, you run me right the hell over. DISMISSED!”
As the troops filed out he turned to his senior NCO. “How many of them do you think will make it home, Sooth?”
She watched them walking out. “If Admiral Nolin’s plan goes well and the orbital battle goes well and we get some air support, maybe half. Mostly the younger ones.”
“And if it doesn’t go well upstairs?”
She looked at him and shook her head.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
MAY, 2310
“Sir, “ the sensory officer spoke up. “ It’s evidently time for our daily jammer drop. They’re here again.”
Legate Dukat sighed. “This is getting tiresome, which I expect is their goal. To leave us off-balance and jumpy. Gul Tennekt, raise the alert level. It makes good drill, I suppose. And launch the fighters to go shoot them down again. At least it makes good target practice for them.”
The officer smiled. “Very considerate of the Dosadi to send us live targets and help us to train our ECM crews.” he turned to his sensor officer. “How many this time?”
“Looks like six, sir. High orbit this time, even distribution.”
“That seems to be one of their favorites. I’ll worry when it’s something different.”
Dukat thought that he should worry about that which he became complacent about. But then, that was the obvious purpose of repeating a pattern – get your enemy used to it so they no longer saw it as a threat. But, the Dosadi never did anything that was expected or obvious, so the Gul was likely correct. Unless that was what they wanted him to think. Surely, that’s what their intent was; To have him looking for patterns within patterns. That way lay madness. In any case, their reinforcements were barely two weeks out and all the intelligence they had on Dosadi Fleet movements were that they were still scrambling to try to get a force together.
Impressively, they would be able to bring a sizable fleet from their front-line units to attack him in only five months from when they had taken Eletha – a month sooner than anyone thought was possible. And a month too late to have any chance at all.

* * *
FEDERATION INFORMATION NETWORK
MAY, 2310
People across the galaxy had begun watching a series of specials on the fight for the planet of Eletha. The past several days had seen both the Dosadi and the Cardassian sides presented with an even hand by Argus reporter Jonathon Nelson. In truth, most Federation citizens sided with the Dosadi claims – if the planet had ever been Cardassian, it was now far removed from their space and the fact that a Dosadi colony had been there for several years lent weight to their claim.
The most recently released presentation had been on a terribly cute little black-furred Dosadi child who had been rescued from the Cardassian assault by a battle-scarred old troop that she had become attached to. Intermixed with the interview Nelson had conducted were the sensor-logs from Corin’s Raider team and their scouting of Songte and Korel and the many civilian bodies scattered about. Despite Nelson’s cautioning that the images presented were solely from the Dosadi point of view and that all evidence pointed to their civilian population defending itself ferociously, those who watched it felt that there was little excuse for elite military forces to be slaughtering civilians.
Throughout the Argus network, no matter what they were viewing, people’s data feeds were interrupted with a ‘FLASH’. What they saw was a dirty tan planet, the blue tint of it’s atmosphere curving off above it and a voice they had become accustomed to:
“This is Jonathon Nelson reporting live for Argus. I have been granted unprecedented access to an active military operation. The Dosadi High Command have allowed me – as a neutral non-combatant – to broadcast live and unedited everything I see while I accompany Raider Team Six as they begin the Battle for Eletha. In seconds we will be diving off of a cloaked, Raider-class starship and falling into the planet as they begin the attack!
“We will be pushing unedited sensor feeds from several Dosadi starships, ground combatants and my own POV cameras…Wait, they’re beginning…” Several Dosadi in stiff, pale-blue wing-suits shuffled into view and dove off the edge of the hangar bay. “Oh shit, I hate this!” They saw the view tilt wildly, spin briefly and stabilize as Nelson jumped free from the Tarak and begin his free-fall to the ground, 30 kilometers below.
There was a sudden cut away and they were looking into the face of a very old Dosadi in his puss-in-boots dress uniform. He was looking directly into the camera and spoke clearly despite his age. “My comrades, both new and old, before we enter battle, I wish to repeat to you a speech written by the great Earth playwright, William Shakespeare. King Henry and his men faced impossible odds, and like us, fear gnawed at their hearts as the time approached. And like us, those long ago men hoped to find immortality in memory. And in their courage and valor, they found it.
“In his fear, one great captain wished for more men to even the odds. This was the King’s reply:
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my cousin, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”
He paused. “Honor above all.” and the view cut again to a different feed on the Delos’ bridge, looking forward from above and behind the old admiral. The streaking stars of warp travel suddenly stopped and the screen resolved into a dirty tan planet, terrifyingly close, as alarms began screaming and dozens of Cardassian ships cluttered the image.
“FIRE!”

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
MAY, 2310
“Here we go again, sir.” the Galor’s sensory officer chuckled. “Shall I launch the fighters?”
Legate Dukat waved his hand at the man. “Yes. Anything unique about it this time?”
“No, sir. As usual, even distribution, six jammers, high-orbit. The fighters will be there in just about 5 minutes.”
The communications officer interrupted, “Legate Dukat, we’re receiving a hail from the frigate Kanvek.”
“Are they having sensor troubles again?”
“Apparently, sir.”
Dukat sighed. “On screen.”
“Sir!” the frigate’s commander saluted.
“What is it this time, Gul? More sensor ghosts?”
“Sir, these aren’t ghosts. We’ve cross-checked with the cruiser Sartan and run a diagnostic.”
“Well what is it then?”
“We don’t know. But we tracked 18 different bird-sized objects suddenly appearing on our sensors and then falling into the planet’s gravity well.”
“You’re telling me that a flock of birds appeared in space and then flew down into the planet? Any sign of a cloaked vessel? Increase scanning power.”
“I don’t know what they were, sir. We lost them after a few minutes.”
Dukat’s ECM officer spoke up, “Sir, this jamming is different. It’s not responding to our countermeasures this time.”
“They changed it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long until the fighters engage them?”
“Two minutes, sir.”
“Raise the alert…” his order dissolved into a shout as a Dosadi heavy cruiser dropped out of warp directly in front of the Galor, diving downward,  and immediately began to fire every weapon aboard. In the tightly packed orbits, they could hardly miss.
“SHIELDS! RAISE THE SHIELDS!!!” he screamed above the explosions wracking the Galor. “Evasive action!!” collision alarms were sounding throughout the fleet as 70 Dosadi warships dropped out of warp inside the Cardassian formation and instantly opened fire. Several explosions were visible as some of the Dosadi vessels collided with Cardassian starships moments after they appeared, scattering lethal shrapnel throughout the Cardassian fleet.

* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MAY, 2310
Yun, Ri, Feros, and S’eth were watching the Argus stream on little Rileeta’s rescue. Almost every time Ri came on the screen she would squeal and ask again how many people were watching.
Yun said to Feros, “Thank you again for letting us stay with you while they’re away doing whatever horrid thing it is that they do. I know Corin had worked out having Ri stay with you, but I don’t know what I would have done with myself. I don’t have any close friends here yet, other than Corin.”
Feros hooked her tail around Yun’s, “Our mates may be the part of the team that goes and fights, but we’re the part of the team that stays and take care of everything else. We’ve all found that it’s easier to stay in groups. Usually by the time they come back, we’ve all ended up at each other’s place more than once.”
“How do you deal with this? They just go…and you never know when or if they are going to come back. Look at those pictures! It’s horror after horror and they’re surrounded by the enemy! Just like those Cardassians were – I can’t believe they don’t get caught!”
The younger woman said, “You just have to have faith, Yun. If you’re going to go any further with your relationship with Corin, you have to just believe he’ll come back. When you start wondering what it is they’re doing or what risks they’re taking and thinking that they might not come home, it gets to be too much. It’s better to not know, usually.
“This is more than I’ve ever seen about what they really do. They won’t talk about it, you know that, right?”
“No, well, I guess I knew Soldiers kept secrets, but they don’t even tell you what they do on missions?”
“They don’t. You just have to finish patching up all the new holes and let them cuddle their kits and pretend it’s normal. And don’t mention the nightmares.”
“Nightmares?”
“Doesn’t Corin have nightmares when he’s at home? He does here, sometimes.”
“I don’t know, I guess. We haven’t spent that many nights together and he doesn’t sleep as much as I think he should.”
Feros nodded knowingly. “He does, then. You don’t need to mention them. Trion’s mate says she wakes up screaming a lot. He and their kits just let her get up and walk around until she’s ready to go back to bed again.”
Yun was appalled. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“A lot of people can’t. It’s…” she sighed. “A lot of days I wonder why I fell in love with Veth. And when he comes home bloody and broken, I hate Corin for taking him into those places over and over again. And then I’m thankful that he almost always brings them home again, and I see S’eth and him playing, or when I hold her, or him…it’s worth it.”
“Almost always?”
Her expression saddened. “They do lose people sometimes. Corin’s team has the lowest fatal-casualty rate of any of the Raider teams though. In fifteen years he’s only lost four. It kills him every time. He blames himself no matter what happened.”
“Why do they do this? There has to be a better way.”
Feros studied her. “Not in this world, Yun. Our people need to defend ourselves from others who want what we have, or who hate us. We need to find and keep resources so that we can live. There is evil and there are those in the same situation that we’re in, but who for one reason or another are in competition with us. The teams…”
S’eth interrupted, “Mommy? Isn’t that daddy’s team? He said number six.”
They stopped and watched the holo-display. A group of Dosadi in wing-suits dove out an opening into a field of blue and tan and they heard Nelson’s voice say “Oh, shit I hate this!” and dive after them.
Messages started popping up on her PADD almost immediately after that.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI RAIDER ISS BALEOS, IN ORBIT OVER ELETHA
MAY, 2310
Nollos sat at a console in the packed shuttlecraft. The SWACS were designed to control hundreds of fighters and seeking weapons and to provide enhanced sensor information to a fleet. This one had been modified to act instead as a production studio able to send tight-beam transmissions to a relay satellite.
With her was a team of four Dosadi specialists and two of her fellow bards. Their job was to weave all of the different sensor threads together to tell a compelling story. According to the Emperor himself, their job was vital to the future of the Imperium. She shook her head. She wasn’t military. She was an artist. Yet here she was in charge of six people in a battle. Well, in charge of the story, anyway. The military people made all the other decisions.
She really hoped they were as good as her brother was, because according to the plan, they were going to be just sitting out there all by themselves for about fifteen minutes hoping no one noticed them. The main Argus stream on Rileeta looked good though, she smiled to herself. Nelson was right about her – she was going to break hearts across the galaxy. Well, the Vulcans and the Klingons wouldn’t care for her much, but they were freaks anyway.
The driver, or pilot or captain or whatever he was, called back, “EmCon.” and she made sure all her transmitters were off. Why did the military have to have code words for everything? Why not just say “Turn it all off!” Her stomach lurched and the shuttlecraft scooted slowly out of the back of the ship, directly over the blindingly white pole of the planet below them. And she started to see Nelson’s sensor feed coming across her console. Showtime!
“Okay, get ready to cut in to the main feed – Erelan, cue up the background music for Nolin’s speech. They are going to eat this up! Get ready to cut to the ships when they show up, we’re going to have a lot of feeds, so sing out if something interesting’s going on in one. Let’s make this a show no one will ever forget.”

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, ARRIVING, ELETHA
MAY, 2310
Heather sat in the cockpit of her Nighthawk, waiting for the ship to drop out of warp. They weren’t even supposed to wait for a launch order – just go as soon as the big bay doors opened up, and do so as fast as they possibly could. Their only orders: Destroy everything in sight.
Her uncle Corin gave her a snappy salute and she returned it. The ground crews were pulling charging cables and coolant hoses back out of the way, hauling the heavy extensions back into the bays. The fighters were packed nearly on top of each other – the Delos was never designed to launch fighters like this. But here they were. She touched a control on her console and her fighter started broadcasting her favorite battle music.
“Heather, you ever gonna let us have a fight in peace and quiet?” came Paavo’s voice followed by Inga’s laugh.
“Why Flight Leader Puurunen, you know you would get lonely if you didn’t have my music! Whoops – doors coming open, retarders to full, throttles to 10 percent. As soon as you clear the bay, squadron leaders, go for the heavies. Plenty for everybody, so don’t get selfish and don’t get stupid. Shields and screens to maximum. Weapons free. On my mark, go to full military thrust by squadron, follow me out…” The doors finished opening and she said, “mark, mark, mark!” and her fighter soared out of the Delos into insanity.

* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MAY, 2310
No one was talking. The images on the screen were coming in rapid fire jump cuts. The exterior shots were the strangest of all since there was absolute silence. Green lines crossing everywhere. The bright white streaks of missiles or disruptors. Burning ships leaving trails of plasma and debris across the black of space and the tan of the planet. Here and there, the ugly red and yellow flowers of death. These scenes were interspersed with images from the bridge of one ship or another, some afire, all involving men and women shouting incomprehensible rapid-fire orders involving courses or speeds or status. But over and over again the word “FIRE!” Once a feed flashed with a hideous reddish-yellow cloud billowing across it to the sounds of screams and then went dark.
Another jump, to a long space filled with the black, angular shapes of Federation fighters, suddenly racing out into space and the screen cut again and this time the image rolled nauseatingly as the fighter maneuvered hard. Neither Yun nor Feros recognized the voice calmly issuing orders, but back on Earth, the Wilkes family did.
So did a respectable number of people across the Federation who were avid followers of Starfleet. More than one drew puzzled stares when they shouted out “The Angel of Orias!”
There was a steady stream of commentary from a male voice, calmly explaining the battle and what could be expected, what weapons were being used and their effects. A banner scrolled around the base of the holo-images reminding viewers that this was live and was taking place on a planet called ‘Eletha’. Not many people paid much attention to the voice-over – the images were far too compelling by themselves.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, MANEUVERING OVER ELETHA
MAY, 2310
“They’re insane!” Legate Dukat screamed as he tried to find some order in the battle that raged around his flagship.
His sensor officer yelled back, “There’s too many in too close! I can’t track anything there’s shit everywhere!” The technical term for it is ‘saturation’. It involves throwing so many weapons at a defender that their systems and operators are so overloaded that they are unable to function efficiently. He knew the term, of course. But knowing a term, and knowing what to do about it when it happens to you are two different things.
The ECM officer yelled, “We need to take out those damn jammer pods Where are our fighters?!”
“Call the reinforcements from the Torelli Nebula! Immediately!” How many ships do they have? Where did they come from?”
“I can’t tell! They’re everywhere! Every time we shoot them we risk hitting our own ships – There’s shit blowing up everywhere I can’t even tell who’s it is!”
“Helm! Get us out of this mess! Raise orbit by 100,000 km!”
His defense operator spun in his chair, “Their fighters – we can’t track on them! They aren’t where the sensors say they are!”
“What are those?!”
The science officer answered him, “Federation Nighthawks, sir. They have a screening system somewhat like a cloak – it doesn’t hide it, it just degrades our sensors enough to make a hit much less…” the Galor rocked again from a series of explosions and they saw one of the jet-black fighters flash across her main view screen like a shadow in the dark. “…likely. They also are firing a new torpedo type.”
“Where the hell are our reserves?!”
* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MAY, 2310
The holo-images changed again, and they were watching a cluster of low buildings come racing up at them. Nelson’s voice spoke again, straining with effort, “That…that’s our target…They’re shooting!” and they watched phasers reaching up, trying to find the descending team.
S’eth and Rileeta were plastered onto the older women, eyes wide.
Feros said, “They can’t. They can’t show this. They can’t.”
They watched three of the team hit the ground and engage defenders before they even collapsed their para-wings. Nelson hit the ground with a loud “OOF!” and the view staggered. By the time he was looking towards the building again, they could see all six of the Raiders moving and firing and he was sprinting to catch up.
Something exploded near them and a shower of dirt and debris rained down on Nelson, the image now just dirt for a second, and then back to the team. Veth was bleeding from a tear in his left arm, but he turned to look at Nelson and yelled, “Move!!!”
S’eth whimpered, “Mommy…Daddy’s hurt…”
The view centered on Corin, a bloody gash down his face and most of his right ear missing. His bush hat was gone. “Veth! Blow the damn door!” He raised his plasma rifle and fired two shots at something out of view.
Rileeta whined and gripped Yun harder.
“Right, Cap!”
Yun had her hand over her mouth and was shaking her head back and forth. Nelson was speaking again, in between deep, rapid breaths, “We…we’re going to…attack into this…air defense…center…That will allow….The transports and…fighters to…”
“GET CLEAR!” And everyone hit the dirt. Nelson tried to raise his head to get a look at the door but the view filled with Ason’s hand and he yelled,
“Keep your head down you fucking moron!” as a roar washed over them all. The view juggled again as Nelson got to his feet, following the sprinting commandos into the Cardassian air defense sector command post. Yun couldn’t understand why they weren’t all dead a dozen times over as Cardassian troops or technicians would pop up only to be instantly engaged by the smoothly moving group. They looked like they were gliding through the building, their weapons scanning back and forth like machines.
And the view jumped again.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT TRANSPORT ISS K’PATH, IN ORBIT OVER DOSAD
MAY 2310
The transports had dropped out of warp almost inside Eletha’s atmosphere. They hit at a much higher speed than they were designed to do and their hulls began to overheat. The pilot of the K’Path watched the damage indicators begin to light up and looked at his partner. “Don’t think we’re going to be taking off again.”
“Nope.”
The big, boxy ship was leaving a trail like a meteor across the sky. He hoped the Raider teams were on time and on target for taking out the air defenses. They had good shields, but there was only so much they could take.
“Shields, maximum forward.” the pilot ordered.
“Got it…Sensor lock. They’re tracking us.”
“Evasive.”
Seconds passed as the battleforce of over 1,000 Imperial Marines rocked back and forth while the ship tried to make itself as difficult a target as possible. The ship lurched as air-defense phasers began to hit her. There were thirty of the big transports dropping out of orbit, but two of them were engaged and destroyed by Cardassian starships, leaving an obscene spray of thousands of fireballs across the sky.
“I don’t think the Raiders made it.” the pilot commented with all the emotion of a man mentioning that the bus was late.
“Nope.”
“Red-light the Marines. They got a better chance out than in.”
“Too high, too fast.”
“That’s why I said red-light, not green. We’ll wait as long as we can.”
His co-pilot flipped a switch.
Sooth watched the visor on her helmet flash with a red jump-warning indicator. She checked the repeater feed and shook her head. The jump-harness on their battle armor wouldn’t get them down from this high and at the speed they were going, they’d be torn apart. She stood up, “On Your FEET!” And began walking down the lines of troops as they stood in formation by the trap doors that would drop them from the transport. She glanced at one young trooper. She checked her visor display. “Arlos, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Storm Leader!” he sounded off.
“Ever jump before?”
“No, Storm Leader!”
“Won’t be able to say that much longer. Tell you what, you stick by this old fossil and we’ll get you home, all right?”
He stiffened to attention.
Sooth laughed, “Even old fossils still have good hearing, Crewman.” She clapped him on the shoulder of his blue-grey and tan mottled battle armor. She raised her voice, her suit automatically amplifying her words, “Just keep moving, and keep shooting. Assault THROUGH the objective, do not stop ON it. Destroy it and move into defensive positions. We’ll re-group and move on to any other objectives after that. When in doubt, shoot.”
She went back to her spot, listening to the transport ring from the ground fire. And then the defenders fell silent.

* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MAY 2310
Feros said, “That was Corin’s mother. She’s in her SIXTIES! They can’t make her do a combat jump!”
But the view was changing again, back to the battle in orbit.
Yun asked, “Wait…What happened? Wasn’t the team supposed to destroy the people shooting at them?”
“I don’t know! There’s too much going on! I don’t know how anyone can keep track of this!!” Feros said, frustrated.
The commentator was speaking, “After an initial success, the battle is turning against the Dosadi. Not enough ships, outnumbered more three to one, even with the Federation’s loan of a wing of fighters. Casualties are mounting, and there simply aren’t enough ships, not enough firepower to deal with the Cardassian fleet.”
The holo-image was full of burning, exploding ships. The blue-grey Dosadi ships were dwindling while the gold-colored stingray-shaped Cardassian ships were still everywhere. But there were far fewer big ships than there had been.
Aboard the SWACS, Nollos waved her hand emphatically at the Force Leader providing the commentary.
“We are desperate. We rely on our friends, the one power in the galaxy who can always be counted upon by those in terrible need. Where are our allies? Where is Starfleet?”
The view jumped again to the bridge of the Federation heavy cruiser USS Excelsior.  The streaking stars stopped again, this time with a view down into the raging battle over Eletha. Captain Crajjik ordered “FIRE!” and the ten ships of the Starfleet task force engaged the Cardassian fleet from behind. More than a few Federation citizens cheered as the view shifted, showing the pearly-white starships riding to the rescue. All that was missing was a bugler blowing charge.
Yun, Feros, and the kits watched nearly two dozen Cardassian starships silently explode, while the remaining Dosadi vessels renewed their attack with a lunatic ferocity.

* * *
CARDASSIAN BATTLESHIP GALOR, MANEUVERING OVER ELETHA
MAY 2310
The defense officer screamed “Federation starships!!”
Legate Dukat now understood why his reinforcements hadn’t arrived. Somehow the Federation knew of his hidden base in the Torelli Nebula. There was little that could be done now. They were caught between the fires of the Dosadi fleet still rampaging inside his own formations and the Federation starships above them. But, perhaps if he could destroy the Federation vessels, he could still salvage the situation. He opened his mouth to issue his orders and the helmsman shouted,
“Sir! Sir! That ship! It’s on a collision course!!!”
The main view screen shifted and showed a Dosadi assault carrier, shedding pieces from her hull and burning fiercely, accelerating towards him, every weapon still functioning firing directly at him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It kept growing larger as collision alarms began to scream.
Gul Tennekt was shouting something at him, not that it mattered. The damn thing was hideous. It was like watching a portal to hell opening in front of him. And the stars shifted into a blur as Tennekt ordered the Galor into an emergency warp jump, out of the fight and racing away from Eletha as fast as the badly damaged battleship could go. It would be many minutes before they could get any response out of Dukat, his eyes still locked on the empty screen.

* * *
IMPERIAL DOSADI ASSAULT CARRIER ISS DELOS, MANEUVERING, ELETHA
MAY 2310
Nolin hauled himself off the deck and onto his hands and knees. Most of the bridge was destroyed. He reached up to the panel on his command chair, “Wilkes! Dammit Wilkes, I need you!!’
There was a crackling sound and Wilkes’ coughing voice came through. “We’re still here Admiral. We’ve got about five minutes before we blow up though and not a damn thing we can do to stop it. The intermix controls are gone. No damage control available. We’ve lost both flight decks, main deflector’s gone, aft weapons pods destroyed…About all we can do is shoot and scoot.”
Nolin looked at the part of his tactical hologram that was still working. Directly in front of him were a pair of the new Galor-class battleships. The Cardassian commanders would be there. He hit the panel again. “All hands, I’m proud of you. All weapons, engage forward. Wilkes, ramming speed! Everyone else, abandon ship.” He moved to the helm console and gently moved the dead youngster who had been manning that station. He stroked her fur as the whine of the engines got louder. “You did so well, little one.”
He smiled as he watched the battleship swell in the view screen, streaks of missiles, phasers, and disruptors racing from the battered Delos into the enemy ship. He was purring as the range closed.
In disruptor targeting, Eletha waved smoke away from the console. The old veteran who had been at that station was unconscious on the floor, burns all over his upper body from a power conduit that had let go. The trainee was clearly terrified. “Just keep the pipper on that ship, all right? Watch the drift – you have to compensate.”
He stared at her, his eyes open wide, “We’re going to die.”
“Yup. So let’s make it count.” She knew her mate, Corin, must be dead. The east hangar pod had been almost blown off the ship. But this poor boy had probably never had a chance to find a mate. She smiled at him comfortingly. “At this point, nothing matters but style.” She put her hand on his, “Just keep the tracking on them and we’ll do this together.” She fired the disruptor banks again.

* * *
T’ELESH, DOSAD
MAY 2310
The holo-image was showing Nolin’s smiling face with a split-screen showing the Delos’ main view screen. When the Galor leapt into warp, Nolin spat with rage, “COWARDS!!!” and altered his course towards the second battleship.
They had no chance to evade the charging 80,000 tons of near-wreckage. She had been hidden in the sensor shadow of the Galor and her crew barely had time to note they were under attack before the Delos slammed into her forward hull.
S’eth and Ri had their faces buried in Feros and Yun’s fur. Yun was in tears as the feed from the Delos’ bridge went dark, and the view jumped again. She just kept saying “No.” over and over again. They needed to turn this off. This was horrible beyond words. Why was this allowed to be shown?”
It would be almost a day before Ceena and Tir learned of their parents’ fate aboard their old carrier.
Back on Earth, Mrs. Wilkes had collapsed in tears while Rollin and Nina tried to console the old woman. Neither of them wanted to approach her husband who’s expression was all the warning they needed. It was one thing to learn that your son had been killed in battle. It was quite another to watch it happen live in front of you.
But Nelson was speaking again.
“We…we’ve taken control of the center.” he shifted his view around the room as Veth quickly planted explosives on the various panels and slapped detonators into the clay-like substance. Soral was moving from man to man, treating what wounds he could while Ason was firing a heavy plasma auto-cannon out the window at something out of sight.
“As I understand it, this means that…” he ducked, and there was a loud bang and a spray of debris flew through the image. “…sorry.  That the Cardassian air-defenses are no longer working or not working as well or something. The Dosadi are bringing in a lot of Marines to take back the planet and this means they can land safely.”
He looked at Trion, the Strike Leader’s left arm shattered below the elbow. She scowled at him, “What are you looking at, Nelson? Find someone pretty to show all your fans.”
“As you can tell, the Cardassian Soldiers are fighting hard. I’m told they are from the First and Ninth Orders. The Team Leader, Lieutenant Commander Corin has referred to them as, and I apologize to my gentler viewers, “God damn lizards out of hell.” He focused on Corin’s face, the right side of his head a bloody mess. For my Cardassian viewers, you can be proud of your Soldiers…We’re moving again, I don’t know to…oh…they’re going to blow it up.” And the view began to bounce as Nelson ran behind the team.
Another jump.

* * *
Aboard the SWACS, Erelan watched Nollos. “You OK, Nollos?” She just shook her head, her hands moving over the controls in front of her, adjusting levels and monitoring the incoming feeds that she was weaving together.
The tech behind them asked, “What’s up, Erelan?”
“Her father, aunt, and uncle were on that ship that just ran into the other one and that dude with the messed up face is her brother. Her sister’s in charge of all the fighters and her mother’s that old Marine lady.”

* * *
Yun couldn’t take her eyes off of the holo-display. Every image was only adding to a collection of things she wished she had never seen, that she wished she never even knew existed, but she couldn’t stop watching. It was a kaleidoscope of horrors.
Now, there were lines of Dosadi Marines dropping through holes in the floor of the ship they were in – she saw Sooth’s helmet, with it’s pink heart, drop out, second in line. The feed stayed with the interior of the K’Path, shifting to the flight deck, the view shaking as the two men were working furiously at their controls.
The pilot said, “Anything?”
“Nope. We’re fucked.”
“Ah, screw it. Aim for something big.”
And the view jumped to a view of clear blue sky through a faceplate with a data display on it. The banner scrolling around the base of the holo-display said “LIVE FEED – STORM LEADER SOOTH – DOSADI IMPERIAL MARINES – LIVE FEED” She looked down and Yun and Feros could see what looked like a group of armored vehicles coming up fast and lines of Cardassian troops frantically running towards them. A quick glance to the right and there was a smoke trail leading into the ground with a terrific flash of light and the screen darkened until she looked back down and the view tumbled and rolled as she hit dirt.
They could see her plasma rifle come up through her faceplate and hear the ripping sound of two rounds tearing into running Cardassians. Just in front of her, the Commander was hobbling forward, his bad leg slowing his advance. He too was engaging the on-rushing men of the Ninth Order, attempting to keep them from reaching their vehicles.
Yun screamed as a Cardassian phaser hit him in the head, his now-headless body collapsing forward onto it’s front. The view panned rapidly left and right and they could see the Marines hesitate.
Sooth shouted “FOLLOW ME!” and charged the oncoming troops, firing as she advanced at a strange, gliding run.
Something hit the faceplate, creating a web of cracks in the lower right corner of the holo-image. There was another impact that caused the scene to jump, and she yelled again, “KEEP FIRING!”
They could see that the Cardassians hadn’t managed to reach their vehicles – those who had been closest were the first to die. The remainder were now running away. Sooth led her Marines through the vehicles ordering “Alpha, start blowing these damn tanks up, Everybody else, three-sixty security. Where the hell’s the rest of the officers?!”
The young Marine Sooth had been teasing in the K’Path came into view. “Storm Leader, you’re hit!”
The sixty-year old Sooth answered, “No shit. Where’s the XO? Where are the company commanders?”
They could see him fussing with something, she glanced down once and they saw that there was a blackened hole in her lower right side, a bloody streak down her leg armor. She looked up as another pair of Dosadi came up, “XO’s dead, Storm Leader, I’ve got Lieutenant Leean here. Delta CO.”
Sooth hissed, “Dammit Arlos, leave that alone, that hurts like hell. Lieutenant, looks like you’re in charge.” Other company commanders, some merely Force Leaders who had to step up, had arrived.
The officer was struggling. “We…we should…” She looked left and right, hesitating.
“May I make a recommendation, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Storm, what have you got in mind?”
“The briefing said their reinforcements are going to be coming from that direction. Infantry. We’ve got their vehicles; Wish we could use them! I’d put most of the battleforce along that ridge, put the rest in a circle around the park here, but be ready to turn ’em around if we get overrun. They’ve got a lot more troops than we do.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ll do it that way.” The other leaders nodded and began to disperse their troops.
The young officer looked at Sooth. The viewers saw her looking down. “That’s a hell of a hole, Storm.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“You’re kidding. Aren’t you?”
“Nope. Still hurts like hell.” she laughed. “First jump?”
“Yeah. It’s a lot different than I thought.”
“There’s no real way to train for it. Arlos, if you keep stuffing that shit in that hole I’m going to rip your god-damn arms off.”
Arlos’ helmet came back into view. “It’s packed anyway, Storm Leader. That should keep it from bleeding more.”
“Mother hen.” she snorted. “Fine, you’re with me from here on out. Stay close to me, if I need errands run, you’re it and you’d better run like hell when I tell you to.”
“Lieutenant, we got ripped up on that drop, but we can’t let them through here. We need to keep blowing these tanks up until they’re gone and we need to stay in this blocking position. If those men get through us, they’ll be coming right into the rear of the rest of our troops.
“You are going to be scared so bad you’re going to want to pee yourself but won’t be able to. It’s going to look like everyone is dead. No matter what happens, you keep yelling orders loud and strong. Don’t let anyone know you’re scared. We’ll win if you can hold here. But it’s on you.”
The other Marine turned and looked at the troops taking defensive positions along the ridge and the view jumped again.

