Star Trek: Timelines (Alternate universe TNG-period)

[Steve]

Been working on this a month or so, opinions are naturally desired.

This is, by the way, only the first tenth or so; I'm going to wait for a bit before showing more of the story. This is just to get things up and get preliminary opinions.


Star Trek: Timelines
The Widening Gyre
by:
Stephen Garrett Jr.


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


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



.5LY from Federation-Orion Border
23 April 2368 Earth Standard Time

The brilliant white color of an Orion starship-grade blaster washed over the shields of the U.S.S. Salamis, rocking the Akira-class cruiser roughly as her shields struggled to absorb the shot. Three Orion raiders, each carrying deadly heavy blaster cannons on their bows, swarmed over the Federation strike cruiser as Salamis' own phasers sliced into the engines of an Orion transport. Inside was the entire reason Salamis had attacked in the first place: according to some partial intel, there were an estimated 200 civilians on board, mostly kidnapped off the streets of nearby worlds or taken in pirate raids, being brought to Orion to be sold into the Orion slave market. And only half a light-year stood between them and enslavement.
Half a light year and Salamis.
On the bridge of Salamis, Captain Adrian Parker was ignoring the klaxons of alert status and concentrating on the reports from his bridge crew. "Orion 1 is coming across our..." The ship rocked again as the other two blasted the ship simultaneously. The lieutenant at tactical finished with, "...bow! Dorsal shields down to thirty percent!"
"Heading zero-two-zero mark zero five two!" At Parker's order, the helmsman turned the Salamis slightly to the right and up at a fifty-two degree angle, causing the Orions to miss their next shots. The phaser arrays on the ship's aft arc fired, cutting into the weak shields of the light Orion raiders.
As Salamis turned again at Parker's order, this time to the left and on a down angle, quantum torpedoes raced out of her bow launchers at the raider designated Orion 1. One torpedo missed from the ECM put out by the raider, but the other three were right on target. Two impacted on it's dorsal hull shields and wiped them out, damaging enough armor that the third crippled the raider and nearly blew it in half.
The other Orion raiders turned sharply, seperating. Parker watched his screen intently, keeping track of their movements. "Helm, follow Orion 2! Weapons, keep an eye on that transport! Don't let him get back to warp!"
A pair of affirmations echoed from the respective bridge officers. Salamis turned to the left, following Orion 2, it's forward phaser arrays cut through space and into the smaller ship's rear shields. A burst of fire from the cruiser's forward-mounted pulse phaser cannons succeeded in finally ripping apart the raider's engine assembly. The crippled ship continued to drift forward, unable to maneuver any longer.
The final raider came above the Salamis and tore at it's weakened dorsal shields. The shield indicator on Parker's display quickly went from yellow to red. "Helm! Stop all engines and fire maneuvering thrusters to bring the bow up!" Parker's mind raced as he calculated his bow shield strength against the pirate's. Turning to the Lieutenant at Weapons, he barked, "At my mark, give me everything you've got in the forward arc!"
Salamis's main impulse engines quieted and her maneuvering thrusters fired. The ship turned as quickly as it could, showing her bow to the Orion raider as it came in for another pass. Parker shouted "Fire!" upon the completion of the maneuver, and the two ships exchanged vicious attacks.
While Salamis certainly took a hammering from the pure power of the Orion's bow blaster cannon, she had the advantage in her multiple weapons. The forward phasers, arrays and pulse cannons, handily-removed the raider's foreward shields so that a pair of quantum torpedoes could tear the ship apart.
With the starship combat ended, Parker immediately placed the order for boarding parties to be sent to the transport. When he was done, he turned to his XO and asked for a damage report. The Andorian replied quickly by rattling off item after item of damage. Casualties but no fatalities so far, which Parker was thankful for.
His gamble did pay off, however, as nearly twice the number of people that intel had estimated were aboard. With the transport seized, Salamis placed a tractor beam on it and took it to warp, moving at a leisurely Warp 5 to the nearest Starbase.



Starbase 419, Border Sector 4, Federation Space
10 May 2368 Earth Standard Time


Parker was in formal uniform, the familiar black jacket with grey shoulders plus black trousers, and standing at his full height of 183 centimeters beside his military advocate when the four leading admirals of the sector assembled again at their desk. He showed no immediate emotion in his gray eyes and did a rather good job of hiding any fear he might have had. He looked like the consumate military professional, with his black hair well-combed and trim to regulation and his hands behind his back.
In the week after Salamis had intercepted the transport and destroyed her escorts, a small political crisis had developed between the Federation and the Orions, and the Orions' Romulan backers. The Orions initially levied charges of unprovoked attack and for a short while seemed to be threatening war, with Romulan backing, before the images of the freed slaves-to-be were released to the public along with their debriefings. Immediately the momentum shifted; now the Orions were scrambling to find the corrupt officials within that were aiding the slave trade and the Romulans had backed off. In the Federation Council itself, the peace parties that had been calling for Parker's head were now quiet and incapable of speaking, or so it seemed. He had become a public hero now and politicians were apt to be silent when it meant going against popular opinion.
But that had not prevented an impromptu review board being appointed to review the case and find if he had overstepped his bounds. Parker waited silently for the sector CO, Admiral Hansen, to begin speaking. "Captain Adrian Parker, upon review of your actions on the 23rd of April 2368, we have concluded that you acted without orders or probable cause in intercepting the transport Meklavr. As such, you were technically in violation of interstellar law regarding the innocent passage of ships." Parker did not betray any emotion but permitted Hansen to continue. "However, it is clear to us that while you violated the letter of the law, the Orions were violating it's spirit, and in your actions you showed admirable traits in a starship captain, namely in your swift response to the evidence on hand and in your resolution to action. Since the Orion government has withdrawn it's charges against Starfleet, we will not bring this to court-martial." Hansen folded his hands together. "However, because of the seriousness of the breach with the Orion government and potential damage to the interests of the Federation, you are being re-assigned to another command outside this sector that Starfleet Operations will arrange immediately. That is the extent of our official findings." Hansen allowed Parker and his advocate to exchange a handshake and sighs of relief before continuing. "Off the record," Hansen's grim expression finally softened, "we are also in concurrence on one thing; we would have all done the same thing in your place, Captain Parker. You have done a valuable service to Starfleet and the Federation, not to mention four hundred and thirty innocent lives that were held aboard that slave carrier. We of this Review Board wish you good luck in your next posting. You are dismissed."


Parker was in his quarters on Salamis packing the last of his things when the door chime sounded. He openly declared, "It's open", and his XO, Lieutenant Commander Virshk, stepped in. "Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Sir, on behalf of the crew, I'd like to say we've all been honored to serve with you," the Andorian said in a strong baritone. "We're going to miss you, Captain."
"Goes for me too. I'd be worried about you, but Captain Shelby is an excellent officer and I know she'll do you all good."
"Of course, Captain." Virshk offered him a hand. "Sir, may I?"
Parker looked back from his bags, showed a small grin on his face, and gave Virshk a handshake, the first they'd had since Virshk had been assigned to Salamis. "Help Shelby with the greenskins, will you?"
Virshk laughed, "Of course."
"Good, because after what we've done here, they're going to be looking to even the score. Wouldn't want them to pull a fast one over you." Parker went back to packing the last few items.
"Any idea where they're sending you, Sir?"
"I've been recalled to Earth," Parker replied. "Captain Sisko's letting me hitch a ride on the Saratoga. Once we get there, I'll see where I end up."
"Mind if I follow you to the airlock, Sir?"
"Not at all." Parker secured his bag and lifted it onto his left shoulder. With Virshk by his side Parker walked through the ship's port-side corridors to the port airlock, attached as it was to a berth inside Starbase 419.
The entire command crew was awaiting him there, and Parker would run the gauntlet they had created for him, shaking hands and giving pleasant goodbyes to the men and women he'd served with for the previous three years. At the end, when he was on the other end of the airlock, he took one last look at them before the airlock doors closed and they disappeared. With that done, Parker moved on.


U.S.S. Saratoga, en route to Sector 001, Federation Space
13 May 2368 Earth Standard Time


The sound of laughter was coming from within the officer's lounge on the top deck of Saratoga. Inside it's occupants were dining on a meal prepared mostly by the ship's commanding officer, Captain Benjamin Sisko, who had used the last of his personal stores to put together what he insisted to be an authentic taste of New Orleans. Parker had known Sisko in the Academy long enough to consider him a classmate and friend even if they had spent the years since that time serving seperately.
The other two present were Sisko's XO; a Native American and Commander named Chakotay. Perhaps more prestigious was another one of his friends; a retired diplomat from Trill, Curzon Dax. The four men were seated at a circular table, their meals already finished, drinking glasses of technically-illegal Romulan ale that most Starfleet officers gained access to with virtual impunity; Romulan ale was "the second law that everyone breaks" according to jokes, with tax laws being the first. After finishing an amusing anecdote about playing revenge pranks on a few uppity upperclassmen while in their junior year, the conversation changed course for a moment. "And then there was the time Ben here," Parker began, chuckling from memory, "decided to take on this Vulcan. Suluk, Siluk, what was it again?"
"Solok!" Sisko began snickering. "You never got the name right!"
"That's right, Solok! Well, this Vulcan was being, well, being a normal Vulcan, and Ben took offense, and, well, never wrestle with a Vulcan."
"I'll take that in mind," Chakotay said in amusement.
"Ben, how long were you in the infirmary again? A week?"
"Just four days." Sisko rubbed the back of his neck, clearly smarting from the reminder. "I still want to wipe the smirk off Solok's face."
"Well, I almost did take a chair leg to him," confessed Parker. "But some of the others stepped in. Told me I was too drunk to swing it accurately."
Another round of laughter echoed in the room. "Well, now that we're finished with remembering what fools we were as cadets," said Sisko with a wide grin, "let's talk current events. Know where they're sending you?"
"Not at all," Parker answered. "I suspect they'll stick me on a tender of some kind."
"Depends on which admiral in Operations handles the appointment." Chakotay folded his hands on the table. "Admiral Paris would give you a rickety old Constellation and send you off to the farthest corner of the Quadrant to keep you out of the spotlight. Kirschbaum can be pretty fair, though."
"I'd bet on Admiral Leyton getting you something. You remember Leyton, right Adrian?"
"Will Leyton?" Parker wagged his finger for a moment, as if to show he was trying to place something. "Your old CO on the Okinawa, right? The one who convinced you to go for command school?"
"That's him," Sisko confirmed. "You were on the Kursk as I recall, under Captain Sulu?"
"Yeah, that was her." Parker looked over the table at Chakotay and Curzon. "We were in the same task force fighting the Tsen'kethi. Closest Ben and I got to being assigned together after the Academy." Parker set his glass on the table. "So, Curzon, how did you manage a ride?"
"Blackmail," the older Trill said. "I'm blackmailing Benjamin."
"Actually, if any man at this table can be blackmailed, it'd be you, Old Man" Sisko retorted with a chuckle. "You're the wild one."
After everyone stopped laughing, Curzon admitted, "Yes, I did have quite a time in my youth. Those days are over with, though. Well, except for when I go to Risa and see Arandis."
"Somehow I have trouble seeing you keeping up with a Risan." Parker leaned forward in his seat. "So, seriously, you're going to Earth or something?"
"Yes, I am." Curzon nodded. "Earth's on the way to Trill anyway, and I've been exchanging letters with a professor on Earth, Jones, from Cambridge. He's with their history department, and is working on a series of what he calls counterfactual historical scenarios and wants my input."
Chakotay asked, "Counterfactual?"
"A 'what if', to put it simply," Curzon replied. "You see, I've been around in the Federation diplomatic corps for over seventy years, nearly eighty. Professor Jones is writing a counterfactual scenario based on something that happened in the Klingon Empire around 2293, concerning Praxis."
"Praxis is their homeworld's moon." Parker seemed to have spoken just to hear himself say it.
"Yes, it is. Used to be their key energy production facility. You might say they were putting all of their eggs in the same basket. Praxis had everything for them. Anti-matter generation facilities, dilithium mines and refineries, deuterium purification plants. Contributed about a third of the entire Klingon Empire's fuel supply. Well, it took us a couple years for some of our intel people to get wind of what happened, but sometime in 2293 there was a near-accident on the moon caused by some bad safety measures. It was brought under control but, well, if it hadn't have..." Curzon let the sentence trail off so he could take a drink of ale. "It probably would have blown the entire moon up."
The others showed a bit of surprise. "I can only imagine what that would have done to Quo'nos."
"It would have needed clean-up and some evacuation," Curzon admitted. "That's why the Klingons took the hint and moved some of the operations elsewhere. But the real issue is what it would have happened to the Klingon economy if they had needed to perform such a large scale clean-up and evacuation. The Klingons were within a year or two of economic collapse twenty years ago when they aligned with the Ferengi and became economic dependents. Imagine what would have happened if Praxis had exploded."
"It would have destroyed the entire Klingon Empire," said Chakotay.
"Well, perhaps." Curzon took another drink, causing the others to do the same, before continuing. "We discussed it a bit back in the day. Either the Klingons would have had to have gone to war with us while they had the military strength to fight, something that would have killed billions but left the Klingon Empire destroyed utterly, or..." Curzon sighed. "Well, Professor Jones is interested in the other route. The Chancellor at the time, Gorkon, was quite liberal for a Klingon leader. He was eventually assassinated by his own chief of staff for his views, but if he had an opening like the destruction of Praxis, I believe he might have pursued peace with the Federation. To cope with the disaster the Klingon economy would have to be demilitarized. Something that would require the Federation to demilitarize in turn to remove a threat to the Klingons' security. If that had happened..."
"...the entire history of the 24th Century would be radically different," Sisko finished for him. "Makes you wonder... where we'd be right now."
"That it does," Parker agreed. "But there's no use in putting too much thought in what might have been. Besides, I don't think any of us is sober enough to actually think about it too much."
The others laughed at that. "Well then..." Sisko picked up his glass. "I propose a toast, to my good friend Captain Adrian Parker, for his great accomplishment this past month in shutting the Orions up and giving them one hell of a beating!" He smiled toward Parker. "To Captain Parker, one of Starfleet's finest."
Curzon and Chakotay joined the toast, echoing the sentiment "To Captain Parker!", causing Parker to blush just a little bit.


McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001
17 May 2368 Earth Standard Time


Upon Saratoga's arrival at Utopia Planitia for her scheduled refit, Parker was flown by shuttle to McKinley for an appointed meeting with Admiral Leyton. He was escorted by a young enlisted crewman to Leyton's office. The admiral, complete with the now-graying beard Parker had remembered from the last time he'd met the man, immediately ordered Parker to be at ease and stood from his desk. "Captain Parker, good to see you."
"The same to you, Sir."
"Do you have your things?"
"I've got them in a storage locker until you give me a new assignment, Sir," Parker answered.
"Ah, well, you'll be seeing that soon enough. Follow me."
Leyton led Parker through a side door and into the corridors of the massive Starbase. "How's Ben?"
"Ben Sisko? He's doing fine. He's invited me to come down to New Orleans when I get the chance and see his father's bistro. He spent the entire trip from Starbase 419 telling me about how the Siskos are the best cooks in the entire city."
"That's good news. You know, at first I didn't remember you."
"Not surprised, Sir," replied Parker. "I was a third watch command officer at the time. Not very high on the chain."
"Yes, but then I recalled Captain Sulu insisting you were going to be an excellent captain one day. Looks like she was right." Leyton led him into a turbolift and entered a destination on the control panel. "I managed to mislead the press about your arrival. I wanted to spare you a media storm."
"Thank you Sir."
"After that fight last month, you had half of Starfleet ready to court-martial you and the other half wanting to give you a medal."
"Which half were you?"
"Which do you think?" Leyton grinned. "We've suspected the Orions were playing fast and loose with our treaty agreements. Now you've blown that door open. A lot of people are going to owe their freedom to you, Captain Parker."
"Just glad I could be of service, Sir." Parker waited a moment, thinking of how to phrase the question, when he asked, "So, Sir, what am I going to get?"
"Good things come to those who wait, Captain." The turbolift slowed and came to a stop. The doors opened and, on the other side of what looked like a waiting lobby, Parker saw windows out into a berth of the spacedock. Leyton walked up to the window and pointed out just before Parker could walk up close enough to look down at what he was indicating. "So, Captain, what do you think?"
Parker looked out at what he recognized to be a brand new Sovereign-class starship. The Sovereign was a new class, the U.S.S. Sovereign herself only commissioned earlier in the year before, equipped with the latest technologies Starfleet had to offer. Perhaps more prestigious than her class, however, was the name emblazoned on her upper hull.
U.S.S. Enterprise. NCC-1701-D.
"She looks good, Sir," Parker responded.
"Nice to hear you saying that, Captain." Leyton looked over at him. "Because that is your new ship."
For a moment Parker did not reply, and was not even thinking. It was a stunning thing to hear Leyton speaking those words. He had, expected, at best, one of the Galaxy-class Command Cruisers, and really nothing heavier than an Excelsior heavy cruiser. But the Enterprise? "Sir, I didn't..."
"...didn't expect this?" Leyton finished for him. "You've become somewhat of a public hero, Captain Parker. The President himself insisted you receive this command."
"I don't know what to say."
"Well, think on it a bit." Leyton pointed down one end of the corridor. "The airlock's down that way. Your Executive Officer is already on board the ship, waiting to brief you on the details. Call me later when you're done and we'll prepare for the official appointment."
Leyton turned and walked back to the turbolift, leaving Parker dumbfounded. In Starfleet, to be known as the Captain of the Enterprise was probably a higher honor than joining the Admiralty. He would join ranks with officers like Chris Pike and Rachel Garrett, not to mention James Kirk himself, the epitome of the starship captain. It was a great responsibility.
And it was a great opportunity as well. Parker resolved at that moment he was going to make the best of this appointment. He had to, as he was now thrust into the position as the torch-bearer for all of Starfleet. With his heart still thumping from excitement, he walked toward the airlock.


Enterprise was a big ship, nearly 800 meters in length, and Parker wasn't quite sure where he was supposed to go. Walking about the ship looking around he finally had a young woman from Trill walk up to him, wearing a duty uniform with beige color coding, and the gold and black rank pips of a Lieutenant J.G on her right collar. Standing at attention, she asked, "Captain, is there something I can do for you?"
"I'm looking for the ship's Executive Officer, Miss...?" Parker let the sentence drift off to indicate he wanted the woman's name.
"Right this way, Captain," she replied in a sweet, bubbly voice, obviously not getting the hint. She started leading him down corridors. "Commander Razmara is helping our engineering staff set up the anti-matter pods."
"And you are?"
"Lieutenant Jobrie Tevala, Sir," she answered in the same sweet voice. "I've been assigned as the weapons officer for second shift."
Parker nodded and said no more while following the anxious young lady through the corridors of Enterprise to the aft section of the ship.
After a turbolift trip, Jobrie led Parker through the upper engineering deck to the main fuel bunker. It was a sizable room, about the size of a shuttle bay, situated two decks away from the ship's dorsal hull in that area. The bunkerage was protected structurally by thick armor plate, so as to protect it from initial hits and increase the ship's survivability. Conveyers were placed facing the insides of the ship to transport pods to the injection chambers that sent the anti-matter into the warp core. The pods themselves were arrayed on trays attached to slings, so they could be tossed out into space easily and manually in the event of a possible containment breach.
A number of officers and enlisted crew were unloading the pods from anti-grav transports to trays. The pods were heavy, about 180 kilograms as Parker knew from personal experience, and in most cases each pod required two people to lift it.
That was why Parker was a little surprised to see a single woman, in burgundy red duty uniform, carrying a pod all by herself and with only some apparent effort. She had an attractive form, flattered by the form-hugging nature of Starfleet uniforms. Her skin tone was a light bronze, something Parker would expect from a Middle Eastern-born human. Brown eyes looked around the tray to make sure the pod was fit securely. Her black hair was slick and short, only long enough to cover a bit of her ears and some of her neck. Parker walked up to her and she turned. "Commander Razmara?", Parker asked while she straighened her back into full attention. "At ease."
Razmara relaxed. "Captain Parker I take it?"
Parker nodded. "Captain Adrian Parker."
"Commander Sophia Razmara," she replied. She used a forearm to wipe a little sweat from her forehead. "I take it you want the grand tour?"
"Looking to move in first. I also wanted to see who else on the command staff was available."
"Well, most are still en route, but there are a couple already here on Earth. They should be up later today."
Parker nodded. "Well, that'll do for now." Seeing Razmara wasn't moving, he added, "You're dismissed." She promptly turned and began walking away to resume her work while Parker went to leave. Before she could reach for another pod, Parker immediately turned back to her, having remembered something he wanted to ask. "Say, um, if you don't mind me asking... you're lifting one hundred and eighty kilo pods that are probably twice your weight. How?"
Without a slight hint of emotion on her face, Razmara brought her right hand up and moved back some strands of her black hair to show her right ear. Parker received his answer when he saw that the ear didn't end in a blunt shape but a sharp point. "You're a Vulcan?"
"Half-Vulcan," Razmara replied with some annoyance. "Anything else Sir?"
"Oh, nothing." Parker turned for the last time to leave the fuel bunker. "Nothing at all."

[Kuja]

VERY interesting premise. I hope this ST universe gets a good fleshing out, and you've got a good start. I like Captain Parker; he strikes me a pretty reasonable charachter.

Waiting for more.

[Sarevok]

Excellent story.

[Steve]

Post is Rated R, BTW. :p


It was later in the day that Parker met Razmara again, on the bridge of the Enterprise. He had been looking over the control stations when he heard the familiar whooshing sound of the turbolift doors, and turned to see Razmara in her full uniform, including the jacket, flanked by two men. One, a Lieutenant Commander with dark brown hair and blue eyes, had a beige uniform top under his jacket; the other was a Lieutenant (S.G.) with lighter brown hair and brown eyes who wore a light blue one, meaning he was a fighter pilot. "Commander." Parker nodded at her and the others. "At ease."
They relaxed. "Captain," Razmara began, "this is Commander Adam Dalke, our Chief Engineering Officer, and Lieutenant Chris Coleman, the commander of our squadron of Wolverine fighters."
Parker nodded in reply. "That's all we have for now?"
"There is also Lieutenant Larrisa, our Sensor Officer," Razmara informed him. "But she is still planetside. My messages to her that you wished a meeting were not answered, so she's not in the apartment Starfleet rented for her in San Francisco."
"Well, then, I suppose we can go track her down, as Admirals Leyton and Pressman will be conducting a tour of the ship tomorrow and I want everything and everyone ready." Parker nodded to the others. "Commander, Lieutenant, an honor to meet you. I'll be seeing you."
The two men left without saying a word. Razmara remained behind. "You want me to go with you? I was raised in San Francisco, I know my way around."
"That would be wonderful." Parker settled into his command chair, and Razmara sat beside him in her future chair. "Larrisa doesn't sound like a human name. What race is she?"
Razmara turned away, seemingly amused. "You're not going to believe me when I tell you."
"Oh? What is she? Cardassian? Romulan?"
Razmara shook her head and began to grin. "Oh, neither. She's, um.... Edo."
Parker's expression froze. His eyes widened a bit from surprise. "Edo?"
"Yes."
"As in from the Rubicon system?"
"Uh huh."
Parker shook his head. "Come on." He stood up. "I think I know where we'll find her."


It was about 21:00 local time in San Francisco when Razmara and Parker beamed down to track down Larrisa. Parker had considered just letting it slide, but considering what he had discovered about Larrisa he was not willing to give her an inch. He couldn't afford to, not considering the importance of their posting.
The Edo were... unique. Protected by an unknown entity, or group of entities, in orbit over their world, they enjoyed an idyllic existance which they devoted to the pursuit of pleasure for themselves and others. Their protectors sustained them where their own meager labor efforts could not match their needs, but Edo society had one startling flaw to Parker and many others: every crime was capital. Even for something as meager as stepping over the wrong line or breaking an obscure minor law, an Edo was executed with little chance for appeal. The Edo thus lived in a paradox of love and fear for their society: they loved their effortless existance and the constant pleasure of their lives while they were terrified of their rulers and those who enforced the law.
The Edo had welcomed Federation tourists with open-arms, but always insisted on their laws being followed. Because only a handful of thrill-seekers were willing to risk death over a cultural faux pas or obscure law, most settled for Risa over Rubicon. This had changed after the Edo established enclaves for Federation tourists to visit and agreed to grant Federation citizens extra-territorial rights within said enclaves. In return, Federation citizens could not leave the enclaves without signing a waiver accepting responsibility for committing crimes and earning the death penalty. Though Risa was still the preferred vacation spot for most Federation citizens of sufficient means, Rubicon was also popular now for the particular ways and means that the Edo had created over the years for maximizing pleasure.
Very few Edo were well-equipped for living off their homeworld. Most were raised from childhood to be dependents of their society. They were incapable of anything more. But a handful did manage to make ends meet. Restless souls incompatible with the idle bliss of Rubicon and sometimes those who chose living a worker's life in the Federation over dying from the syringe of a police executioner on Rubicon. Apparently Larrisa was one of them. Before coming down, Parker had noted that her record was surprisingly good for an Edo in Starfleet. She had good discipline and performance marks and the approval of her prior COs. Of course, it was also marked that in most postings she had been seeing shipmates of both genders in a romantic fashion, and Parker wasn't upset over that since she had shown discretion in those relationships (to be upset would be damned hypocritical since he had been romantic with his own fair number of female shipmates).
Still, she was Edo; in her private time she took to the pursuits expected of someone from Rubicon. Razmara had directed him to a club about ten blocks from Larrisa's apartment and had remained tight-lipped about how she knew of it. Parker had known to expect Larrisa's presence simply from it's name; "Forbidden Desires". Sex clubs were common in urban areas across the Federation with the exception of orthodox religious colonies. As far as Parker knew, they weren't the type of place Starfleet personnel would openly frequent. That was enough explaination for why the bouncer at the door was so shocked to see two Starfleet officers in uniform approach. Parker told him he was looking for Larrisa and described her and he was directed inside with Razmara.
It was soon obvious that they were very out of place in their uniforms. Most of the attendees were in skimpier clothing. Mini-skirts and bodices or halter tops for females and muscle shirts and shorts for the men. The main room was a dance floor and apparently no different from any other non-sex club. People of young age, few seeming older than their twenties (for humans), were dancing about the floor. Most were human, but Parker thought he spotted a couple of Trill and a Vulcanoid, probably a Rigelian.
Razmara was blushing as she walked alongside Parker. "This place hasn't changed much in eighteen years."
"You've been here before." It was obvious Parker wasn't asking a question.
"We all have times in our lives we regret," confessed Razmara. "Of course, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the hell out of myself at the time."
"Of course." Parker looked away from the central stage, where a handful of women were topless and gyrating against poles while being groped by male and female partners. The sooner he got out of here, the better. He walked up to the bartender, a man in his fifties or so who smirked at Parker upon seeing him approaching. "You've got an Edo girl here, name's Larrisa. Know where she is?"
The bartender shrugged. "Sorry, I wouldn't know. I bet she's Starfleet though, seeing you here."
"Does that matter?"
"Depends. These kids...." The old man pointed out to the partygoers. "They're just here to have some fun. Including anyone here from Starfleet. They don't deserve to get into trouble because some Puritan CO decides to take offense at their private lives."
Razmara copied the bartender's smirk perfectly. "What makes you think we'd punish her?"
"Well, why else would you be here but to check up on her? I mean, an Edo girl, they get pretty wild if you know what I mean." The barkeep's smirk turned into more of a grin. "An Edo in Starfleet? Hell, you people would plant a camera on her if you thought you'd get away with it. Don't think I don't know that. I was a Starfleet Marine, served for twenty years. Actually met Admiral Chekov once...."
"We really don't need to hear stories," Parker cut in. "Where is Larrisa?"
"Damned if I know. That's the funny thing about some of these aliens, they look exactly like humans."
Parker was about to speak when he noticed that Razmara was no longer standing beside him. She had slipped down the bar and was standing beside a redhead and talking to her. Parker walked up to get into the conversation.
The redhead saw him coming and walked off. "Hope I didn't scare her off," Parker said to Razmara after seeing her annoyed expression.
"No." Razmara shook her head. "She recognized Larrisa. She's in the back with one of the fetish clubs."
"Oh." Parker turned back toward the door. "Well, maybe we should go then."
"You wanted to track her down." Razmara crossed her arms. "We're here and you might as well finish the job. Better for you to know of any problems she has now than after we ship out."
Parker did not reply, conceding the argument. He followed Razmara to one of the hallways leading to the back. They went through a beaded curtain and were in a room with a number of onlookers, in various stages of undress, arranged in a semi-circle around a central stage. There were leather cables suspended from the ceiling and tied around the wrists of a young woman, holding her light-skinned arms at eighty degree angles over her head. They could not see most of her body because there was a man in front of and behind her. It was quite clear to the two officers just what was going on. Furthermore, Parker was irritated to recognize the woman's face from her record; it was Larrisa. She was groaning loudly and an expression of intense pleasure was on her cherub-like face, both men holding her close to them and obviously enjoying themselves as well.
A tan-skinned woman in a leather dominatrix lingerie, the kind that supported but did not cover the breasts, walked up to them. "Sorry, no military fetishists here. But if either of...."
"Disgusting," muttered Razmara before stepping back out through the curtain.
The dominatrix flashed a grin to Parker, showing sparkling white teeth and a couple of vampire teeth prosthetics, undoubtedly for effect. "So, you two aren't here for fun, I see. But why else would you come back here?"
With a rather venomous tone, Parker answered, "When Larrisa finishes her little performance, tell her Captain Parker expects to see her in his office at 0600 sharp."
"Of course." The woman gave Parker a lookover. "You know, with a scowl and build like that, you could make a good domination model."
"No thank you." Parker stomped back out through the curtains, not responding to the dominatrix's follow up shout of "Come back if you're ever interested!"
Parker didn't catch up with Razmara until they got past the front door again. As they walked down a flight of stairs to the ground level and a waiting military-rented aircar, Razmara shook her head and said, in utter disgust, "How the hell did someone like that end up in Starfleet?"
Parker's answer was short and sweet: "Political correctness."


McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001
18 May 2368 Earth Standard Time


The office built into the Enterprise's bridge deck was on the starboard-bow quarter. It was of modest size, mostly consisting of a desk, a pair of chairs on the other side, and space for the CO to put personal effects. Parker chose to place a poster montage of the American nation's first nuclear carrier, also named Enterprise, on his wall. Across the bridge deck in the conference room was a similar brass model of the carrier and it's earlier cousin from World War II, as well as ships named Enterprise from the rest of human history up to the Enterprise-C, an Ambassador-class ship (originally built as a battleship but now classed as a large cruiser) that had been decommissioned in 2362.
Parker was reviewing a schematic of the Enterprise when the door swished open. Larrisa entered, wearing her uniform jacket over the blue uniform of the science-related branches. Her figure, obscured when he saw her the previous night, was a nice one. She was slim and her uniform did not do much to subdue the attractive curves on her posterior and chest. Her long blond hair was well-kept and now pulled up into a ponytail. Larrisa's blue eyes stared forward, not directly making contact with him, and Parker found her stance at attention to be flawless. Certainly not something he would expect from someone raised on a planet completely lacking in discipline. "Lieutenant Larrisa reporting as ordered, Sir," she said to him in an emotionless voice, a voice not as high as Parker expected.
He waited a moment. Parker wanted to see how well she held her stance. When five seconds passed and she had not even blinked yet, Parker nodded. "At ease, Lieutenant. Sit down." While she sat, Parker wondered just how it was possible for an Edo to be that disciplined as their reputation seemed to speak against it. Furthermore it didn't jive with his mental image of her in the club tied up and having sex with two men. That was the action of a wild and undisciplined girl seeking pleasure, not of a professional military woman.
But she had been doing that very thing yet had been flawless in her posture and stance while at attention; certainly she was professional in her manner. Parker drew in a breath and began to speak. "You were right on time, Lieutenant. I like that."
"I try to be perfect, Sir."
"So your record says. Your COs have all given you top marks. I can see why Operations assigned you here. But I have some concerns."
Larrisa's expression was cold. "This is about last night."
"Wearing that uniform means accepting a code of behavior, even when you're not in it." Parker frowned at her. "That was unacceptable."
"Permission to speak freely?"
After considering a refusal, Parker nodded at her. "Granted."
"To be frank, Sir, what I do in my private time is none of your damned business," Larrisa said coldly. "In fact, I'll point out that nobody knew I was even in Starfleet until you showed up. Had you trusted me, and waited for me to report - and I would have seen that message the Commander left - they would have thought I was some Edo girl passing through. So if my actions caused Starfleet's reputation to be tarnished, it's only because you gave me away. And I'll point out that you didn't do this to any of the other officers on the ship. You did it to me because I'm from Rubicon and you don't trust me."
Parker wanted to retort but could not. She was right. He had no reason to hunt her down personally and had done so because he didn't trust her to be the right material for his crew. "Well spoken, Lieutenant." Parker folded his hands on the table. "You're correct, it would have been better if I had not come. But I did, and the question is now raised about your personal behavior."
"My personal behavior on duty is the same as any other officer's, Sir. Off-duty and on-ship, it'll be the same as well." Larrisa was clearly upset as she continued. "Sir, I get to go planetside about twice a year and that's just my average in the five years since I graduated from the Academy. It's been fourteen months since I was last planetside, Sir. All of my off-days since were on military starbases and I remained on inactive duty, not full leave. I did this because it was the only way I was going to finish my advanced sensor qualifications and get my promotion." She leaned forward. "Captain, I've been training for two years to get this posting. I'm not going to do you or the crew wrong. I know what you're thinking. I'm an Edo. My discipline will waver as I yearn for the pleasures of life, the pleasures I got in ample quantity back on Rubicon. You think I'll be sleeping around, but I won't, Sir."
"You say that, but according to your record," Parker pointed on his screen, "you've had romantic liaisons with other personnel in every posting you've had."
"Sir, I'm not the only Starfleet officer to see a shipmate while off-duty," Larrisa pointed out. "In three cases, they came on to me first and it was only a couple of times. In another, she was my roommate and we actually had a solid relationship going. In not a single case were any of them working with me directly while on-duty." Larrisa shook her head. "Sir, what am I supposed to do? How do I convince you to trust me?"
"Show me that you can resist your impulses. Why were you at that club last night?"
"Because I hadn't done anything like that in three years," Larrisa replied. "Because it was nearby. It's not like I went there in my uniform, Sir. I was in civilian clothing and never mentioned my occupation. I just went to wind down."
"You call depraved sex winding down?"
"Sir, depraved sex is the kind of weirdness that goes on in the other room. People who submit to being tortured while having sex or other demented things. They only tied me up, and there's nothing that weird about...." Larrisa shook her head. "Sir, this is not going to get us anywhere. I promise you I am not going to do anything to bring you or the crew shame. I will maintain perfect discipline."
Parker found her expression and her explaination convincing. But there was something else he wanted to know. "Lieutenant... why are you here?"
"Because the Enterprise is where careers are made, Sir."
"No, you misunderstand me." Parker finished shaking his head. "Why are you here? In Starfleet? Why did you leave your idyllic paradise for the military life?"
Larrisa bit on her tongue for a moment. "Idyllic paradise? No. What kind of paradise is one where you die for any infraction, no matter how small?" Larrisa looked down. "I lost my father when I was eight. He and my mother got in a fight and he lashed out and slapped her. She... she didn't even mind, but he broke the law. So I had to watch as they put the syringe in his arm and killed him." Parker, for a moment, thought he saw a tear start to come down the young woman's right eye. "My mother wasn't the same after that. Oh, there were other men to pleasure her, but she loved my father. She missed him so much that every day she cried for him and died a little inside. So when I was seventeen and of age to live on my own, she just walked into a forbidden area one day. Instant death, which is what she wanted." Larrisa's fists clinched. "Do you know how many Edo live to see fifty years of life? One out of every ten thousand. Over the years, only a small handful can avoid breaking the law. It's simply a matter of time before you slip up somewhere. Almost all Edo die from the syringe because of that little fact. Some do it on purpose, without friends or loved ones to give them any reason to live." Larrisa smirked. "Our elders say that pleasure is a good enough reason to live. But it isn't. There is more to life than physical pleasure. Humans taught me that, you know. It was the strangest thing, staying in an enclave and finding humans cherishing the simplest pleasures. Little things that we considered a basic and daily pleasure were so sensual and pleasing to humans that it was... vexing. It took me a couple years to realize it, but by the time my mother died I knew the secret of Humans."
"And that is?"
Larrisa smiled and continued. "You cherish pleasure so greatly because you do not always experience it. You do not spend your days doing nothing but having fun. You work, you toil, you fight amongst yourselves and others day in and day out. No Edo, growing up, wants to work. Yet you enjoy pleasures greater than we do. After realizing that, I knew there was more to life. Pleasure alone is not a good reason to live. It is transitory. If it is experienced too often, it's effect is lost. The extraordinary becomes ordinary. I wanted to experience what you knew. I wanted to work and toil, to suffer pain, so that I could feel the same about pleasure as you did. And after coming to Earth, being schooled, and entering Starfleet Academy, I came to understand life like no Edo knows it. Life was never meant to be a short-term thing filled with pleasure and ended by execution. There are so many worlds to find, things to see and do, and you can't do that if you remain an ignorant member of idyllic society, spending each day doing simple tasks and enjoying routine pleasures. You have to push yourself beyond what you are at first. You have to improve yourself. That's why I'm here. I joined Starfleet to better myself, Captain. I joined Starfleet to make myself a better person, and I'm not doing it for my people but for myself. As far as I'm concerned, the Edo don't deserve to better themselves unless they are willing to work for it."
Parker nodded slowly. He finally stood. "Lieutenant Larrisa, go ahead and report to Commander Razmara. Welcome aboard."
Larrisa's reply was a vigorous nod. "Thank you, Captain." She stood immediately and went straight out the door.


It was exactly 0900 when Admiral Leyton and Admiral Pressman appeared onto the bridge from the rear-port turbolift. Parker and Razmara were waiting, flanked on one side by Lieutenants Larrisa and Coleman and on the other by Commander Dalke.
Behind there were five other individuals, four men and three women. One of the women was a redhead with a Marine's olive brown uniform on instead of Starfleet standard and with the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel. The second was a human woman, with pale complexion, gray eyes, and short-cut dark hair. The third was another redhead, her long hair rolled up into a bun to be kept regulation, with a Slavic facial appearance and blue eyes. Of the males, one was dark-haired, another had red-hued brown hair, the third had an auburn shade of hair, and the fourth, the tallest one, having sandy-blond hair; all four having their hair cut in similar military style.
Leyton ordered the assembled to be at ease. "Captain Parker, I hope your new assignment is coming along well?"
"We'll be ready to head out by the end of next week, Admiral. I'm only waiting for the rest of my crew."
"You'll have them on time," Leyton promised. "Well, Captain, I'm sure you know Admiral Pressman?"
"Admiral." Parker nodded and accepted Pressman's offer of a handshake. "I've never met you, but I served under Captain Rosenbaum on the Persephone and he spoke highly of you."
"Good to hear. Captain, we're here because you're going to be assigned directly to my command in Special Operations."
"Special Operations?" Parker crossed his arms. "Sir, is that so wise? Enterprise is going to attract a lot of attention wherever she goes."
"Not all special ops are cloak and dagger, Captain," Pressman reminded him. "And you mistake the name. While you may be called upon to perform the classical definition of special military operations, the Special Ops division of Starfleet also handles non-conventional operations like diplomatic escort. You might say you'll be called upon to present the flag wherever we need it. And you won't be doing it alone. Enterprise will be the central vessel in a division of ships. These are your new peers." Pressman brought forward the man with light-brown hair. "This is Captain Patrick Phillips, the commander of the Intrepid." The two captains exchanged handshakes. "Captain Mark Berger, U.S.S. Minneapolis." Again Parker shook hands. "Captain Drake Irvine, U.S.S. Hood."
"Captain Irvine, it's been a long time." Parker looked up at the three inch-taller Englishman, exchanging handshakes with him.
"Captain Parker, it is my pleasure." Drake stepped aside and began to shake hands with the others.
The other officers came by and more handshakes were exchanged. "Captain Marina Lenarova, U.S.S. Great Lakes, Commander Christopher O'Farrell, U.S.S. Avenger, and Commander Misty Greene, U.S.S. Valiant."
When the naval officers were by, it was the Marine's turn. Parker now got a better look at her and noticed her nose ridges and earing; she was a Bajoran. He had met a few before. They were a religious, spiritual people on the other end of the quadrant, near the Cardassian border. The Cardassians had subjugated them and occuped Bajor for decades, raping worlds held by the Bajorans for resources for their war machine until the Federation expelled them ten years ago during the Cardassian War. Bajor had been integrated into the Federation a year later by a plebiscite. It was contested in some regions of the Bajoran Homeworld as a number of religious extremists and xenophobes claimed that the Federation had fixed the vote, or that the vote was tainted by the miserable state of Bajor at the time. There was a more dignified independence movement to give credibility to that latter claim but most Bajorans were content to remain a part of the Federation.
Pressman's voice broke through Parker's deliberations. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Kira Nerys. She's going to command the battalion of Marines assigned to Enterprise and her companion ships."
"Colonel," Parker said to her, offering his hand.
"Captain." Kira's reply was cold and her idea of a handshake very stiff and unfriendly.
"Captain Parker, we'll have your first deployment orders by the end of next week," Leyton promised him. "In the meantime, why don't you get to know each other."
"Of course. I'll be seeing you later, Captain." Leyton walked to the turbolift and was followed by Pressman.