* * *
The image in the holo-display rolled back and forth and spun quickly as the fighter dodged debris. Heather’s calm voice came through again. “All right people, time to go help the dirty ones. Follow me down, switch IFF to ground forces, shields full front.” The tan planet suddenly swung up to fill the screen and began to grow larger as her fighter dove down onto Eletha.

* * *
FEDERATION HEAVY CRUISER USS EXCELSIOR, MANUEVERING, ELETHA
MAY 2310
The view screen showed the remaining Cardassian vessels warping out or trying to run away at impulse power, and not getting very far. The heavy ships were gone – broken pieces of cruisers and battleships falling slowly into Eletha, adding to the glowing fireballs filling her skies. But the cost had been crushing: of the 70 combat vessels the Dosadi brought with them, 45 were gone.
Captain Crajjik finally reached the ranking Dosadi commander aboard the heavy cruiser Thelet and the ancient cat’s face appeared to waver some. Flames were visible behind him with crews actively fighting the fire. “Captain Hurtal, it appears you’re in command.”
“From what we can tell, yes. There wasn’t much need for fleet command or control once we came out of warp.” he laughed. “Just keep shooting until there’s nothing left to shoot at. Thank you, Captain for all you have done here today.”
“Looks like we were late, Captain. Both battleships destroyed, all three carriers…”
“They were old ships, Captain. They died valiantly and with great honor. Had it not been for your destruction of the Cardassian base in the nebula and then arriving here…The price would have been far higher. The people of Dosad will never forget you.”
“We’re starting to retrieve as many escape pods as we can. There’s so much debris – some of them were destroyed in collisions.” The watchers saw Crajjik studying his opposite number. “Captain…How old are you?”
He laughed, “What is age but a number? I’m 97 and one of the oldest Dosadi alive. But I can still fight as you can see.”
“Can you even stand on your own, Captain?”
“I don’t need to stand to fight my ship as I did forty years ago. Look at your helmsmen, Captain, they are little more than kits.”
Crajjik smiled, “They’re also your kinsmen, Captain. We have a number of cadets aboard for training and they got carried along. Once things settled down, we put them back at their stations.”
“Kinsmen?”
“They are one quarter Dosadi, Captain; Twins. Their mother is the Wing Commander for the fighters engaged here today.”
And the view cut again.

* * *
Nelson’s voice was pitching higher as he talked. There was a constant roar punctuated by explosions. “We…they…the Cardassians are counter-attacking. They appear desperate to retake this command post. I don’t know how many there are, it looks like thousands!” He poked his head up a little from behind the rock he was sheltering behind.
There was a road leading out of a narrow pass in a rocky hill. Advancing up the hill in rushes were great numbers of Cardassian Soldiers in their black and grey uniforms. He scanned left and right, taking in what was left of Raider Team Six.
Trion was on the far left, her left arm useless now and her right leg torn and bloody. She was still firing her plasma rifle, one-handed, with it wedged into a crack in the rocks. Veth was next in line, bleeding heavily from multiple wounds, his plasma rifle a smashed chunk of metal and plastic next to him, and firing a hand phaser. Ason lying prone almost in the middle of the path, his heavy plasma auto-cannon stuttering and discharging blue-white streaks of energy into the enemy ranks. Corin next to him, blood everywhere, firing wherever Ason wasn’t.
Soral was down, dead or unconscious, no one could tell, but young Trellos was covering the medic’s body with her own, alternating between firing her rifle and shouting into her comm gear, “We need some fucking air support right fucking now or we are all going to die! There’s an entire god-damn army coming up the road! They’re in the open! Send us some god-damn air support!!”
And then the artillery began to impact. Trellos and Soral vanished in the fountain of dirt and Nelson ducked further into his rock. More rounds were hitting above them and behind them. He looked again at where the medic had been and saw Trellos, her active camouflage battle dress in shreds, throw down the smashed communications gear she had been using, “FUCK!” She grabbed Soral and dragged him further into what cover there was.
Corin yelled “Fall back! 100 meters back to those rocks – hold them from there. I’ll cover you! Ason, get Veth, Trellos, take Soral.”
Trion crawled backwards as best she could, “Cap, bring the damn…” and she realized what he had said. Another photon-mortar hit just behind them, showering everyone with clods of dirt and pebbles. “God dammit, Cap!”
Nelson watched as he looked over his shoulder at the mobile team members who were starting to fall back.
S’eth screamed when she saw her father’s limp form over Ason’s muscular shoulders as he ran past. Feros was motionless, her mouth hanging open and Yun felt like she was going to throw up.
Corin grinned, the expression made grotesque from the injuries to his head. “Knee’s gone, Storm. I’m good here. Tell Yun and Ri I’m sorry. I tried.”  And went back to firing Ason’s auto-cannon. Nelson looked at Corin’s leg which had been shredded well above the knee.
Trion hesitated for a moment, looking at her CO. Her friend. She glanced at the Cardassians; The only thing slowing them down at all was the constant fire from the auto-cannon. And she got to her feet and retreated, as ordered, grabbing Nelson. “C’mon, damn you.”
He shook her grip off. “I’m staying. I’ve got good cover. I’m neutral.” Another bang and spray of dirt.
She said, “Your call, reporter-man.” She paused for a heartbeat. “You did good, Nelson.” and hobbled off after the survivors of Team Six.
The view zoomed in on the back of Corin’s head and shoulders, coming from behind him so that the viewers could almost see down the auto-cannon. The blue-white streaks tracked back and forth along the Cardassian troops creating a fearful butchery. But they were finding the range, and when he was engaging one side, the other was advancing, closing the distance up the slope.
And the view jumped again.

* * *
The view screen was a confused, dim smear of blue-grey splotches with a web of cracks across it. There was the sound – now familiar – of a Dosadi plasma rifle firing again and again. The banner at the bottom of the screen indicated that the video feed was from Storm Leader Sooth, but there wasn’t much to see. “Ge…get…off…of me, you…damn…kit” came Sooth’s voice.
The view lightened and Yun and Feros could see Arlos roll slightly onto his side now, a hand appearing and fumbling at an ammo pouch for another magazine. “Everyone ran, Storm Leader!”
The view bounced left and right as Arlos fired again, but he had shifted position enough so that the image showed his side and a blue sky overhead with fireballs streaming across it. “f…fall…back…idiot. Can…t hold them yourself” she slurred.
“You said stick with you!” more shots.
“Go find a…girl….have kits…gimme that…rifle…”
“I’m not leaving you!” more shots.
And the view jumped again, this time the scroll at the bottom of the holo-viewer said
CREWMAN R’AWN – DOSADI IMPERIAL MARINES
“…can’t just leave them alone out there you god damn honorless cowards!” she screamed, her view scanning across a dozen Marines crouching behind cover. The view quickly panned around and showed two bloody troopers in armor lying in a shallow hole, perhaps fifty meters to their front, and past them a hundred Cardassians advancing in rushes toward them.
She looked down again and kicked the person in front of her, “ALL of you! ON YOUR FUCKING FEET OR I WILL SHOOT YOU MYSELF! FOLLOW ME!!” And the view spun past the group of Marines starting to rise up and began to bounce as she screamed something unintelligible and began firing at the now very surprised Cardassian line while running forward.
Later, Yun thought it took forever for the young woman to cover the short distance to where Arlos was laying prone on Sooth, finally diving into the hole next to him. Tears were streaming down her face and Ri had crawled into her lap and was chewing on her own tail.
S’eth asked “Mommy…is daddy dead?”
But the view jumped again.

* * *
All they could see was dirt for a moment and then Nelson looked up again. Corin was struggling to crawl half onto a rock. The auto-cannon had been blown to pieces and his right arm was nothing but bloody shreds of raw meat. He was groping for his hand phaser, but couldn’t find it. After a second’s fruitless search, he drew the little silenced caseless-ammo pistol with his left hand.
Nelson watched it jump several times, and when Corin fired again there was the most terrifying screaming sound he had ever heard.

* * *
The display rolling around the holo-display showed the ground coming up fast. A single numeral six in a circle was blinking red just below the center of the screen. The top half was cluttered with small green rectangles with an X connecting the corners. Further down was a cluster of other sixes, so merged together as to be almost unreadable. Heather’s calm voice came through the speakers again: “Wide dispersion, cut it as close as you can, stay low and do not pop up. Break to your own side, I’m coming left, get separation then come back around. Watch the friendlies.”
There was a half second pause and the display shook while streams of green light and pulses of bright white raced away from the diving fighter into the ground. Very few people at home could follow any of the symbology on the display or make out anything in the clouds rising up as the three Nighthawks began their strafing run.
And the view jumped again.

* * *
Nelson looked up as three fighters dove out of the sky directly at him. For a moment, he thought he was going to die as they opened fire, but instead, a series of cracking explosions began a dozen or so meters in front of him and continued on into the distance. He tracked along with the leader as the Nighthawk shrieked past and into the distance, banking tightly to the left and vanishing.

* * *
Aboard the SWACS, Nollos moved her fingers on her control screen, zooming the image and slowing the feed just enough so the words painted on the Federation fighter’s nose were readable, and then returning to full speed as the Broken Angel soared past and away.

* * *
Arlos and his friend R’Awn tried to crawl even further into their hole as a half dozen Nighthawks came dropping out of the sky and began to obliterate the Cardassian troops advancing on them. When it became obvious that the survivors were trying to retreat, they turned their attention to the old NCO they had been protecting.
Arlos shook her shoulder, “Storm Leader?” There was no response.
R’Awn yelled “MEDIC!” and tore into her own first aid kit to try to treat the wounds they could see since Sooth’s kit was exhausted.

* * *
Civilians are generally not prepared for the realities of combat. This was a unique glimpse into the world of the combat Soldier and it was more than many people could take. Many turned off the terrible images of violence and gore. Many more found the images and narrative too imposing to turn away.
But the images that came to truly define the battle for many came at the end. Nelson, peering up out of cover saw the remaining Cardassian troops running as fast as they could. The three warbirds screaming after them again and again. He jumped out of his hole and ran to what was left of Corin. Displays across the galaxy showed a burned, blasted, and battered warrior, still holding his empty pistol in his remaining hand.
Nelson took his ruck off, quickly tearing into the medical supplies he had been carrying as a neutral. With a strength of purpose he never knew he had, he began to tie-off, close-up, and treat Corin’s many injuries. Corin finally gasped out in a hoarse whisper, “too…stupid…to…run?”
“I’m not the one that was lying in the open Corin.” he finished tying off a tourniquet on the stump of his arm. “Just remember, there’s no place in this galaxy you can hide from me, Corin. I’ll get my story.“  While he worked he asked Corin, “Why do they call you Cap? You’re not a Captain?”
Struggling to breath, Corin answered, “Not…Standard…it’s Dosadi…Sh…short for…Capiolos…Means nuts…crazy.”
Nelson laughed, “Fits you.” He checked over his work quickly. “I didn’t complete all your medic training, but I think that’ll hold you until a real medic gets to you.” But the old Soldier was unconscious. Nelson stood up and surveyed the hill and the path leading towards the Cardassian casualties. He began to jog towards the many bodies he could see.
Nollos left his feed live while he began to treat the Cardassian wounded, one after another. She would cut away for the occasional analysis or commentary or other live feed, but again and again she returned to the human in Dosadi active-camouflage battle dress making his way across the battlefield, treating Cardassian wounded.

* * *
Feros and Yun were in shock. They kept asking each other, “Is he alive?” Both kept hoping the feed would return to their loved ones so they would have some idea of their status. For hours, they left the display playing, listening to endless commentaries and discussions and the endless, awful replays.
But no answer came.

* * *
In the following days, both the Federation and the Klingon Empire stated that they would guarantee the Imperium’s borders against any incursion by any other power. Both they, the Hydrans, the Tholians, and the Gorn formally recognized the Dosadi claim on Eletha. In little more than an hour, the Dosadi had achieved a stunning military and political victory against overwhelming odds.
It would be nearly two weeks before the first wounded survivors began to arrive back on Dosad and over a month before front line Fleet elements were able to arrive to replace the obsolete vessels with their retiree/trainee crews who had paid such a dreadful price.
Weeks of worry for thousands of families; at least for those who had not seen their loved ones die in front of their eyes. For the families of Raider Team Six, it was a miserable time. They were fairly sure that Trion, Ason, and Trellos had survived, but they didn’t know.
CHAPTER 10
bomDI’ ‘IwwIj qaqaw. (The memory of you sings in my blood.)
– Klingon Folk Saying
T’ELESH, DOSAD
JUNE 2310
Arlos and R’Awn helped the old woman into her roundhouse. She still wasn’t moving terribly well, favoring her left leg while bent slightly forward to keep from stressing the scars on her right side. They slid the door open for her and she stepped in.
Sooth looked at the home she had made for so many years and stopped halfway across the threshold. Everything was where they left it the morning they had left for the fleet. All the same things. Nollos and even Nelson were here, just as they had been that night, smiling at her. So why did it look and feel so empty?
Could just the knowledge that he would never come home empty an entire building like that? She sighed deeply, remembering so many happy homecomings for both of them across decades of service in two different fleets.
“Storm Leader?” Arlos asked.
She shook her head. “Sorry. You two don’t need to keep fussing over me you know. You already went above and beyond on Eletha!”
Nollos offered, “I asked them to, Mother. It gave Nelson and me a chance to get your things ready here.”
Still standing in the doorway, Sooth dropped her eyes. “This is hard, kits. So much harder than I thought. I always thought I’d be the first one to go.”
“Mother, please come in. It’s still home. You still have all of us, and Heather’s and Rollin’s kits and so many others who count on you and love you.”
“I know, Nollos. I promise I do. It’s just…I feel so empty.” She sighed again and squared her shoulders. She stepped inside and gave her middle daughter a hug. Then she turned to Nelson. “Wilkes liked you, Nelson. I think he saw that you were more than just a reporter.”
“I don’t understand. I am just a reporter.”
She wrapped the young human in her arms as she had her mate so many times, “Nelson, before I left the medical bay they showed me that battle at Kastelene Pass. You tried so hard to save him. And you told their story; the Klingons aren’t that impressed by other races in combat. Those men impressed the Klingons with their skill and valor – They saw that because you fought with them, unarmed and half-trained. And now they’re helping to guarantee our safety.”
She broke the hug and stroked around his left eye. “If you’ll let us, I’d like to get you a tattoo, right about here…”
Nelson laughed, “I am truly honored, Sooth, but part of my job is to blend into the background when I need to. That’d be hard to do with a Dosadi decoration on my face.”
Sooth grinned at him and patted his shoulder. “You may find you spend more time here than you expect. You’re not done with your research on our family are you?”
He looked at her suspiciously. “No, not by a long shot. But once I’m done, I’ve got other stories to do for Argus and that’ll take me away from here.”
“Of course.” She sat down, stretching her legs out. “Arlos, R’awn, if you’re going to keep following me around you’re at least going to make yourselves useful. R’awn, please go in the kitchen and get something for everyone to nibble on.” When the young Marine had left the room, Sooth reached up and grabbed Arlos’ arm and pulled him down close. She whispered, “If you let that one go, I will break both your legs, Crewman. Now go help her get some food together.”
“Yes, Storm Leader!” he grinned and obediently trotted into the kitchen after his friend.
Nollos finally got it. “Oh no, Mother. Don’t you dare get that look on your face.”
“Don’t be silly.” she said smugly. And then, “Is there any news about him?”
Nollos glanced at Nelson briefly, and then back at her mother’s smiling face. Annoyed, “No, he’s still in a coma. They’ve got everything closed up though.”
“What about the girls?”
“Yun goes to see how he is most days, according to the doctors.”
“And the little one?”
Nollos shook her head. “She went once, then refused to go again. She stays with Veth a lot. I think his little girl is helping her to deal with it. I’m glad she wasn’t staying with Soral’s family. They’re…struggling to cope.”
“What about Corin and Eletha’s kits?”
“They’re going to be OK. They’re a strong family.” She sat down by her mother. “They lost them both. I can’t imagine that. I’m having a hard enough time trying to get used to Dad being gone.” She leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.
“And you had to sit there and send it out to the galaxy while it happened.” She reached up and stroked her kit’s face. “And your brother, too. I heard something though, kit.”
Nollos sniffed, trying not to cry. “What?”
“You’re to be honored by the Emperor himself. They’re crediting you with rallying our allies and convincing the galaxy of the justness of our cause.”
“Mother! All I did was editing!”
“You made it something real to people, Nollos. Real, and immediate and horrifying and full of real people with real lives who were fighting and dying for what they believed in. And you made them care about us.”
Nelson subtly adjusted the zoom on his sensor-glasses.
Sooth looked up at him. “Nelson, seriously, I’m going to take those away from you.”
Laughing he took them off. “Sorry, Sooth. Old habit.”

* * *
Corin opened his eyes, slowly – they were sticky. Yun’s face pulled away from him quickly, and disappeared to his right. “munh?” Why couldn’t he see anything out of his right eye? He tried to reach up to pull whatever was on it off, but nothing happened. He started to struggle.
“Corin, stop. Please, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” She put her hand on his chest. It was warm and solid and pushed him gently into the diagnostic bed.
“Do you remember any of what happened, Corin?”
She looked angry, but for the life of him he didn’t know why. He tried to speak, but his tongue was thick and his mouth was dry. He swallowed several times. “The battle?”
“Yes.” A doctor came in with a hand scanner and began waving it over him.
“I’ll be damned. “ the man said.
“How much do you remember?” she asked.
Corin tried to think. Things were still…fuzzy. Things hadn’t gone well from the start. He remembered that. She gave him time to recall. Slowly, in bits and pieces the images came back to him.
“How are they? Who did we lose? How many?”
She shook her head. “I am so angry with you Corin. But only Soral. Everyone else survived, thanks to you. Soral died before you ordered them back. A bomb hit right next to him and Trellos. It blew her clothing and equipment to shreds but hardly scratched her. It killed him.”
He closed his eyes again.
“No, Corin, open your eyes. Right now. It’s important. Do not go back to sleep, Corin.” She shook him. “Corin!”
He opened his eyes again. “What?”
“You mustn’t go back to sleep, OK?”
“I wasn’t. How is his family? His mate?”
She sighed angrily. “They’re doing as well as anyone is in their position, and there are thousands of families who lost loved ones.”
“I tried to save him, I really did. I should’ve…”
“God DAMN you Corin!” the doctor looked up surprised.
“I’m sorry, I really…”
“Did you even give one second’s thought to me or Ri? Did you try to save YOU?! It’s so easy for you to die, isn’t it? I saw it! I saw you! You couldn’t have been happier to lay there and die for your team! You didn’t even try!”
“I…I had to stay behind. I needed to cover them.”
She wiped her eyes. “You are such an ass, Corin. You could have had Nelson carry you. Take the fucking gun with you and shoot from a rock or something. But no, you just lay there getting blown apart and thinking you were being heroic.” She shoved his chest, hard. The doctor was becoming alarmed at the abuse his patient was suffering. “You think you’re brave? Brave would have been coming home and living with all the messy emotional pain and the boredom of a normal life. But no, you have to be some storybook hero because it’s easier than dealing with life.
“You know what? Uthin, that little clerk you almost beat up? HE’S braver than you are. He has a mate and kits and he gives everything he’s got so that he can raise a family and they can lead happy lives together and grow up and live too. He doesn’t go looking for ways to die.
“That little girl is devastated, Corin. She saw the whole god damn thing, live. She saw that death’s-head grin when you told them to leave you there. She knows it too.” She shoved his chest again, turned around and left the room.
The doctor, clearly uncomfortable said, “Uh, okay. Well, uh, how are you feeling?”
Corin took a moment before he looked back from the empty door to the doctor.“Like shit. What’s wrong with me? Nothing’s working right.”
“Corin, you were very, very, very badly injured. You need to brace yourself, all right? This is not going to be easy to hear.”
“Okay. What is it?” Corin had been told bad news by doctors before.
“You lost your right leg, your right arm, your right eye and ear. You were in a coma for almost a month. Your heart actually stopped several times and you had significant swelling in your brain. Your liver and right kidney suffered extensive damage.”
He sighed, “Regen again? I hate that muck.”
“Corin…you were already in regen. We barely managed to get your liver and kidney repaired. Your tissues are…fragile now when it comes to any form of regen. Even wound-sealers don’t work very well any more. You’ve got scars on your scars. I had to actually stitch your stumps closed and we had to use dressings like it was over a century ago.”
He was stunned. “Stumps?” He tried to move his right arm again and although it felt like he was moving it, nothing much happened. When he looked down, he saw the sheet covering him moving a little but…As he glanced further down he noticed the same thing. His body ended just below the hip on his ride side. “What the fuck?! Doc, how do I get them back?”
“You don’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We can fit you with prosthetics though, Corin. It’ll take some getting used to, but you’ll be able to walk almost normally and do almost everything a normal person does.
“Please don’t close your eyes…Open your eyes. You need to stay awake at least eight or nine hours, Corin, you were in a coma way too long. The bets were that you weren’t ever going to wake up.”

* * *
The next day, Yun was back, and with her was little Rileeta. Yun still smelled angry, but not as furious as she had been. Corin thought that he hadn’t ever been as glad to see someone as he was the two of them.
“Hello, Yun! Ri! I’m so glad to see…” the kit barely glanced at him. He was surprised to feel that single glance hurt. A lot. “Ri?”
Yun said, “I told her she needed to come and see you.”
He blinked. He had heard stories about how they couldn’t keep her away from his side the last time he was wounded. And she had literally crawled kilometers through freezing rain and mud to come stay with him. Twice. And now she had to be told to visit? That hurt even more.
“Ri?” She glanced at him again with a cold expression, then turned away and began looking at some equipment.
Yun let go of her hand and came and sat by Corin. He was staring at the little girl who was studiously ignoring him. “How are you feeling? Did the doctor tell you about…well…your injuries?”
“Yes. I…I honestly have no idea what I’m going to do, Yun. I can’t lead my team…I can’t do anything. I’m half a man!”
She looked at him. “Corin, you were always half a man. Now you’re just half a man who’s missing some parts.”
“What the hell? Are you just coming back here every day to insult me? I got the shit blown out of me!”
“No, I come back here every day to tell you the truth. Something someone should have told you a long time ago, Corin.” She curled her legs under herself and wrapped her tail around her feet. He noticed she no longer smelled angry. “Who are you, Corin?”
“What? What do you mean, who am I?”
She shrugged. “Who are you?”
Puzzled he said, “I’m Lieutenant Commander Corin, Team Leader of Raider Team Six, Dosadi Imperial Navy.”
“No, that’s what you do, not who you are. But for you, they’re the same thing, aren’t they?”
“They are for everyone, Yun.”
“Do you even know what I do, Corin?”
“You…well you…” he struggled to think. The topic had never come up. “You’re an artist.” he guessed.
She actually laughed. “No, but a good guess, I suppose. I’m an architect, Corin. I design homes. I only just recently found a group of builders who want to work with me; I design differently then they’re used to here. But you see? That’s not who I am.”
He was truly embarrassed. She could smell it. “That’s why I said you’re only half a man, Lieutenant Commander Corin. All you are is what you do.”
That stung. “Then why bother with me at all?”
She cocked her head at him. “I told you once before, I don’t know. I still think it’s because I saw someone inside the killer. A man. A man who would spend his time patiently teaching a little girl how to swim, or how to do Tai Chi. I think I saw that there could be another half of you, but that you were terrified to let it out.
“You told me once Tai Chi was about achieving balance. How balanced do you think you are, Lieutenant Commander Corin?”
He was really starting to hate the sound of his name and rank. He was going to make a glib reply, but actually stopped and thought about it instead. She watched him work through it. “Yesterday, I would have said very. But Yun, if I’m not a Soldier, what am I? What good am I? What purpose do I serve?”
She put her hand on his right shoulder, careful to avoid the stump. “That’s up to you. You’re lucky; you have choices in front of you. So many people never get the chance that you have.”
“What chance? I have to learn how to walk all over again.”
“There is a little girl over there who, more than anything in the universe wants to have a pig-headed, half-man Soldier for her father. What are you? What good are you? That’s up to you. You could be a teacher, a father, a protector, an example, and more. Or you can, I don’t know, give up and die since you can’t go out and kill any more and didn’t get to die being ‘heroic’.”
“She doesn’t even want to talk to me.” He said a little more sulkily than he intended.
“Rileeta?” the girl turned to look at Yun. “Do you have anything you want to say to Lieutenant Commander Corin?” He gritted his teeth.
She shook her head, never taking her eyes off of Yun.
Yun stood up. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if you want me to.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I think so. This is difficult for Ri. And I think you’ve got enough to think about for a while. And I’m tired of being mad at you, so I’m hoping you pull your head out of your ass.” She squeezed his shoulder. Then she collected Ri and left the room.

* * *
Two weeks later, a lot of family and friends had gathered at Sooth’s, both to welcome Corin out of the hospital and to remember Wilkes. Ceena, Tir, Yun, Ri, Nollos, and Nelson were there, along with many neighbors and old business associates.
Yun had proved to be more patient with Corin than he expected. He had struggled with learning how to use the advanced prosthetic leg and arm he had been fit with – they provided some sense of touch and moved fairly normally but learning how to make them respond was difficult, and the stumps needed time and practice to acclimate to the fit of the devices. They hurt – constantly. Yet she would put up with the cursing, the frustration, and the far too frequent outbursts.
But he struggled more with trying to understand exactly why Yun was so angry at him. Intellectually he knew she was upset with the risks he had taken and the danger he had placed himself in, but he had yet to fully make the connection that she really did care about him. People said things like that, frequently, but they rarely meant it. Except, she seemed to. Her anger at him hurt and confused him, although there was none of the open ‘mad’ that she had displayed the first couple of days. It was more a…coolness. As though she were waiting for something from him.
But not nearly as much as Ri’s cold indifference. She would obediently come along with Yun when asked, but mostly refused to even talk to him. There was none of the warmth that he had come to count on. She didn’t hold his hand, or wrap her arms around his leg, or smile at him and he was finding that left him feeling very empty, and alone. That was even more confusing. He liked being alone. He preferred it. So why was there this constant, aching hole in his middle now?
By the time dinner had finished, a fair-sized early summer thunderstorm had rolled in, punctuating the conversation with low rumbles and the flash of lightning outside while the rain lashed at the roof and the deep windows. The breeze freshened the air inside with its cool, crisp draft, laden with the scent of the rain.
As usual, Corin had hardly participated in the dinner beyond eating the food and being there. Ceena had been watching the three of them. When things started winding down and people started heading for home or looking for places to curl up, she stood up and walked over to Ri.
“Rileeta, would you come outside with me for a little bit?”
The little girl was surprised, “Um, it’s raining and thundering outside.”
“I know. I love thunderstorms. You won’t melt, I promise.”
Puzzled, Ri stood up and followed the older woman outside, into the rain. Sooth cast a thoughtful glance after them, and then at her eldest son. Yun was laughing at something that Tir had said. Everyone appeared to have had a good time saying goodbye to Wilkes, remembering favorite jokes, songs, or stories. Except Corin, who had seemed more withdrawn than normal. She decided to wait and see what would happen; in her nearly sixty years she had found that waiting often served better than rushing to action.
Outside, Ri fluffed her fur against the wind and the rain while Ceena said, “Ahhh! I love the feel of being out in a storm!” She held her arms wide, and tipped her face up to the rain while they walked.
“Okay.” Ri was still intimidated by Ceena and figured it was safer to simply agree.
Ceena laughed, “It’s not for everyone. Here, we can sit here under these branches and be mostly dry, unless the wind blows the rain on us and you won’t feel so cold or wet.” They moved underneath one of the big Dosadi trees with the long corn husk-like leaves hanging down. They acted very much like gutters, channeling the gurgling rainwater into the ground for the tree’s roots. The two of them sat for a little while, watching the dark clouds roil across the black sky and listening to the rain and thunder.
Finally, Ceena turned her attention to the little girl. She sighed. “Rileeta, can I talk to you, woman to woman? Do you know what that means?”
Pleased at her promotion, Ri answered, “I think so. You mean you want to talk about important stuff, right?”
“Yes. And things that are hard to understand and hard to do. They’re pretty grown-up. Maybe too grown-up, but you seem to understand and be able to handle a lot more than most kits your age.”
“Thank you.” She was pleased that Ceena saw her in that light.
“You know you’re hurting Corin terribly, don’t you?”
Rileeta hung her head.
“He deserves it, some, too.”
Surprised, she looked sideways at Ceena.
“But, he doesn’t understand why you’re being so distant. He knows it hurts, but he doesn’t understand why.”
“That’s stupid.” Ri said.
Ceena laughed. “Yes, it sort of is. Corin’s a little peculiar. Do you want to know why?”
“Yes, please.”
Ceena half-turned to face the child. “A long time ago when we were children, Corin really admired and looked up to my brother, Kaileen. Have you heard about him?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“He was my age, and he was brave, and strong, and smart and he always did the right thing. He had his first challenge – against a grown man and a dangerous warrior! – when he was only a little older than you, because he thought the man was hurting Corin’s sister, Heather. You’ve heard of her, right?”
“Yes! She was in the battle. Did she do something wrong though? Nelson talks about her like she did something wrong or…”
“I’ll tell you that story another time, OK? Or you can ask Nelson. But he’ll talk both your ears off, so have some time before you ask him.” she chuckled. “But, as I was saying. Corin wanted to be just like Kai. And Corin adored his sister. She was this tiny little red, spotted kit…”
“Red and spotted?!” she asked incredulously.
“You know they’re different, right? Because their dad was human?”
“Oh, yeah. Corin told me that.”
“Exactly. Anyway, she was this feisty little ball of curiosity and energy. A lot like you, actually. When this happened, they were just a couple years younger than you.”
“What happened?”
She looked sad. “We were all visiting Earth and a group of really bad men ran off with Heather. They were going to kill her or do something awful to her. But Kai attacked them. He saved her.”
“Like Corin did me!”
“Yes, but kit, my brother was a child and he attacked three grown men. He killed all three of them, but they killed him too. And Corin saw.”
“Oh.” Her green eyes were wide.
The rain came down, making a pattering sound while Ceena collected herself. “Even after all these years it’s still hard. I know you understand, though Rileeta.” She shook her head. “It hurt Corin terribly. The boy he idolized, that he wanted to be like had done the right thing, he had saved his sister, but he died. All the love he felt for my brother…well, it sort of blew up inside him.
“I don’t think he ever really let himself love anyone other than his family again. Not the way you should, anyway, with all your heart.”
“Not ever?”
“No, Rileeta. I don’t think so. He loves his team and would do anything for them, but he doesn’t let them get close. He loves everyone, really. He’d die to protect anyone, just like Kai did. Some days I think he wants to die. I think he hurts inside all the time and just wants it to stop. Do you understand that? It’s pretty grown-up.”
“I’m not sure. How can he love people but not…If someone loves you and you don’t let them…Why?”
She sighed. “I think because if you let someone get close, they can hurt you. If you let them love you, they can hurt you. By leaving, by changing, or…by dying. What would you have felt if Corin had died?”
“He almost did.”
“I know. He’s almost died a lot, Rileeta. He’s a very special kind of Soldier that they send on the most dangerous jobs. It’s going to be very, very hard for him now because he won’t be able to do that any more. But would it have hurt you if he had died?”
“Yes. A lot.”
Ceena nodded. “He’s afraid of feeling that kind of hurt. It’s easy for him to deal with being shot, or stabbed, or blown up, or broken, or any of those horrible things that happen because of what he does. But he’s terrified of having his heart hurt again. Do you know why you’re hurting him so much?”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Yes, you do, Rileeta. He scared you and hurt you and you want to hurt him back. It’s very natural. But do you know why it does hurt him when you’re so cold to him and shut him out?”
“Not really.”
“He let himself love you like you were his little girl. And he let you love him back.”
“He did?”
“Yes, Rileeta, he did. He’s never let anyone stay with him as long as you have, and no one has stayed with him at all for many years. And once he let you into his heart, Yun started to help him open up too. But now, you’ve turned away from him and it’s almost more than he can bear.”
The little girl frowned.
“That’s what I brought you out here for, Rileeta. I’m asking you to be very grown up. I’m asking you to stop shutting him out and just tell him why you’re mad at him and I’m asking you to try to forgive my pig-headed cousin.”
She grinned.
“Can you do that? At the very least, tell him why you’re mad?”
“Is it okay if I yell?”
Ceena laughed and wrapped her tail around the black-furred kit. “You wouldn’t be the first one to yell at him, Rileeta. Just give him a chance, OK?” The two sat and watched the storm for a little while, keeping their thoughts to themselves.
Rileeta spoke into the silence. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“Thank you, Rileeta.” She gripped the kit’s shoulder. “I respect that about you. You listen, and you think. I hope you two fix it; I’d like to have you be part of our family.”
Ri ducked her head and leaned into the older woman.
“Ready?” Ri nodded and the two of them walked through the rain, back into the roundhouse.
About the only folks left and awake were Sooth, Corin, Yun, Nollos, and Nelson. Ceena went in and sat next to Yun and Nelson, leaving Rileeta just inside the doorway.
She finally walked over to where Corin was using his left hand to rub at the fit of his prosthetic leg. He looked up at her. She was obviously struggling to come up with just the right words and to be very mature.
“I’m very mad at you.” she said. Yun turned her head to watch while Ceena whispered in Tir’s ear.
Corin’s eyes widened. This was more than she had said to him in weeks, even if it wasn’t exactly a warm welcome home. “I kinda figured that out, Ri.”
She looked cross. “Why did you do that?”
He was genuinely puzzled. “Do what?”
“You got all blown up. You didn’t try to hide or run away or anything.”
“I couldn’t run away; I had to stay with the team, I had to protect them.”
Her face was twitching. “But you didn’t even try not to get hurt. You promised you’d come home. You promised and you weren’t even trying.” The volume of her voice was going up. Several of the folks who had found sleeping spots turned to watch.
“I did my best, it was a…”
“No you didn’t! You didn’t!” she poked him in the chest, “I saw it! I saw all of it! You were just lying there letting them shoot you and you didn’t care and you didn’t care about me or anyone and you wanted to die even though you promised!”
“Ri, that’s not true, I tried, I…”
“It is so true! You were supposed to come home and take care of me and teach me to swim and Tai Chi and you promised! Everyone saw it!”
Corin wrapped his left arm around her and tried to pull her to him but she hit him in the chest instead, “You don’t care and you were just going to die and leave me all alone again and…” he pulled her in close, despite her hitting him several times.
“Rileeta, that’s not true! I do so…”
She was crying openly now, “…all you care about is everyone else and you don’t love me and you just you promised and you were gonna die and I saw them shoot you and you were bleeding and you weren’t going to come back and you promised.” she was crying and hiccuping at the same time and had pretty much become incoherent.
Corin was holding her to him, her face buried in his chest while she cried. He said, quietly, “I do so love you.”
She didn’t look up, she just shook her head and continued to cry, wetting his fur. “Rileeta, I love you very much, I wish you were my daughter. I’m sorry you think I didn’t…” She was still shaking her head.
“Ri, I’m sorry I didn’t try harder not to get hurt. And I’m sorry I scared you, or hurt you…” he looked up at Yun, “or anyone else.”
Yun was watching him with a somewhat inscrutable expression on her face.
“I don’t know how to be anything else, Ri.” except he was still looking at Yun. “I’ll have to learn though, I guess.” he stroked her back while she snuffled.
Still looking at Yun, he said, “Will you help me, Ri? It’s going to be hard for me. You’ll have to be patient.”
Curled up in his lap, her face still buried in his chest, she shrugged.
He pulled her back slightly and looked down, “And Ri, would you stay with me, and let me take care of you? Until you grow up, anyway?”
She sniffed and looked up at him, her expression was a mix of hope and mistrust.
“I’d like to be your father, if you’ll let me and help me learn how.”
Sooth’s ears and whiskers flicked forward. Yun’s expression hadn’t changed at all. Nollos was still holding the PADD that she and Nelson had been working on, leaning against him. Nelson had his hand on the temple of his glasses.
“Are you gonna go get blown up again?”
“No, Ri. I can’t do that any more. I think Trion and I are going to take charge of three teams. But that means we stay here, on Dosad. I have to learn how to be somethi…” he looked at Yun again. “I have to learn how to be someone different.”
“You won’t send me away any more?”
“Not ever, Ri.”
She buried her face in his chest again and cried.
Yun stood up and walked over to him. She gently rubbed his remaining ear. “I think we can work with that, Corin.”
“This isn’t going to be easy, you know.”
She looked at him fondly. “No, it won’t be. I’m not even sure it will work for you and me. But at least now I’m seeing that man I first saw on the beach, not the cold and empty one I saw in the holo-display. I’d like to see a lot more of the first one. I think this little one will be able to show him how to come home, Corin.”
“I don’t really understand what you see, Yun. Or for that matter, what I see. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever been interested in either. But there’s something about you that’s just…hypnotic.”
“Maybe it’s that I’m just not willing to give up on you. I’m a bit pig-headed myself and I don’t like the idea of you running me off.”
He chuckled, “Great. A whole family of stubborn people.”
She rubbed his ear again, “I’ve seen worse.”
Sooth stood up and walked over to them, wrapping her arms around all three. “I wish Wilkes could have seen this. Welcome home, Corin.”

CHAPTER 11
“It is not the oath that makes us believe the man, but the man the oath.”
– Aeschylus – Earth (Human)

CULAT, CARDASSIA PRIME
AUGUST 2310
Corin limped slightly as he walked down the streets of Culat, his two guards keeping a wary eye on him. He thought how very strange it was to walk openly through this city; the last time he had been here, it had been one of the most stressful missions he’d ever been on, sneaking through alleys in the dead of night towards the University. He glanced back at the two Soldiers guarding him. They looked quite capable. Neither had spoken to him beyond perfunctory directions – “Walk that way. Turn left.” that sort of thing.
“Stop.” the bigger one of the two commanded him. He looked up. The building didn’t look all that different from any other Cardassian structure. Their architecture was…heavy. Solid. Everything looked like a fortress of some sort. There was none of the fluidity and harmony with living things that was common on Dosad; especially in Yun’s designs. He was happy that her style was finding a following in T’Elesh. The squarer buildings with their peaked roofs and extended, crossing front and rear rafters stood out dramatically from the roundhouse that was more typical in the city. They looked…exotic.
“Well?” his guard asked. He realized he was hesitating. He raised his hand and knocked. When the door opened, he was looking into the face of a middle-aged Cardassian woman. Behind her, sitting on a chair with a PADD was a young girl, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, who had looked up when the door opened.
The woman’s face went from shock to ice-cold hostility in rapid succession. “Dosadi.” she said as though it were the vilest curse imaginable. And then, “You.”
Corin met her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” he said, relying on the universal translator to make the appropriate salutation. For a short while he wondered if she were going to slam the door in his face, or attack him. The guards were as much to protect him from the Cardassians they passed, and from her, as they were to keep an eye on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that they had come up on the balls of their feet, slightly. Clearly they noticed her emotional state as well. He finally continued, “May I come in, please? I think you know why I’m here.”
She considered it, then glanced over her shoulder at her daughter who was also looking at him with revulsion. Another glance at the two guards. “Perhaps you should.” She stepped back from the doorway allowing the three of them to come into her home, then shut the door behind them. Corin stood at-ease, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m sorry to cause you more pain. I have a letter for you from your mate.”
“You really brought it with you?” There was a flicker of interest in her face now.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He reached into his sash and pulled out an isolinear rod and handed it to her, and then went back to standing at-ease.
She turned to her daughter and ordered, “Natima, bring me that, please.” The young girl obediently stood up and handed the device to her mother. She inserted the data rod and began to read, allowing her daughter to read along as well.
Corin kept his eye on an imaginary spot on the back wall, trying his best to give them some privacy. The empty eye-socket itched under the black eye-patch and the stump of his ear ached. It took longer than he thought, which left him more time to catalog the various aches and pains.. Kalekt must have written quite a lengthy farewell letter. When they finished, the little girl was in tears and ran out of the room. The older woman kept her emotions under control, but her eyes were shining.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I saw what happened on that damnable Argus special.”
“All of it, Ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know his honor and decency and courage led him to fight me rather than to simply kill my daughter.” He continued to stare at that imaginary spot on the wall.
“Do you think that helps?”
“It should, ma’am. He died doing his duty, and he is well respected among his foes.” He looked at her. “I liked him. If things had gone only slightly differently, our positions might have been reversed. I don’t think I’ve ever regretted having to kill someone more. And had it not been for my team medic being right behind me, he would have killed me too. He was a brave man, a strong man. He was a noble warrior and that is a rare thing. I am honored that he was my enemy. I wish that we could have been friends instead.”
She reached out and slapped him across the face. Neither of the guards moved, nor did Corin. She slapped him again. He went back to staring at the spot on the wall. Her face was hard, but there were still tears in her eyes. “Did you fulfill the rest of your promise?”
“Yes, ma’am. I brought them home. One of us stood a guard of honor over them the entire trip. We were very much alike and we all knew it. We gave them what we ourselves would like to have whenever our luck runs out.”
“Where is he?”
“Ma’am, the frigate ISS Verat Torrollos is in orbit over Cardassia Prime right now, escorted by two of your vessels. Your mate was the team leader so we await your instructions on where to bring them. With the permission of you and your government, my team would like to escort them the rest of the way home.”
“No. I don’t want any more of…you…on this planet. Beam them to the medical facility. Gul, you know the coordinates. Please tell them.” The larger of Corin’s two guards stepped off to the side and spoke quietly into his communicator.
Corin continued to stare at the spot on the back wall. She continued to study Corin. She finally concluded, “I will never stop hating you until the end of time.”
He straightened his shoulders. “I understand, ma’am.”
“You have completed your promise. Get out of my house.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” he turned to follow the guards out and paused, “I know it won’t help, ma’am, but I truly am sorry.”
“Get out!”
Corin followed the guards into the street. They began walking back towards the spaceport and after a few blocks, the Gul stopped them, his hand flat against Corin’s chest.
“We all saw that special too. And the broadcast of the battle as well.” Corin looked at him curiously and he continued “You call your group Raider Team Six, don’t you?”
“Yes. Though, right now I’m the team leader in name only. I lost too many parts to continue in the field.”
The big man inspected Corin. “I lead a similar unit, of the type Gul Kalekt led.”
Corin remained silent. They were off the main streets and away from the majority of the public eye. If they decided to go after him, there wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could do about it.
“He said he wished he had time for a drink. Do you remember?”
Corin grinned, “I do. I wish we had as well. I would have enjoyed drinking with him. I’ll be raising a glass in his name during our next memorial games on Dosad.”
The Gul said, “I think, Dosadi, that we should have that drink for him now. Who knows if there will be time later?”
Corin’s face split into a broad smile. “I would very much like that, Cardassian. I have a very close-friend on Dosad who keeps telling me that if people could just sit down and talk, they wouldn’t fight so much. She would be very happy were I to do that with you.”
The Cardassian smiled back. “We respect honor too, Dosadi. And we remember as well.” He motioned the other guard and Corin into the building they had stopped in front of. “Our Scouts prefer this bar. They understand warriors.”
And the door cycled closed behind them.
EPILOGUE
Which pretty much brings me to the conclusion of my research. As of this moment, Corin and Yun are still together despite butting heads as often as a pair of bighorn sheep. Fortunately, little Rileeta seems to have both of them under control most of the time, and Ceena seems willing to keep her under control when needed.
You’re no doubt wondering what happened to all of that data safely tucked away behind my navel in my secondary cache: I erased it.
Before you wonder if I’ve taken leave of my senses, let me explain why – And I hope you’ll not think the less of me for my reasons, nor think that I have biased my story in any way. I have a reputation for always reporting fairly and I intend to keep it that way.
While completing and then assembling all of my research and the many, many hours of raw video, audio, holo, and written materials, I found two experienced and willing helpers. The first was an adept researcher who was well experienced at teasing old data from the ‘nets – Heather; The pilot who was so central to the story that ended up defining my career choice. The second, a highly experienced artist, editor, and producer herself – Nollos.
Unfortunately for my attempting to remain completely uninvolved in my story, it is not possible to spend nearly two years in such close cooperation with someone of such similar interests, skills, and outlook without becoming…involved emotionally despite the difference in age. The Wilkes family, strange as it is, is open, warm, friendly, and, sad to say, addictive.
Being involved with a non-human isn’t nearly as strange as I thought it was when I began this project, and the Wilkes family’s involvement with the Hydran House of Jons seems relatively normal now.
In any case, my reporting is true to the facts. I’ve been under no pressure from Federation, Dosadi, or Hydran intelligence  and I intend to keep it that way; Which is why I erased that data. Besides, I think I’ll need the space. Nollos and I are beginning a working tour of the Federation. Argus has again allowed me to do independent work, this time on the performing traditions of the races of the galaxy. The series will be titled ‘Quantum Entertainment’ – look for it on your Argus feed.
I’m looking forward to it.

ENDNOTES
1    ‘Courage Knows No Bounds’ Lyrics, Phillip R. Obermarck, Music by Heather Alexander © 1997 Sea Fire Productions
2    ‘The Season’s Upon Us’ by The Dropkick Murphys © 2012 Born & Bred Records
3    ‘Blood And Roses’ by The Smithereens © 1992 Capitol Catalog
4    ‘Somewhere Out There’ by James Ingram © 1999 BMG Entertainment
5    ‘The Promise’ by Tracey Chapman © 1995 Elektra Entertainment
6    ‘Bullet In My Hand’ by The Red Light Kings © 2011 Hollywood Records, Inc.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
These stories were greatly helped along by the suggestions, imagination, and encouragement of FanFiction.net author Just A Crazy Guy. His suggestions for plot points, characters, tie-ins to existing Star Trek universe back-stories, ship designs, weapons, and actions were invaluable.
They would not have been possible at all without the constant support, encouragement, editing, and suggestions of my friend Tracey Howard.
I would also like to acknowledge the influences of other authors’ stories scattered throughout these stories – That includes:
The Dosadi Experiment by Frank Herbert
The series of Star Trek books by James Blish
Dreadnought by Diane Carey
Battlestations by Diane Carey
Uhura’s Song by Janet Kagan
The Belgariad by David and Leigh Eddings
Second Hand Lions (New Line Cinema)
The Dorsai trilogy by Gordon R. Dickson
The Case of the Marble Monster by I. G. Edmonds (Japanese folk stories about the real Judge Ooka)
Graphics are from Wikipedia, NASA
Damaged USS Hood on Triad cover:
https://thetholianweb.com/phpbb/viewtopic.php?f=24&t=210
Star Trek: The Original Series (Klingon D7 and Constitution class starships)
Hydran Cruiser:
https://adam-turner.deviantart.com/art/Hydran-Iroquois-class-New-Heavy-Cruiser-1-295218170
I have tried to pattern all of the military actions after elements of real, historical actions. If you are curious, you may find some of them here:
Popski’s Private Army by Allen Parfitt (HIGHLY recommended)
The actions of the USS Johnston, USS Samuel B Roberts, USS Hoel, and USS Heermann in the Battle of Samar October 25, 1944.
The Battle of Cape Esperance, October 11-12, 1942
The actions of MSG Roy Benavidez near Loc Ninh, May 2, 1968
An incident over Korea in the 1950’s where a US Pilot passed out due to an oxygen failure and was rescued by his teammates catching his aircraft on the airflow over their wings and guiding his aircraft to lower altitudes.
The actions of Lt. Col Geoffrey Keyes during Operation Flipper, November 15, 1941 against a German door guard.

I hope you enjoy reading these tales as much as I enjoyed writing them.

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No Good Deed…

No Good Deed…
by Sean O’Keefe 2013©

Life aboard the Enterprise is never dull. The Captain was well aware of that fact. It seemed no matter how mundane or routine a day appeared, something came out of left field. Always.

“Explain yourself, Captain! Why did you violate the Prime Directive?!”
Strong words, yet the commander of the U.S.S. Enterprise was not easily intimidated. If she was, she would never have been given her to command.

Rachel Garrett looked up at Admiral Granger, a tall, imposing man with balding, grey hair and more bark than bite. She wondered to herself if this was the last of the great sexists. His behaviour towards her in their previous encounters certainly indicated that. Including his vocal disagreement to her being assigned to the new Enterprise in the first place. He had stated that he believed she was unsuitable for such a command. It was a ship with a singular name and the list of candidates for her Captain had been miles long.

However, Garrett’s recent acts of gallantry had left the Admiralty with a clear winner.

Not to mention the missions they had performed brilliantly since the Ambassador-class ship’s launch. She wondered to herself if she has getting too big for her boots, but reminded herself that she was only the top rung of the ladder that had brought them their success. The Enterprise-C was not only an extraordinary ship, but she had been blessed with a crew to match. One she was proud to lead.

Now, after all their achievements, her judgement was being called into question over a question of the Prime Directive. A hard and fast rule that had been interpreted and re-interpreted many times over – including and especially by the Captains of previous Enterprises.

Curiously, they had been understood and even glossed over. So, why the interest in this one occasion? What made this instance different?

Garrett looked up at him with no malice. She didn’t feel any towards this man. Only curiosity as to his motives. “Which instance are you referring to, Admiral? Technically, I’ve violated it several times. I’ve looked over your own record. You’re not exactly squeaky clean in that department, either.”

Granger’s liver spots darkened along with the rest of his face as he growled: “I am not the one on trial, here, Captain!  You are!”

Rachel was not about to let him get away with that one. She kept her tone even and managed to keep the flare of anger she felt out of her eyes. “I was not aware that I am on trial here, Admiral. I was given to believe this is only an inquiry.”

The Admiral stepped backwards from her when he realised he had exceeded his authority. He reigned in his temper and glanced at the other two command-level officers present – Captains both and people chosen because of their allegiance to him.

“Of course, Captain. You’re right. This is a formal inquiry into your activities on Epsilon Perseus III, not a trial. However, should this board so advise it, the next thing you will see is a court room.”

Full of people you put there to hang me, Rachel knew. The Admiral was one man, but he held a lot of influence and his reach was great.

“Now, Captain. You haven’t answered my question.”

The man’s silky smooth presentation didn’t fool her. She knew this man was out for blood – her blood – and there was no way he was going to leave without getting some. Fine, she thought. If he wants to know the details she was going to start from the beginning. Whatever the outcome, at least it was a good story.

“We were tasked with investigating Persephone, as the locals called it, by Starfleet when one of our long-range probes discovered the planet was inhabited. We arrived in orbit without incident and sent down Lieutenant Commander Earhaht, a Horta and a geologist, who was on loan from Admiral Piper’s office, to make the initial observations…”

“The culture is comparably primitive, Captain Garrett,” Earhaht said with her voice that sounded like granite grinding. Even through the “voder” she carried, the oversized, animated rock still sounded feminine, if a little hard on the ears. “However, with some simple cosmetic applications I am certain you, or any other human, could pass as a local.”

“Such as?” Garrett asked. She was always curious about differences in species, but also the fact that she hated wearing prosthetics. The thought reminded her of her third officer, Lt. Commander Bat-Levi, a woman who was more prosthetic than human after a tragic accident. She felt for her, but she was also keenly aware that Darya would stand out like the proverbial sore thumb on the planet. She would not be joining them on this mission, that was certain.

“For one, you only have two nostrils. You will need another two. Not to mention your chest. You will need another two breasts.” As a Horta, Earhaht did not consider the niceties of human conversation and the fact that discussing such matters was often considered something of a faux pas with humans.

Garrett grimaced. Getting down to business was the kind of woman she was. However, the notion of walking through the Enterprise’s corridors with an extra two mammary glands would be a talking point amongst the crew forever. Even her new First Officer, Commander Halak, who was still finding his way with her, would probably never let her live it down.  “Couldn’t I just wear a nice, thick coat?” the Captain complained.

The answer was a definite negative. “Sorry, Captain. Everyone lives in the equatorial regions – that’s where the water is. If you go too far north or south you wind up in a desert. There are some areas of wilderness, but they are not inhabited by the intelligent native species. Bitzas, they call themselves,” she added as an afterthought.

Something about what Earhaht said told her she would not like it. She turned her head and gave the Horta a sideways look. She wasn’t always certain where to focus on – Earhaht had no face. “What’s the bad news, Commander?” she asked.

The Horta shifted, uncertain how the Captain would receive the news. “The locals wear only the briefest of clothing due to the heat. Essentially tank tops and shorts. I’ve uploaded some images into the computer for you to peruse. The replicators should be able to synthesise something to make you fit in.”

Garrett sighed. It could have been worse. Wearing a bikini was something she hadn’t done for years – and there was no way she was going to go naked as the locals did on some temperate worlds. She wondered to herself whether it would be possible to argue that she had needed a pair of breasts removed, but discounted the thought without voicing it. The odds were the locals were centuries away from that level of medicine.  “Could you give your report to Doctor Stern so she can prepare the appropriate prosthetics?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Dismissed.” As Rachel watched Earhaht go she began mentally picking out her away team – people who would not only be competent but who she could count on for their discretion.

For the hundredth time that day Dr Jo Stern reached up to scratch the itch on her nose and had to stop herself from damaging her handiwork. “I wish these things actually worked,” she grumbled. “There’s something in the air here that’s stuffing up my nose.”

Rachel glanced at her old friend and tried to keep the smile from her lips. “Didn’t you take an antihistamine before you beamed down?”

Jo gave her a grimace. “With all the fun and games of making us up to look like natives I kind of forgot.”

As the Captain slipped her a small tin of her emergency supplies, the Doctor gave her a grateful smile. She paused as they walked along the road, shook the dust from her sandals and dislodged a small stone that had been bothering her, giving her a great sense of relief. She then opened the tin and took out two small, white pills and dry swallowed them.

“How do you do that?” Rachel asked. “I can’t even down an aspirin without a glass of water.”

“I left my china behind on the ship.”

Commander Samir al-Halak, the Enterprise’s new First Officer, was trying to keep his eyes on the road ahead. With his companions being so briefly dressed, and the fact that each had been “enhanced”, he had been finding it difficult to keep his eyes on their faces. “You should consider yourself grateful that they don’t work, Doctor. You’d be twice as stuffed up.”

“What doesn’t work?”

The unknown voice seemed to come out of nowhere and brought the party of four pilgrims up short. As one, they turned and took in their visitor.

The ship’s “counsellor”, Dr Yuriel Tyvan, appraised him with an analytical air. There appeared to be nothing unusual to this being. He was obviously male, solidly built, relatively young and had the look of someone who had spent a lot of time out in the sun. Probably in the fields of grain they had been passing through on their way to the settlement. He held the pitchfork in his hand casually, but Tyvan knew instinctively the man could use it effectively if combat was required. An odd notion considering this planet’s relatively low population. “My friend was simply stating that the dust is getting up her nose,” he said, trying to use a little levity to appear disarming.

The man nodded his head, a smile creeping across his face. He kicked his foot against the dry road, bringing up a small cloud of the red dust. “I can understand that.” He stepped forward and ran an appraising eye over the small group. “You must be from one of the old cities. I had heard most of them were abandoned, but, sooner or later, someone shows up from one of them.” He stepped forward, his hands off to his sides, palms outward in a gesture the landing party understood was inoffensive and welcoming. He then bowed forward.

The Enterprise crew gave one another a glance and silently agreed to mimic him.

Their host righted himself and seemed pleased they had honoured him by returning the gesture. “You are welcome in my home and our city. There’s not much to the town of Pegasus, but it’s home.” He stepped past and walked them towards the planet’s only centre of civilisation.

“We were hoping for find some lodgings in Pegasus,” Rachel said, wondering to herself how the place had a name from Earth mythology. “Then perhaps we could find some work.”

The young man flashed her a friendly smile. “There’s always work to be done in Pegasus…..” He suddenly realised there had been no introductions. “Apologies, my lady, I don’t know your names. My name is Josh.”

As his name didn’t sound too unusual to their ears each simply volunteered their first names.

It was clear some of them were a little to odd to his ears, but he didn’t question them. “Which city did you come from?” he asked.

“Ouch!” The Doctor hopped around for a moment and kicked out her left foot, seemingly trying to dislodge another stone. It was a simple ruse, but effective as she managed to change the subject. “I hate these sandals!” she said angrily, meaning every word.

Josh looked at her feet, then up at Jo’s face as if seeing her for the first time. He was intensely curious, and the Captain put herself on guard regardng him. He was obviously an intelligent young man with an inquiring mind.

“You’re very pale, Jo,” he said, curious and slightly suspicious. “Don’t you spend much time under Persephone’s sun?”

The Doctor looked back at him wearing her biggest lopsided grin. “My husband didn’t let me out much,” she said, doing her best to sound like a down-trodden spirit. She wasn’t much of an actress and so came off a little insincere.

“Husband?” He mimicked, seemingly curious. Whether Josh was buying it or not he didn’t let on. He turned his attention to Garrett and found her skin a little pale as well. Both women were shaded by straw hats, but they didn’t cover their legs, which were showing the effects of too many hours under the Enterprise’s artificial lights.

Oddly, Josh seemed to change tack. “Where are your children?”

Jo covered for her friend by stating baldly: “I’m barren. I have no children.”

Her confession caught the young man’s full attention and saved Garrett from having to be reminded once more that her son lived with his father’s family on Betazed, not with her.

Josh bowed graciously and said: “I apologise, madam. It was rude of me to inquire. As you know, all our women have as many children as they can before….”
While Garrett itched to ask, she was glad that not only she, but the rest of her people, were savvy enough to realise he was not asking a question, but simply leading towards a knowledge he assumed they were already in possession of. It was a truth she ached for and hoped to have revealed in short order.

Honesty seemed to be the name of the game on Persephone, Rachel gathered in the quiet of her thoughts.

The one person Josh didn’t have a problem with stepped up next to him and indicated they should continue with a flourish. “I’m looking forward to a good drink when we get to town,” he said cheerfully. “Sometimes there’s nothing better after a day in the sun.”

Josh nodded and turned back towards the still distant town. “Yes, Samir. You’re right.” He took up a brisk pace and they found themselves grateful they kept in shape as he had a fast gait.
It only took an hour to reach the town, and yet by that time the landing party was glad they had not only shaded themselves with hats, but the women especially had lathered on sunscreen. The UV that day was particularly high and Rachel felt she could feel her skin burning even through the ointment. She wondered how the locals handled it.

She had part of her answer when they entered the outskirts. For the only remaining population centre left on the planet, there wasn’t much to see. There was a modest “suburbia” with houses dotting the landscape, but to Rachel’s eye the place seemed peculiar. The homes were a mixture of relatively new and positively ancient. Most of the newer buildings were of mud brick but the oldest of them seemed to have been constructed from bluestone.

Funny, she mused to herself. The stuff seemed to be everywhere in the galaxy.

As they walked Stern mentioned: “I don’t see many people about.”

Josh nodded. “As you know, they’re doing their best to avoid the Burn.”

Rachel noticed her friend frown in frustration. She, too, was going to have to be patient and let the answers to come to them without asking peculiar questions that would bring undue attention to themselves. She decided to continue along that line. “Yes, we should get inside ourselves. I’m surprised you’ve been able to stay out in the sun as long as you have without getting burnt.”