There were two mess halls on the Enterprise. The primary one was near the back of the ship's primary hull about five decks above the navigational deflector. The officer's lounge was closer to the bridge. The lounge attendant was sometimes military and sometimes not. In this case, he was a civilian, a dark-haired man in his early thirties with an accent that sounded Dutch. He was in a long-sleeved jacket and trousers, both the same shade of navy blue, and had a disarming smile as he welcomed Parker at the door. "Captain, a pleasure."
"Yes, Mister..."
"Vanbeggine. My name is Arno Vanbeggine. Please, sit down." Arno showed them to the table. "I wasn't expecting you quite so soon."
"We're just looking for some drinks." Parker walked over to the table and sat down at the head. His four subordinate officers took seats farther down to allow the others to sit. "So, we're going to be a glorified flag-bearer."
"Or so it seems." O'Farrell cracked his knuckles before continuing to speak in his Australian accent. "I wouldn't be surprised if we occasionally get some action though. It's good to know we've got you on our side, Sir."
"And it's good to know you actually know something about me at all," Parker replied with a grin. The others chuckled a little. "Seriously, I never expected to get something like this."
"Of course not." Phillips grinned widely. "Nobody ever expects it."
"Maybe they'll let us take a cruise by the Orions t' scare the piss out of 'em," O'Farrell chuckled.
"Oh no..." Parker shook his head, snickering. "Operations is going to keep me well away from the Orions."
A sly grin crossed Misty's face. "A pity. Shooting up Orion raiders sounds fun."
"That it does!" O'Farrell looked past Berger toward Arno, who was behind the counter. "Say, have any of that good Euro stuff?!"
Razmara looked across the table at him. "Drinking on duty, Commander?"
"Just a bit, not gonna hurt anyone."
Arno came from around the corner with glasses and a pitcher. "This is the finest beer in the entire quadrant," he declared. "It's brewed not too far from where I grew up in Belgium."
"Hmm..."
"I won't be having any," Larrisa said.
Arno looked over the table and Drake turned him down. Razmara also turned down the offer, followed by Dalke and Marina. Kira's refusal was obvious from her failure to pay attention. Misty seemed to think of it for a minute before accepting some. The rest gladly accepted glasses with the rich brown liquid. "If you need anything, I'll be behind the counter unpacking!" He turned and walked away, giving a second look to Larrisa beforehand.
Only Larrisa noticed it since everyone else turned their attention back to each other. Misty spoke first, smiling and joking, "So, O'Farrell, how did a guy with an Irish name pick up such a sexy Australian accent?"
"Earned it, sweetheart. Grew up in Oz. You?"
"Me? I come from the exotic, ice cold tundra of Minnesota."
O'Farrell nodded. Berger looked over at Misty and asked, "From the Twin Cities?"
"Around there."
"I hate to interrupt the chat, but let's get a little business finished first." Parker finished a drink and let it settle for a moment, admiring the rich taste, before he swallowed. "According to the admirals, I'm in charge, but I'll come out and admit right now that I've never been a situation that demanded direct command of several ships. I'm going to be relying on all six of you to make sure that whatever we're sent to do, we do right."
"Of course," Phillips agreed.
The other five commanders nodded in agreement. Parker took a drink before continuing. "I figure that once we're out, we will meet regularly to discuss any particulars of the operations. I don't know if any of you want to bring over all of your command crew, but I was going to recommend we hold large-scale meetings of all command staff, so everyone gets a chance to make their voice heard."
"Not t' bad," O'Farrell agreed. "But, for Miss Greene and I, that's a bit hard t' do. Our command crew makes up about a quarter of our officer complement."
"Well, exceptions can be made." Parker nodded in their direction. "We'll try to get together every couple of weeks or whenever it is deemed necessary. I have a feeling that they're not going to use us as an exclusive diplomatic courier service."
There were nods of agreement all around. "According to Operations, we'll be shipping out at the end of next week," Razmara said. "A couple of VIPs for an initial flight and that's it. Then Pressman decides where we're needed the most."
"Well, that sounds nice and simple." Parker went to speak again when he heard the door to the lounge swish open. The others turned to the door and he turned back as well. Someone had walked in wearing a Starfleet uniform, beige in color and with the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Commander. He looked human but upon a second glance he seemed too pale to be alive. His skin had a slight gold texture to it. The precision with which he stood at attention was inhuman and there was not a single hint of emotion on his face. "Commander?"
"Captain Parker, may I presume?" The commander's voice was flat-toned and constant, not betraying any kind of emotion.
"Yes?"
"I am Lieutenant Commander Data. I have been assigned to the Enterprise as your Operations Officer."
"Data..." Parker nodded slowly. "Yes, I've heard of you. Artificial android. Well, come, take a seat." He showed Data to the table and offered him the empty seat beside Razmara. "These are..."
Without hesitation Data rattled off the name, rank, and position of each occupant at the table. Everyone stared at him as he did this while Parker watched, not certain on whether he should be amused or irritated. "Well, Commander, it's good to see you're so well-prepared," Parker said, finally deciding to remain neutral in tone. "We were just discussing command issues. And since you're here, I might as well assign you to the task of coordinating command-level meetings in our division. Do you see a problem in this, Mister Data?"
"Not at all, Sir. It is nominally the place of the ship's operations..."
"Thank you," Parker quickly replied, cutting off Data before he could continue. "Let's move on to other matters."
The conversation re-commenced and it quickly became clear that it was limited in interest to the five commanding officers plus Colonel Kira. Dalke was the first to field a question to Data. "So you're Doctor Soong's creation?"
"I was built by Doctor Soong, yes."
"That's cool." Dalke nodded while taking a drink. "Yeah, I did a couple classes in robotics back in the Academy. Doc Soong's work took up, God, I think it was about twenty, twenty-five percent of the course material."
"Twenty-three point nine four six percent, to be exact."
Dalke nodded in agreement. Coleman and Larrisa exchanged annoyed glances. Razmara remained intent on the conversation and was a bit startled when Data turned to her and asked, "Sir, if I may ask a question?"
"Shoot."
"Your record says that you are half-Vulcan, yet you do not have the posture or behavior that comes from a Vulcan upbringing. How is this possible?"
"Maybe because I didn't have a Vulcan upbringing."
"Fascinating." Data continued processing the larger conversation amongst Parker and the COs while saying to Razmara, "This is the first time I have encountered someone of Vulcan heritage who has not been brought up as one. Considering the rank of your father's family, you are a statistical anomaly."
Razmara's fists clenched. "A statistical anomaly." The tone of her voice was bitter and immediately drew the attention of the other Enterprise officers.
Data did not seem to get the hint. "Yes. According to my research, all human-Vulcan pairings among the Vulcan upper classes have produced children raised as Vulcans. The social conditions that lead to this are complex but..."
"I don't care about the social conditions." The tone had grown nastier.
"Your father Stovuk was the patriarch of a leading Vulcan family. Their estimated material wealth puts them in the top thousand wealthiest families..."
"Data, I don't care!", Razmara muttered harshly.
Data blinked. "Fascinating. I would not have expected you to have absolutely no interest in your place in Vulcan society..."
"Shut up!"
Razmara's shout drew the attention of everyone in the lounge. She didn't really care. She was glaring intently at Data. Her dark eyes and the expression on her face was one of anger and even hate. "Commander Data, you will not bring up my father or his family again, do you understand?!"
"Yes Commander."
"In fact, around me, do not bring up the Vulcans at all." Razmara drew in a breath and rubbed at her head. A small headache began to develop in her forehead. Finally she stood up and went over to the bar, where Arno was still unpacking drinks. She motioned to him and he handed her a glass and took out a bottle.
"Looks like you touched some nerves, eh mate?" O'Farrell smirked at Data. "Gotta be careful, we're not all emotionless like you."
"Chris!" Misty glared at him. "You're being a bit too blunt, don't you think?"
O'Farrell shrugged at that, causing Marina to smirk as well. "Well, Cap'n, what were we talkin' about again?"
Parker sighed and resumed the conversation.


"You must be easier on the android."
Razmara looked up from a glass of light brown tequila. Arno was standing on the other side, looking over a bottle of green liquid. "Easy?"
Arno's head turned. "Yes. He does not understand human emotion very well and is naturally inquisitive."
"Well, he can be inquisitive with someone else."
There was no initial response from Arno. He nodded slowly for a moment and promptly set the bottle on the bar. "So, Commander, what wound did he open?" When Razmara looked at him blankly, Arno added, "He obviously said something that brought back unpleasant memories. What was it?"
"None of your business."
"And the scar on your ear?"
Razmara stared at Arno for a moment and then reached up toward her right ear. There was indeed a scar there, a line of rough and lighter tissue running from the front-edge of her ear tip to about a quarter of the way to the back. "An accident."
"It looks like someone tried to cut it off." Arno picked up the bottle of tequila on the bar and poured a little more into Razmara's glass. "Go ahead, take another drink. Taken in moderation, the alcohol will ease the pain... and make it easier for you to speak of what's in your heart."
Razmara smirked and took a drink. She set the glass back down, a little hard, and her hands clenched into fists. "What does it matter?"
"Well..." Arno put his hands together on the table. "I'm thinking that a little girl who hates herself, or should I say her Vulcan side, might try something so naive as to mutilate her ears to look human." When Razmara didn't respond, Arno asked, "What do you have against Vulcans? Why do you abhor them?"
"Because they were trying to hurt me and my mother," Razmara hissed. She grabbed the glass and took the last gulp left in it before slamming it back down. "Between what that Vulcan bastard did to my mother and what his bastard family did to mine, I think I have a lot of good reason to hate Vulcans. The fact that I can tolerate their presence is a big concession on my part."
Arno took the glass and went to put it away. "Well, I can't make you tell me the rest. But if you ever want to...." He looked back over from his receptable for dirty glasses and found that Razmara had already walked out of the lounge. He sighed and went back to work.


The officers had adjourned from the lounge and were heading back to their various ships. Arno watched them go while finishing on setting up a shelf with non-alcoholic drinks. He put the last keg in place and turned to find Data standing at the bar. "Mister Data, what can I get for you?"
"I do not require anything for sustenance."
Arno nodded in understanding. "Yes, you are right. So, it must now be asked, why did you come to me?"
"I am afraid I upset the Commander by mentioning her Vulcan heritage. I did not know she was so upset with her people."
Arno nodded. "Did you overhear her speaking with me?"
"Yes. I have very effective auditory reception, with an effective..."
Data stopped talking when Arno raised his hand. "First things first, Commander Data. That gets annoying."
The android seemed perplexed. "What does?"
"You were about to rattle on with the precise nature of your hearing. You don't have to give a precise answer for every single question you're asked." Arno pulled a stool up and sat down on it. "Sit down, Commander, and let me explain a few more things to you."
Data slid right into a chair on the other side. Arno leaned over the bar. "You have to work on your people skills. Learn to read the emotions of others."
"I cannot. I do not have emotions."
"Well, we'll work on that. But the case in point..." Arno pointed over to the table. "Commander Razmara gave you a number of warnings that you were treading in the wrong direction. And you didn't bother to pick up on those warnings. That is why she's mad at you, Commander. You kept prattling on, digging in, and you hurt her. You brought back painful memories."
Data seemed to consider Arno's words for a moment. "I cannot see any problem in what you have said. I did not understand the Commander's feelings when they were quite obvious. Will you help me learn to read human emotions better, Mister Vanbeginne?"
"Of course. And..." Arno clicked his tongue and pointed at Data. "Call me Arno."

[Zaia]

Oooh, there's a sub/dom thing in it AND an Aussie....that's all I need to come back to this story.


Seriously, though, I don't normally read this kind of fic, but I honestly really like this one. Something about the way the characters interact--when it isn't so damn late, I'll see if I can explain it better, but it's damn good. Compelling. I look forward to more of it.

[Kuja]

Pleasure alone is not a good reason to live. It is transitory. If it is experienced too often, it's effect is lost. The extraordinary becomes ordinary. I wanted to experience what you knew. I wanted to work and toil, to suffer pain, so that I could feel the same about pleasure as you did. And after coming to Earth, being schooled, and entering Starfleet Academy, I came to understand life like no Edo knows it. Life was never meant to be a short-term thing filled with pleasure and ended by execution. There are so many worlds to find, things to see and do, and you can't do that if you remain an ignorant member of idyllic society, spending each day doing simple tasks and enjoying routine pleasures. You have to push yourself beyond what you are at first. You have to improve yourself. That's why I'm here. I joined Starfleet to better myself, Captain. I joined Starfleet to make myself a better person, and I'm not doing it for my people but for myself. As far as I'm concerned, the Edo don't deserve to better themselves unless they are willing to work for it."

Steve, I like the chapter overall, but I think the quoted paragraph is the best part out of it. You've taken the concept of making yourself a better person and gotten a grasp on it that astonished me.

As to the rest of the chapter, I like your character interactions, particularly the Arno/Data bit at the end. All through Trek I was waiting for someone to say "Keep it simple, stupid!" or something of the like to Data, but they never really did it to my satisfaction. You got it on the second chapter.

I am eagerly awaiting more.

[Steve]

A loud thud echoed in the Enterprise gym and turned a number of heads. Standing at a destroyed punching bag, in olive-colored sports bra and shorts, Razmara howled angrily and turned, bringing up her foot in a roundhouse kick that tossed the ripped-up bag off of it's hook and spilling sand onto the floor.
"Um, Commander..." A young dark-skinned human walked up beside her. "Are you okay?"
"No," Razmara huffed. "This is a cheap piece of crap."
"Ma'am, that one was designed for human use. It wasn't meant for a Vulcan."
The young man grimaced when Razmara's lips curled into an angry snarl. Before she could rant at the enlisted man, Parker walked up behind her. "Commander Razmara, let's go this way."
Razmara bit into her lip. She let Parker put an arm on her bare shoulder and pull her away from the others. When they were a safe distant out of earshot, he turned back to her and crossed his arms. "What was that about?"
"Blowing steam, Captain."
"You looked like you were going to punch that man's head clear off."
Razmara looked down. "Yeah, I suppose I did. But I wouldn't have."
"You know..." Parker took a seat on a bench, prompting Razmara to take the one beside him. "I've been looking at your record recently. Virtually spotless."
"I already know what the blemish is."
"Yes. Your ability to work with Vulcans needs work." Parker noted with amusement Razmara's sudden huff. "A lot of work."
"I've worked fine with Vulcans before, Captain."
"But only when they didn't have anything to do with you. Every time a Vulcan so much as tries to socialize with you, you have a noted tendency to cause fights."
Razmara "harumphed" again. "The Vulcan idea of socializing is to remind me of my blood and try to convince me to live a life of pure logic. They don't take no for an answer and instead press for logical reasons for me to deny being half-Vulcan."
"And do you have any?"
"What do you think?" Razmara crossed her arms over her chest.
"I think you bit Commander Data's head off."
"That'll teach him to pry."
"And you made a scene." Parker sighed and shook his head. "You know, I understand if you have something in your past you'd rather not talk about, but it's not going to do you any good to keep it bottled up inside forever."
"Yes, well, that's my option." Razmara stood up. "Anything else you'd like to say to me, Sir?"
"There is." Parker grinned slyly. "The next time you feel like hitting something that hard, go to a holodeck."
Razmara matched his grin. "Of course, Sir."
Parker stood and watched her walk away for a moment before stepping toward the door and heading out into one of the ship's hallways. He took about five steps before his commbadge beeped. He tapped it. "Parker here."
Data answered. "Captain, a Lieutenant Hamblin has arrived on the bridge and wishes to report to you."
"I'm on my way." Parker took a turn into a turbolift and rode up to the bridge deck. He stepped out onto the bridge and found Data standing near the rear with another, younger man with a tanned complexion. Parker recognized the young man's facial features immediately, even though he'd never met Lieutenant Hamblin before. The name, however, was enough. "Lieutenant James Hamblin Junior?" He offered his hand to the young man.
"Reporting for duty, Captain," Hamblin replied with a definitive Londoner accent. "It's an honor to serve on the Enterprise."
"I feel the same way." Parker allowed himself a grin. "I served for a short time under your father when I was fresh out of the Academy. You look like a chip off the old block."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Chief Navigational Officer, I take it?"
"Yes."
"Good." Parker put a hand on Hamblin's shoulder. "I never got to know Captain Hamblin personally, just by reputation. Going by that alone, well, I'm sure you're going to be a fine addition to this crew."
The young man nodded again. "Thank you, Sir."
"Go ahead and get settled into your quarters. Commander Data?" Parker looked over at the android. "Please show Mister Hamblin to his room."
"Yes Captain."
Data escorted Hamblin off the bridge, leaving Parker alone. He walked up to the command chair and eased himself into it. The viewscreen was offline and most of the stations were disengaged. Even without the bridge being active, Parker felt thrilled just to be sitting in this chair. The captain's chair of the Enterprise; the pinnacle of any Starfleet officer's career. Parker imagined the great commanders of prior Enterprises feeling as he did. Knowing the great legacy they were inheriting and feeling that weight on their shoulders.
Parker stood up again and walked toward the back of the bridge. Stopping beside the tactical station, he looked back over the bridge. He had entered Starfleet because he believed in the Federation and the need to protect it. He had trained as a military officer first and foremost. Yet there was something about the name Enterprise that made it transcend military excellence. The spirit he felt here was probably the same that inspired the motto inscribed on the ship's dedication plaque, a long-standing Starfleet tradition: To boldly go where no one has gone before...
"Exploring? In this ship?" Parker shook his head. Enterprise was built to fight. His assignment wasn't going to be exploration but defense. There was no use thinking otherwise, and Parker even wondered if he was cut out for exploration. Pushing these thoughts aside, he stepped into the turbolift and descended to the next deck, where his quarters were. It was time to settle in.


After working out Razmara was still wound up from Data's unwelcome prying. She washed off and returned to her quarters where she replaced her exercise suit for a flattering blue dress. It was transparent from the mid-thigh down and the top was cut over her chest, revealing some of her cleavage and leaving her shoulders and neck bare.
From there Razmara left Enterprise and ventured out into McKinley's commercial area. Even though it was a military base civilians still lived on station. Some were family members of personnel assigned to the base and with others they worked in the service jobs in the station's restaurants and such.
Razmara's particular destination was a bar in the "south-western" quadrant of the commercial area. It was modeled after an English pub and had some good, non-replicated drinks available. And Razmara felt like drinking a great deal. As for her choice of clothing, she had very little else other than her uniforms and Razmara didn't mind the possibility of male company for the duration of the evening. Anything to get her mind off of what Data had stirred up.
Sitting at the bar, Razmara attracted some immediate attention. A number of the men were eyeing her up from most directions. She ordered a screwdriver and sipped at it when it arrived. For the moment she was content to let the alcohol work it's way into her system and did not return the lustful glances of some of the men in the bar.
Razmara felt a hand touch her left shoulder. "Whoever you are, you'd better remove that before I break it," she muttered with her lips pressed against the glass.
"You haven't changed."
The smooth male voice made Razmara turn her head in surprise. A brown-haired man sat beside her, showing a wide smile. "Jack!" Razmara grinned at her old friend Jack Kelvin. "It's been a while."
"I'll say." Jack grinned at her. "Dressed to kill, Sophia?"
"Just something nice to wear." Razmara turned in her seat to better look at him. "You're doing good for yourself outside of Starfleet. Still in the Merchant Marine, right?"
Jack nodded. "Good money to be made." He waited for her to finish taking a drink. "I could use a good First Mate, Sophia. You'd earn more than what you get in Starfleet."
"I don't think so, Jack." Razmara grinned widely. "I'm not going to leave Starfleet when I just made XO on the Enterprise."
Jack's eyes widened. His face expressed surprise. "Ooh, that's a plum position. Well, congratulations!" He motioned to the bartender. "A martini for my friend, on me."
That drew a giggle from Razmara. "So, is this going to be like the last few nights have been?"
"Maybe." Jack shrugged. "Maybe not. I'd like it if we actually managed some consistancy."
Razmara finished her screwdriver and placed the empty glass on the table. The bartender brought her a martini and took Jack's credit chit. "Consistancy hasn't been our thing since the Academy."
"Never too late to start." Jack chuckled and then lowered his eyes a little. "Then again, I suppose you don't feel the old clock ticking as fast as I do."
"You're feeling old?"
"Aren't you?" Jack looked at her. After a moment he shook his head and sighed. "What am I saying? You look and feel as you did when we graduated. But I do feel old, Sophia. I'm already thirty-four."
"So am I." Razmara sipped at her martini. "If you want to do anything, we have to do it tonight. I've got to officially report to the Enterprise in the morning."
"Are you hungry?"
"Hungry enough to go out." Razmara grinned at Jack. "A sudden date sounds good to me."


Davy Jones' Locker was a popular hangout in McKinley for Starfleet personnel. A three-floored restauraunt and bar owned and operated by a former Starfleet officer, the aptly-named David Jones, it had the customary pool tables, nightly poker games and gambling, and dart boards, plus a sports bar. Over half of the bar's patrons were in uniform and of the rest, almost all were personnel out of uniform.
Misty and O'Farrell were among those in uniform, sitting at a table with Phillips and Commander Dalke, each in civilian clothes consisting of collared shirts and trousers. Each had a drink of varying amounts of alcohol and were laughing at each other's stories of their past experiences. As Misty finished recounting a humorous moment from her Academy days a redheaded woman walked up to the table, wearing the red of command and the rank pips of a Lieutenant Commander. "Janey!" Misty gestured to her and caused the others to turn to face the newcomer. "Gentlemen, this is my executive officer and helmswoman, Commander Jane April."
A chorus of greetings came from the other three. "Any relation to Robert April?", Phillips asked.
"Oh, no." Jane slid into a free seat. "Commander, just coming to tell you that Lieutenant Meyers finished that little fixup you asked him to do."
"Thank you, Janey. So, what do you want to drink?"
"I'm technically on duty, Commander," Jane reminded her.
O'Farrell laughed aloud. "Hey, this is the Locker, sweetie. No ranks here!"
Jane cracked a smile at O'Farrell. "Well, thank you for letting me know that, but please don't call me sweetie."
"Whatever you say," came his reply.
"So, Janey, going to sit with us and have a round?" Misty lifted her glass. "Might be our last night."
"I'll think about it, but I promised Lieutenant Meyers I'd..."
"Fred knows what he's doing. C'mon, I'll buy for you."
"Well, in that case..." Jane turned in her chair toward the bar and ordered a Californian wine. The others whistled. "What?" Jane looked at them with bewilderment.
"Wine." Dalke snickered. "Rich girl, huh? Too good for good liquor and beer?"
"My family's middle class, thank you," Jane retorted. "But I spent some of my childhood in Cali and I like this stuff. It's not that expensive anyway. Probably cheaper than a lot of that liquor you like so much."
The others began laughing.


Near the table, Berger was standing at the bar with Zaharia Herzela, ranked Lieutenant Commander and the recently-assigned Chief Engineering Officer of the Minneapolis. A great complication for him since the lovely but shy Zaharia had been his lover for twenty years, before either joined Starfleet. She was a short Trill woman, about thirty-nine years old now with long and rich red hair that went half-way down her back and bright blue eyes. The spots along her hairline and down onto her shoulders gave her an exotic quality even if she was physically just like a human woman.
Both were holding drinks and had been making small talk for most of the evening. "So, what next for us?"
"What next?" Zaharia's eyes sparkled, even if her expression was subdued. She tended to be very withdrawn in public. "I don't understand. We've carried on while posted together before."
"But this is different. Now I'm the CO and you're my chief engineer. It's conflict of interest."
"Don't you trust me to do my job?"
Were it not for Zaharia's withdrawn nature, the phrase would've been said in an stinging, accusing tone. As it was, Berger knew what she was getting at. "Of course. But if we slip up even once, the others won't trust either of us."
Zaharia nodded. She giggled a little and put her arms around his waist. "Oh, come on Mark. You worry too much."
The two lovers stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Berger finally looked past her and noticed Parker entering the Locker with a younger man standing beside him. He was senior lieutenant with a burgundy red service uniform, brown-haired and well-built. Parker zeroed in on Berger and Zaharia and walked up to them. "Mark, Doctor, this is Lieutenant James O'Keefe, the Enterprise comm officer. He just got off the transport."
Berger introduced Zaharia to them and Parker moved on to introduce O'Keefe to the others. "Let's go to our room, Mark," Zaharia said. "There's nothing to do here."
"If you want." Berger took out his credit chit to pay for their tab. It wasn't surprising to him, as Zaharia's shyness made her wary of being in tightly-packed public spaces for too long. He put his right arm around her shoulders, with her left arm on his waist, and the two walked out.


As the night wore on, the group of officers from the Enterprise and her comrades coalesced until they took over an entire corner of the bar. Currently the entertainment consisted of karaoke night, with a Trill couple up on stage singing an old late 20th Century pop tune (and doing so rather badly). Most of those assembled were laughing at the couple, except for Drake. Parker sipped on a glass of tequila. "Still the Stoic, Drake?"
"I just don't find anything funny about them, that's all."
"So, Parker, you've served with Irvine here, huh?" O'Farrell chucked a thumb at the taller man. "Is he always like that?"
"Back in the Academy the running joke was that someone in Heaven got their wires crossed and so Drake was born a Human and not a Vulcan like intended." Parker noticed that slight curve in Drake's face that meant amusement. "And there was a strong belief that there were Vulcans jealous of him. Though few ever had the guts to say those things to the hero of the Academy rugby team."
If Drake was amused or annoyed, he showed neither emotion. Marina, however, seemed quite amused. "At first I did not recognize you, Parker," she said to him in an accent that hinted her Slavic origins, "but I do remember you know. You were the one who was going to bash a Vulcan in the head with a chair leg for picking on your friend."
"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Parker retorted.
"Well, if it means anything, I would have given you Last Rites after the Vulcans were through with you." Marina sipped on a small glass of vodka.
"How reassuring."
A small round of laughter echoed over the table. "What was your non-command specialty, Lenarova?"
"Engineering. I transferred to command after I made full Lieutenant. And your's?"
"I majored in Tactical and minored in Navigation," replied Parker. "Unlike Drake we don't all have rich and powerful noble parents to get the high-quality education for jumping straight into command."
A smirk crossed Marina's face and a number of the other officers laughed once more. Drake remained quite calm when he replied, "So sorry, chaps, that I actually passed at the top of my entry class to make the jump to command training."
Parker sipped at his tequila again. "Now there's the Drake I've been waiting to see again."
After finishing her vodka, Marina asked over the others' laughter, "Drake, why didn't you ever introduce us in the Academy?"
"Because, Marina, Adrian and I didn't know each other then."
"We met on the Persephone," Parker added. "Drake was the operations officer at the time to Captain Rosenbaum, and I was a night watch officer."
"Yes, I always said Adrian was going to be an excellent Captain when he grew up." Again Drake showed that slight curl at the lip that amounted to a smile. "He might look like a refined gentleman now, but when he was young Adrian was well-known for being quite the party animal."
Parker held his glass of tequila up, smirking while shaking his head. "I had my times, I'll confess."
"And ladies," Drake reminded him.
"And ladies," Parker agreed.
Misty leaned forward over the table "And what were they like?"
"Soft, kind, and sweet." Parker took the last gulp from his tequila and poured a little more from the bottle he was sharing with Phillips. "Though there was this one woman I remember from a short time I spent on the Agamemnon. What was her name... Deanna! She was half-Human half-Betazoid, a shrink."
Jane blinked from surprise. "A shrink on a starship?"
"Yeah, uh, research mission or something like that. On the state of our minds while on duty." Parker raised his eyebrows for a moment and recalled just what kind of state of mind he used to have when around her. "She didn't make it in Starfleet so she went into psychology. Her mother's this big-wig Betazoid royal or noble or whatever. And Deanna... she was... well-built, if you get what I mean." Parker's gesturing made it clear just how "well-built" she was.
"And I'm sure you became quite acquainted with that build." Marina smirked. "Maybe some hands-on experience, yes?"
Parker nodded and took a sip of tequila. "Ooh yeah, very well acquainted. Of course, the woman was a bit of a, well, let's just say it didn't work out. I heard she went back home to Betazed and is living the high life as noble."
O'Farrell shook his head in disbelief. "Yer one chance t' be made, and ya blew it!" He guzzled down the last of his beer and slammed the mug down on the table. "She was a Betazoid noble, mate! Ya should've gone for that! Especially if she had big knockers."
Marina and Misty managed the achievement of rolling their eyes in perfect synch. Jane snorted at took a sip of wine while Phillips shook his head. "Nice, Chris."
"Seriously, man, you'd be making a helluva lot more than.... woooh!" O'Farrell had been trying to balance himself with his chair on only two legs. He shifted his weight too far backward and fell over, tumbling out of the chair and... "Fuckin' hell, that hurt my arse!" He scrambled back up while Jane and Drake moved to aid him.
"On behalf of all Australia, I would like to apologize for Commander O'Farrell's conduct," O"Keefe said with mock sincerity. "This is what happens when a man from Oz drinks too much beer and gets pissed."
"Oh, no apologizes are necessary," Marina assured him. "He has been very entertaining." And with that note, Marina began to clap her hands. The others soon joined in the mock applause.
While this occurred, an officer walked up to them, in the uniform of a command officer and with the rank insignia of a Commander. She seemed to be around Marina's height, size, and built, in that gray area between "solid" and "athletic" that gave the impression of physical fitness without actual muscle tone. Her blonde hair was well-kept and tied into an upward pony-tail on the back of her head, keeping the hair from going lower than the nape of her neck. Her baby blue-colored eyes were covered by heavy and well-kept eyelashes. Drake looked up at her and immediately stood up to offer her a seat. "Rosa, why don't you sit?"
"Non, that will not be necessary," Rosaline replied in a French accent that, while noticable, had lost it's thickness over years of English-use. "I am still on duty."
"Nobody's on duty in the Locker, Miss...?"
Rosaline looked over at Phillips. "Je m'appelle Rosaline d'Orvilliers."
"Commander d'Orvilliers is my Executive Officer," Drake explained to the others.
Her blue eyes changing focus, Rosaline looked at Marina, who's smile was perhaps the warmest yet seen by the others. "Bonjour, Marina."
Marina slid back in her chair. "You can have my seat, if you like."
"I will not be here long." Rosaline pulled a PADD from behind her back and presented it to Drake. "Captain, Commander Engasser has finished rebuilding the port nacelle plasma relay. Here is his list of parts needed to begin work on the sensor grid."
Drake took the PADD and plastic writer from Rosaline and looked it over. He signed his name to the bottom and handed it back to her. "There you go, Commander."
"Merci."
Rosaline nodded once more to the rest of them and walked out. "A strict professional." A mirthless smile crossed Drake's face. "My last XO couldn't stand me. Rosa, however, is a perfect fit."
"I would say, Drake."
Jane finished a glass of wine and reached to pour the last few ounces out of the bottle she'd bought. Turning to face Marina, she asked, "So, I take it you two know each other as well?"
"Rosa and I served together about fifteen to twenty years ago," came the reply, in Marina's characteristic Slavic voice. "We were junior officers in the Engineering department of an explorer ship, the Stargazer. It was not an enjoyable posting. We were in unexplored space out past the Ferengi and Thallonian frontiers for three years straight and our captain was a better explorer than commanding officer."
"And he was?"
"A Frenchman, or so he said. Jean-Luc Picard. Of course, Rosa took to telling me and as many others as she could that Captain Picard was as French as a scone." Marina put her hands together on the table. "Picard was not a bad man, he was a good philosopher and very intellectual, but he was not a military man. He would try to negotiate too often and a number of my comrades paid the price for that. He eventually was transferred back to Earth as a desk admiral in the Exploration Department after he got the Stargazer shot up by Ferengi raiders."
"And Rosa is quite right about him," Drake noted. "His name is French and he comes from a region of France and a French family but Picard is, culturally speaking, English. That entire area of France was depopulated during the Third World War and drew English immigrants across the Channel during Reconstruction."
"Okay, that's enough history for one night." Misty let out a groan. "The hangover tomorrow's going to be bad enough already."
Jane looked across the table at her. "Drink too much, Misty?"
"Oh yeeeaaah."
"Well, it is getting late." Drake steepled his fingers together. "Perhaps we should retire for the evening?"
There were nods of assent and the gathered quickly disbanded back to their quarters and ships.