Josh gave her a modest smile. “Yes, my family has been blessed with dark skin. We seem able to tolerate it longer than most.”

A lot was gathered from his statement. A belief in God for one. Fair skin being the norm, the other.

Stern thought to herself: “Yeah, but it can’t be good for your eyes.”

Within moments they came to the town public house. It had two stories, a balcony with an iron railing and supports, with a corrugated iron roof. The walls were of bluestone, which did a marvelous job of keeping the interior cool in the harsh sunshine. Garrett and Stern recognised it for what it was: the local bar. It seemed that, no matter where you went in the universe there was a drinking establishment ready to satisfy a thirst for refreshment and companionship.

Josh held the door open for them. To Tyvan’s eyes he seemed proud to be introducing the newcomers to his oversized village. One other thing was, it obviously wasn’t the first time. He gave him the impression of being a tour guide as well as a farmer. Like he was the self-appointed welcoming committee.

Samir went first and had a quick look around making sure the way was clear and safe for his crewmates. All he saw were a number of locals spread around the mostly wooden room chatting whilst cradling a local brew. He expected suspicion and got the opposite. A number of men and women came forward and greeted them warmly. The men with a slap on the shoulders, the women with a forceful hug. As most of the women were buxom – twice over – Samir found himself blushing from the feminine attention.

Captain Garrett followed suit and greeted the locals in like manner. She was glad the Doctor’s appliances were stuck tight to her. The men were quite forceful with their greetings and practically crushed her chest.

Before she could say a word Josh introduced them with a wide grin. “My friends, this is Samir, Rachel, Jo and Tyvan. They have come far and walked hard. Their families are lost to them, but I know we can make them welcome in ours.”

Both Tyvan and the Captain noticed that no-one made themselves known as some kind of leader. Indeed, there appeared to be no hierarchy at all. Everyone was treated as equals.

A younger male led them to an empty table. “Please sit. You must be weary after your long journey!”

Rachel warmed to the people of this haven in the dust and gave him a smile from the heart. “We appreciate the welcome, friend.”

The boy/man, someone the Captain believed could not have been older than eighteen, smiled and said: “All newcomers are welcome to Pegasus and to my home, Rachel. My name is Jared, and I am at your service.”

At that point Josh, who was standing next to their table interjected: “All newcomers first stay with Jared here while a home is organised for them so they can become a part of the community.”

Tyvan raised a curious brow. “You seem to have an almost ideal community here, Josh. Am I correct in believing that all things are shared here?”

Josh gave him an almost shocked look. “Is that not the way where you come from?”

While a good part of Rachel wished she could agree with him she gave him her best poker face when she lied: “Of course, Josh. However, we have found during our travels that not everyone is as generous as you.”

The notion seemed totally foreign to the young men, who just looked at her, perplexed.

“It seems an odd way to be considering the times are harsh since the Burn.” Josh shook his head in wonder. “What a way to be?” He was truly amazed. “Surely we are stronger together than warring amongst ourselves for the meagre resources we have.”

It was a thought none of them could argue against. “Very true, Josh,” Rachel said. “We, of course, will do everything we can to help the community.”

Tyvan gave the Captain a side-ways look. He wondered if she was putting it on a little too thick. They were only here to observe the locals, not interfere. He had to wonder if their presence was already going to send ripples through the town. With such a tight knit community their sudden departure would no doubt create much confusion, perhaps even anxiety. He made a mental note to talk to the Captain about it at their earliest convenience.

Even though the local’s notions of charity warmed his soul – they mirrored his own El Aurian ethos – he had to wonder whether it was truly practical in the galaxy at this time. This planet’s people had come to their attention, it was only a matter of time before they would come to others. History was replete with examples of conquerors and the conquered.
The notion brought an involuntary shudder. Top of the list of oppressors in his mind was, of course, the Borg. The beings who had practically wiped out his people, but also a race the Federation was not ready to meet. It was best to keep the knowledge of them to himself for the time being. Humans, especially, were all too curious. If they got word of the existence of the Borg, they might go looking for them. The results would no doubt be disastrous. Even terminal.

He wondered to himself, as the psychiatrist, whether his experiences had made him paranoid. If they had, he had no answer for his problem. Physician heal thyself had no power for a counselor.

Jared returned after a moment with four mugs of chilled ale, which the landing party happily drank from, enjoying the mildly bitter flavour.

Tyvan ushered Josh to a chair and engaged him in some small talk which brought a small smile to Rachel’s face. The man was a natural at asking innocuous questions that brought relevant results. He was disarming in his manner, but she knew from experience he could nail someone to the wall with those eyes if he chose to.

She took her mug in her hands and casually wandered over to the front window, shadowed by Jo. Rachel leaned against the frame and looked up and down the street. There were many shop fronts of varying types. Hardware, linen, even ice cream. How they kept things cool in this climate was anybody’s guess.

She noticed the haberdashery offered cotton and wool, including ribbons and laces. Not much for the frillier styles, Rachel almost let her eyes wander to the next store when it hit her. The Universal Translator made it possible for her to understand the languages of others and for them to be understood as well. However, it didn’t render the written word.

The signs were all written in English. At least a dialect of it. There basics were there, with only minor variations one would find from drift over time.

“Do you see it?” Rachel asked Jo, excited. She indicated the shop across the street and it took the Doctor a moment to realise that her Captain wasn’t buzzed about the apothecary, but the fact she could read the sign.

“How is that possible?” Jo said, with a sharp intake of breath. “I’ve heard of parallel development of cultures, but not to that extent.”

Her eyes widened, Rachel added: “It even explains their names.” She whispered: “Is it possible that these people are some kind of human colony?”

Jo gave her a lopsided grin. “Then how do you explain these?” she gave her extra breasts, which were next to her own, a squeeze by bringing her biceps together.

Rachel’s eyes wandered around the room. “Genetic drift? Experimentation?” Her eyes drifted to Jo’s pouch. “Is it possible to take a scan of their genome while we’re here?”

The Doctor gave her a mute nod. “I suppose anything’s possible.” She turned her back on the vista and drew Garrett to the corner of the room so they could talk without being overheard.

They took a seat on a pair of extra chairs and continued in hushed tones. “If they were … are human, where does that leave us in regard to the Prime Directive?”

Garrett gave the notion some thought before replying. The revelation of the possibility that they were dealing with their own kind muddied the waters. If they were human, they were kin to her and blood demanded action considering their circumstances. “We need more information before a judgement can be brought.”

Stern shifted in her seat. At times like these, she didn’t envy her friend. In matters of the Prime Directive, things often got messy. If a wrong call was made things could get very bad for all of them – very quickly. The Admiralty often got testy when they thought it had been violated. “I’ll do what I can.”

Rachel nodded and sipped her brew. They had hours before the sun outside became tolerable to the locals once more, and she was determined to blend in.
Lieutenant Commander Darya Bat-Levi pushed a frond out of her way and stepped into a small clearing. The servos in her artificial legs were whining again, and she knew she would have to do something about them soon of she was going to avoid becoming incapacitated.

At that moment she found herself wishing she was with the Captain infiltrating the local population. It was always fascinating to observe other cultures, but the ever regretful officer was not the one to enjoy herself. If a situation came up like that she would probably excuse herself from it.

Her life had become a living penance for the death of her twin brother, a demise that she could not have altered, yet one she felt she was responsible for. Many times she had been offered upgrades for her mechanical left arm and legs, yet she insisted she retain her clunky old ones citing downtime as her reasoning.

Few realised the depth of pain the woman harboured and those who knew her, cared for her, even loved her, she had a tendency to shut out and keep at arm’s length. She was harder to get close to than a rabid porcupine.

She took a breath of fresh air and tried to push the delighted feeling that threatened to pop up in the back her mind without total success. She had to admit it was nice to breathe natural air for a change and not the carbon scrubbed and filtered atmosphere aboard the Enterprise. If she was right there was a slightly higher concentration of oxygen here that was making her feel a little light headed.

“Garden variety geology here, Darya,” her companion noted.

Her gaze fell upon their recently acquired addition to their crew: Earhaht. While she had never served with a Horta before, she found it peculiar to be sharing a conversation with a living stone. She wondered for a moment what her Rabbi would have said about that one. The effervescent Ben-Judah would probably have said: “I don’t think Moses struck a Horta! It would probably have eaten his staff!”

Earhaht shuffled next to her and covered an outcropping of granite. Darya detected a slight hissing sound, then the Horta shifted back again. A small piece of the rock was missing, the surface flattened to the consistency of glass and still glowing from the heat. Darya marveled at her ability to do so and also mused to herself that the female Horta was not someone she wanted to be on the bad side of.  “Nothing but garden variety granite,” Earhaht reported. “Tasty, though.”

Darya would not have imagined in a thousand years that a rock would be in any way palatable. Just another example of God’s sense of humour, she thought.

They were interrupted by a young male Terran, Ensign Slovac, who was part of the botany department. “Commander, I couldn’t find Lieutenant Betrell, so I thought I should tell you this right away.”

“Why didn’t you use your communicator?” Darya asked, immediately seeing the flaw in the Ensign’s statement.

Slovac gave her an embarrassed grin. “I could see you, Commander, from where I was standing and I thought you’d want to know this as well.”

Bat-Levi’s patience was beginning to wear thin. “I hope you’re planning on getting somewhere with this,” she said acidly.

Slovac, to his credit, didn’t back down or bite back. He simply stated: “Some of the flora here is terrestrial in origin.”

His statement got the attention of both officers. “Which ones?” Earhaht asked, curious.

The ensign considered his audience and dumbed it down. “Some of the grasses, particularly those that are grain bearing. I’ve found some wild wheat and barley, and even some fruits – apples, peaches and such.”

The Horta wasn’t surprised. She had encountered such conditions before. “Sounds like someone was making sure the humans on this planet had something to eat.”

Bat-Levi’s brows shot up in amazement. “That’s a leap if I’ve ever heard one.”

Earhaht shifted. “Not really. When terraforming a planet you introduce species to the biosphere that will sustain the new inhabitants. While Persephone has native flora, it seems to be compatible with Terrestrial kinds. My guess is that someone, some time ago, introduced some humans to the planet for reasons unknown.” She paused for a moment as a thought came back to her she had considered earlier. “It answers one other thing,” she said. “I thought the planet’s name was odd to begin with. Persephone is a name from human mythology.”

Bat-Levi had to give her that point. “You think the locals named it from their memories of Earth?”

“Yes.” Earhaht’s plates ground as she considered the situation. “I think we need a team to investigate the oldest of this planet’s settlements,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll find some more clues there.”

The servos in Darya’s left arm whined a little as she ribbed her chin in thought. With the Captain and Halak undercover in the settlement she was concerned about blowing their cover by trying to contact her. Earhaht’s suspicions that the locals might indeed be some kind of humans remained just that without more information. Garrett gave her some latitude for judgement, so she decided: “Earhaht, you and I will beam back to the Enterprise and use the ship’s scanners to locate the oldest city so we can explore it.” She tapped her uniform insignia which now doubled as a communicator and said: “Bat-Levi to Betrell. Continue your scans and beam back to Enterprise when you’re finished. Commander Earhaht and I will be returning to the ship.”

“Acknowledged.” Betrell was a no-nonsense officer and was economical with his words.

Darya tapped it again. “Bat-Levi to Enterprise. Two to beam up.”
Whilst the Captain enjoyed her ale, Darya put the resources of the ship to good use and, within half an hour, had located what she believed was the planet’s oldest – and largest – settlements.
It was too large to explore efficiently on foot, and there was only so much information she could gather using the Enterprise’s sensors in orbit. Wanting to make the best use of her resources, she ordered five large shuttles down to the planet carrying personnel carriers that would allow them to move about quickly while their scanning equipment did their job.

Once on the ground Darya brought her people up to speed. “We are looking for evidence of the origins of this planet’s inhabitants. While the Enterprise could find no signs of life here, don’t take anything for granted.” She indicated the buildings that surrounded the open city “square” they were parked in. They were caked with dust and clearly crumbling. However, their architecture suggested a more advanced culture than what was found elsewhere on Persephone. “These buildings could prove to be our biggest danger. Watch out if you decide to go inside one. Make sure it won’t fall down on top of your heads. I don’t need the paperwork.”

There were a few chuckles at the Commander’s dark wit.

“If you find anything check in with me immediately.” She gave them all a nod of confidence. “Be careful.” She wanted to say: “Good luck,” but even the non-superstitious Darya Bat-Levi didn’t want to moz her people. She’d had enough of that in her time.

The other officers were divided into four groups of three and boarded their vehicles – a kind of twenty-fourth century version of a dune buggy, but one that was armed with a phaser cannon – just in case. You could never be too careful.

Each vehicle started with a quiet whirr and left the square in different directions, full of eager faces looking forward to discovering something new and unexpected.

It was that that had Darya worried. The Universe was a dangerous enough place without going to look for trouble. Bitter experience told her that was what you usually found.

All the same, she and Earhaht had saved the most interesting part of town for themselves. Their shuttle was parked immediately in front of a large, sprawling complex that fairly shouted: “I’m important!”
While the building was quite large – roughly a kilometre long and half that wide – it also sporting two floors – Darya was confident they could tackle it alone. Earhaht was practically impervious to harm. She mused that, if the building collapsed on her the Horta would simply tunnel out from under the debris.

As for her personal safety, it wasn’t high on her list of priorities. If the building came down on her, that was simply kismet.

Like many buildings of import found throughout the galaxy, this one demonstrated it’s importance by having steps – a lot of them – which elevated its status above that of the rest of society.

When they got to the top Earhaht “looked” back on them and said: “At least they would have kept the people who worked here fit!”

The walk up them simply reminded Darya that she had to bite the bullet and get her legs serviced. The servos in them were still complaining even now they were walking on level ground. “That’s if you care about such things,” she said, more to herself than anyone. Once more she worked to stifle her own self-loathing. Now was not the time for distraction. Whether Earhaht was the same rank as her or not – Earhaht technically outranked her due to her greater experience at that level – as Second Officer of the Enterprise the Horta was part of her crew and therefore her responsibility.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Earhaht asked innocently. “Isn’t it logical to maintain your peak level of efficiency?”

As the silicon based life form made her way through the central archway and into the interior the comment left Darya thinking. She owed it to every crewman under her to give them her very best. If her bionic parts were threatening to break down at any moment she could find herself responsible for their deaths.

It was not a pretty thought. The notion of her own demise didn’t bother her, but the thought of more lives being lost because of her was not something she was willing to tolerate. She determined that, upon the completion of this mission, she would report to Engineering for an overhaul.

Earhaht produced a tricorder and began scanning. The report brought her up short. “Darya, I don’t think it’s safe for you to go in there,” she said, her concern heard even through the mechanical voice of her voder. “The superstructure seems brittle.”

“You only live once,” Darya said with false confidence and strode past her. She took out her tricorder and did her own analysis. “As long as we keep clear of the weaker sections we should be fine.”

Her companion rumbled. “That’s easy for you to say, Commander, but you don’t weigh close to a ton. I could easily fall through some of these floors. I may be hardy, but I’m not indestructible.”

Darya raised her brows, curious. She was aware that the Horta was a long-lived race, but she had practically accepted the notion that she was beyond caring about such things as possible harm. “Alright, Earhaht. We’ll be careful.” Once more she moved forward through the dusty building.

As she walked she took a moment to observe the architecture. She had taken a minor in engineering at the Academy and it was enough for her to admire the skill taken to create the elaborate spider-web of glass and steel above her. It was marred here and there by shattered panes, but the overall effect was still beautiful.

The space they were in was largely built of a kind of orange marble, with large pillars supporting the roof. The walls were fairly distant, and the overall effect was one of space. Darya mused they could probably hold a cricket match in here and never worry about a pane of glass being broken.

To their left and right were large hallways with ramps leading up to higher and down to lower floors.

“Should we split up?” Darya asked, already knowing the answer.

“Ah, no,” Earhaht said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Captain Garrett would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

Darya reacted angrily and had to bite her lip to keep herself from saying something stupid. Instead of the caustic retort she had planned she said frostily: “I can look after myself, Commander.”

Earhaht seemed not to notice her change in demeanor. She said: “After you.”

Darya randomly chose a direction and started walking – noisily.
By mutual agreement, the people of Pegasus began emerging in the afternoon light to resume their daily chores. Captain Garrett marveled at the motley collection of old and young. She noticed that each individual seemed to know exactly what was expected of him or her. She watched from her new position on the bar “porch” where she was seated next to Jo.

Samir and Counsellor Yuriel Tyvan had left with Josh to help him on his farm whilst surreptitiously pumping him for information. Rachel remembered with embarrassed delight the disgusted look on the Psychiatrist’s face at the notion of good, old-fashioned manual labour. He’d been sitting on his leather chairs in his office too long, she thought. A hard day’s work wouldn’t go astray. Hopefully his lack of condition wouldn’t make him stand out too much.

Rachel turned her head so she could seen the sun out the corner of her eye. Of all the worlds she had explored this one seemed to have the brightest. It wasn’t conducive to continued healthy living, with premature aging and melanomas a distinct probability.

“If I had to choose somewhere to retire it wouldn’t be here,” she said quietly, so only Jo could hear her.

“I hear you,” the Doctor replied. “I’d probably be spending most of my time treating the locals for all kinds of maladies.”

The notion gave the Captain pause. “Perhaps we should have a look at their state of health. There’s got to be a reason why these people are so few in number.”

“You mean, aside from the fact the sun’s worse than a Sunday afternoon BBQ?”

Even though they were old friends, sometimes Rachel wasn’t certain whether the Doctor was being cynical or just plain sarcastic. Either way, her observation had merit. “All the same, I think we should look a lot deeper into this place. There are too many unanswered questions.”

“And if there’s something in this universe you simply can’t leave alone…” Jo observed without having to finish the thought. She took a final sip of her ale, now her cup was dry. She set it down thoughtfully. “If I advertise that I’m some kind of healer wouldn’t we be breaking the Prime Directive?”
“When your ship’s Doctor pointed out the recklessness of your activities in flying in the face of the Prime Directive, was it your ego that got in the way? Were you playing God? Have you spent too much time in the Centre Seat?”

Rachel looked at the blotching on the Admiral’s face and wondered whether Jo would prescribe some medication for his high blood pressure. It was a mental game she was playing to keep herself from reacting to the man’s charges. “Admiral, ship’s captains make life and death decisions all the time without thinking for a moment that they’ve taken on the role of the Almighty.” She paused for a second before adding: “And just as an aside, Sir. How long did you spend as a Starship Captain before you were promoted?”

The Admiral’s face darkened to beetroot. “I am not the one on trial here, Garrett. Don’t start interrogating me!”

Rachel squinted a little as she once more reminded him: “Neither am I, Admiral. Would you like to hear the rest of my report or may I suggest a short recess for your sake? I’m concerned you’re going to burst a blood vessel.”

If it was possible for the Admiral to become even more enraged he managed it. All the same, he held his tongue as he scowled. He had to credit Garrett. She knew how to keep her cool.
“Perhaps a recess is in order,” he said tightly. He checked the wall chronometer. It was thirteen hundred hours Starbase time. His stomach growled as he realised his body’s need for sustenance. “We will reconvene here at fourteen thirty hours. Dismissed.”

This time Rachel scowled. The Admiral had broken protocol. He should have said the meeting was adjourned. It was becoming even clearer to her just how little respect the man had for her. However, his dismissal had taken in the other members of the board. Garrett was certain they could not have failed to notice the Admiral’s disdain for their rank.
Why all this pettiness? she asked herself. What is this man’s agenda, aside from the obvious lynching of one Rachel Garrett? Stranger and stranger.

She nonchalantly brushed aside her shoulder-length brunette hair and put it back in her headband. As she did so she caught a glimpse of Sonja Keiley, Captain of the U.S.S. Portland, a Miranda-class ship. While the two of them had rarely seen eye-to-eye, they had formed a grudging respect for one another and so it came as no surprise that Admiral Granger had touched a nerve in her as well.

What was her part in this farce? she wondered.

Garrett noticed Keiley did not even glance at her as she made her way out of the room, a respectful distance behind the Admiral. She was followed by Captain Skyler Grant, a man who was so far up the Admiral’s butt that Garrett paid him no mind at all. She was fully aware the weasely little man would do whatever the Admiral wanted.

Finding herself alone in the room, Rachel stood and tapped her commbadge. She had little time for walking so she took the short route. “Garrett to Enterprise. Beam me up.”
The Bridge was quiet as most of her officers were enjoying some shore leave while their vessel was docked at Starbase Three in orbit of Andor. Rachel strolled through it and straight into her office.

She had barely managed to brew a fresh cup of coffee – not the stale replicated kind – when Doctor Stern came through the door and said: “I hope you brewed one for me as well.”

Her Captain’s sixth sense had told her to expect her guest and so she had prepared. A short time later the two were reclined on opposite sides of her desk sipping Rachel’s favorite bitter brew.

“So, what does Admiral Pain-in-the-Ass want with you?” Jo asked, curious. Never the one for mincing words, Stern went straight for the jugular.

Rachel should have warned her against such insubordination, but their relationship went way beyond such niceties. The Captain appreciated her friend’s bluntness and complete honesty. There was no playing it softly with her. She had no patience for bull and believed the Universe would be a much better place if everyone was like her. Say what you mean – always.

“He’s out for my head. What for, I have no idea.” It felt good to get it out.

Jo wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I have a few, but without more info it’s probably just guesswork.”

“Take a shot.”

Jo shrugged. “What the hell. I guess he wants to get rid of you as Captain of the Federation Flagship and put someone else in your place that he can use for his own ends.”

The notion wasn’t foreign to Garrett’s thoughts. “What might they be?”

“I don’t know. Turn her into a burger joint and sell to the Klingons?” She shrugged once more. Frustrated, she added: “You’ve got me.”

Garrett turned and looked out the portal and saw only the walls of the Starbase. It was disconcerting to think her magnificent ship was buried inside the orbiting station, effectively cut off from the skies she dominated. “We need more information.” She tapped her comm button. “Mister Bulast, report to my office.” She hoped he was aboard. The little Atrean could have been planetside on shore leave for all she knew.

Fortunately, he was in his quarters. “Aye, Captain,” he replied. Knowing the little being’s efficiency, he would be here in about thirty seconds.

“Dibs on him being here in thirty-five,” Jo wagered with a half-smile.

Rachel was reminded once more how well the Doctor knew her. “I’ve got thirty,” she said and flashed her friend a smile. She then called for her Tactical/Security Officer, Lt. Thule Glemoor.

Bulast arrived in thirty-two. “Yes, Captain?”

Rachel looked up at the gifted Communications Officer and said, in all confidence: “Mister, I have a job for you. I want you to find out everything you can about Admiral Granger’s past.” She turned and engaged her Tactical Officer. “I want you to find what his interest is in this ship.”

The two glanced at one another, sharing their uneasiness. Investigating a senior officer could be seen as worse than insubordination, it could be viewed as treasonous.

“Use whomever you need to help,” Rachel continued, “but for God’s sake, don’t let anyone know what you’re doing. The Admiral’s up to something, and I need to know what it is before he roasts me on a spit.”

Once more the duo shared a look, but this time one of confusion. Neither of their species had a parallel in their cultures to compare with her idiom.

Jo just shook her head in wonder. “The Admiral wants to remove Captain Garrett from this ship by whatever means necessary,” she said drolly.

Thule wiggled his frills in appreciation. “Thank you, Doctor. I will file that particular saying away for the future. You humans have so many peculiar sayings I sometimes wonder how you manage to communicate anything without thoroughly confusing yourselves.”

Rachel gave her officer a fond smile. “It makes life more colourful.”

The Tactical Officer tilted his head to the side as he considered her words. “Perhaps I will add some colour to mine then.” He turned to Bulast. “Come on, Darco. Let’s light a fire and get this show on the trail.”

Bulast looked up at him and, even though he could only guess what his fellow officer had meant, he followed him from the room.

Rachel’s eyes wandered to Jo. “Let’s hope they find something useful.” She rubbed her temple as she could feel a headache coming on. Just behind her right eye. Great, this could turn into a full-blown migraine.

She turned and took a long look at the chronometer. “I’ve got enough time left for another cup of coffee.” She thought of the trial she was about to rejoin. “I think I’m going to need it.”
Once more unto the breach, Garrett thought as she took her seat. She glanced about the room and noticed, for the first time, Captain Keiley was looking right at her. Their eyes met for a moment and in that split second Rachel felt that the woman was going to give her a fair hearing, not just join in the Admiral’s lynch mob.

Her attention was dragged back to the Admiral who was standing before her once more, glowering. He seemed to have spent the time pulling himself together and was again acting like a lion on the prowl. Garrett was clearly his quarry, but he was going to enjoy playing with his prey for a time.

It suited her. If the Admiral was stupid enough to attack he would find the Captain’s teeth razor sharp.
“You’re a healer?!” Jared looked at Jo in open wonder. “We’ve prayed for a healer for so long! The Burn has killed so many of us that we were beginning to fear there would be no-one left!” He stepped forward, the joy shining out from him as if he had met his very idol. He took Jo by the hand and led her towards the door. “Come! There are many in need.”

The Doctor had to pick up the pace to keep up with the young man with the iron grip. Garrett followed her across the street, their feet kicking up a small cloud of dust. She found the situation mildly amusing as the older Doctor allowed herself to be towed to their destination.

Without surprise, Jared led them through the front door of the Apothecary, straight past the counter and down a hallway that led to a large room out the back that had not been visible from the street.

Both women were aghast at the number of people who sat in chairs or lay in beds. Jo stopped and stared. A quick count came to about eighty.

Most sat and stared into space. It was clear they were blind. Some reacted to the few people who nursed them, as if they could see a shadow passing and wondered what had cast it. Others lay in beds, clearly in pain and it took only a casual glance for Jo to conclude most were suffering from malignant melanomas.

Silently, she cursed Rachel. She knew she had only the best intentions, but now she knew about these people there was no way she was going to leave them like this. Prime Directive be damned. She was one woman who took the Hippocratic Oath seriously.

Yet she knew she was still limited by the demands of the Prime Directive, the philosophy that even actions with the best intentions could bring about catastrophic results on more primitive cultures that were simply not ready to deal with the change.

Jo gritted her teeth and singled out the woman who seemed to be running the show. “Hi,” she said by way of greeting. “I’m Jo Stern, healer. What are we looking at?”

As the relatively young, but clearly competent, woman began showing Jo around, Rachel singled out an elderly man sitting on his own and sat on the chair next to him. For a moment, she was silent, hoping the silver-haired elderly gent would break the ice.

It took thirty seconds. “What can I do for you, young lady?” he asked in a voice full of frustration yet still courteous.

Rachel was impressed. By the colour of his corneas he was clearly blind, yet something had given her away. “I could have been anybody,” she said amiably.

Although his eyes were ruined, his ears were still fully capable. He turned to her and gave her a stunning smile. “It’s not every day a beautiful woman comes calling,” he said disarmingly.

For the first time in years Rachel blushed. It wasn’t often someone remarked on her looks – it was unseemly to comment on one’s commanding officer’s appearance. Thoroughly charmed, Rachel patted his hand, which was still on his chair arm and said: “Even though I know you can’t see me I appreciate the complement.”

The gentleman’s smile became rueful. “Never mind my eyes, young lady. I can hear the loveliness in your soul in your voice. I’m sure you’ve been told where true beauty lies,” he finished enigmatically.

“How did you know I was a woman?” She had to ask.

“You don’t smell like a man who’s been in the field all day.” He took a gentle sniff and grinned. “In fact, you smell quite lovely. You have a scent I can’t quite identify.”

Soap, Rachel thought. So many parallels. If these people weren’t from Earth, there was a mighty big co-incidence going on here. Her sad gaze was drawn to his eyes where she could clearly see his corneas were practically opaque. “How long have you been blind?” she asked quietly, respectfully, compassionately.

The cheer went out of his face as his despair once more took hold. “Too long,” he said. “I’ve been going slowly blind for years. The Burn finished it off.”

Absently, Rachel nodded. He seemed to notice the shift in the light. He reached out and managed to find her hand and gave it a pat in return. “Don’t worry yourself, young lady. I’ve had a lot of good years. Sired a lot of kids. Most of their mothers are even still alive. Good women, all of them.”

The cultural bias against monogamy made her curious. There had been few cultures that embraced polygamy, the most notable being the Denobulans who each had three or four husbands and wives. She had wondered if the old saying about six degrees of separation applied to their marriage networks. “Did you love any of them?” she asked.

At first it seemed like he wasn’t about to respond and Rachel got the impression she may have offended him. He stared off into his memories for a few moments before a sad, but genuine smile spread across his lips. “Yes,” he said, seemingly embarrassed at the admission. “I did. I knew she had to have other partners, but we spent as much time as we could together when we could.” He turned towards her again. “Sometimes it was hard not to be jealous, but we all know that if we’re going to survive we need to mix things up so we don’t become inbred like certain breeds of dog.” He sighed, a sad sound that came from the depths of a lonely soul. “Her name was Rachel and she was a good woman.”

The Captain’s surprise that they shared the same name almost overcame the revelation of the familiar animal. “My name’s Rachel,” she said absently before adding: “I haven’t seen any dogs.”

“How would you know what a dog looks like? I’ve only heard about them in folklore. They died out in the previous burn two hundred years ago.” He grimaced. To Rachel, it was the look of a man who knew their time was running out. “My grandfather told me they couldn’t keep them out of the sun and they all went blind, just like the sheep and cattle.” Even though he had segued, he kept his attention on Rachel, expecting an answer.

“I’ve seen drawings of them,” she said – a half-truth she hoped would distract him.

The explanation seemed to assuage him. “Really? I suppose you had some better artisans in your community. The people in Pegasus couldn’t draw if their lives depended on it.”

Rachel chuckled. She would include herself in that category. Art was not her strong suit. His reference to sheep and cattle had firmed up one thing in her mind. There were too many parallels here to ignore. Regardless of their physical similarities, these people were, one way or the other, from Earth. But how to be sure without drawing attention to themselves? The problem was that, if they were wrong, the damage to this culture could be catastrophic.