Razmara and Jack had finished dinner and Jack insisted on showing her to her room on the station. They entered together, Razmara going first. "Please excuse the mess." She gestured toward the open containers with personal belongings, clothes, and a few other items. "Tomorrow I'm moving onto the Enterprise." She walked over to her living room and tossed her entry card onto a nearby table before she sprawled out on the couch. "Sorry it's not any bigger. The best I could afford on my salary."
"Oh, big enough." Jack walked around. "At least you have two bathrooms and some good furnishing."
"And what did you manage, Mister Merchant Captain?" A sly grin crossed Razmara's face. "A luxury suite?"
"Of course not," scoffed Jack. "It'd be a waste of money for one person. I have a suite just like this one about five decks up, in C quadrant."
"But you could have afforded better?"
"Of course." He picked through a box, looking at a framed picture of Razmara as an adolescent with mother and grandmother. "If I'd known you were here I would have rented a two-room suite and offered you one of them."
"Oh. I get a seperate room." Razmara grinned widely. "How thoughtful of you. Here I thought you'd want to keep me in your's."
"Well, wouldn't want to force the issue." Jack picked up another picture showing a teenage Razmara with a young man. Her hair was longer in the picture and she was in the provocative clothing that one would expect rebellious teenage girls to wear. Razmara saw him looking at it and glared at him. He noticed it and put the picture back. "How is old Brad?"
"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him since the time my grandfather died." Razmara frowned. "Not that I care. Last I heard of him, he found a wife who was into his demented tastes."
"Ah." Jack put the picture down. "Well, you always did talk about how you were different in your youth. And I was never one to pry." He walked over to her and sat beside her on the couch. Both could feel an energy begin to build in the air between them. A need for one another, an irresistable attraction.
When he could no longer resist, Jack pulled closer to Razmara. A grin began to cross his face and that was all she had to see. Razmara did not hesitate to move over toward Jack and press her lips against his. This was how it usually happened. They would meet somewhere, they would have dinner, go home and have sex; when morning came one or the other would be gone. But the only regrets they had about these meetings was that they didn't have more time with each other.
While they kissed Jack reached around Razmara's sides and pulled down the zipper that held her dress top on. The bodice-piece fell away from her and Jack discarded it, freeing Razmara's breasts. Razmara embraced Jack closely and they continued to kiss while Jack rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. She whispered "Don't stop" into his ear, prompting Jack to continue undressing her while Razmara pulled his shift off.


Parker was only half-sober when he stumbled into his quarters on the Enterprise. Though most of the crew had not officially moved aboard yet, he and a number of the others had decided to save money and sleep in their assigned quarters. Currently his quarters were a mess, as he had spent most of the past two days looking over the information on the ship and getting to know it's capabilities. It would have been so much easier for Parker if he had commanded the ship on shakedown trials, but those had been performed by the ship's original CO, Captain Harburton, who had afterward transferred planetside to be with his ailing wife and family.
First he slipped off his uniform; second Parker slipped on his sleeping clothes and made a final check of his things and his schedule for the next day. Another staff meeting, the arrival of the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer, and the final checks to ensure the ship had been fully stocked by the Quartermaster. After he finished looking it over, Parker brushed his teeth and slid into bed. He opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of dark red Pacifican whiskey; he poured about an ounce into a glass on his nightstand and put the bottle back. Closing his eyes, Parker downed the ounce of liquor with a single gulp. It burned it's way into his stomach while Parker set the glass down and rubbed his chest. With his nightcap finished, Parker slipped under the covers and whispered, "Lights off", prompting the computer to turn off the lights and plunge his quarters into darkness. Sleep came soon thereafter.


Open Space, The Triangle Region, Near the Romulan-Federation Frontier
19 May 2368 Earth Standard Time


A trail of leaking gas and debris was spilling from the wounded port side of the U.S.S. Equinox. The crippled Nova-class explorer ship twisted in space away from her attacker, a sleek and deadly Romulan Bird-of-Prey. Her aft phaser away lashed out at the Bird-of-Prey while it turned back toward the Equinox.
A flight of quantum torpedoes erupted from the Equinox's bow launcher toward a second foe moving in to attack her: a Romulan cruiser-type Warbird. The torpedoes battered the cruiser's forward shield and gave her commander pause in his maneuvers. As Equinox's forward phasers cut into those weakened shields, the Bird-of-Prey's own torpedo launcher tossed out a plasma torpedo. It impacted with the Equinox's port hull and nearly tore the ship in half.
The explosion caused structural damage within the ship and devastated the Equinox's bridge. Damaged bulkheads fell and electrical fires erupted from the sparks of damaged consoles. Fuses blew in turn and many of the consoles shut down around the bridge crew, or more importantly what was left of it.
Captain Ransom and Lt. Commander Burke, the Equinox's senior officers, were both dead; the ranking officer left on the bridge was the ship's tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Sharon Carter. Carter's red hair, normally shoulder-length and maintained in a bun, was disheveled and her face visibly coated with sweat. She slammed down on her controls trying to trigger the weapons, but the circuit had been broken. She cursed profanely at the dead console.
Nearby was one of the few consoles still working; Sensors. It was occupied by a Trill Lieutenant named Jadzia Farrelis, a dark-haired woman only a few years out of the Academy. As Communications had apparently gone out, the computers rerouted the signal to Jadzia's console. "Commander, they're signalling a surrender demand!"
Carter looked back at the viewscreen and saw the Romulan cruiser looming on the screen. It stabbed at her crippled warship with it's disruptors, as if to remind Carter that she was helpless. She gripped her console and turned to the Ensign at Communications. "Did we get a signal out?"
The Bolian turned and nodded. "I think so. They were jamming us but Romulan electronics aren't very sophisticated. I sent it along some frequencies they aren't supposed to be capable of reaching."
"Then let's hope you're right." Carter looked back to Jadzia and wiped some of the sweat from her forehead, pushing aside strands of hair. "Go ahead, signal our surrender after you set the auto-destruct to blow in five minutes.
The Trill woman swallowed and gave a stiff nod. She brought up the destruct sequence and the computer requested ID. Carter gave her's and her code; the two Lieutenants who were still alive on the bridge did the same. The computer immediately began the auto-destruct. With this process started, Jadzia signaled a surrender to the Romulans.
Carter had very little time to consider her actions. Within ten seconds she and the entire bridge crew were snatched away by Romulan transporters. They materialized in a cargo bay. Shortly other Starfleet personnel did. Grim-faced Romulans holding disruptor rifles stood at close watch while others, holding medical kits, stormed in and began finding the critically wounded. The surviving medical crew of the Nova aided them in trying to keep alive as many as possible.
The sequence of events was so fast that Carter could hardly believe this was happening. Now that the adrenaline of battle was starting to wear off, she tried to think of the occurrences. This was in open space, unclaimed by any of the major stellar nations; why did the Romulans attack them in such force? The Equinox was primarily an explorer and was only armed enough to resist light attack. But she had been unfortunate, attacked within the gravity well of a gas giant they were cataloguing and with a plasma torpedo having knocked out the port warp nacelle in the first volley.
There were many thoughts going through Carter's mind of what might happen. The Romulans, thankfully, were not Cardassians and they had a reputation for treating their prisoners fairly. But at the same time there was an ominous feeling in the air. These Romulans had attacked them in neutral space for no apparent reason. Why? What did they have to gain?
As she felt the ship tremor, the result of the Equinox destroying herself, Carter supposed she would find out soon enough.


McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001


"Bridge to Captain Parker."
Those words, and the loud beep that preceded them, sliced right through Parker's comfortable sleep and awoke him. Grumbling, he reached a hand over and slammed it down on the commbadge on his nightstand. "Yes?", Parker muttered
Now that he was awake, he could recognize the voice on the other end; it was Data. "Captain, I am detecting unscheduled activity in the medical computers. Someone is altering the software and accompanying network protocols."
"Well, ask them what they're doing with sickbay's comm network."
"I cannot, Sir. The computer activity is currently involved in overwriting some of the communication protocols as well."
"Then send someone else."
"There is no one else to send, Sir."
"Fine, fine, I'm on my way." Still grumbling, Parker slipped out of the bed and took about a minute to change into his uniform. He was still half-asleep for most of his walk to the nearby turbolift, which at his order took him to the deck near sickbay. Once there he walked in the port side of sickbay to find it was, as expected, mostly empty. The equipment in the entry room was on standby. However, there was a light coming from the office. Parker walked up to the entryway of the office and saw a man sitting at the desk, drinking something that looked like coffee and running his fingers over the desk monitor's control panel. He was in a blue Starfleet uniform and his commbadge was the insignia of Starfleet Medical. Three gold rank pips were set on his collar. "Um, hello?"
The man looked up and Parker could easily identify his Asian features. He looked to be about 40 with well-combed dark hair and brown eyes. Height-wise he was only about 177 centimeters in height. "Ah, Captain Parker? A pleasure." He stood and offered a hand. Parker walked up and accepted it with a handshake. "Doctor Phong Nguyen. I'm your Chief Medical Officer."
"Doctor." Parker nodded respectfully. "Um, what are you doing here so late? I thought you were arriving in the morning?"
"The Eisenhower put in early." Phong sat back down in his chair and resumed his work. "Any reason you're up at this late hour, Captain?"
"Yes. I have an annoying android as my Operations Officer. An annoying android who never sleeps." Parker frowned. "He woke me up when he detected, well, whatever you're doing to the computers."
"I'm updating and customizing the medical system software," replied Phong. He turned the monitor and pointed out where it was confirming the installation of new programs. "The Enterprise's computers are the latest and greatest but her software is over ten years old. This stuff was made earlier this year by myself and a few friends in Starfleet Medical. It'll maximize the use of Enterprise's computers rather than letting so much potential go to waste."
"Oh, uh, good."
"You don't look so good. Raktajino?" Phong lifted the mug toward Parker.
"Um... no thanks. I think I'm going to go back to bed." Parker turned back toward the door. "See you tomorrow, Doctor."
"Looking forward to it."
There was another nod and Parker went out the door, rubbing his head and repressing the urge to scream at Data.


Unknown Location


After a few hours in the holding bay on the Romulan cruiser, Carter was seperated from her crew. Romulan guards quickly shackled her wrists into a metallic restraint and guided her to a transporter. When the transport was complete she was taken from the transporter room through a handful of bland and unremarkable corridors lined with Romulan markings to a single room. It was an office, or something like it. There was a man at the desk, seated in the shadow of the room. Carter was brought up to a chair and forced to sit by her guards. "My my my, look at what we have here?" The voice seemed wrong for a Romulan.
"What is going on here? Why was my ship attacked?" Carter's voice trembled from an instinctive fear. Something bad was going to happen. That much she could feel from the air within the room. An oppressive, crushing air that made it hard to breathe, or so it seemed to Carter.
"Why are you here? Because we desire information. Why was your ship attacked? Because we desired to attack it." The figure in the chair leaned forward. His pale white skin and the scaley flesh marked him a Cardassian. Carter froze in place. "My name is Madred. I used to be Gul Madred, until the Federation was so kind as to demand my arrest for... what was it again? Crimes against sentient life?" Madred cackled for a moment. "Yes, that was it. Well, fortunately I had my friends and they arranged for me to leave Cardassia. Now, you are, let me see..." Madred looked over a data pad. "Lieutenant Commander Sharon Marie Carter. Tactical Officer on the U.S.S. Equinox, soon to be re-assigned to the starship Enterprise. Approximately one hundred and eighty-one centimeters tall with a mass of about sixty nine kilograms. Red hair and green eyes. Graduated one hundred and sixty-fourth in a class of twenty-five hundred Starfleet cadets in 2355 and with the second-highest score for your specialty in tactical operation." Madred put the padd down. "We do have a rather expansive library of Starfleet personnel records."
Carter did not reply. She watched Madred stand up and walk around the desk. For the first time she could see he was still in a Cardassian uniform. His movements were slow and deliberate as he walked toward her. He continued to face her with his hands behind his back. "We have need of information about Starfleet's patrol routes through this region of space. You were your ship's Second Officer, so it stands to reason that you know them."
"I don't." The words were cold and emotionless and Carter felt like they were being spoken by someone else.
"Well, that poses a problem, doesn't it?" Madred nodded to the guards who had escorted her in. They came up to either side of Carter and pulled her to her feet. She began to struggle when they raised her arms above her head. Above them, suspended was the roof, was a metal frame. Easily ignoring her efforts to pull free, the two Romulans locked her restraints in place and left her hanging about an inch off the ground. Carter winced from the tension growing in her arms. Before it could become painful, a metallic restraint was placed beneath her feet and her ankles locked into it. This did not eliminate the tension in her arms but it did reduce it. Madred removed a blade from his belt.
Unable to move, Carter was helpless to stop Madred from cutting off her uniform. He reached up and cut across the length of her shoulders and arms, causing her uniform jacket to fall free. Her uniform top came next, and after that the bra she wore underneath. Cuts across her the sides of hips and legs removed the bottom pieces of Carter's clothing. When she was completely naked he took a step back, as if to admire his handiwork. "We'll start again in the morning. Good night." He walked around her and led the two Romulan guards out of the office. The lights dimmed.
Now alone, cold, and helpless, Carter began to weep in fear of what he would do next. Her heart quivered from the terror of Madred's reputation as she had heard it. The cold air began to numb her skin while her arms ached from being suspended above her head. It would be quite a long time before Carter fell asleep, tears streaming down her face.