The truth was, she realised, that they were probably doomed anyway. With little or no livestock and only grains, vegetables and fruit to exist on, there wasn’t much going for these people.

Their population was barely above sustainable from a genetic perspective.

Yet, somehow, they knew that.

Rachel angrily balled her hands into fists. There were still too many questions here and the answers were simply not forthcoming.

Before she could ask any further questions she noticed Jo had moved over to a corner and was trying to get her attention. “Excuse me, sir,” she said and regretfully left him alone. She made her way past a number of beds and chairs and huddled in the darkened space with Jo. “What is it?”

“All of these people are showing the symptoms of being in ultra-violet light too long. I don’t know what’s going on with this planet, but the sun is killing them!”
In the pitch black of the underground level of the complex, Darya flicked her light back and forth, looking for something, anything. “I wish some of this place made sense,” she said cheerlessly. “What I can see of it, anyway.”

Beside her, Earhaht swung her tricorder back and forth. “Fortunately for me, Darya, what I can see isn’t important. I was born on an asteroid that originally had no light and no atmosphere. It was quite homely.”

Darya shivered. The image took her back to the fateful day she lost her beloved brother when the two of them were testing a revolutionary new power source and star drive. She had come too close to becoming one with the void that day and it was an experience she had no intention of repeating.

“Did I say something to upset you?” Earhaht asked, concerned. “The temperature in your torso just went up.”

Bat-Levi’s eyes became slits. She didn’t need this sliding cement mixer reminding her she was less than a whole person. Instead of answering she lumbered forward, driving her worn legs hard. She came to a door on her right that was closed, which was odd. Every other room they had examined had been open and very empty. It was as if the entire complex had been scavenged.

Still angry, Darya raised her left fist and gave the door a hard thump. To her surprise, it refused to give. Even a little. The jarring thud hurt her still human shoulder and gave her pause. This was no ordinary door. She raised her tricorder and scanned it.

Nothing registered. She tapped the device with her artificial knuckles to see if that would help then scanned again. Still a null result.

Earhaht had silently joined her and noted her companion’s frustration. She repeated the measure and got the same result. Nothing. “There’s got to be a dampening field in operation here,” she said in as professional a manner as possible.

Bat-Levi wasn’t really listening. She simply stepped back, raised her phaser and shot the door.

It wasn’t impressed. Aside from a small scorch, it remained untouched. As Darya dialled up the setting Earhaht said: “Don’t do it, Commander. If you burn through it you could damage whatever’s on the other side. Let me try.”

Earhaht took her human companion’s lowering her weapon as an affirmative. She slid forward and raised herself up so her underside made contact with the door.

Darya was immediately driven back the acrid smell of acid eating metal. She also noticed the temperature in the large hall was quickly rising. The air was filling with smoke so she moved even further down the hall back the way they had come. As she waited she shone her light back and forth as if looking for something she knew wasn’t there, but an innate fear of the dark drove her to do so.

A chirp out of nowhere made her jump before she realised it was her commbadge. One of her teams was checking in. She forced herself to calm down and answered the calls. To her annoyance all four teams reported nothing of value. She told them to keep looking and to check back with her in an hour.

By the time she was finished the rest of the door gave way like molten slag. Earhaht moved backwards, then up and over it, smoothing the remains out as she did so. As Darya moved towards her she warned: “Give it a couple of minutes, Commander. It will need time to cool. I’ll let you know if I find anything in the meantime.”

That left Darya feeling frustrated. She was a woman of action, even when her insecurities were screaming “Run!” in the opposite direction. Going against the plan, she decided to see what was further down the corridor. After ten fruitless minutes of searching she returned to find the metal was cool enough for her to step over without her sticking to the floor. She shone her light around the space and found it mostly devoid of furniture, which was a departure from the rest of the building where there had been nothing of value.

Darya was drawn to a short desk with what clearly looked like some kind of computer console. She frowned as she realised something was wrong.

As fast as her servos could propel her she spun on her heel and visually scanned the room. Earhaht was nowhere to be seen.
“Now I know why I became a Psychiatrist,” Yuriel said, wiping his brow again. For the fiftieth time that day he wished he was wearing a shirt with sleeves instead of an abbreviated singlet and shorts. “A hard day’s work for me is helping people find the hidden causes of their behaviour. Not helping someone plough and fertilise a field!”

Samir didn’t know what the Doctor was complaining about. Compared with the planet he grew up on, this place was a paradise. His homeworld was a cesspit of greed and corruption. The people on Persephone were friendly and seemed willing to share everything. It went a little against the grain for him, but only in the way a sinner finds himself standing in Heaven wondering how on Earth he had gotten there but still grateful he was.

He gave the Doctor a shake of the head. “Yuriel, the people here would have to put you to work in the fields because I don’t think any of them would have any need for your services!”

At that, the Doctor humphed. “You’re probably right, at that. I suppose when you have to count on everyone else in the community just to survive there’s no room for pettiness.”

“You got it in one, Doc,” Samir said. As they were about a kilometre outside the town, he took a moment to scan the fields around him and, satisfied they were alone, he reached into his pocket and took out his communicator. A quick tap had him talking to their Naxeran Tactical Officer, Thule Glemoor.

“All quiet up here, Sir,” he replied. “Commanders Bat-Levi and Earhaht are exploring the ruins of the planet’s oldest city, along with four other teams.”

Samir’s eyebrows drew together. For Bat-Levi to leave her primary mission to check out the city, they had to have found something unusual. “Why?”

“Wheat, Commander,” Thule said succinctly. “The fields you are standing in are crops of Terran grain. The genetic analysis has confirmed. There are many terrestrial genuses on Persephone.”

al-Halak’s mind raced. There were many implications to the report given. Not the least that the people he had met were most likely some kind of human hybrid. He couldn’t help but wonder why the extra nostrils and such. Genetic experiments?

However, they were not his most immediate concern. Bat-Levi and Earhaht were off who-knows-where searching one of the old cities. He knew from the locals that they were believed to be uninhabited, and he put his mind to rest that the Enterprise crew had probably confirmed that. All the same, ruins could be dangerous.

He considered the pair he was worried about. Earhaht was nearly indestructible and Bat-Levi was not only capable, but had repairable parts if the need arose. No setting bones in those legs, that was certain.

He looked at his companion and noted Yuriel’s scrutiny of the flora. The El-Aurian wouldn’t be familiar with Earth grains, he thought.

“Understood, Enterprise,” Samir said. “I’ll let the Captain know. Keep me informed of any updates from Bat-Levi’s expedition. My commbadge is on vibrate, so feel free to buzz me. Al-Halak out.”
“Is this the way your run a starship, Captain? Letting your people go off on dangerous, unauthorised missions?” Granger snorted. “I’m glad I’m not serving on your vessel.”
While Rachel kept her face serene, she couldn’t help the stray thought: You wouldn’t last five minutes on the Enterprise, that’s for sure! “It was hardly unauthorised, Admiral. I had ordered Commanders Bat-Levi and Earhaht to study the planet. Their discoveries led them to a different area to investigate. It was anything but a fruitless decision by my Second officer and Commander Earhaht, who I might remind you is a highly decorated member of my crew. I trust them and their decisions. If they needed hand-holding they shouldn’t be in the fleet at all.”

As Granger sneered, Garrett spared a glance at the rest of the board. Grant was mirroring the Admiral, no surprise there. However, Keiley seemed speculative. She hoped she was beginning to see the complexity of the situation Rachel had been faced with.

The Admiral gestured to continue in a manner that was supposed to look magnanimous but instead came across as insulting. “Please, continue,” he said, the proverbial spider.

Garrett was beginning to understand how the fly felt. If the Admiral was going to hang her, he might do so with the next turn of the story.
Pain. It was an old companion to Darya, but it was never welcome. Having regained consciousness, she rolled over to find herself lying on a concrete floor. She quickly came to the realisation that something was very wrong.

She looked down and found, to her dismay, that her left knee was bent in the wrong direction. Normally, this would have resulted in a blast of pain, however this was one of the times where Darya was grateful her legs were mechanical. The artificial skin that gave her legs an almost natural look transmitted only discomfort to her brain, which was an understatement, she mused. She wondered how she had gotten here and thought back. Her last memories were of finding an empty room and wondering what had happened to Earhaht.

She had stepped forward to explore the room and somehow lost her footing. It was as if she had stepped into empty space. She had fallen….then nothing.

“Great going, Darya,” she said to herself bitterly. “You fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

“You’re not the only one.”

Darya turned to look in the direction of the voice which was coming from behind her. The sound was unmistakable – Earhaht’s voder. She drew in a breath as she found the Horta inverted on the floor, her smooth underside exposed. She looked like a stranded turtle without the flailing legs.

“Are you stuck?” Bat-Levi asked, feeling stupid for the obvious question.

“No, I just thought now would be a great time to practice my zero-gee manoeuvres!” Earhaht growled. “Of course I’m stuck!”

Darya could only smile ruefully. She had deserved that. She glanced down at her leg then tried wriggling her toes. She could feel the movement in her boot, so perhaps all wasn’t lost. She then quickly ran a hand over the parts that were still hurting and found a bump on her head. No doubt from when she hit the floor.

Thinking of that, she looked up and saw the hole through which she had fallen. Fortunately, her torch had survived the fall and was on the floor nearby, illuminating the room nicely. She could see through the square hole to the light shining on the roof above and smiled to herself. Hopefully, the light would act as a beacon to whomever would come looking for them.

She tapped her commbadge and got nothing. Not even a chirp. She glanced over at Earhaht. “Have you tried contacting the ship?”

Earhaht’s momentary silence was enough for her to realise the Horta had heard enough dumb questions for now. She mentally chided herself. No doubt she had tried to the moment she fell.
“The dampening field operating in the room above not only shielded our tricorders, but our comms as well. Never mind, when we fail to check in the others will search for and find us.”

Her confidence was rock solid, Darya mused, then mentally smacked herself for the bad pun. “I’m going to leave the torch shining into the room above. The rescue party should see the light on the roof and wonder where it comes from.”

“Good thinking,” Earhaht said charitably. “Now, are you up to flipping me over?”

Darya sat up and tried moving her legs. The right one worked fine, but the left one was making all kinds of complaining noises. The knee refused to flex at all. “I’m not certain I can flip myself over,” she said with a sigh. She slid herself along the floor and over to the Horta. She put her hands on her lower plates and tried rocking her. “You weren’t kidding about how much you weigh!” she said with a grunt.

“A girl does what one can to stay in shape,” she replied with her usual humour.

Darya strained her natural right arm and her mechanical left, but her very human shoulders were finding the going tough. No matter how hard she tried, as long as she was seated she couldn’t pull it off. Ignoring her distorted leg, she managed to get her good leg under her and, pushing up against a wall, stand on it. She found that, as long as she pushed her left leg back and didn’t try to bend it, she could weight bear.

Now erect, she had a much better view of their surroundings. They seemed to be in a small, rectangular room that housed what looked like old style computer equipment. She looked upward and wondered to herself who would lay a trap into such a room? What was the purpose of it? Stranger and stranger.

There were two desks on opposite sides, well away from the centre of the room where the two of them had made their crash landing. A largish chair sat before each desk where a monitor stood. There was also something that resembled a keyboard input device, but on one side of it were a number of hexagonal slots that left Darya at a loss.

The wall she was leaning against, while propping her up in the middle of the room also revealed a distinct lack of anything that could be used as a lever.

“Dreck,” Darya said, annoyed. “Sorry, Earhaht. I can’t see anything I could use to turn you over.”

Earhaht swivelled a little in place as she threw her weight to one side. “I’ve got an idea. Can you spin me over to the wall? Then, if you can push me as far as you can, I should be able to get enough contact with it to begin eating my way through it. Then I can burrow our way out of here.”

Bat-Levi shrugged. What the hell, she thought. What’s the worst that can happen? “Okay, then.” She hopped forward and placed her hands on Earhaht’s inverted topside near the edge, afraid that her underside might somehow burn her. She had heard stories of Hortas being able to eat through carbon neutronium and she didn’t think her fingers would last two heartbeats exposed to that!

“Here goes!” Darya pushed to one side and almost immediately lost her balance. It was only her grip on Earhaht that kept her from falling.

“At least you moved me,” Earhaht said with as positive an air as she could muster. “Do you think your could try again? Just be careful.”

Darya scowled. She hated people saying that. Ever since her accident and subsequent reconstruction, she had had to endure the doubts from well-meaning people who underestimated her. At first, she did her best to ignore them, but later they simply grated. She tossed her hair with the long, silver streak and said: “I will be, Commander.”

Once more, she put her hands against Earhaht’s side, did a better job of anchoring her good foot whilst keeping her useless, damaged leg out of the way and began rocking her as she turned her anti-clockwise. It was slow going, but she was beginning to make headway. The gap between Earhaht and the wall was gradually closing.

“That’s enough,” Earhaht suddenly said.

Darya was loathe to stop now she had a good rhythm. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Our people have excellent spacial relations. Now, push!”

Bat-Levi put her back into the task and pushed. As Earhaht’s edge came closer to the wall she managed to curl it up and make contact.

“Darya, hold your breath and keep pushing!”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She could only imagine just how destructive the acids the Horta released could be. As Earhaht began cutting, and devouring, the wall, Darya did her best to keep the pressure up while resisting the urge to breathe. It seemed like ages, but actually only seconds until she felt as if Earhaht was falling away from her and she dropped to the floor, doing her best to roll onto her side. She looked to where Earhaht had been and only saw a neat, circular hole where the wall and floor used to be. She noticed the edges were still glowing from heat, so she refrained from touching it. Instead, she quickly rolled to the far end of the room and hesitantly took in a lungful of precious air. It had only been an minute, but after all the exertion the air was sweet as honey.

Darya kept her head low and breathed the cleaner air nearer the floor, but she noted the smoke was quickly clearing. She glanced towards the new hole in the wall and detected a draft. Earhaht must have come out somewhere there was a bit of a breeze.

“Cool,” she said to herself. God in His great wisdom created some amazing creatures. She rolled over to the chair nearest her and dragged herself onto its base, taking a seat. She tucked her right leg under her, but found her left leg’s odd angle was making it hard to get comfortable. She curled a lip in annoyance and turned her attention to the computer. It was covered in only a fine layer of dust, and she mused the door above must have been air tight. There was a big, round button on the left top of the monitor and she shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?” she asked herself.

“You could press that button and blow us all into orbit, I suppose.”

Darya turned her head and found her granite coloured companion had returned. “Remind me to keep you around if I’m ever locked up in jail,” she said drolly. She glanced around for her tricorder and couldn’t find it. She turned her head to the ceiling and grimaced. “I guess I left it upstairs.”

“Don’t worry,” Earhaht said cheerfully. “I managed to get past the dampening field and asked for a med team to come and help you out.”

For a moment, Darya considered refusing the help. Fiercely independent, she was inclined to order them back to the Enterprise. However, the fact remained she wasn’t going anywhere under her own steam for a while. “Okay, Commander. You win. However, while we’re waiting, we can see what we can get out of this thing.”

Earhaht doubted the wisdom of the notion but relented. “I’ll see you in orbit,” she said quietly.

Darya rolled her eyes and hit the button anyway. Nothing. It was worth a try. She looked behind it and found no wiring, but that didn’t mean the system wasn’t run wirelessly. She pursed her lips and considered. “Can the tricorder determine what kind of power it uses?”

If a Horta could roll her eyes, she would have. “No, it can’t. It could be DC, AC, plasma or powered by little green pixies. Have you forgotten the dampening field?” she said trying to be lighthearted but sounding a little cruel.

At times like these Darya wondered what the best response should be. She hadn’t been second officer of the Enterprise for all that long, and to all intents and purposes, Earhaht outranked her due to her greater experience. However, she couldn’t let the comment pass. “What is your problem?” she asked, acidly.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, Earhaht would have backed away from a fight. Not any more. “I could say the same to you, Lieutenant Commander Bat-Levi. It seems every time I make any kind of comment at all you bite my head off.”

Darya completely missed the non-sequitur and fired up. “What do you mean by that?”

Earhaht inched forward and Bat-Levi took an involuntary step backward. She had temporarily forgotten how formidable her companion was. “I make a comment about your temperature, and you get annoyed. In fact, if I make any kind of personal observation, no matter how well intended, you get angry! You’re as hard to get close to as a lava flow! You seem friendly for a moment, but if you get close enough – BAM! You’re toast!”

Their conversation in the hall came back to Darya’s thoughts and she realised Earhaht was right. She had been lashing out. “I just can’t stand being reminded that I’m not just flesh and blood anymore! With all this plastic and metal I feel like less of a person. Do you understand that?” There was less heat in her words, but still enough to keep Earhaht from cooling.

“Commander Bat-Levi, you are complaining that your artificial components make you less of a person. If that’s so, what does that make me? My people are made of all kinds of inorganic materials and metals. Does that make me less of a person because I’m made of the stuff you so revile?”

The thought made Darya’s eyes go wide but she was not ready to give up yet. “It doesn’t matter what my arm and legs are made out of, they’re just not me.” She looked down and slapped her broken leg for emphasis. “I mean: look at this! I should be screaming in pain but no, I’m simply considering seeing the engineer when we get back to the ship to have it fixed.” Her chest ached and right now she really wished she didn’t have to talk about this. She never did like opening up about it. Frustrated, she rapped her knuckles on her leg and a soft, metallic sound was heard. “Not natural.”

Earhaht retreated a little and sat quietly for a moment, mulling over Darya’s words. Finally, she said: “Look. I can’t begin to understand how you feel because there’s no way I ever can. For my people, a severe injury usually ends in death. There is little middle ground.

“It’s a marvellous thing to me that your species is so adaptable. You lose a limb, no problem! We can make one that does almost as good a job. Your life can go on. From my perspective your people are blessed to be the way you are. The blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk again with the aid of science. Miracles are happening all the time for people like you. Would you have preferred to have died in the accident that took your arm and legs?”

Bat-Levi didn’t know how much Earhaht knew about what happened and right now, it didn’t matter all that much. The answer to her question had been, and still was: yes. But not for the reasons of her disability. Because she had lost her beloved brother that day and she wished there was some way she could have died in his place.

All the same, it was not a truth she was going to admit to Earhaht, so she lied. “No,” she said. She didn’t believe it, and she was certain the Horta wasn’t buying it either.

“I’ve lost friends, family along the way,” Earhaht said quietly, her electronic voice mirroring the fact she was unconvinced by Darya’s answer. “You may look at me and wonder: How could she know? But you forget. I’m a lot older than you. We all have our burdens to bear, it’s true. How we deal with them is also our choice.

“What is not fair, though, is taking our feelings out on our shipmates and friends. We all deserve better, and if we’re going to get along as a Starfleet family should, we must give each other the best of ourselves instead of the worst. I have always endeavoured to to that for you and the crew, I would appreciate the same in return.”

Darya sat on the chair, not knowing what to say and realising she didn’t have to. Earhaht had poured out her soul and she should respect what had been said and think about it. While she knew that she had some very valid points, it wasn’t so easy to simply turn over a new leaf. Change – real change – often took time. She looked down at Earhaht and said: “Thank you, Earhaht. I will try harder to treat you as you deserve. As my elder,” she said with a slight smile, “I owe you that much.”

Earhaht rumbled for a moment in a way that made Darya wonder until she realised it was the Horta’s version of laughter.

The moment was broken by a voice from above. Darya spotted a light shining in the room above. “Careful up there!” she called. “There’s a hole in the floor in front of you. It’s covered by a hologram!”

As the security and medical team set up above her, Darya went back to trying to prepare the computer for travel.
Whilst Rachel was aware of Darya’s fall and injury, neither she nor Earhaht had elaborated on their conversation. Their report merely mentioned their discovery of the ancient computer. Naturally, this was all that she related to the Admiral.

She suspected the rest from their behaviour once they were all back on board. Both of them were acting differently towards one another. She noted a greater affection and familiarity with each referring to the other by their given names rather than rank.

“So, Captain, did you people learn anything interesting from the computer?” the Admiral charged. From his body language it was clear to Rachel he put very little stock in their discovery. The mere age of the device made the possibility of its functioning unlikely.

Granger didn’t know how determined her crew could be. Her chief engineer, Anjad Kodell and Bat-Levi, worked together on the device – once he’d fixed her leg.

“Actually, my people made a startling discovery,” she said with a cherubic grin. She noted the Admiral falter momentarily and both the Captains lean forward a little. It was clear they were fascinated.
The desk in the Enterprise’s engineering section had all manner of testing equipment on it, all of which had produced less than useful results.

“I can’t believe we can’t figure out what powers this thing,” Darya said, giving the table a thump with her left hand for good measure.

Kodell glanced over at the surface wondering whether she had dented it. This was his department and he didn’t want Darya messing it up, no matter how fond of her he had become.
“I’m certain we’ll figure it out,” he said doing his best to project confidence but not quite pulling it off.

Darya put it down to him trying to be other than the usual haunted self he appeared to be. She suspected that there was something in the Trill engineer’s past that was intruding on his present, much like Joshua’s death did her. A little voice told her it was time she started putting it behind her but the dominant part of her told it to shut up – that it didn’t know what it was talking about.

A figure appeared in the door brandishing a small box. “You won’t get anywhere without this,” Thule Glemoor said with a pleased look on his face. The nodules on his face next to his nose – his “whiskers” in Darya’s eyes – were fairly vibrating. With his ebony skin and almost feline appearance he wore an expression the Cheshire Cat would have been proud of. The Naxeran had demonstrated once again just what a good investigator he was.

Kodell stepped over and took it from him with both hands. It was surprisingly light. “What is it?”

“It’s a transducer,” Glemoor said. “I had a good look around and found the mechanism for the dampening field. Curiously, it had no power source. So, I looked around and found this in the corridor. It’s linked to an ancient, subterranean power source buried very deep that harnesses geothermal energy, then relays the power through a grid of transducers. They’re all shielded, but once I knew what I was looking for I was able to calibrate the tricorder properly and then: Ringo! I found it!”

Darya chuckled and Kodell realised the Tactical Officer had made one of his cultural mix-ups, even though he was unfamiliar with this one as well.

“Bingo!” she said trying to explain it in a nutshell. “You cry Bingo! when you win the game.” At their perplexed faces she gave up. “Never mind. Ringo it is!”

Kodell put the grey box, about forty centimetres to a side, on the table once Darya had pushed some of their tools aside. He gave her a look that said simply: Be more careful next time, which she replied to with an affable shrug.

Glemoor’s golden eyes were fixed on watching them scan the device, fascinated. While defending the ship was his speciality, science still captured his interest. He loved to learn.

“So, that’s what it is,” Darya said after a moment’s contemplation.

As if responding to an unspoken thought, Kodell simply replied: “Yes.”

“Then we should be able to get it going by….”

Again, Kodell responded cryptically with nothing more than a nod.

Darya’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s get on it, then.”

From his place in the doorway, Glemoor was the picture of confusion. Just when he thought he was getting a handle on the way humans, and Trill for that matter, behaved they could throw him a thoroughly bizarre display. “What?”

Kodell looked at him with something akin to pity. The Neraxan was only a Tactician, he had to remind himself. Not an engineer, the greatest calling. It was a simple matter to blow something up. It took genius to create. He handed him his tricorder and said: “It’s all here. You’ll figure it out.” He then joined Darya and stepped out. They had to prepare.
Dusk was falling in Pegasus and the landing party was faced with a conundrum. With the reports reaching Rachel’s ears seeming to confirm her notion that these people were some kind of unwitting colonists from Earth they had still yet to prove the hypothesis.

“I need a DNA sample,” Stern said as they walked along the middle of the street.

As surreptitiously as they could, they watched to make sure their conversation was private and fell into silence when someone came near.

“How are we going to get one without someone asking?” Samir asked. “It would be a little weird to ask someone for a blood sample.”

Rachel brightened. “What about hair?”

Jo gritted her teeth. “Unreliable. I’d need one with a still living follicle.”

Tyvan looked off into the distance and considered the graveyard. “What about from a corpse?”

The thought gave the Doctor pause and she stopped, considering. In the end, she discounted it. “I’d still need a fairly fresh sample. Even buried, a corpse here would deteriorate fast. It doesn’t take long for DNA to start breaking down.” She shook her head. “No. I need a complete sample. I need a living specimen. Preferably in my sickbay where I can do a complete work up.”

The Captain baulked at that one. “Not a chance. Even if these people are some kind of human hybrid, the fact is they are a living, breathing culture that deserves to make it’s own destiny. Taking one of the locals up to the Enterprise could destroy everything.”

Yuriel felt like a ghoul suggesting it, but he felt they should explore every option. “How about we snatch one of the recently deceased from their “hospital”?”

The notion left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. Stern defeated the notion quickly. “There’s nobody in there who’s going to die within the next forty-eight hours. Some of them are riddled with cancer, but they’re hardy people. They’re not ready to meet their maker yet.”

Rachel noted her friend out the corner of her eye and wondered at the Doctor’s unspoken message. “Not if I have anything to do about it.” Would she have to keep an eye on Jo to keep her from interfering with these people?

She noticed Samir was looking over her shoulder with a vague smile on his face. She knew that look. He was up to something. “What is it?”

His smile became a broad grin as Rachel turned and saw what he was looking at. “Oh. Who’s the best candidate for this mission?”

The others shared a look and turned their gaze back on her.

The Captain had already known the answer to her question, but had hoped to find a volunteer. She scowled at them good naturedly and said: “Cowards. Next time, it’s your turn.”
While Kodell and Bat-Levi worked to restore the alien computer’s functions, the landing party was enjoying a hearty meal of vegetable soup, courtesy of their benefactor, Jared. A few of the other locals had gathered around to share stories.

The room was lit by candle light and the fireplace burning in the centre of the room, which did double duty of warming them against the bitterly cold night air.

Once the meals were eaten and the bowls taken away out came the ale, which was flowing fairly freely. It was clear they liked their beer.

Rachel smiled as she listened to one of the older women tell of how one of her children had saved her from drowning. The way she put it, it was as if the boy had heard her telepathically and had somehow flown to her rescue. It was a tall story, but one fit for a campfire. Tales told by fire light were meant to be exaggerated, otherwise they lost their mystery.

She noted that most of the patrons had made their way home, leaving a small group of about ten including her party. It was a good time to start their plan. She gave Samir a slight nod.

“Don’t you have anything stronger than this?” he asked, gazing into his tankard. “Where I come from we wean our children off milk that’s got more sting than this.”

The challenge was made and accepted. An middle aged woman smiled and said: “You’re right about that. My breasts have produced better hangovers than this stuff.” She gave Samir a sly look. “You’re welcome to try it later, if you like.”

Rachel wondered for a moment whether Samir would take her up on her offer. He was, after all, unattached. However, it hadn’t been that long since he had lost Ani Batra, a woman he had loved dearly. Scuttlebutt had it he was planning on proposing.

It came as no surprise when Samir simply gave the woman a polite smile then turned back to Jared. “Well, son?”

Their host was not about to back down. He gave Samir a nod and said in all seriousness: “I have got some older spirits that my family’s had stored for many years.” He looked skyward for a moment, as if silently asking his ancestor’s permission. He turned back to Samir and said: “What better time to open a bottle than the arrival of newcomers?!” He got up and disappeared through the back door with a flourish.

Samir looked back at Rachel. Phase One was complete. Now for Phase Two.

Jared reappeared within moments and the locals who were gathered took in a breath of expectation. It was clear that there was something special about the contents of the two bottles he was carrying.

He placed them on the table then retrieved twenty shot glasses. Jo looked at them with open amazement. Were they all going to share?

“Who is your champion?” Jared asked.

As one, Samir, Yuriel and Jo turned and regarded Garrett expectantly.  “Me,” she said.  With more confidence than she felt she added: “I can drink anyone under the table.”

The locals shared a sly smile that demonstrated their differing opinion.  It was clear their money was on Jared.

The glasses were then evenly divided between Rachel and Jared. A young man in his mid-twenties, Marcus, who seemed to have adopted the role of judge, reverently poured the glasses.  Yuriel got a whiff of the concoction and wondered whether he had accidentally grabbed some bottles of paint stripper. He glanced at the Captain, concerned that she was about to annihilate a good number of brain cells.

Marcus turned his attention to Garrett and said with complete solemnity as if he was officiating a wedding: “As you are the challenger, you go first.”

Rachel picked up the glass and first took a sip. It scorched her throat like drain cleaner and she considered whether Jared was manufacturing the stuff primarily as window cleaner. The taste of it took her back to her youth and for a moment she was sitting on the lap of her beloved paternal grandfather, an amazing man who was more a father to her than her own had been. Papa hid the shame of his son’s abandonment and did his best to fill the void.

His one vice was brewing his own moonshine. She had grown up on a colony world where the rules were fairly lax, so nobody minded he ran his own still. The truth be told, she had once seen the local constable stop by to share a glass.

She had once stamped her foot defiantly and insisted that, at the ripe old age of six, she was mature enough to try his moonshine. He had just smiled sagely at her like all grandfathers do and poured a few drops into a glass and passed it to her.

Rachel had gagged and thrown up after she tipped the contents straight down her throat as she had seen Papa do. Her mother, Jenny, had chewed Papa out for what he had done, but she had seen her smile. It had been a good lesson and she had decided then and there she wasn’t as grown up as she thought.

When he had passed she recalled his humour that, when his time would come, he would probably not require embalming as he had spent a lifetime pickling himself. He hadn’t been far from the truth.

She still missed her Papa, but the lessons she had learned from him had kept her in good stead for a lifetime.

This stuff reminded her of Papa’s liquor, but it wasn’t quite as strong. Remembering him, she tipped the shot glass back and let it warm her throat and fire her gut. She then victoriously inverted the glass and plonked it down on the table.

Jared, without preamble, answered by simply tipping his head back and downing the contents of the next glass. It took all of about two seconds.

Jo’s eyes widened at the notion that the young man might best her friend due to the plain fact he had done this before, and often. She decided things needed to be slowed down a little to give the alcohol a chance to do its work on Jared otherwise Rachel didn’t stand a chance.

“Jared,” she said with a grin. “Did you hear the one about the horse that went into the bar for a drink? The bartender said: Why the long face?”

The joke brought a gratifying laugh. Jo wasn’t the best at telling jokes, but at least there was a good chance these people didn’t know all the ones she did. She glanced at Samir and he got the message. Keep them coming.

Halak came back with a gag about a blind farmer trying to milk a bull and Jo decided that her job here was done. She got up as Rachel picked up her next glass and tossed it back. With her eyes skyward she caught Jo’s as she rose. The question was clear in her eyes.

“Excuse me,” she said amiably. “I’m off to check on my patients.”

Nobody would challenge a healer and keep her from her charges. They all gave her a friendly smile and bade her farewell.

As she stepped out of the door she heard Rachel slap down her glass as Samir began a new joke. It was a good thing they were distracted. She wasn’t sure her friend would appreciate what she was about to do.

Trying not to look conspicuous, she did her best to cross the street and remain in the shadows. She passed the Apothecary by, slipped out back and took out her communicator before ordering up some medical supplies from the ship.

Once the required medicines had materialised, Jo padded quietly across the dusty floorboards of the hospital and took a moment in the dark to cool herself. It wasn’t that the night air was overly warm, but that her prosthetics were causing her chest to sweat. She pulled out her tank top and fanned her chest and felt a little give on one of her prosthetics. She would have to return to the Enterprise soon to fix it.

The door only gave the slightest creak as Jo moved into the hospital ward room. Working from an almost eidetic memory, she began ministering to her patients in the dim candle light. Around her everyone slept, their breathing sounds quiet in the dark. She noted that none were snoring and attributed it to their enhanced nasal passages.

Quickly, moving from patient to patient, Jo adjusted her medications and quietly injected them with her hypospray, praying the sensation would be missed by all.

He luck held out and, within an hour, her job was done. Jo looked back at her patients with a slight smile before letting herself out, an angel of mercy who sought no thanks. Prime Directive be damned. Nothing would come between her and her oath. The trick was remembering not to break the eleventh commandment. Thou shalt not get caught.
When Jo returned to the table things weren’t going so well for team Enterprise. Rachel’s slack face and bleary eyes told her all she needed to know. The Captain was not only inebriated, but barely conscious.

She looked at Samir who gave her a slight shrug. There was nothing he could do to help her he hadn’t already done. Both he and Yuriel had scraped the bottom of the barrel of jokes long ago, having done their best to make the gags they knew about the Cardassian and the chicken relevant to the natives.

Jo sniffed. There may have been nothing they could do for Rachel, but that wasn’t the case for her.

The place to Jared’s right was vacant and the unassuming young man thought nothing of Jo taking the space. All eyes were on Rachel as she practically walked her fingers to the next shot glass to take it. It was as if the tiny spark of indomitability that defined the best Starship Captains kept pushing her, refusing to accept defeat.

Jo folded her hands in her lap under the table and palmed her hypospray, waiting for the right moment.

Amazingly, Garrett managed to pick up the glass and, defiantly, downed its contents with a gulp.

How she managed to maintain her balance was beyond Jo as Rachel smacked the empty down on the table top. One of fifteen, she counted.

The Doctor watched as Jared casually picked up the next glass and downed its contents, placing the empty next to the rest of his own. Marcus gave a yelp of excitement as Jared kept going like a train and, during the noise of cheering Jo struck and injected the mild sedative into the young man’s leg.

Fortunately, although he was outwardly coping, the young man was practically numb. He didn’t feel a thing.

Both Samir and Yuriel recognised the slight sound and shot her a knowing look, however, Marcus, who was the only other local remaining given the late hour, missed it.

Rachel was past seeing or hearing anything but the next glass, which she stubbornly grasped and downed, feeling like she was floating in space and mildly curious why she wasn’t wearing a space suit. She managed to return the glass as the drug took effect.

Jared’s eyes glazed over and he slumped forward face first onto the table. Stunned, Marcus tapped his friend on the shoulder, trying to rouse him, but he realised after a moment he was down for the count. Reluctantly, he declared Rachel the winner.

“Congratulations,” he said half-heartedly, instinctively knowing foul play had taken place but completely in the dark as to how it might have been performed. He was far too polite to make an accusation without any evidence and the fact remained it was clearly four to one.

He looked down at his fallen hero and then up at Samir sheepishly. “Can you give me a hand to get him up to bed?”

The newcomer gave him a polite nod and they each took an armpit. Marcus would have asked Yuriel, but he was uncertain whether he could shoulder the weight.

It took them only a moment to navigate to the stairs and, once the men were out of sight, Jo injected Rachel with a compound that would negate the alcohol’s effects. The Captain would be sober sooner due to her ministrations, but she could not help but add: “I never took you for a two pot screamer, Rach.”

Garrett gave her a bleary-eyed glare and, with the Doctor’s help, they followed the men upstairs.

They reached the door in time to see them unceremoniously dump Jared into his bunk and throw a blanket over him. Jo thought for a moment their behaviour seemed uncaring, but she had to remind herself they were men and not given to outward displays of affection. Jo noticed a leg was still protruding from their blanket so she couldn’t help but step forward, adjust the young man’s body and tuck him in. She brushed a lock of hair out of his face and, with her back turned, silently mouthed “sorry”.

They left Jared and stepped out into the hall. Marcus bade them all good night as he knew they were to stay there the night and he made his way downstairs. Once they heard the front door close they returned to Jared’s room.

“I can’t believe you cheated,” Rachel said, quietly scolding her friend. “I had him on the ropes.”

While it was unseemly for the men to tell their captain she was delusional, Jo did for them. “I don’t know where you were drinking tonight, Rachel, but Jared had you dead to rights. If I hadn’t injected the boy you would be the one being carried and he would be toasting his success with another beer.”

Garrett gave her a shrug. “Maybe.”

Samir chuckled, but quickly shut up when Garrett glared at him. He defused the situation by taking out his commbadge and tapping it. “al-Halak to Enterprise,” he said. “Five to beam up – directly to sickbay.”
Within moments Jared was tucked nicely into Stern’s diagnostic couch, her scanners working fast to analyse every inch of their visitor. She was in such a hurry she didn’t bother to change, much to the rest of her staff’s amusement. The sight of their scantily clad crewmates was going to be fodder for discussion for some time to come.

As Garrett had no intention of returning to the planet she turned to leave, but Stern waved her to stay. “Don’t be in such a hurry to get rid of those,” she said, prodding her in one of her fake breasts. “If we’re not there in the morning we will be missed. The mystery could cause problems, especially as I’m not finished with my patients.”

Rachel gave her a curious look as she wondered what the Doctor had been up to. However, she had absolute faith in her friend and decided to let it go. “All right, Doctor,” she said, her language becoming more formal now they were back on the Enterprise. “Have you found anything?”

As she spoke, a display unraveled on the wall screen, a familiar double helix that unwound as she watched.

“Computer, overlay a base line of human DNA for comparison and highlight any differences.” Stern was in her element and delighted with what she was seeing.

“Working.”

As the computer did her bidding, Jo began reading. She took Rachel by the arm and pointed at the corner. “You see, Rach,” she said, excited. “They’ve got the same base pairs as us.”

“So do a lot of humanoid species,” the Captain replied. However, her tone showed she was catching the bug.

Jo elbowed her friend in the ribs good naturedly. “And most of those have been demonstrated to have been transplanted there from Earth some time in the past.”

Rachel sighed. She wasn’t sure about the theory that a mythical race known as the “Preservers” had seeded not only humanity but Terrestrial flora and fauna throughout the galaxy in an effort to save them. Even when the dinosaur planet had been found she still harboured doubts.

The screen stopped and highlighted a section of deviant DNA. However, instead of being dismayed the Doctor was the opposite. She practically started jumping on the spot. “Look at that!” she said gleefully. “Those are the markers of spliced DNA!” She looked back at Jared. “That young man’s ancestors were human. I’m sure of it!”

She turned back to the screen and her eyes narrowed when she saw something she had previously missed. She tapped the panel, thoughts turning over in her mind. “These aren’t going to last,” she said finally.

Rachel looked up at the screen, needing Jo’s guidance. “What do you mean?”

Jo looked her in the eye. “The DNA that’s been added isn’t going to last. It’s beginning to fail, like a donated organ in an incompatible host. Eventually, it gets rejected.” She turned back to the screen and ran her finger over a section of helix. “The original DNA is still here and will reassert itself in a generation or two.” Her tone softened as she realised: “If it hasn’t already.”

Garrett needed to be certain before she continued on her course. “Are you certain these people were transplanted from Earth?” she asked, using her official, Captain’s tone. She was seeking a report she could rely upon.

Jo nodded in all certainty. “I’d be willing to bet the house on it.”

Rachel nodded. “That’s good enough for me.” She took a step back an took a deep breath. What to do next? she wondered. “How did these people get here and who did this to them?” she asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

“I can answer that,” came a familiar voice from the door.

The four of them turned and saw Darya leaning against the frame looking at them with a cheeky smile on her face. She looked Jo up and down and said – without looking at the Captain – “Where do I get a pair of those?” After a beat she added: “Nah, I’d better not. I already draw enough attention for the wrong reasons.” She pushed off from the doorway and passed a record chip to Garrett. “Captain, all you need to know is on that. It’ll blow your mind.”
“What did Bat-Levi discover, Captain?” Granger asked impatiently. They had listened to her version of events for hours as she related in great detail what her crew had reported to her. However, the Admiral’s patience was wearing thin. “Do you think you could give us the abridged version?”

Rachel dropped her hand into her pocket and took out a copy of Darya’s find. “Why don’t you watch for yourself, Admiral?” she suggested.

It seemed taking the chip from Garrett was beneath the Admiral. He glared at Keiley and made it clear to her that she should serve him.

Garrett’s opinion of the woman went up a notch as she remained poker-faced. Surely the situation had to have aggravated her however she refused to let on. She simply rose from her chair and, having received the chip from Garrett’s hand, dropped it into the desk slot. The recording began to play immediately on the wall view screen. The lights dimmed appropriately.
Time to make another entry in his log, but Cixot wondered to himself if it was worth it. He was a stickler for the rules, a character flaw, he thought. It seemed to get him into more trouble than if he lied like so many of his contemporaries. He had a solid belief that only in truth could life be lived in a way where discoveries could be made and truly enjoyed. It was like cheating in a game of Hah-Tukit. If you had to cheat to win where was the challenge? The reward was undeserved and not as sweet.

“Computer, begin recording,” he said.

“Already recording,” it replied.

Cixot frowned. Had he forgotten? Never mind.

“The test results on the latest batch of humans from Earth have proven fruitful. The cell builder transplants have been successful, giving them increased resistance from the sun’s harmful rays and have made them more aesthetically pleasing. Two nostrils and breasts were….” he shivered reflexively, “repulsive. That has been corrected and the newcomers are better settling into their new homes.”

“While they initially resisted resettlement here, when it was made clear they would be able to enjoy the same rights and privileges as ourselves – once they were altered – they relented. Oddly, some of the human males seemed to like the notion the females were going to grow two more breasts. How odd.”

He shrugged – a human affectation he had picked up from them. It wasn’t he only thing, he knew. His tone shifted as the melancholy he felt showed through.

“Unfortunately, peculiar behaviours are not the only thing the humans brought with them. If only we had decided to face the evils our failing sun was dooming us with without involving them. It wasn’t their fault, but their presence here has done nothing but complicate matters.”

He sighed. The sadness he felt threatened to overwhelm him, but he refused to give in. They were going to solve the problems of their world. As long as someone fought there was always a chance.

Cixot rubbed his nose, which had been running for a while and tickling his upper lip. He looked at his yellowish skin and wondered at the pallor. He seemed to have lost a bit of colour. Damn the “Common Cold” he thought. Why had they not been more careful with which humans they chose?

“I only wish were were as advanced in virology as we are in other areas. Our world has been overly generous to us by providing relatively few diseases for us to battle. We have managed to get by without having to eradicate them. A pity.

“Our people have gone to the stars and, instead of colonising other habitable worlds we’ve been arrogant enough to think we should fix all our own problems – as if we could. The sun’s increased radiation cycle has been making it intolerable for us on the surface. The modified humans can take it, but not us. We don’t mind messing with their make-up, but we won’t touch our own. We have signed our own death warrants with our hubris.”

Cixot took a moment to blow his nose on a kerchief and put it back in the pocket of his shorts. Like the humans, his people found the temperatures hard to manage. He chuffed to himself. At least the briefer clothing reduced the need for fabrics. A resource saver, if he ever saw one.

He suddenly remembered he had been rambling. He was supposed to be giving a progress report on his work modifying the humans.

“I don’t see the need for any further modification to the human builder code. As it stands their species is capable for mating with ours, even though they seem reluctant to. I have instructed them on the need to diversify their codes by not limiting themselves to one mate as they were culturally inclined to do on their homeworld. I’ve tried to impress upon them the need to help that along by interbreeding with us, but, as I said, they seem reluctant to. Our people will not force ourselves on them, and they seem to be similarly inclined.”

He sighed once more. It was a sound that came from the soles of his large, webbed feet. He considered the futility of it all. Their people were dying. It was that simple.

His eyes took on an immense sadness as he recognised the inevitable. “We don’t have much time left. It was hoped the humans could help our culture continue by injecting new data into our worn-out builder code, but that seems to have failed. The sun is killing us slowly with cancers, and now we have this outbreak of what the humans call “the flu” – the influenza virus is decimating our numbers. We had hoped to contain it to the city of Set-Helat, but it’s appeared in a number of other places.” His voice took on a note of irony. “The humans seem to be able to weather its effects, but our people are falling like meteorites. They die within hours of contracting it. Our lungs fill up with fluid and we quite simply drown.”

Cixot coughed then, the sound surprising him. He felt odd and he was sweating. Strange. The complex’s air-conditioning was usually reliable. He ran his six-fingered hand over his forehead and it came away damp. He was running a temperature.

It wasn’t just a cold he had. He knew it instinctively. With the knowledge that the end was near he said: “We brought this on ourselves. The people will die. I just hope the humans survive. They didn’t ask to be left alone here to fend for themselves, but they have proven to be very adaptable. Perhaps they will yet prevail. I can only hope that those who were quarantined on the ship make it off planet before they’re infected. Maybe they’ll be able to continue our culture elsewhere. Who knows?”

Cixot paused then added: “Time to die. Computer, cease recording.”
Garrett had seen the video before and was ready for the profound sense sadness that was shared by most her fellows. She noticed Keiley was affected, and even Sparky Skyler seemed to have felt something at the passing of a species. She noted that the Admiral was completely disaffected by the recording. It seemed, to him, to be nothing more than a weather report on Pluto.
Cold. That was what fairly radiated from the man. Complete indifference.

“Even given the evidence presented, I am anything but persuaded at your decision following this revelation, Captain.”

Garrett noted he used the word like an insult.

“Your actions have changed the course of life for the people of Persephone,” he charged. “They are a violation of the Prime Directive.”

Rachel’s patience was wearing thin, but she managed a wan smile. “Admiral. We have just witnessed the final testament of a species that died out centuries ago due to bad choices and an indifferent sun.”

“Irrelevant,” the Admiral stated.

To Garrett’s surprise, Keiley spoke up. “Are there any “bad choices” you’ve discovered that you haven’t mentioned yet?”

The Admiral glowered at the board member but kept his silence. She was well within her rights to ask the question.

Garrett turned and addressed her directly. “Further investigations led us to the discovery of an intact ship remaining in an underground hangar. While their FTL technology was advanced, it was their launch engines which proved their downfall. Their energy source was Triolic. Every time they lifted off the surface they were doing massive damage to their ozone layer. By the time we made orbit there was precious little left. While their sun had increased its output of ultra-violet light, the real culprit was their lack of protection. They had killed themselves by introducing a virus they had no defence against and destroying their ozone layer.”

Keiley simply nodded as she assimilated the information. When it became clear she wasn’t going to ask any further questions Garrett turned back to Granger.

He didn’t waste any time and went on the attack. “Your report states that you reseeded the ozone layer of Persephone. Didn’t you realise that it would have a direct effect on the lifestyles of the inhabitants of that planet?”

At that Garrett gave a light chuckle. She freely admitted that. She also noticed Granger was avoiding an obvious fact. “Yes, Admiral, my actions did result in the chance for the humans living on Persephone to live a normal, productive life. For life to be able to flourish on that world once more.”

Granger stooped over and pointed his finger in Rachel’s face. The challenge was clear. “You interfered with the natural course of their evolution!”

“Evolution!” Rachel had had enough. “If Evolution is the god that we worship in the Federation, then we’re in deep trouble because all it is is change. Cultures change, yes. People change, yes. Do humans learn to overcome the harmful effects of massive doses of ultra-violet light in a generation? No!”

The Admiral shrugged dismissively. “Perhaps it’s simply their time.”

She took a quick breath and continued. “The problem with that thinking is that Evolution has no soul. It has no heart. It’s mindless and directionless. Too many people worry about whether a race should grow or not. Whether they will have a positive role to play. They have a role to play – their own. Do they have a right to play it? Who are we to say no?”

She turned and addressed the rest of the panel. “What we’re asked to do in situations like these is to sit back and hope random chance will work in the favour of those we are observing.”

Keiley put up a finger. “Are you advocating abandonment of the Prime Directive, Captain?”

Rachel shook her head. “Absolutely not. But using it as an excuse for acts of moral cowardice is wrong. If we can save a race from extinction – like the people of Persephone – shouldn’t we at least try? Naturally, do it in such as way as to not interfere with their social structure and beliefs, but if a comet is going to hit a planet of three billion people living in the middle ages should we allow it to hit just because they haven’t invented warp drive yet?”

Granger came and rudely stood between them, forcing Garrett to address him directly once more. “You digress, Captain. You reseeded the planet’s ozone layer and changed the conditions under which they live. You never gave them a chance to overcome it and grow from the experience.”

Garrett looked up at him cooly and said: “Do you know how long they’ve been going through these cycles, Admiral? Six hundred years. They breed like rabbits to repopulate after each cycle, but it’s a war they’re losing. Each time there are less and less of them. They spend so much time and effort rebuilding after each blast from the sun that they don’t progress at all. If anything, they’re going backwards.”

“Rot.”

Garrett shook her head in wonder at his narrow vision. “You weren’t there, Admiral. The people of Persephone are good people. Creative, generous, helpful, friendly, even imaginative. However, they’ve forgotten how to make glass. It was lost recently when the last glassmaker died without leaving an apprentice. Without him, they can’t create sunglasses to save their eyes – the principle cause of death on Persephone.”

At the Skyler scoffed, much to the Admiral’s amusement. “How can blindness kill a man?” he asked with his nasal pinch.

She had an answer for that one. “They go to the hospital at first, but when it becomes clear someone can no longer help themselves they walk out into the desert to die. They don’t want to be a burden to anyone.” She turned to Keiley once more. “The hospital we saw was more a waiting room for the dying than a place to find healing. They go there for a time and, when hope is lost, they go on their final walk.”

She turned back to the Admiral. “Their chemist doesn’t know how to make lotions to protect them from the sun and their brief clothes they wore just to keep cool just made things worse.”

Once more Granger shrugged. “You still should have left it to them to find a way clear.”

Rachel looked at the Admiral in wonderment. “There were no other options. They were dying. Another cycle and there wouldn’t have been enough people left to support a viable genome. Entropy was winning on Persephone. Are you suggesting we just sit back and watch them die?”

The Admiral drew himself up, the picture of righteousness. “That’s exactly what you should have done, Garrett. If it’s their time, it’s their time.”

“Really? Says who? You know, I’ve heard it said many times and I don’t subscribe to that kind of thinking. We look both ways to cross the street, don’t we? We do what we can to avoid death. So, why can’t we can’t help others out that way? Do you see the blind man struggling to cross and not act to keep him from being run over? Of course not!

“In the case of the people of Persephone, we found a group of kidnapped humans struggling to survive in a hostile environment. Blood called out that we help them and that I did. We gave them a home that wasn’t out to kill them. That’s all. The rest they will have to do on their own.”

Granger was like a dog with a bone and refused to let it go. “You still changed the conditions that they lived under. Didn’t the video message mention that the aliens altered their DNA so they could survive in their new environment? And with all their alterations, why do you keep insisting they’re humans?”

At that, Rachel actually smiled. The racism on display was appalling. “What difference does it make, Admiral? If they were human or Denebian Slime Devils, I would help them. However, you do bring up a good point. I call them human because Doctor Stern was right. The alien DNA that had been grafted in was being rejected and replaced with good, old-fashioned human DNA. While we were there Doctor Stern helped deliver a baby that was born with only two nostrils and mammary glands. The new generations are reverting to their original genome.”

Keiley saw the connection. “So, instead of becoming more resistant to ultra-violet light…”

“They were becoming more susceptible, yes.” She turned to Granger and made one last appeal, but it wasn’t him she was hoping would hear. “The people of Persephone needed a big sister to come and help them out, to give them a quiet helping hand to keep them going. Someone to show them some charity, not indifference that would have let them die. We did that and left them with hope for a future. I’m proud of that and I hope, one day, I’ll be able to return there and find a thriving culture ready to rejoin the human race.”

Granger stood there, a man on a mission. He glared at Garrett, a man who believed he had all the cards to win against a person he clearly couldn’t stand. What she had done to offend him, she couldn’t fathom.

“You freely admit you interfered. You broke the Prime Directive,” he charged.

Rachel looked up at him and said: “Yes. I interfered and saved a people from certain destruction. I gave the Prime Directive a chance to work in their lives. I did not break it.”

“That’s not the way I see it.”

Garrett gave him a dark chuckle. “That was always clear, Admiral.”

Granger stepped back and addressed the rest of the board. “In this matter I find that Captain Rachel Garrett is guilty of breaking the Prime Directive in regard to the people of Persephone. I recommend she be sent to trial.”

He looked down at Skyler Grant and said: “What say you, Captain Grant?”

To his credit, he seemed reluctant to agree. As the Admiral glowered over him he relented and said: “Agreed.”

He turned to Keiley. He needed unanimity in cases such as this due to the severity of the crime. “What say you, Captain Keiley?”

Keiley was clearly troubled. Her eyes seemed trained on a corner of the room away from the Admiral so she wouldn’t have to look right at him. “I recall some ancient wisdom, Admiral. To whom much is given much is expected. With great power comes great responsibility. When is the legal thing not the moral thing to do?” She glanced at Garrett and then looked directly at the Admiral. “As a Captain in Starfleet I am duty bound to respond when I receive a distress call to answer it and do all within my power to help.

“But what if those in need can’t ask? Should I keep going by and do nothing? Did the Good Samaritan stop and ask permission of the broken man on the side of the road if he could save his life? No, he did not. He acted out of a heart of charity and made a difference that we still hold up as an example today.”

The Admiral glowered at her as he could see where she was going. “The story invented by Jesus Christ and told second-hand by his disciples is hardly admissible.”

Keiley’s eyes widened as her eyes were opened to just how miserable the Admiral had become as a human being. “Regardless of the origins of the story, Admiral, do we ignore the truth just because we don’t like the messenger?” She made her decision then, and to hang with the consequences. “In this matter of the people of Persephone, I find Captain Garrett’s actions warranted and in no way a breach of the Prime Directive.”

For a moment, Rachel thought the man was about to have a stroke. His face was purple as he was apoplectic. However, he didn’t say a word. He knew he didn’t have to. Sonja Keiley’s days of being a Captain were numbered.

Garrett stood and addressed Granger. “Admiral, as the vote is not unanimous I cannot be formally charged. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a Starship that needs its captain. We’re already overdue for our next stop at Andor and we need to get under way.”

Again, the Admiral just scowled. Garrett was not intimidated by him and, in actual fact, felt sorry for the man. It was clear he had issues. She just hoped he would deal with them before he burned someone else. Finally, he said: “Dismissed.”

Both Garrett and Keiley took this as their cue to leave. Once in the hall, they moved away from the door at a brisk pace. Around a far corner, Garrett pulled up short and said: “Thanks for that, Captain Keiley. I owe you one.”

Sonja’s face softened and some of her youthful beauty showed through. Even though she was only Rachel’s age, the burden of command had prematurely aged her. “Call me Sonja.” She reached out and shook Garrett’s hand. “You deserved the benefit of the doubt in there. Someone had to give it to you.”

Garrett smiled in return. “Rachel. I don’t know what I’ve done to cheese the man off, but he’s gunning for me.”

“Agreed. Both of us, now, I think.” Sonja gave her a wan smile. “Watch your back.”

Rachel clapped her shoulder. “You, too. Give me a call when you’re next in my sector and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Her new friend’s smile widened. “You’re on.” She turned to go and gave her a nod. “Take care.”

Rachel watched her go then tapped her commbadge. “Garrett to Enterprise. One to beam up.”

In the usually dusty town of Pegasus, Jared opened the doors of his bar and stood on the porch, gazing across the street. It was raining hard for the first time in he had no idea how long. The road was awash and water was running down long disused gutters towards the lake.

It was a beautiful sight. He had no idea how it happened, but he was grateful for it.

“We seem to be on the receiving end of a lot of miracles of late.”

Jared turned and gave his old regular a good morning wave. “A glorious day to you, sir.”

The silver-haired gent turned his clear, blue eyes to Jared and grinned. “Every day is glorious when you can see it, son.” He inclined his head towards the horizon and remembered the lovely young woman, whose name was Rachel, and her friends. Since they came, many miracles had taken place. He had his sight back, as did many of his friends. Those with the cancer spots were healed and had gone home.

To top it off, the sun had stopped burning them. He had no idea how, but he was certain Rachel had done it. He had wondered if she was an angel, sent by God to save them. Maybe. If she wasn’t she could certainly qualify as one.

After several days with them they had announced they were moving on. Where to, he had no idea, but it was not their way to try to dissuade them.

He had watched them walk off into the distance and then, as now, a single tear had tracked down his cheek. They would be missed.

John stood up and stepped out into the rain, delighting in every drop that touched his skin. He laughed and put out his palms to catch some and tasted the lovely, pure water. After years of bore water, it was pure ambrosia.

At the top of his voice he declared with all the joy in his heart: “Yes, Jared, it’s a wonderful day!”
As Captain Rachel Garrett finished filling out the communique to a civilian contractor she knew for a shipment of cattle, sheep, and a few dogs, she sipped her mug of coffee and considered once more the briefing Glemoor had given her. It had illuminated one mystery in this affair. Admiral Granger was her late first officer, Nigel Holmes’, godfather.

She pursed her lips in annoyance. If the universe wasn’t dangerous enough without her having to worry about enemies from within. Rather than worrying about who might be stalking her she kept her sights ahead. “Steady as she goes, mister.”

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The Daedalus Ring or How Geordi La Forge and Harriet Tubman Fell in Love

Lt. La Forge – Personal Log 2365

 

Harriet

When we first met you were bleeding from a gunshot, clutching a tree as men unleashed their dogs into the forest. The barking shook the bushes. You gripped my uniform, balled it in your fists, pulled me close and asked without saying a word – Are you going to let them kill me?

I touched the communicator on my chest, “Two to beam up.” In seconds the Enterprise, thousands of kilometers above the sky aimed a beam that broke our atoms to glitter, shot them upward like a bolt of lightning and put each atom back in place on the transport pad. When I opened my eyes, I saw Chief O’ Brian’s mouth drop.

The Temporal Prime Directive – he thought. It flashed in his face like a silent alarm but I was the captain and he obeyed my orders to put you in sickbay. For nearly three weeks, you stayed on the Enterprise. I learned your name was Harriet Tubman, we knew you as the Moses of Her People. You were a faded photograph in our early Earth History Class.

But in those woods, I knew you as a young, scared woman running for her life. In my quarters, I knew you as a singer whose music was older than language. In my bed, I felt pain in your muscles as hard as stone. And now, hours after you transported back to Earth, back in the 19th Century and we have returned to the 24th Century the five hundred years that separate us are cut through by the faint peach odor you left on my hands.

The Daedalus Ring

Meeting you was an accident; so many things on the Enterprise are accidents. It began with Star Fleet’s time travel experiment. I stood on the bridge next to Captain Picard and Commander Riker as Data put on the large view screen, the Daedalus Ring, a giant 50 kilometer circular time travel station. It looked like a metal hula-hoop against a backdrop of stars. Around it, I saw lights flashing as if fireflies circled it.

“Magnify,” Captain Picard said.

Instantly workers in space suits filled the screen, they bobbed near open hatches, laser torches flaring white.

“Geordi,” the Captain turned to me. “What are the chances of this working?”

“Almost total,” I said. “But we may not want it to. The Daedalus Ring is Starfleet’s long experiment in time travel. Once it turns on, we should be able to see directly through the ring into the past and send probes and security beacons. But if one blade of grass is bent or one action changed in the past it’ll send a temporal shockwave to us in the present.”

“Geordi,” Ryker leaned in. His jaw was grinding under his beard. He was nervous, “If that happens will we be destroyed?”
“Not in a physical sense commander,” I said. “But we will live in different reality. People who were born may not be; inventions that were created may not be. What if Zeframe Cochrane never made the warp engine or Earth, never discovered by the Vulcans. Our history would be changed but we’d never know it.”

Ryker scratched his beard, “Why, why, why?” Data turned, his eyes flicking, “Commander, I believe Starfleet is conducting this experiment to secure Earth’s history from Romulan time pirates who could also build a temporal jump chute and obliterate early humanity.”

“Thank you Lt. Data,” the Captain said. “Commander Ryker is fully aware of why.”

Chuckling, Ryker clapped Data on the back, “It was a figure of speech.”

“Look,” I said as on the view screen, space-workers left on shuttle craft, “The experiment is going to start.”

Sweat streamed from my underarms, I saw the Captain’s fingers twitch and the ensigns stiffly eyeing the view screen. They left steamy handprints on their computers. The Daedalus Ring lit up like an immense electric coil and the space within it rippled like a pond after someone threw in a rock. Stars bobbed and moved from their place.  Before our eyes the Daedalus Ring became a window to the past when humanity had not lit up the sky and earth was a dark blue planet wrapped in white clouds. No cities erupting with light as if electric volcanoes, no satellites whizzing around in low orbit; we stared at the 19th Century from the 24th Century separated by a few thousand meters.