[Zaia]

Ok, so the deal is that I have to remember all the stuff I said to over IM about what I thought, and then write it here so everyone knows? *taps forehead and mumbles to self a la Winnie-the-Pooh* Think, think, think...

Other than the chapter being more like 2 1/2 chapters in length, I think it's excellently done but needs more sex. Was that basically it? I think that was basically it...

[Steve]

Ok, so the deal is that I have to remember all the stuff I said to over IM about what I thought, and then write it here so everyone knows? *taps forehead and mumbles to self a la Winnie-the-Pooh* Think, think, think...

Other than the chapter being more like 2 1/2 chapters in length, I think it's excellently done but needs more sex. Was that basically it? I think that was basically it...

Cute.

[Ghost Rider]

Nice fanfic...Cardies and Romulans, with the Enterprise.

I like that you made the characters actually less of what we've seen from Trek, somewhat a PAD quality but you have a good flair to your own. I hope to see more...but damn the chapters are large.

Now, all you need is some hardcore anal lovin between the Captain, Data and the Vulcan babe...and you're all set to go.

[Frank Hipper]

Good stuff Steve!

Very much enjoyed your take on the Edo, one of those single episode races, you've done a fine and insightful job of begining to flesh them out.

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

That had me laughing, let me tell you! Bwaha!

And the entire "Picard isn't French" conversation was priceless! Picard? A Desk Jockey? Too funny!

I REALLY enjoyed the onimous turn here at the end, keep it coming.

[Soulman]

Excellent story.

[Crazedwraith]

Um, excellant work.
Was that Jadzia ferreli an un-joined dax? Seeing as Curzon's still alive.
Or is Jadzia just a popular name on trill?

[Steve]

Um, excellant work.
Was that Jadzia ferreli an un-joined dax? Seeing as Curzon's still alive.
Or is Jadzia just a popular name on trill?

It's intended to be the real Jadzia from DS9 pre-joining. They never mentioned her original surname AFAIK, so I made on up in a way to make it obvious (Farrelis.... Jadzia was played by Terry Farrell).

[Steve]

McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001


Parker was awake and fixing a cup of coffee at his desk when his commbadge beeped. He reached over on the table and tapped it. "Parker here."
"Captain, Admiral Pressman wishes to speak with you." It was Data. Again. Parker resisted the urge to scream.
"Put him on." Parker looked over at the computer monitor on his desk. The monitor activated and Pressman appeared on it. "Admiral, what can I do for you this morning?"
"Captain, a situation has materialized. You and the senior command officers of your division are to meet with me at 1400 in McKinley's strategic operations center. As of now I'm ordering all Enterprise personnel to report immediately for duty, since you will be departing by tomorrow afternoon."
Parker blinked. "Sir, we're not due to leave for another two weeks. We're still understaffed and..."
"An emergency crew will be provided to you, enough to give you two watches and you will be given sufficient stocks for a single combat sortie. I'm sorry, that's the best I can do. This situation requires immediate attention. Pressman out." The Admiral's image disappeared from the screen.
Parker sat for a moment and then leisurely sipped at his coffee, not bothering to rush. He had six hours in whch to get the others and meet Pressman and he was damned well going to enjoy his coffee.


The clock on Razmara's nightstand was flashing 0803 when Razmara opened her eyes. Surprisingly enough Jack was still in bed with her, laying on his back with her beside him on her side. Razmara reached over to him and began to playfully twirl her fingers through his thick chest hair. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to turn her way. For a moment, Razmara didn't know how to greet him besides, "Good morning", which she said immediately. After he replied, she just went with the default, "I love you."
"Yes, I, uh, guessed that considering how loudly you were screaming last night," he answered, teasing.
Razmara suddenly blushed. "I do not scream."
"Yes you do."
"I... I do not!" Razmara slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Of course, she knew he was right. She did scream when they made love. "Oh God, I scream?", she asked, pretending to be unaware.
"Usually 'Oh God!' or 'Yes!'." Jack seemed to be feigning her voice, saying each quote in a loud, shrill tone in a failed attempt to mimic Razmara's soprano voice. Razmara gasped and slapped his shoulder again. "What? You asked!"
"I did." Smiling, Razmara pressed her lips against his. They kissed for several moments, their arms around each other and their bodies pressed together. When the embrace ended Razmara brought her arms back to the front and pushed his back against the bed, rolling on top of him and sitting up in a convenient position. He sat up and they continued to kiss each other. Razmara began kissing him on the neck, pushing him back down so she could work her way down his chest, brushing his hair out of the way so her lips could touch bare skin and the sensitive flesh of his nipples.
But before they could begin making love there was a beep from Razmara's nightstand. Angrily she rolled off of Jack and with her left hand pulled open the nightstand's upper drawer. Her right hand reached in and pulled out a Starfleet commbadge. She put pressure on the front and activated it. "Hello," she growled. Even as she adjusted herself to a more comfortable position on the bed, she felt Jack's hands move over her back and butt. It felt good, but now her attention was on the voice that came from the badge's speaker.
Somewhat unsurprisingly, it was the bringer of Razmara's woe from the previous day. Data's immediate reply was, "Commander, we have new orders from Starfleet and are due to leave out tomorrow. You need to return to the ship to begin departure procedures."
"What?!"
"I must also inform you have both been called to a meeting with Admiral Pressman at 1400, after which we have twenty-four hours to prepare for departure."
"You have to be kidding." Razmara felt her breathing pick up pace while Jack kissed her on the back. That android is so dead, she thought ruefully.
"I assure you I am not, Commander. I can transmit authorization codes if you desire."
"Data, it was a figure of fucking speech!" Razmara nudged her shoulder back, hinting at Jack to stop. "Listen, I'll be at the meeting. Is there any time the Captain wants me back?"
"I will ask him." There was a short pause, after which Parker's voice could be heard as replying, "1000". Data repeated it and drew an exasperated sigh from Razmara. "Will you need assistance moving your things aboard, Commander?"
"No, Mister Data, I will not. Razmara out." Razmara tossed the commbadge back into the drawer and, for a moment, remained on her belly. She muttered, "I fucking hate that android."
"Twice in one conversation," Jack whistled. Jack put an arm around her and prompted her to turn her head his way. "So, business as usual?"
"Yes, business as usual." Razmara felt a tear come down her face. She had been looking forward to actually spending the morning in bed with Jack, but now that hope was dashed. "Duty calls."
"I see." Jack's expression showed his own disappointment. "Can I at least make you breakfast and help you pack?"
Razmara nodded and kissed him on the lips. "After I get out of the shower, yes."
A fun idea occured to Jack, so he asked, "Can I shower with you?"
"No, Jack. It's not big enough and..." She playfully fingered his chin. "We'd be in there for an hour. So get started on breakfast while I go clean up, okay?" She slid off the bed and walked toward her small bathroom. Jack watched her go, admiring her gorgeous body and feeling very, very depressed.


At 0830, as was her custom while in spacedock, Marina strolled onto the spartan, utilitarian bridge of the Great Lakes. It didn't have the multiple stations or space of the Enterprise's bridge, or even those of the Hood or Minneapolis. If anything it resembled the bridge of the old Constitution-class starship. The command chair was in a central location in what they called the pit. In front of it was the helm and weapons' console, left to right respectively, and ahead of that was, of course, the viewscreen. To the chair's right were the panels for the science/sensors station and Communications. To the left was the engineering station and Astrogation.
Seated in the command chair, Lieutenant Commander Ariel Shaham rose to his feet and loudly declared, "Captain on the Bridge!" The assembled officers stood straight up in proper respect. There was one exception, however, and he was only partly-visible, his head and shoulders stuck underneath the weapons console's side hatch. "You'll have to pardon Lieutenant Dunai, Captain," Ariel said to her. "He's working on the weapons console. Again."
"Ed, can't you get anything right?" Marina asked in exasperation. All she got in reply was a "hmph" sound from Lt. S.G. Edward Dunai, her Chief Engineer. The short man - he was actually about her height at 171 centimeters - was cursing at the ship as was his custom. Great Lakes wasn't new but fortunately she wasn't very old either; she'd been in commission for fifteen years as the first Type III New Orleans-class frigate. The last of that refurbished line had been finished earlier in the decade and the Type Is, past 30 and going on 40 years old, would now be replaced by the newer Steamrunner-class frigates coming into commission. As she was yet so young, Starfleet had been upgrading Great Lakes with new technology after every deployment for the last four years, starting with Marina's first cruise as Great Lakes' CO. "What is the problem anyway?"
"He's just fixing a few bugs in the console system." Standing beside the console was another officer who had just answered for Dunai. He towered over everyone on the bridge, standing at 190 centimeters; more than towering over them he was also much bigger than they were. Robert "Rob" Dalton was frequently compared with a mountain. In his late 40s, a little older than Marina, Dalton had gained his officer's commission after meritorious service in combat against the Cardassians. Sometimes crewmembers called him "Chief Rob" because he still acted like a non-commissioned officer.
"A few bugs is a crossed wire here and there, Rob," Dunai's voice called out from beneath the console. His left hand popped out, palm open. "Hand me that wire clamp, please."
Dalton reached into the tool kit set on the console and handed the clamp to Dunai. "So, what is wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong is you keep fucking with the system, that's what's wrong. You may have been a technician on this thing when it was commissioned, but some of these systems are new and you don't know a thing about how they work. You just can't put..."
Marina looked back to Ariel, or "Arik" as she liked to call him informally. He nodded at her. "Captain Parker signaled earlier. Admiral Pressman's called us to a meeting at 1400 hours."
"I wonder what he wants."
Noticing the contempt in Marina's voice, Arik asked, "Anything wrong?"
"Yes there is, Arik. What's wrong is that we're being assigned to fake escort duty for a glorified flag-bearer. We should be back out by the Triangle chasing down Klingon Birds-of-Prey skipping by the Neutral Zone. I'd even settle for something out by the Cardassians to deal with Tsen'kethi and Breen." Marina sat in her chair with an annoyed expression on her face. "They handed a squadron command and command of the Enterprise over to a man who's never been on anything larger than a cruiser. All because he made the news."
"You have something against Parker?"
"No, not against Parker. He's a good man. Pressman, on the other hand, is a political opportunist."
Their attention quickly diverted to the rising voices of Dalton and Dunai. "Listen, you little brat, I was crawling around Jeffries tubes while you were screwing around at a playground."
"Who's the engineer here, Dalton? Huh? Who's the fucking engineer?! God dammit, just because you played with systems back then doesn't mean you know a thing about how these new ones are supposed to work today." Dunai swore as he apparently hit something and hurt himself. "I told you to stop making these modifications, you big oaf.... wait a minute, is this a doughnut?!"
"Huh?"
"It's a half-eaten chocolate-coated doughnut that looks like it's been here for months! Hell, there are even a few sprinkles left on it."
There was a short blush on Dalton's face which he quickly brought under control. "Give it to me, I'll throw it away," Dalton said to him.
"Or eat it," retorted Dunai. His hand popped out again with a stale chocolate donut, a few red and blue sprinkles left on it. "Take it and then go away and let me finish, please."
Dalton grunted and picked up the thing. "I always wondered where I set this thing down," he mused while walking to the bridge trash receptacle.
"So, 1400 hours." Arik nodded to Marina. "I'll make sure I'm there."


It was past 1100 when Razmara and Parker finished going over preliminary departure protocols. The dockhands were now busy moving torpedoes and other stores onto the Enterprise and the other ships of her group for their "emergency" sortie. Parker was busy getting the other commanders together leaving Razmara to unpack.
She did not feel in the mood to do much unpacking, though, so Razmara instead toured the ship. She went by the gym to see if anyone was inside. That was where she found Larrisa in a karate gi. She wasn't actually kicking or punching at anything, but rather engaging in what looked like t'ai chi, or something similar. Razmara crossed her arms while walking up to her. "Lieutenant?"
Larrisa did not reply at first. She finished a movement of her arms before clasping them together, slowly, and bowing to nothing. She turned to face Razmara. "Yes, Commander?"
"What is that? T'ai chi?"
Larrisa shook her head. "It is ihl'Rael. Somewhat like t'ai chi but developed by the Rigelians. It teaches physical and mental discipline, patience, that kind of thing."
"Where did you learn it from?"
"I had a Rigelian classmate in the Academy. She taught it to me." Larrisa was sweating but did nothing to wipe the moisture from her forehead. "It is very demanding."
"You look like you're doing it well."
To Razmara's surprise, Larrisa laughed harshly. "No, I do not. I am terrible at ihl'Rael. I would be laughed out of any Rigelian military school, or so Espera told me."
"Espera being your roommate?"
"That and more." Larrisa grinned sheepishly. "She was from one of the communal agrarian clans. Like me, it was her first time off her homeworld, so we bonded very closely."
"Ah." Razmara nodded, not seeking to probe deeper. "So, if you do it badly, why do it at all?"
"Because it helps my discipline." Larrisa finally deigned to pick up a towel. "It gives me an outlet for my lu'vreyko."
"Lu... what?"
Larrisa sat down on a nearby bench, prompting Razmara to do the same. She seemed to be struggling with something. "It's very hard to translate the term from Edo into English. The closest I can come is Great Heart-Fire and that doesn't really do it justice. It's a term that my people use for expressing the urge to be pleasured."
"So doing this is an outlet for your..."
"Oh, not in that way." Larrisa scratched at an ear. "Other races do tend to mistranslate lu'vreyko as meaning the Edo sex drive, but it's not that. It represents an energy within us that must be expended. According to our mythology, or religion if you will, the Edo were once like the other races of the galaxy. We were violent, brutal, and unkind to one another. This is because we did not expend our energy in kind purposes and so we lived lawless lives. Then the Gods came and brought us law, or so the teaching goes. And that is when the Edo became the people they are today. The Gods showed us how to expend our energies with pleasure so that we no longer needed to harm one another. And they made our laws punishable by death so that they would be followed without question. The first Conclave enforced these laws. Those who broke them were either killed immediately or banished, since in those days we did not inhabit the entirety of our homeworld." Larrisa shrugged. "And that's how we got to the condition we're in today."
Razmara slowly nodded. "So your people became hedonists because they were violent psychopaths?"
"Maybe." Larrisa grinned and shook her head. "The truth is... I don't believe in the Gods anymore. I know they're just powerful beings and not actually divine. This may all be myth, who knows, we might be a transplanted colony of humans with a few alterations on the inside to make us different." The two women laughed for a moment. "Since coming to Earth, and coming to Starfleet, I've turned my back on all of that. But even with that done, I still feel this restless energy build up within me. So I took up ihl'Rael as a way to give outlet to it. You may not believe me, Commander, but I put my career above everything else, including my own pleasure."
"On the contrary, Lieutenant, I do believe you." Razmara swallowed. It was hard to say that the Edo were any different, as she had just spent the night letting out some of her own pent-up needs. "Tell me one more thing. What was up the other night?"
"As I told Captain Parker, I was indulging." Larrisa looked down. "I really don't..."
"I know it's not directly our business, but Larrisa, I want to know something." Razmara drew in a breath. "Did you enjoy being tied up and helpless?"
Larrisa's expression became bewildered. "Well, um, not at all."
"Then why did you do agree to it?"
"To be frank, it was the only way to get pleasured as greatly as I wanted to," replied Larrisa. "And I only consented to being tied up when they promised that they would go no further."
"So it didn't improve your, um, experiences by being helpless?"
"Of course not. Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's just that I wanted to be sure." Razmara scratched the back of her neck. "I knew a few people when I was younger, they were into the bondage scene. They loved being tied up for sex. Some even took pleasure in being stretched or hurt. Each of them had mental, um, problems I suppose. They weren't necessarily crazy, but they had severe trauma and they were in many cases without a bit of self-esteem. Not a good thing for a Starfleet officer. I wanted to make sure you weren't suffering from that."
Larrisa nodded and agreed, "Of course not." She looked down at a watch on her wrist. "Commander, I'm sorry to go, but I have to wash up and meet Doctor Nguyen in sickbay. Another physical or something like that."
Razmara stood up and nodded. "Yes, well, I have to be going too." She walked toward the door while Larrisa picked up her towels and such. Before she got through the door, she turned back. "I look forward to speaking with you again, Lieutenant."
"Of course, Commander." Larrisa nodded and watched Razmara walk out.