And then a near invisible ripple floated beyond the Daedalus Ring. I squinted, blinked hard and stared again as Data turned to me with the words “Energy shock wave,” on his lips. The floor buckled and darkness swallowed us. Someone’s elbow slammed my VISOR sending a sunrise of pain through my head. Floating over the seats, I grabbed a chair.

“Gravity’s lost” I yelled and punched a back-up code into the terminal. Starfleet training, ground into us like a second instinct kicked in and we knotted into a human chain to not float around and then we crashed to the floor. People rose, cursing but dashing to their positions to read reports on the ship’s status.

“Giordi,” Ryker barked from a bloody mouth. “We’re getting reports of a warp core breach in stage two.”

Fuck – Fuck – Fuck, I thought and ran to the Jeffrey Tube. As the doors closed, I saw them moving in front of the static filled view screen like people struggling through a snowstorm. My body felt weightless as the tube plummeted down to engineering and when it opened smoke scalded my face. Red emergency lights created portraits of horror. A man cradled his face with burnt hands. Out of the smoke, two ensigns carried a woman whose leg dangled behind her held on by a string of uniform and meat.

Ensign Lander jumped in front of me, “Lt. if the warp core isn’t stabilized in five minutes the ship will explode.” Behind him, I saw the engine room filling with white noxious gas. Orange sparks showered us. Lethal – I thought. One breath and my lungs would fall like soggy bread on my stomach. Above the toxic fog was the warp core, a bright tower that in minutes would explode and evaporate everyone I loved. At its base was a console and with a few codes the back-up coolant system would blow the pressure out and save the ship. I grabbed a mask from the wall but couldn’t feel it. My fingertips felt cold; my body was a pile of snow. Ensign Lander’s hand stopped me.

“Lt. I requested to be assigned to the Enterprise after studying your warp field designs. I can stabilize it,” he shouted. Anger shot filled me and I grabbed his wrist.

“My ship Lander,” I snarled, “My responsibility.”

He did not move, “It is your ship Commander and it needs you more than it needs me. And we both know this.”

We stared at each other and did the same math. The ship needed repairs I could do and he could not. I let go of his wrist and felt relief and guilt at the relief. He was so young, a cherubic face, eyes radiating panic and confidence. My VISOR lets me see chemical compositions and he was red in his face but a deep purple in his brain like a watercolor spilling in the skull. It was glucose and amino acids flooding his cerebral cortex. His Star Fleet training made him capable of focusing through fear. I touched his face with my fingers and felt the minor shakes that in him were earthquakes of terror. But he was capable, he was Starfleet.

“I’ll monitor you from here. We have four minutes,” I said as he took my gas mask and stood at the engine room, turned back, nodded and walked into the churning white clouds. Electricity shot from the warp core like lightning. Lander dashed back and forth in the toxic fog. Whatever he touched, lights turned on. Under my fingertips the console lit up and overhead lights blazed in the room.

“Lander you’re doing it,” I shouted as the computer screen showed the shell layering the warp core going from red to yellow to green. The energy circuits cooled into a glistening grid. I saw the metal of the room, at one point aching at the seams now bending back to shape like a lung releasing air. The ship was saved.

“Lander come out,” I said but no answer. A throng of ensigns ringed the door, standing on tiptoes, hands on shoulders, peeking at the toxic clouds in the Engine Room. Dashing over, I elbowed them out of the way, hit the vacuum code and entered. Behind me someone shouted the radiation was too high but I opened the shield door as the vents sucked the fog away. It looked like a blanket being pulled off. On the floor, curled in a fetal position was Lander. His face was swollen. Puss oozed from his burned eyes and bone poked through charred fingertips. He was shaking and in pain.

I knelt down and took his hand in mine. The neurons in his brain were like fireworks but then they began to dwindle as if a Big Bang in reverse. He was dying. “The needs of the many,” he said through purple lips, “Outweigh, outweigh…”

“The needs of the few,” I finished for him. It was the famous quote from Admiral Spock. We all learned it in Starfleet. And then the light in his mind vanished. He was dead. “Or even the life of the one,” I whispered in his ear and rocked him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The Captain’s Chair

In the Jeffrey Tube, I leaned on the wall as scenes from the day flashed in my mind; Data walking through fire in Ten-Forward carrying a burn victim, Ryker and Capt. Picard in sick bay with monitors on their foreheads like perched butterflies, a hull breach in the nacelles whose ripped walls showed a star filled space. But it was sickbay that shook me. It was filled with the dead, covered with blankets

I pressed stop on the tube and took off my VISOR. My chest tightened as if someone turned a corkscrew in it. Trembling, I rubbed my hands on my face. “Get it together,” I ordered myself, “Get it together.”

I pressed continue, the tube ascended and opened to the Bridge where Worf, Deanna Troy and Data huddled near the captain’s chair. “Captain La Forge,” Data said.

“Are Picard and Ryker dead,” I stammered. The ensigns grew quiet and looked at us from the corners of their eyes. “No Geordi,” Deanna stroked my shoulder, “They’ll live but they suffered serious injuries. Beverley said they won’t be awake for weeks. And the ship needs a captain.”

“According to Starfleet regulations,” Data began, “When the Captain and the First Officer are incapacitated and the rest of the senior crew are equal rank, the duty of helming the ship goes to who has the most relevant skill set. If we were in war…”

“I would be captain,” Worf barked, “But if it was a diplomatic mission…”

“I would be captain, “Deanna said, “Or if it was a scientific test…”

“They duty would fall to me,” Data looked at me, “But since the ship is in need of repairs, you are the one with the relevant experience.”

Everyone on deck now turned and stared. Their brains were like sponges and hormones pulsed in the branches of their veins. My VISOR reads chemicals on a color spectrum; hate is white; rage is red, pain looks orange and anxiety is yellow. Green is calm. Blue is happiness. Indigo and violet are intense focus and love. My vision, expanded into the infrared, sound, electromagnetic and ultraviolent spectrums of energy created portraits of everyone. And standing on deck, I saw their anxiety like yellow lava flowing through them.

“Lt. Lamar you have bridge,” I ordered and waved at the senior staff, “Captain’s Ready Room.” We walked into the room, its lights blinked on and off, no screens worked as we sat around the table.

“Status report,” I asked.

“The energy shock-wave crippled the ship. We have no warp, no weapons, no functioning teleport or navigation. The damage is not to each system but the underlying control grid,” Data said, “We can repair the grid but it will take at least three weeks.”

Three weeks – I thought – Three weeks as captain is three weeks too long. Everyone looking at me for leadership. Everyone asking what to do next. Everyone leaning on me.

“One more thing,” Data said, “One of the monitoring beacons for the Daedulus Ring was knocked out by the shock-wave and fell to the planet.”

Worf growled, Deanna covered her face and I just took off my VISOR and rubbed my temples. “Data did you just say that a piece of 24th Century technology just plummeted to 19th Century earth?”

Data glanced at our faces, “Yes.”

“And our sensors are off-line?”

“Yes.”

“So someone could be tinkering with it right now and possibly destroy our history?”

“Yes.”

Deanna laughed bitterly as Worf pounded his fist on the table.

“We need to go down there right away,” I put my VISOR back on, “Assemble an away team. I’ll lead it since I know the technology.”

“Captain,” Worf tried to wedge his voice in.

“Don’t tell me about a captain’s duty,” I waved him off, “Who else can get that satellite. And if anyone finds it, get’s shocked to death by its exposed energy coil; we may not have a history to go back to.”

“Captain,” Deanna rapt the table with her knuckles, “It’s very dangerous for you because of your skin color.”

My forehead creased and I stared across the silence at her, “Excuse me Lt.?”

“The satellite fell into a nation state called the United States,” Data said, “At this time in early earth history, slavery was legal and in that nation, millions of African people were stolen and forced to work. If you go down there…”

“They will not know you’re a Star Fleet captain,” Worf barked, “They will think you are a slave.”

I leaned back and remembered my early earth history lessons that involved Immersive Learning. After reading a slave narrative by Frederick Douglass, we entered a simulated plantation on a holodeck. Around us, haggard faced slaves bent over white tufts of cotton, plucking and stuffing burlap bags. Above them, a man rode a horse with a coiled fist in his whip. The holodeck was on Third Person Mode, so we walked around being ignored by them but able to touch. One of my classmates, snuck behind a slave and mocked humped him. The teacher pulled him by the collar back to the group of giggling students.

But thousands of kilometers below, it was no hologram, it was real and the men with guns would aim their barrels at me. I turned my hand over slowly; I did not “see” color like they did but now I had to go back in time to a nation where being brown was a mark of servitude. My skin felt like a wet blanket suffocating me and I fidgeted in my chair.

“Captain,” Dianna said as if raising my silence like a curtain. Looking up I saw she and Worf were nervous, so much anxiety that their brains glowed like yellow light bulbs.

“Patch me into the intercom,” I said and heard the beep, “This is Captain La Forge.” I imagined every crew member kneeling at a broken part of the ship, tearing out frayed energy coils, typing code into half working computers, patching together a ship that was a thin egg shell against the vacuum of space. I knew them, knew their faces, knew their lives and that they were waiting to hear the captain’s voice. Whatever I said had to carve a way forward through the fear. I breathed and imagined the metal medical monitor that looked like a butterfly on Captain Picard’s forehead as he lay in sickbay, I wanted it to flap its wings and fly through the halls, into the room and rest on my head, I wanted to hear his voice tell me what to say to our people.

“Captain Picard and First Officer Ryker are in sickbay, until they the assume their duties I am acting captain of the Enterprise,” I said and felt myself in their place hearing only Star Fleet protocol, not what needed to be said. Closing my eyes, I felt the fear inside me like a stone and visualized drilling into it.

“The ship is crippled and many of our friends our dead. Let’s take a moment of silence to remember their sacrifice,” I breathed in slow, exhaled slower letting the moment stretch large enough to fit their memory. I knew in that instant that a captain must give themselves to those they lead, let them enter his or her mind and from the collective consciousness forge a direction that everyone can see.

“Our ship is badly hurt but it can be repaired,” I said, “Switching to four-four rotation shift we can get the Enterprise working in three weeks. Even as we mend the ship we must defend our history against Romulan time pirates if they appear. We must recover a lost satellite on earth all while fixing the Daedalus Ring so we can go home. I know this sounds nearly impossible. We are hurt, we are tired. But we are also the most highly trained crew in human history on the most advanced ship ever created. And the love we have for lost loved ones and for each other is a source of strength. We are capable. We are Starfleet. Let’s get it done, Captain La Forge out.”

I switched the com-system off and saw Deanna smiling and Worf nodding. I felt the crew inside of me, breathing out fear, seeing what lay ahead and bending back to work. “Okay,” I said, “Let’s go to Earth.”

Harriet

The burlap shirt itched. The rough cotton pants itched. I stood in the Jeffrey’s Tube scratching at my slave clothes. It was “period correct” for the 19th Century. Even my VISOR was gone, replaced by low-resolution contacts.

The door opened and I stepped into the shuttle bay. Crewmembers crisscrossed, bolting hoses into walls, studying a 3-D image of the ships interior and thrusting hands into circuitry. I walked past the broken telepads. “Going to a costume party sir”, asked Chief Operator O’ Brian. Data stood next to him, dressed in a blazer, black pants and a riding crop.

“Ha, ha, ha,” I said.

“The captain is dressed as a slave,” Data told him, “And I am dressed as his master in order to avoid detection in the United States.”

“Oh even better,” O’ Brian smirked, “I heard about you captains and your fetishes.”

“Why don’t you fetish the teleporter and get it working again,” I said and waved Data over. We got into the shuttle, its counsels blinked and engines hummed. Ensigns Jul and Cente stood to salute me.

“At ease,” I said, “And don’t salute me on earth or you’ll get us killed. Remember you’re white, I’m black. And I’m a slave.”

“Yes sir,” they said.

They sat, I took the helm, Data the seat next to me and we punched in the flight code. Inside the bay, a shield cocooned the ship as the doors opened and star filled space lay ahead. I looked over my shoulder as the shuttle lifted, watched crewmembers waving goodbye, it seemed as if they stood on a porch in a dark country night. It was an optical illusion. You could be inches away from the blood boiling vacuum of space but safe inside the invisible walls of a shield.

Earth was below us. Heavy fear sat in my gut. Data angled the shuttle down and we rocked as if on a rollercoaster. “Captain,” he said, “I’m picking up an energy reading that matches the satellite. It is diffuse but we can land nearby.”

“It’s more important that we land where we can’t be seen,” I told him and turned to the team, “Use the hand-held tractor beams to lift and guide it back to the shuttle.” Unbuckling my own device, I held it between us; heavy and shaped like a glove it could move tons of material. They took theirs out. “Remember the Temporal Prime Directive, do not talk or touch or meet anyone. We slip to the crash site, get the satellite and we get out.”

They nodded and in the view screen, the clouds parted and green mountains lay below us. We all pressed in, overwhelmed by the sight of 19th Century Earth. Thousands of feet up, it looked like a vast green carpet thrown over rocks.

Data found a bald patch in the woods a half-mile away from the crash site. We felt the shuttle land on solid ground; a moment went by as we looked at each other. Fear shot through our faces, I could see it in the twitch of the lips, the pulled back squint of the eyes and my own galloping heart.

I hit the exit button and the shuttle doors opened, fresh air hit our faces and with one step we travelled five hundred years into the past. Holding our tricorders, we split up into two teams, hiking deep into the forest, I could see their glowing silhouettes in my contacts and heard the crunch of feet on braches until even that faded and my breathing echoed in the still.

Data was with me, waving his tricorder like a wand, grimacing and waving it again. The signal was blurry. Trees crisscrossed trees and leaves spun down. Still no fix on the satellite. But then we heard a cascade of snapping twigs and branches. Two men jogged through the forest, each with a gun, each ablaze with hate and rage. In my contacts, I saw their neuro-chemicals as white and red as if they were enflamed demons from some medieval painting of Hell.

“Is this your nigger,” one panted to Data. I spasmed in fear as he stared at me like an animal.

“I said is this your nigger,” he nudged me with his gun barrel and his finger convulsed near the trigger. My body felt like ice. He spoke a very old form of English that I could barely translate but I knew he wanted to kill me. His partner wiped his sweating head with a cloth.

“He is my slave,” Data said and laid a hand on my neck, “Is it proper to assault a man going to his manor with his slave. Custom has more hold on us that I hope.”

“No offense,” the other said and signaled his partner to lower the gun, “We’re looking for a runaway.”

“Pray tell,” Data said and jerked me by my neck, “We can’t have that now can we boy?”

They smiled and asked if we’d seen a woman named Harriet, a 100 dollar bounty was on her head and any man worth his salt was on her trail. Data said if he came across some such woman hiding on his land he’d clip her, chain her and turn her in. Nodding they began to move on, touching their hats and bumping my shoulder as they went by.

“Data,” I turned to him, “What did they call me?”

“In the 19th Century nigger was a slur used for slaves of African descent,” he said, “After the Civil Rights Movement it became increasingly unacceptable in public life until in the late 20th Century a musical genre know as Hip Hop spread it back…”

“Okay, okay Data,” I shook my head, “I just want to get off this planet and out of this time.”

“Captain La Forge,” a crackly voice blared from my communicator and I tapped it.

“Yes?”

“We found the satellite,” Cente said, “We’re taking it to the shuttle now. Hold on sir, we here someone coming…”

I held breath, pulled the communicator from my chest to ear to hear what was going on and then gunfire cracked in a loud series of shots like firecrackers.

“Jul! Cente! Status report,” I shouted, “Status report!” The line was dead and I turned to Data.  “You can run faster,” I said and pointed in their direction, “Go now and I’ll catch up.”

Data dashed over a tangle of bushes, flashed between the trees and disappeared into the forest. I ran after him, swiping claw like branches out of the way, hearing more gunshots and hot metal whiz past my ear. Ducking, I heard a gurgling moan. Oh no, oh no – I thought one of my team had been hit.

Behind a tree, I saw an arm fall on the ground and as I circled it, I saw you with blood bubbling from her mouth. You grabbed my collar and lanced your eyes into mine, asking without saying a word if I was going to let you die.

If she dies what will happen to our future – I knelt down, your chest was soaked red, pulled up your shirt and saw a bullet hole gushing blood. Staring at you, I felt a memory rush into my mind and then it clicked; Harriet Tubman, you were Harriet Tubman. You rescued slaves and brought them up North, you were an agent in the Civil War, if you died your actions in time would vanish and an endless series of changes would like a giant tsunami wash over history and possibly destroy human civilization.

If she dies, we die – I panicked as your grip weakened. I put my hand on your wound and pressed, began ripping my sleeve off to make a tourniquet.

“Captain,” Data called.

“Tell me good news,” I panted, holding the torn cloth over your wound.

“We got the satellite into the shuttle,” he said, “The team had to sever communications when the two men we saw earlier began firing shots. But they were not shooting at us but into the forest

at someone…”

“Someone else,” I yelled as your eyes dimmed and your head nodded, “I know Data, I have that someone else right here. Data I need you to get that ship over here now.”

The communicator beeped and Chief O’ Brian was on the line, “Captain!”

“Data hold. O’ Brian report,” I fingered your neck for the pulse and it was a faraway drumbeat, low and sparse.

“Captain we have teleport ability,” he said, “We can beam you up.”

“Data fly the shuttle to the Enterprise,” I yelled and tasted panic in my mouth as your face loosened, your fingers opened and feet stopped kicking. You were dying. “O’ Brian, two to beam up and have Beverly there with an emergency medical team.”

“Two sir?”

“NOW DAMN IT, NOW!”

Holding you to me, I felt the familiar whirl of energy like being inside of spinning lights, the routine black out and then I blinked my eyes open, saw the Enterprise telepad and Chief O’ Brian’s face staring at me with one thought silently screaming in his brain – The Captain just broke the Temporal Prime Directive.

Healing the Past

“Will she live?”
“Yes, captain she…”

“Geordi, call me Geordi when it’s just us Beverly, “ I leaned over you. Eyes closed but twitching, you were deep in dreams. What are you seeing in your sleep Moses?

“Geordi the nano-robots are cleaning out her bullet wound and repairing tissue. But more importantly, she has a serious head injury,” Beverly pointed at the screen to show purple flower like bruises in your brain. “A projectile of some sort,” she said, “broke her skull and caused hemorrhaging that if left untreated will lead to increasingly serious seizures.”

“It was a weight,” I whispered, “An overseer hurled a two-pound weight at her head and cracked it.” Turning to Beverly, I told her how you were shot in the woods, how I learned from research that you were a girl in the market when an overseer, enraged at a slave who disobeyed him, threw the weight at him but hit you. I told her of the hate that radiated off the men Data and I ran into in 19th Century Earth.

We locked eyes, sighed and shook our heads. In the 24th Century a few spacefaring empires had slaves but it was a mark of shame, one that cast them to the fringe of intergalactic government. We both had treated rescued slaves, taken from a cargo ship that had trespassed Federation space and therefore had no legal right to hold them. More than once, Captain Picard had Data scan a ship, find it held illegal captives and blast its engines with phasers, we then boarded it and freed the prisoners.

One time, I was in the transporter room when they hobbled from the telepad, eyes brimming with fear, slave owner marks branded on their skin or scales or tattooed on tentacles. It took weeks for Beverly, a translator and Counselor Troy to massage testimonies out of closed, terrified minds. Now she and I were standing over you, Harriet, a reminder of our own brutal history and it shamed us.

“Geordi because of the injury to her frontal lobe, I can’t erase her memory,” she said and waved a medical tricorder over you, “If she wakes up, whatever she sees, she will remember.”

“I understand,” I said, “Keep her sedated. It took three weeks for her to reach Pennsylvania, a free state, if she heals before then, we can teleport her to where she would have been and history will go on as it should.”

“Geordi,” Beverly took my arm and walked me to her office door, “You’re taking a big chance here.”
“If I let her die in those woods,” I felt anger heating my voice, “We can kiss our lives goodbye when we return. Everything will change if we don’t get her home on time.”

“Geordi, I didn’t mean to…”

I walked away, “Sedate her Dr. Crusher. That’s an order.”

Going Rogue

“Captain La Forge!”

“Captain La Forge!”

“What,” I woke up and reached for my VISOR, automatically it gripped my head and a familiar voltage filled my eyes as colors and shapes appeared.

“Patient 1130 is gone.”

“What do you mean – gone?”
“Her bed in sick bay is empty and the computer can’t locate her.”

“Why,” I was yanking on my uniform, “Why can she not be found, did she disappear down a wormhole?”
“Dr. Crusher did not tag her saying any change in her body might have long-term consequences,” the ensign said. Of course – I thought – Any identification implant might mark Harriet and lead to questions.

“Computer, catalogue all human beings on the ship,” I ran out of my quarters into the hallway, “Now isolate the one without an embedded personnel tag by a heat signature, it should be female.”

“Location acquired,” it said, “Unidentified person is on deck 38.”

“Lt. Worf,” I yelled, imagining you, Harriet running through a starship and knowing we could not erase your memory and what you saw would mark you and possibly our history forever. Each moment swung like a razor pendulum, cutting our timeline into ribbons.

“Yes Captain,” He answered.

“Security team on Deck 38. Follow computer directions and subdue female patient 1130,” I was sprinting to the Jeffrey Tube, got in, punched 38, felt it lift, “Be careful Worf, subdue her but don’t injure or leave marks. Stun only.”

“Understood,” he said.

The doors opened and my feet felt like coils springing me forward faster and faster, I turned the corner and saw you, Harriet and Lt. Worf circling each other. He lunged for you and you leapt on the wall, ran a half circle on it, jumped on his back, knocked him down and punched Worf, spraying blood from his face.

“She fights like a Klingon,” he shouted and pulled you off, you bit his arm. Worf twisted you like a pretzel as more security ran to us, kneeing your neck and pinning your arms. One took her phaser, set it on stun and aimed it at you.

“STOP,” I hollered.

They stood frozen into a portrait of absurdity. A team of sleek uniformed 24th Century security, stood over a 19th Century brown skinned woman, pinned to the ground as one aimed a phaser at her back.

“But captain,” Worf looked at me, “The Temporal Prime Directive must be…”

“Stop,” I repeated, softer and motioned to stand you up and they did. Walking slowly to you, I held out my hands and said, “Harriet you are free.”

I nodded to the security team and their hands left her body like an octopus letting go of its prey. Trying to remember my lessons in American English, I said again, “Harriet, you are free and you are safe. No one is going to hurt you here.”

You stared at me, shivering. Your eyes wild and streaming tears, hands balled into fists. I felt you ready to lash out at anyone who moved.

“Harriet,” I lowered my voice like carpet, “Remember me from the woods. Remember…”

Your breathing eased. I waved Worf and the security team back and slowly extended my hand and pointed at my skin, its color and then yours. “I understand.”

“Who are you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“A friend.”

“Where is this,” you looked around, forehead creased in confusion and then back at me, “Am I dead?” Your hand went to your chest, your head, your groin, your mouth and eyes, touching the solid presence of your body as if sculpting yourself from the terrifying strangeness of my world.

“Am I dead,” you asked again, “Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I dead?”

“No, no, no, no, no,” I stepped closer, palms up but curving slowly down to reach you, “You are not dead, Harriet.”

“But where,” you stroked the air like a veil, “Where is this? Where is this? Where is the bullet?” You palmed your navel, where you had been shot and wiped at it with your fingers, feeling no bullet, no pain and then looked up at me, holding out your clean hands and asked, “Why am I alive?”

You legs buckled and I caught you, “I got you. I got you Harriet.”

The Centuries Between

“So this is not a dream,” you said.

I sat on the edge of the bed, studying your body, which my VISOR saw as a rainbow silhouette of heat. You stretched your arms and looked around my room. I saw the bruises on your neck from the fight with Worf. Afterwards, you gripped my arm and would not let go. I walked you to sickbay, to your bed, promised that you’d be cared for but you would not let go and finally, I took you to my room. Even there you still did not let go, until we sat on the bed and you fell asleep.

I watched over you, fielding calls from departments on ship repairs, skimming more of American slavery, reading more about you. Harriet, you were at the turning point of a nation, bending it with your will in a time of war. I placed my hand on your shoulder and felt the immense river of history flowing through you, a tiny, elf-faced woman, breathing quietly in my bed. And then you woke up and said my world was not a dream. No – I thought – It’s real because of you but if we don’t get you back it will become a dream, one that vanishes in the infinite stretch of time.

“What’s that on your face,” you asked.

“I was born blind,” I took off my VISOR, handed it to you, felt your work roughened fingers and wondered at the hard life of fieldwork, “It gives me sight”.

For many long breathes I stared into darkness until I felt your hand on my face, “You’re a Negro?” In my blindness, I smiled, “I am not a color. We left behind racism centuries ago. But I understand that you were treated badly because of it.”

“No,” you said in a hard voice and withdrew your hand, “No you do not understand.” Odd silence froze the air and then I felt you place my VISOR into my hands. I put it on, the magnets clamped on my temples and vision brightened my mind.

“You speak strange,” you hugged your elbows as if to hold your self together.
“We don’t use American English now,” I got up and touched my VISOR. It was my nervous reflex after being blind even if only for a moment, “I learned to speak it before the trip.”

“Where am I?”

“Have you ever seen a bird fly in the sky,” I said and angled my hand up, “Imagine someone studying it and building a giant bird made of metal that people can live inside of and fly above the clouds.”

“We are in this bird?”

“Yes,” I said, “Except this bird can fly between the stars that you see at night.”

You got up and walked in slow circles, focusing on your steps and looked at me silently for a long time. “Nothing like this can be in my lifetime,” you said, “So I should be asking, ‘when are you from.I can see why they called you Moses – I thought – You are so smart and you don’t waste time.

“Five hundred and sixteen years in the future,” I held my breath, waiting to see her go numb with disbelief but you nodded your head.

“And you’re not a slave,” you asked with an infinite sweetness and hope that I never heard before.

“Oh Harriet no,” I said, “I’m the captain of the ship. Slavery has been long gone and so has racism. No one even thinks in those words anymore.”

Your mouth puckered in relief and sadness. You wiped tears from your eyes and in a rattling voice asked, “They’re not killing us anymore?”
“There is no us or them, no black, no white,” I stood next to you, “We see each other as human only. No war, no slavery, no poverty, no crime to speak of, Harriet, the horror you lived in has long been over, partly because of you.”

“But the whites, they’re not killing us anymore,” you repeated in a voice like ice cracking, “We’re free.” You rocked back and forth, saying in a near whisper, over and over again, those words until they became a breath like prayer.

You were far within yourself, seeing, hearing and feeling a life I could not understand. I knew that when you looked in the mirror, you saw your skin color as a moving target and wore it like an iron blanket but I could not, I saw heat or chemicals but not skin color. I did not have slurs branded into my brain. I was never a slave and could not know the pressure that wracked your body as you said the words, “We’re free.” We both were brown; both from Africa, both close enough to touch but hundreds of years spanned between us.

“Show me,” you demanded, “Show me what happened. Can you do that?”

I took your hand and we walked out of my quarters, into the hall, you trailed your fingers on the wall and muttered, “A giant metal bird.”

We got into the Jeffrey Tube, dropped ten levels, got out and stood in front of the holodeck. “Computer,” I said, “History – American – slavery – antebellum – African-American focus – summary format from 19th Century to First Contact – Third Person viewing – safety protocols on.”

The doors opened, you let go of my hand and walked into a sun lit field of cotton, labored over by dark slaves, who sang in low tones as a man on a horse trotted by, a gun in his arms.

Stepping into the fields, you hummed with them, delicately touched a shoulder, wiped sweat off a brow and stared at me quizzically and said, “Computer?”

I nodded and stepped back. “Computer,” you said, “Hurry it along, I want to see what happens to us.”

The sky dimmed and red flashes of cannon fire made silhouettes of soldiers, armies clashed, a river of former slaves, feet swollen and weary eyed fled plantations, black soldiers thrust bayonets into white soldiers, in the fog of war screaming echoed in the air, the battle dissolved and on different stages a man, Frederick Douglass and you, Harriet lectured to thundering cheers, again the scene dissolved as President Lincoln signed the 13th Amendment, jubilee erupted and I saw you, Harriet dancing hands in air a smile flashing like sunlight on your face.

The scene dissolved again and you stood amidst white mobs of Ku Klux Klan holding bright yellow torches in the night, riding horses, burning homes, black people hauling luggage on trains going to cities, white mobs smiling over charred bodies of black men and women, white only signs hung over doors and you, Harriet, tried to yank one down but the scene dissolved again into Civil Rights era marchers being pummeled by cops, being hosed down the street, being bitten but pushing, pushing, pushing and in the next scene, the white only signs were gone.

And the scene dissolved again, black people in broken homes, lighting pipes and inhaling until their eyes closed in bliss, black men in handcuffs, working inside jails in chains and you stood there Harriet, shaking your head.

Again the scene dissolved and a black man on TV was elected president, again people cried and danced in the street, then men in suits at Wall Street panicked as a line with numbers zigzagged down, people sat outside with their furniture as for sale signs were nailed on their homes or people around the world rioted for food or slept on sidewalks, begged or stole as the scene dissolved again to show scientists in labs, squeezing droplets into test tubes, injecting fluid into women and the babies growing, maturing into tall, cold-eyed men and women who rose to power, shouting orders and pointed across the horizon as millions of people cringed at their commands. It was the Eugenic Wars, where genetically enhanced humans seized control of the planet.

Harriet, you spun around as missiles arced across the sky and cities glowed with fire. The gene enhanced leaders were jailed and the scene dissolved again, then a bright flash as nuclear mushroom clouds blasted human beings to ash, leaving their shadows as scars on walls.

From the ruins, a ship launched into the sky and in the glitter of space it seemed to stretch and then shoot into the distance. When it returned, following it was another ship, long robed people with pointed ears and sharp eyebrows stepped on to a ragged, hungry mob of people.

The Vulcans and humans erected new buildings, cleaned the ash from the sky, purified the water and land, interlocking buildings with children inside, squatting in meditation as numbers and words flashed on the walls around them. More ships rose from the earth, shooting into the far corners of space and one, the Enterprise, flew the longest and as the years passed, the ship changed into newer and newer versions until it was my ship. The holodeck focused on a window, entered the its maze of halls to enter the holodeck were you and I, stood and stared at the swift passage of time and then the program ended.

“Computer,” you said, “Harriet Tubman – antebellum era – American slavery.” An image of you flashed on the floor, a gun in one hand and a lantern in the other, hurrying slaves through a thick forest.

“You see Harriet,” I said, “You are a part of history. You rescued a thousand slaves, helped scout for the Union army. Your life has had innumerable impact on our timeline.”

You circled yourself, touching the historical Harriet Tubman as she waved to the group to keep moving. You watched your future self vanish into the night dark forest.

“The war will happen without me,” you said, “Freedom will come without me.  I don’t need to go back.”

I flinched as if her words punched my stomach, “Harriet what are…”

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to go back to,” you said in loud echoing voice, “You’re not even black.”

“As painful as it is,” I tried to push through her anger, “You have to return.”

“Computer,” you said, “Show Harriet Tubman as a teen, place her on the floor of a barn, naked.” It did and you appeared. “Have five white men surrounding her and one raping her. Make her scream.”

Your voice cut the air like a knife. “Raise the volume,” you said and it did, “Raise it again.” It did and the loud shrieks pierced me. “Again,” you said and the screaming pounded my head like a hammer, I covered my ears but the force of it pushed through and stabbed my mind.

“Again,” you yelled as your teen self’s screaming filled the holodeck like a hurricane, “Again,” you ordered and stared at me with hate, “AGAIN!”

A Rip in Time

“We have been getting strange readings next to the Daedalus Ring,” Data said and on-screen a wave of tachyon particles created a bubble.

“I’ve seen this before,” I said and leaned in, Data, Worf, Beverly and Diana knotted around me as I pointed, “This isn’t a natural phenomena.” Reconfiguring the sensors, I boosted the tachyon field and had the computer create and magnify it; a Romulan war bird appeared like a hawk floating in space.

“Like a giant metal bird,” I muttered as the senior staff gasped. We all walked to the window, looked at the Daedalus Ring and knew right beside it was a Romulan starship that could destroy us or the Daedalus Ring itself and leave us stranded in the past or go to Earth and alter history.

“We must obliterate them,” Worf stared at each of us. It was his first reflex and holding his warning in mind, I motioned us to take seats at the table. “Thoughts,” I asked.

“If they have stayed in cloak this long,” Data offered, “It may be that they were sucked through the Daedalus Ring with us and also suffered damage to their ship.”

“Maybe,” I said, “But now we have to deal with them. We can’t fire on them or risk damaging the Daedalus Ring, we can’t leave them here to send a few photo torpedoes and destroy our timeline and we can’t alert them to our knowing they are there or they will fire on us and our weapons are still off line.”

We each mulled ideas, quietly, feeling the stakes of each action like weights balancing on scales when an image of Harriet flushing the toilet in my quarters, over and over stuck in my mind. Turning to the window, I looked at the Daedalus Ring and remembered the sound of water swirling.

“Flush them,” I said, “Let’s turn on the temporal jump and suck them into oblivion.”

They scrunched their eyebrows and glanced at each other. Worf smiled, “That is how a Klingon thinks. We should check your ancestors, you may have Kahless in your family.”

“Captain is that wise,” Beverly asked, “Won’t we send them further into the past?”

“No,” I said, “If we just turn on the energy generators but don’t set a date it will rip the Romulan war ship apart.”

“We’re just going to kill a whole crew,” she blurted.

“They are in Federation space,” Worf growled, “In Federation time and have already committed an act of war. Romulans are without honor. They will strike unless we do first.”

“Odd as it is,” Diana jutted in, “I agree with Worf in the course of action should be offensive. The closest analogy to what I sense from them is the enraged self-sacrifice of the kamikaze pilots of World War Two. They are not planning to go home. They are planning to destroy ours.”

Blowing out a long breath, I leaned back then forward, “Computer patch me to the repair team on the Daedalus Ring.”

Loud beeps from the speakers and then the panting of a worker in a space helmet, “Yes captain.”

“Lt. Elar what is the estimated time of repair for the Ring,” I asked and nervously fidgeted with VISOR.

“Ten hours,” she said, “It will be operational then but the safety protocols are on and needs level 1 clearance to re-activate.”

“And the booster rockets to move it?”

“On-line captain,” she said.

“Thank you Lt, good work, Captain La Forge out,” I said and turned to the staff, “In nine hours, Lt. Worf and I will join the repair team on the Daedalus Ring, reposition it near the Romulan war ship, turn it on and flush it into oblivion.”

“Captain,” Data leaned in, “Is it wise for you to go? Your place is on the bridge. The ship needs your expertise.”

“Data,” I said, “You’re right but only three people on this ship have the handprint signature to restart the Daedalus Ring, Captain Picard, First Officer Ryker and me, the Chief Engineer. I have to go and restart it manually.”

“Captain this is your second away mission in less than twenty four hours,” Diana said, “You’re pushing it.”

“We all are,” I said, “But this is the price we pay when we join Starfleet isn’t it. You have your orders, dismissed.”

Everyone got up, Beverly lingered, “Captain?”

“Yes Dr. Crusher.”

“About patient 1130,” she said, “I understand she is staying in your quarters which is good to keep her isolated as much as possible from the rest of the ship.”

I nodded.

“When I checked her brain scan, I noticed an unusual thickness in the neural pathways and connections,” she said.

“That explains how quick she is,” I said, “And maybe her outsized role in history. She’s smart.”

“Captain,” Beverly raised her eyebrows, “Her processing speed is off the scale. Excepting Data, she’s smarter than anyone on this ship.”

Lt. Tubman

Standing in front of my quarters, I heard a guitar being strummed and then your voice lifted, “We had it bad so this is pretty good.” When the doors opened, I saw that you were on the bed, guitar in your arms, eyes closed as you sang in a spiral of hope and loss. I leaned against the wall and listened to you say, “With the faith of a mustard seed…” then you stopped.

“Welcome back Captain La Forge,” you said in perfect Starfleet, I blinked and nearly choked.

“You speak Starfleet,” I blubbered.

“I learned it from the computer,” you said and put the guitar down, “And this here,” you patted the wall, “Is the U.S.S. Enterprise and in a few hours you are going to the Daedalus Ring to destroy the Romulan ship off your starboard bow.”

She is more than smart, she is scarily brilliant and might be hard to control  – I thought – Easy to see how she rescued so many slaves.

“No you won’t control me,” she said as if reading my mind,  “I seen that tension in your face before. When I thought too fast and my master knew I knew what was coming down before he did. People are like an open book to a slave. Most of us have to know whites better than they know themselves if we going to live. Well I can do it better than most. You should know that Geordi before you start cooking up plans for me.”

You beckoned me to come to the bed; I walked over and sat down. You took off my VISOR, told me to sleep, you knew exhaustion when you saw it and no man or woman was worth anything to anyone else if they couldn’t think straight. I flopped on the bed and you slipped next to me, a faint peach odor rose from your skin and I sank into sleep, feeling your heat all the way down.

Nine hours later, the alarm rang, I got up, knew you were gone by the coldness of the bed and the thickness of the silence. I put on my VISOR, showered and shaved, slipped on the uniform and left my room with your face in my mind.

Where are you now Harriet – I thought while walking down the hall, standing in the Jeffrey Tube as it went to shuttle bay, as I waved to Lt. Worf and to the away mission team, as I put on the heavy spacesuit, strapped a phaser and jetpack on, stood on the platform with them as the bay doors opened and star filled space filled my eyes. We launched forward, propelled to the Daedalus Ring, which looked like a gigantic roller coaster loop.

Where are you now Harriet – I thought as we radioed the repair crew, as I eyed the blank space near us, knowing an invisible Romulan war ship stalked us from within a cloak, as I floated to a ladder, greeted Lt. Elar as Worf and the five other personnel set down on the Deadalus Ring.

Turning around, I stared at the Enterprise then Earth and felt how fragile, how small both were against the infinite void of space. Each one was a small shell of air and light and outside was radiation that cut DNA to shreds, an airless universe that boiled the blood, meteors that hit planets and black holes that inhaled whole stars.

All of life, all that I loved was inside that ship and that ship came from that blue planet wrapped in white clouds. I thought of you Harriet, how you did not want to return to Earth because of the torment you endured but also how were you were a vital link in time to the Earth I saw before me and the Earth we would become, one of human solidarity.

Harriet I love you – I thought. Turning back to the Daedalus Ring, I opened the hatch and went inside, remembering your hand on my chest, your smell, your voice rising like a bubble in water up to my mind where it popped and I felt you inside me, breathing with me, growing in me.

The team maintained radio silence because the Romulans could be listening; I pressurized the control room, took off my helmet and punched in the re-activation code. On-screen, an outline of a hand appeared and I put mine on it. A row of lights flickered on and a deep rumble shook the Daedalus Ring.

On-screen I saw the Ring glow red with immense energy and then Worf called, “Captain the Romulan ship is de-cloaking.” Switching the feed, I saw space rippling, stars bobbed up and down as the hulking shape of the war bird appeared, one of its hatches opened and dark silhouettes of Romulan soldiers jumped out, I saw the bright flare of the jetpacks as they flew toward us and shot green Disrupter fire that hit the Daedalus Ring, my team took cover and fired back.

On the screen, I saw more and more Romulans leave the war bird until nearly thirty were flying toward us. My team were only four and the repair crew five, I watched them duck then two stand and were hit, green Disrupter pulses burned a hole in them and they spun off into space leaving bubbles of blood spiraling behind them. Romulans fired on my area and sparks erupted in the control room and flames burst from the equipment but the Deadalus Ring was blazing with energy.

“Get back! Get back,” I yelled into the communicator, “It’s going to suck the ship in and anything else within 5 kilometers. Get back!”

“Captain,” Worf yelled, “We have to get you.” Yellow flames covered the wall, I put my helmet on and tried the hatch door but it was locked. I kicked it, pushed it, shouldered it, went to the other side of the room and threw myself at it. Nothing. And the flames were bright, so bright they blinded me, I shook, screamed and fell as a wave of terror broke me.

“Captain!”

“Captain!”

I heard my parent’s voices, saw the flames and everything was one bright light that melted the past and present together. My house, I was in my childhood house, it was on fire. Where’s mom? Where’s dad?

Something yanked me, I was outside, pulled by a team member who fired a phaser at the Romulans, locked his arm in mine and thrusted off. We jetted away from the Daedalus Ring as it filled with a whirlpool of blue light that caught the Romulan war bird and dragged it in, spinning slow, back to front, nose down, the Bird of Prey shook as orange explosions blossomed from its shell, it crumpled and broke apart inside into the Daedalus ring where it vanished.

The shockwave hit us as my rescuer and I flew apart. Shrapnel pelted me but I saw a sharp chunk of metal, slice open the arm of his suit. Air steamed out.

“Geordi it’s Harriet,” you said over the line.

“Harriet!”

“Geordi I can’t breath,” panic shocked your voice and I saw the crewmember who rescued me was you, tumbling away into space. In a minute you would lose oxygen, a minute after that your blood would boil and you would begin to die. I aimed myself at you and pressed the jetpack thrust to full power.

“Computer give me a read of her oxygen levels,” I said as the meter read two kilometers between us.

“Forty seconds left.”

I thrust forward, seeing you as a white dot in the distance, almost indistinguishable from the stars. One kilometer. “Oxygen level,” I asked.

“No oxygen is left.”

“Harriet,” I hollered, “Harriet!” You did not answer but I saw you larger now, spinning fast and slammed into you, clasping you tight and as we spun, I opened a valve from my suit, took out a cable and plugged it into yours and redirected my air to your suit, while squeezing shut the hole in your arm.

“Harriet please,” I said as your eyes closed, “Harriet?”

The Long Way Home

“Hello captain,” you smiled weakly.

“Hello, Lt. Tubman,” I smiled back, held your hand and kissed you.

Dr. Crusher cleared her throat and left. I leaned over you on the sickbay bed, your face was a shade blue from the near asphyxiation and your lips were chapped but you would be fine. The next day, I officially entered you in the personnel roster as Lt. Tubman, gave you rank, quarters and a work shift in the archive division. But you never went to your room but mine.

You sang to me, took off my VISOR and guided my hands around your body. You chased me around the room. You beat me with pillows. You laughed and I heard years falling off your soul as a childlike joy sprang free. You put on my VISOR and gave me orders. You sat with me in the night and heard of my childhood in the African Union and of the fire that engulfed our home and how I was left inside thinking I was going to die.

You held me as I confessed that on the Daedalus Ring, I was paralyzed with fear when the fire filled the control room and that I heard my parents yelling for me even though they have been dead for years. You kissed my broken eyes and listened to my fear of being captain of the Enterprise and the weight of a thousand lives on my mind and how I punished myself by not sleeping and gulping energy pills.

And I listened to your body with my blind hands, feeling old pain in your muscles, hearing hate and terror in clutching fingers when you described seeing a slave you knew, hung on a tree, his genitals cut off and given to bystanders as tokens. I felt you wince when I first entered you, pulled out and rocked you in my arms as you described the gang rape in the barn. Later you climbed on top of me and rode me, pounded out the memory of their invasion of you, pounded until you broke through the past, reentered the present, the now and were back inside your body, filled with the bliss of pleasure and you came and I came, we climaxed together, stroking each other’s faces, laughing, crying, loving and collapsing down, down, down into the same weary breathing.

You told me of feeling like a vagabond, of your father scared of your temper, your intellect and kicking you out because you put your family in danger. I told you of never being at home in the world, of seeing through everyone, to the chemicals lighting up their bodies and knowing they saw me as a freak.

Finally, one night, I said to you, “Harriet the Civil War and the 13th Amendment are going to happen with or without you. The repairs are almost done. You can stay with me and we can go to the 24th Century together.”

We pulled the sheets over us and knotted ours limbs, called each other matter and anti-matter, entangled particles bound for all of time, a love five hundred years old.

A week later, I finished a repair shift in engineering, nano-cables looped around my arm and a utility belt on my hips when Diana rushed up to me in the hallway.

“So we have a Lt. Tubman,” she tried to step in front of me but I swerved around and kept going.

“Captain she has to go back to Earth,” Diana said louder, “The ship is almost ready and the time when she is supposed to reach the free state is coming up.”

“Counselor, I don’t need your advice,” I said over my shoulder and kept walking fast, straight and forward.

“She can’t stay Geordi,” she cupped her mouth to boom her voice, “You know she can’t stay.”

Two days later, Diana sent me a recording of you in the hallway, playing your guitar for crewmembers who gave you holodeck credits in return. “THIS IS A PROBLEM,” Diana wrote in the message and I wrote back, “FUCK OFF.”

Later I got a message from you, “My entangled particle, come to the holodeck.” It was between shifts and the Enterprise was sleep-quiet, only a background hum filled the halls.  The holodeck doors opened and I saw you kicking your soapy legs, in a swimming pool sized bathtub brimming over with bubbles. You waved me to join you and I jumped in, uniform on and swam to you, surfaced and spat out water as you put a grape in my mouth and then kissed me as I swallowed it. “My captain,” you smiled and wrapped your legs around me.

But when I went to the bridge, I felt a rising tension in the crew. They had questions in their eyes but silenced them. They lingered after I gave an order as if to say something but swallowed it. Shift after shift, I felt it until Beverly asked to speak to me privately. We walked into my ready room.

“Captain,” she said, “The crew is scared.”

“Why,” I said and sat in Picard’s chair feeling the power to distance myself from everything but my own whims.

“Captain you know why,” she thumbed her forehead, “People are talking about your affair with Harriet, not a lot but enough and it scares them because the longer she stays on the ship, the more in danger you put our history. They’re scared that when we go home, they will disappear because our timeline has changed or life will be irrevocably different. They just don’t say it because they respect you so much, especially after you defended us against the Romulans.”

I silently glared at her. “Captain please,” she begged and I felt her voice thaw out a strange coldness inside me and began to nod. “I understand Dr. Crusher,” I said, “I know what I have to do.”

“Beverly,” she offered, “It’s Beverly, come on, we’ve known each other for years.”

“I love her.”

“We know,” she said and held my shoulder, “We know.”

Later that night, I came to my room and saw you, Harriet, standing inside, hair in queenly braids and wearing a Starfleet uniform. We studied each other silently and then I sat down in front of you. I did not say anything but told you with my eyes of the immense sorrow I felt. You sat down to.

“I have to go back,” you said.

I felt tears and blinked them back, I reached out my hand; you took it and caressed my face. Taking off my VISOR, I leaned in, feeling your eyelids on mine.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“I’m not. I love you so much,” you said, “And I love this world. No one has cursed me or hurt me. No one looked at me in a way that made me look at myself bad. I walked the halls and felt free to be me, to talk and touch without fear and it opened me up, it was like prayer and most of all, I love you and if going back to that world means you get to be born and not be called black or treated black and this world can come to be then I want to go, I want to look at the night sky and see the stars and know I am one of the reasons you’ll be flying to them someday.”

I openly wept and gripped you as you, Harriet, held me until we fell asleep. Later I woke up and began to dress, put on my VISOR.

“Where you going,” you asked.

“In a few days, we jump back to the 24th Century,” I said, “And tonight is our celebration. A big dance is going on. Why don’t you come?”

“What kind of music,” you asked.

“Umm, house music,” I said, “It was a form that began the late 20th Century and somehow just lasted. We joke around that the only thing that survived World War Three was cockroaches and house music.”

“I’ll pass,” you said, “But come back soon, we still have some time before I go back.”

I smiled and left, walking the halls to the biggest holodeck on the ship, it could fit the whole crew in it and it’s where we held mass gatherings. The doors opened and the crew writhed in the music, it was the surface of the sun program and the harder our feet stomped the floor, the higher the solar flares that looped far above us and rained down gold colored plasma. Most were topless, many were naked; quite a few were on hallucinogens, eyes dilated like black balloons, feet and arms driving on the relentless rhythms.

They clapped me on the back, smiled and hugged me. Wild joy shined on their faces. They knew we were going home. The music lowered and a space opened around me, a thousand pairs of eyes stared at me, asking in an animal way for the word, the final word saying we were on our way. I waved my arms above my head and said, “When I first became captain you first heard me over the intercom. I was scared, so were many of you. But today, we stand on the precipice of going home. And I can tell you, my family, I was proud to serve you and look forward to giving back this command to our bald messiah.”

The laughed and I waited until it ebbed, “Soon everyone on this ship,” and your face, Harriet rose in my mind, “Every one of us will be going home.” My shoulders fell and head slumped as they cheered and the music shot up again, sweaty crewmembers lifted their hands and danced.

I cut my way through the crowd, left the holodeck, made my way to my quarters and when the door opened, I saw your Starfleet uniform on the bed. “Harriet,” I called out, “Harriet where are you.”

I knew you weren’t there but looked anyway, “No, no, no, no, no.” Grabbing the uniform, I smelled your peach odor and ran out of my room, down the hall, took the Jeffrey Tube up to the teleport station. Chief O’ Brian was on duty and glanced at me, then down at his hands.

“Where she’d go,” I demanded, “Tell me!”

“Captain…” he said, “She said it was better this way.”

“Chief,” I pointed at the door, “Out. Now.”

He left and I checked the log, programmed the timer, replaced my VISOR with contacts and put on a slave’s clothes, jumped on the telepad and closed my eyes. I felt the familiar swirl of energy and when I looked again, I was staring at the flatlands of southern Pennsylvania.

“Harriet,” I yelled, “Harriet!”

I heard laughter behind me and when I turned, a face swooped too close, too fast. He had a jackal like smile and then a thud on my head. I fell into a black hole.

All Night Forever

“Damn good night.”

“Sure is.”

“Lost one nigger, got another one.”

“We aint got papers”

“We got cash that’s all the paper we need.”

Where am I My hands are tied – What are those two saying – They think I’m a slave – I looked around and saw others bound, my low resolution contacts translated their neuro-chemicals into color, hate made them look white like spirits from the afterlife trapped on earth. But whenever the slave-traders said, “nigger”, it re-ignited rage that my contacts saw as red. The word seemed like gasoline thrown on a fire, every man and woman I scanned had bright rage buried in their brain under fear.

“The new one’s awake,” one of the traders said and pointed at me, “Where you from nigger?”

I didn’t say anything; I had to leave as little a trace on this world as possible. A word, a gesture, a single displacement could send a wave of transformation through time.

“I asked you a question,” he snarled and kicked me in the chest, “You think this one’s simple?”
“Naw, jus’ scared,” the other said, “Niggers get scared when they first get snatched. A few months in the field, some whippings and he’ll sing you opera if you ask him.”

They laughed and it sounded like ice being broken. When I saw their jaws moving, I saw death hungry and waiting to eat. The other slaves tried to snuff out the questions in my eyes with their own panicked stares. It was as if they said – Don’t look them in the eye. Don’t rile them up or you put us all in danger. Stay low. Speak low. Look low. If you need help, hold on to one of us but don’t raise yourself around them. They will cut us all down.

Glancing at my body, I saw my shirt had been torn off and with it the communicator was gone. My crew could not find me and beam me up. I flopped on my back, stared at the sky and imagined the Enterprise flying far above the clouds and wanted to walk its halls again, to sit in my chair, to be in my world.

“Nigger where you from,” the slave trader yelled at me, grabbed me up and punched me repeatedly, the blows echoed through my skull and I saw blackness, then sparkles, another punch and his face near mine.

“I done asked you a question,” he yelled, hate and rage flared in his brain, his head lit red and white as if he was in flames. Around me, it was the same. It looked like everyone was on fire, as if we were in Hell. Yanked back and forth, I kept my mouth shut as he punched and punched me down into the dark.

When I woke up, I leaned over and spit out a tooth from swollen lips. Laughter and gunshots cut the air. I looked and saw the slaves standing, a chain hung between them, they were dark silhouettes in front of a fire. And in the inferno was a man screaming as flames crackled over his skin, charring him, his eyes rolled up in agony and mouth stretched like an endless cave until he rocked back and forth then slumped over.

The slave traders took turns shooting his body and afterward, one leaned down and cut his genitals. “Want some nigger dick,” he laughed as he wiggled the penis and tossed it around. Hate rose inside me, I wanted to take a phaser and blast them to ash, I looked around and the slaves again stared at me the same demand – Speak low. Think Low. Look Low. Don’t let them catch you watching them in the eye. Don’t get us all thrown in that fire. Don’t get us killed.

In the morning, they had us shuffle in chains to a market where a raucous crowd gripped money and shouted. My feet were sore, my hands ached, my teeth were loose but I could run nowhere, hide nowhere because my skin made me a moving target, I wanted to rip it off and disappear.

We sat in the pen. A slave scooted over to me and asked, “Where from?” But I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t risk wrecking the timeline, so I stared into my hands.

“You new,” he asked with a gentle tone, forgiveness already in his eyes if I chose not to answer. “No worries,” he leaned over and forced me to look at him, “Whatever happens you remember your name. No care what they call you, remember your home name, the one family love you with.”

He scooted away and I felt his words sink into me and realign my emotions. Seeing the slumped shoulders of those chained with me, I knew where you, Harriet, got your strength from, how it wasn’t just yours alone but carried through time by our people. And then I realized I used the words, “Our people.”

“Get out darkie,” the slave trader hauled me up and shoved me across the yard to the auction block. Whites in hats, dresses and suits yelled out to the auctioneer higher and higher numbers. Another man, plied my lips, yanked at my genitals, swatted my limbs with his stick to point at my muscle tone. I felt his fingers invading me and hated they stain it left on my body, as if he stole whole swaths of me and soiled it so bad, I didn’t even want it back anymore.

“His name is Toby ladies and gentleman,” he rattled off numbers, “Going for $400 dollars.”

“420!”

“420 says the man from Westbrook,” he shouted, “Any other calls. Turn around Toby, let them see your calves.”

I didn’t turn, just stared like a knife at him. He ordered me to turn again but I spat on the ground and stared at him. The desire to kill bubbled in my mouth like acid. Silence fell like a curtain on the crowd.

White men jumped on-stage and when they touched me, I snapped and began kicking them, wrapping the chain around one man’s neck and twisting it like a tourniquet until his tongue popped out. Dragging back and forth, I tried to snap his neck bone and the rage pulsing through me was joy. And then they locked my arms and legs down, carried me to a post; strung me up as a crowd gathered around.

“Toby is your name nigger,” an overseer said behind me, “Say it. Say your name is Toby.”

I sucked my mouth in. A searing pain ran across my back, a crack and a burning in its wake. They’re whipping me, these fuckers are whipping me – I thought but my mind shattered with the next whip crack, a slicing pain, crisscrossing the first opened my back.

“Say your name,” he yelled, “Say TOBY!”

I breathed long and slow, focusing myself to feel through the terror and not say a word. The timeline – I thought – Have to protect our timeline.

Another whip crack, a new wave of pain overlapped the last one. My body glowed with hurt. He whipped and whipped, digging into my shoulders, my arms, my back and with each strike, I rocked back and forth on the post, face smashed against the wood pole as I blinked in and out of consciousness.

“TOBY,” he ordered, “Say your name. It’s a good name. When the master gives you something, you take it. Now what’s your name?”

I stayed silent and another whip strike lit my flesh like a match dragged until it ignites. I screamed and screamed, he whipped and whipped. It seemed the louder I yelled the more he struck me until I felt blood washing down my legs, mixing with the dirt at my feet that I slid around in.

“Say your name,” he demanded but it sounded like it came from a great distance, “TOBY, say it, say your name!” The sun seemed to grow brighter and hotter, I felt my thoughts crumble and I tried to hold them together.

When I woke up, I was in a pen, hands bound, my back sizzling with pain. No one was with me. A cool air blew through cracks in the walls. I’m going to die here – I thought.

It was better that I die then destroy the timeline. Looking at my shoe, I knew there was a cyanide pill in the heel I could swallow. It would be quick; it would be necessary. I began using one foot to pull off the shoe from the other when a swirl of energy surrounded me. When it faded, I was on the telepad, in the Enterprise. Beverly rushed to me, injecting me with painkillers as her staff cut off my shirt and hauled me on to a gurney. As they rolled me out, Worf  and Data appeared on both sides of me.

“My name is Geordi,” I said to them, “My name is Geordi.”

The Captain’s Return

While I was in sickbay, Captain Picard woke up, was diagnosed as fit to serve and visited me.

“Captain,” I said, “The ship is yours again.”

“Giordi,” he smiled, “We have a lot to talk about. Report to my ready room when you are fit for duty.” When he left, Beverly came up to me, “You should be good to go by tomorrow. How do you feel?”

“A little stiff,” I smirked, “But relieved.”

“Giordi?”
“Yes?”

“The computer noticed an odd coincidence,” her voice lifted and she nervously flicked her hair, “You and Harriet Tubman have shared DNA.”

It hit me like a bright camera flash. Slowly, words fell back in place.

“Does that mean,” I began.

“Harriet Tubman is your great-great-great-great-great and more greats than I can say, grandmother. She is your ancestor which raises certain questions.”

“But how,” I fumbled.

“I think we know how,” she laid a hand on my shoulder, “You should talk with the captain.”

The next day, I went to the Captain’s Ready Room; he was waiting for me, sipping on Earl Grey tea. We studied each other, knowing my Starfleet career was hanging by a thread.

“Giordi,” he motioned for me to sit, “You saved humanity. Not many people can say that for themselves.”

I nodded, my fingers played on me knee. I was waiting for him to say the words court marshaled.

“Giordi I understand we had a very special visitor,” he said.

“Yes we did captain.”

“And you know about the Temporal Prime Directive.”

“Yes I do captain.”

“And how seriously Starfleet takes keeping our timeline safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You should also know,” he stood up, “Of a special protocol that only those in the captain’s chair are privy to.” He smiled at me, “Computer, captains’s protocal, delete all records of patient 1130, crewmember Harriet Tubman and her DNA records.”

“Captain,” I said but a wave of love and gratitude crushed my voice. I stood there, not knowing what to do or say until he reached out his hand.

“Giordi,” he said, “You will make a fine captain. And that’s all that anyone in Starfleet needs to know.”

My Name

The day we went back through the Daedalus Ring, I watched from the bridge, staring at 19th Century Earth and knowing you, Harriet were on it and that once we crossed, you’d be five hundred years in the past.

The Deadalus Ring glowed like a giant electric coil, inside it, space rippled like a translucent pond, stars bobbed out of place and the Enterprise went through. In less than a second, we were back in the 24th Century, the Daedalus Ring dimmed and I stared at Earth, feeling empty, feeling alone.

Later that night, Counselor Troy asked permission to enter. Just knowing she could read my emotions made me feel helplessly transparent. Everything surged up my throat into my voice but I twisted my lips to choke it.

“Beverly says you recovered very well,” she said.

“Removed most of the scars,” I said and patted my back, “Some I will carry with me forever.”

Diana sat down as I wrung my hands, trying to hew meaning out of the strangeness inside me.

“On the surface, I was captured by slave traders,” I said, “They took me and tried to sell me. Along the way, I witnessed a brutal lynching of a man and then they put me on the auction block. When I lashed out at them, it felt good. My rage felt nearly sexual in its pleasure. I wanted to kill them for hurting me, for hurting Harriet, for hurting all the people who share my color. But they overwhelmed me, tied me to a post and whipped me.”

“You said that in your report,” Diana confirmed.

“What I didn’t put in the report was that each time he whipped me,” I shifted in my seat, “He demanded that I accept the slave name Toby.”

“But you didn’t,” she said.

“No but I was going to. I was going to say anything to stop the pain,” my hands shook, “But more than that, towards the end, after hours of being whipped and bleeding out and hearing him over and over again, I truly believed my name was Toby.”

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