Parker and Razmara walked side by side down the corridors of the Akira-class Minneapolis. The other commanders had been easily alerted to Pressman's call for a meeting at 1400, but Captain Berger had not answered his personal comm. The duo had walked over to the Minneapolis and boarded her. In front of them was Commander Sebastian Breit, a stocky German who acted as the ship's executive officer, who was leading them to Holodeck 3. The holodecks were now the preferred means of recreation on most ships in the Federation. Using transporter and replicator technology tied into sophisticated computers, they were capable of creating realistic, life-like illusions made of light and tractor beams.
The Holodeck was closed when the trio arrived at it. Breit gave the command code to open the door. They stepped through the door and into some kind of jungle-like underbrush. When they came out of it, they found an interesting sight; a pair of men and a woman in light armor brandishing swords and surrounded by hulking humanoid creatures with dark green skin, each armed with crossbows and swords. Parker looked closely at one of the men, in a helmet, and recognized Berger.
Nearby was a fire and a large granite slate. A red-headed woman soon recognizable as Zaharia was chained to it by her wrists and ankles, the chains holding her arms over her head. She was also clad in primitive-looking clothes, or really undergarments in this case, as she was wearing two things; a single strap of cloth warapped around her torso that crossed over her chest to cover and support her breasts and a loin-cloth that left her hips bare and only covered more private areas with strips of white cloth that descended half-way between her knees and ankles. One could easily make out the lines of spots on her body, from her ankles to her forehead. Parker said nothing while Razmara managed a "What the hell?".
Two of the strange creatures hissed and charged at Parker and Razmara. Parker side-stepped his foe and grabbed him from behind after he over-lunged, tossing the holo-creature to the ground. Breit come up beside it and pressed his foot down on it's throat, choking it. Razmara made a similar maneuver, just that she chose to grab the creature's right arm. She twisted it out of alignment, breaking the creature's bone and causing it to drop it's weapon. She used the other arm to punch the creature and knock it away. Razmara scooped up the rapier and looked at Parker, who did the same with his own defeated opponent's weapon. "I can't believe we're doing this."
Parker nodded. "Berger, we've got to talk!"
"Captain, end the program!", Breit shouted.
Berger turned toward Zaharia. "Zaharia, use that Holy Light spell!"
"But it's a Level 9 spell, I'm not going to waste it when you're going to win!"
"Zaharia, if you don't I'm going to have to end the program and then we'll have to go through that whole module all over again!"
Fuming, Zaharia sighed and began chanting something unrecognizable. Parker and Razmara stared as a bright light appeared over her form and suddenly swept across the area in a wave of energy. Each of their foes screeched and disintegrated. Berger and his companion ran up and cut her free while the interlopers looked at each other quizzically. When the last chain link fell away, the slate began glowing red, and fiery letters appeared: "Module Completed." The computer voice asked, "Do you wish to count experience points and treasure rewards now?"
Berger shook his head. "No. End program."
With that, the exotic setting disappeared and was replaced by a pattern of yellow lines over black. "Just what was this all about?"
Chuckling at Razmara's question, Berger replied, "It's a fantasy role-playing game. Good fun, and..." He patted his stomach. "Keeps this nice and flat."
"A role-playing game?"
"Yes. Oh, let me introduce Lieutenant Commander Katherine Hall, my Ops Officer, and Lieutenant Martin Hall, the ship's weapons officer."
The other male, dark-haired, stepped up and shook Parker's hand, followed by the fully-clad woman, who was about half a foot shorter than Martin with shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair. Martin was thinner than Berger, possessing a wiry frame, while Katherine or "Kathy" for short looked a bit more filled out. "Pleased to meet you, Captain Parker." The voice was definitely that of an Englishman, but Parker thought he detected a bit of Virginia to it.
"Yes, pleased to meet you," Kathy added. Her own voice was distinctly North American and with a fuller hint of Virginia.
"So, what are you four doing in that get up?" For the first time Parker could get a good luck at his peer's costume. It was a chain-mail shirt over a leather jacket, with what looked like cow-hide trousers. Lieutenant Hall was shirtless, though he wore metallic shoulder guards and had a large plate that covered the upper half of his torso. Commander Hall, however, was clad in a one-piece blue garment under her light metal breastplate. Her arms were fully covered save for her hands. There was a band on her head that held her hair in place and, for some reason Parker was not sure of, a harp strapped onto her back. Their weapons suddenly disappeared with the rest of the program; Berger's, oddly enough, was still there.
"I'm a fighter-class character," Berger replied, as if he expected Parker to know what he was talking about. "Generall all-around good combatant. Martin's a fighter too, but he carries heavier weapons and stuff because he focused more of his stats on strength and all that. Well, in the game mechanics at least."
Parker, for his part, did not show the annoyance he felt. He didn't begrudge Berger and the others their hobby, but it seemed rather... overbearing. "Ah. And the sword?"
"That's real." Berger patted it's hilt and put the other hand on his waist-held scabbard. "I'm a bit of a sword collector."
"And what about you?" Razmara looked at Zaharia as she walked up to Berger and crossed her arms irritably. "What are you? The team's sex toy?"
Zaharia flashed an angry glare at Razmara. "Very funny. Actually, my real costume is a lot more modest than this." She pointed to a pile of folded clothing in the corner. "Just that as a part of the plot, I was captured by the Orcs to be given as a virgin sacrifice to their dark gods. And when you sacrifice a virgin you strip her down nearly naked because, well, the game was designed by horny geeks so what can I say?"
"Ah. So if the game designers are geeks, what are you?", asked Razmara.
"Duh. I'm a geek too!" Zaharia giggled. "I've been gaming since my parents first moved to Earth when I was 10."
Berger slipped a hand over Zaharia's waist. "Yeah. I first met Zaharia in a gaming session when we were teenagers. Love at first sight."
"Yeah, uh huh." Razmara rolled her eyes. "Virgin sacrifices."
"Well, the monsters didn't know I'm not really a virgin." Zaharia's eyes twinkled mischievously. "In real life and in game. Y'see, during an earlier game I took...."
Parker immediately cut her off. "That's really not necessary. Captain, Pressman wants to see us today at 1400 on the Starbase. Given that it's 1220 right now..."
"An hour to wash up and get into uniform. Perfect." Berger kissed Zaharia on the cheek. "Go ahead and compile our stat boosts with Martin, Kathy, Zaharia. I'll see you later."
Zaharia nodded and Berger walked out with Parker and Razmara. Breit followed them all, taking one last longing look at Zaharia before moving on.


Unknown Location


When Carter awoke she found herself unshackled and seated in a chair, wearing a simple cloth robe of brown color. It was a Romulan garment, shaped like a vest with a dress bottom attached. The vest bared Carter's muscle-toned arms and some of her shoulder and neck area. The dress left her legs below the midway-point of the thighs visible.
She was facing the desk. Carter looked closely and noticed Madred eating what looked like meat and a vegetable side. He finished chewing and looked up. "Oh, good morning." He pushed the plate aside. "Well, young lady, are you ready to answer some questions now?"
Carter nearly replied and bit her tongue. She recalled the Advanced Survival course she had taken in Command School concerning capture and regretted having spoken to him the previous night. "Carter, Sharon Marie. Lieutenant Commander. Serial Number 499230199 slash B9."
"Oh, how dreadful. You seem to think you're a prisoner of war." Madred shook his head. "Sorry, Commander Carter, but as there is no state of war between the Romulan Empire and the Federation you are not subject to the protections of the Solaran Conventions. Now, please state the established patrol routes of all Starfleet vessels in the Triangle region."
"Carter, Sharon Marie. Lieutenant Commander. Serial Number 499230199 slash B9."
There was a sigh from Madred, like he was disappointed. "Very well, I was hoping to avoid this difficulty." He brought out a control device. "We took the liberty of implanting a device in you last night. Marvelous little piece of technology. The Romulans I work for are so determined to avoid being detected that they designed a pain-giving implant composed entirely of materials found naturally in the bodies of most sentient species. On command it actually dissolves itself and mingles into the body, undetectable. As if it were never there."
Carter drew in a breath when his finger pressed down on the button. The sensation was sudden and shocking. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire. Carter screamed and began to twitch, her body's natural reflexes trying in vain to end the pain as if movement could do so. After about five seconds Madred lifted his finger from the button and the pain subsided. Carter gasped for air and slumped over in the chair. He observed her for about twenty seconds before again saying, "Please state the established patrol routes of all Starfleet vessels in the Triangle region."
After drawing in another breath, Carter's reply was also the same as before: "Carter, Sharon Marie. Lieutenant Commander. Serial Number 499230199 slash B9."
Madred's finger again pressed on the control. Carter's agonized scream echoed in the room as she writhed about in the chair. "I see this is going to take us some time." Madred counted to fifteen and let go of the button. While Carter recovered he wistfully said, "You might as well tell me now. The longer we go, the more pain for you."
Carter resisted the urge to curse at Madred. That wasn't supposed to be done. Anything other than the customary answer would be seen as sign of weakness. She repeated her name, rank, and serial number.
Suffice to say, her answer was unsatisfactory.


McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001


The strategic operations center on McKinley was a massive chamber, large enough to actually contain a Defiant-class starship. At least four admirals of varying rank were present on a number of the levels, responsible for coordinating deployment orders to the starships and Marine divisions in the field. Multi-leveled, the center was filled with operators going over data culled from standard patrol scans and intelligence operatives to formulate a constant picture of the currently known activities of every star-faring power in the Alpha and known Beta Quadrants, which was presented on the massive main screen.
Pressman was on the upper level in a conference room when the assembled officers arrived. Parker had not yet met the XOs of the Avenger and the Intrepid, and was introduced to them upon arrival; Lt. Commander Natasha Yar and Commander Diane Howard. The former was a Caucasian woman with short-cut blonde hair and brown eyes and the latter a dark-haired Englishwoman; both looked remarkably fit and were about the same height, build, and complexion. With them was the Wing Command Officer of the Intrepid, Commander Garrett Petersen, a stocky New Yorker with well-combed brown hair.
Some initial introductions took place. Pressman waited politely for them to finish before calling the attention of the dozen assembled officers to the table. He sat at the head of the table while the COs took the right side and the XOs the left. Kira sat with the COs, beside O'Farrell, while Petersen took a seat by Tasha. "Ladies and gentlemen, a situation has developed in the Triangle," he began, referring to the region of space bordered by the Federation, Klingons, and Romulans and neutralized by the same; in it's central sector was the notoriously-failed "Planet of Galactic Peace" called Nimbus III. He hit a button and a holographic starmap appeared above the table; the Triangle was represented by violet and the Federation, Klingons, and Romulans by blue, red, and green respectively. The lights in the room dimmed appropriately causing the light from the holograph to fill the room, casting white dots and the conflicting colors on everyone. Pressman touched another button and highlighted a sector of the Triangle, nearly equi-distant from the Romulan and Federation frontiers. A star lit up. "About ten hours ago, our border stations received a distress signal from the starship Equinox, on a standard patrol of the Triangle. According to the signal she dispatched, Equinox was under attack from Romulan warships, including at least one Warbird of cruiser-class." Pressman put his hands together and let the officers present digest the news. "The Romulan Ambassador has so far denied his government's involvement and insists it is the work of pirates. We believe, however, that Equinox was attacked because she had the potential to have spotted covert, and illegal, Romulan activites in the Triangle."
"What kind of activities, Admiral?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. Either way, your mission will be to track Equinox's course and find her and any surviving crew. If at all possible, find out what the Romulans are up to."
"Why us?" Phillips now spoke up. "There have to be ships closer."
"There are, but most are older vessels and have been out on patrol for months. Your crews are fresh and your ships are at one hundred percent. Besides, if it is the Romulans, they'll be keeping a close eye on our local ships. They'll see us coming. They won't see us coming if it's you." Pressman put his hands together on the table. "And on top of all that, the Enterprise was built for just this sort of thing. Nothing shows our resolve, or our anger, more than the Enterprise barreling in at red alert."
"Where do we start?"
"System R4392," came the reply, and Pressman's finger pointed to the lit-up star. "That's where we pinpointed the Equinox's last transmission. You'll enter the Triangle by way of Radcliffe's Nebula." Another indicator lit up. "It'll mask your approach until you clear the nebula." Pressman hit a button and the holographic projector turned off. "The dockmasters will ensure your ships have more than enough provisions for this mission by this time tomorrow. All appropriate intelligence will be made available to you. You depart tomorrow at 1600. That is all."
The assembled command officers filtered out, with the exception of Parker. He watched as Pressman finished restoring the lights. "Sir, my chief weapons officer still hasn't arrived yet."
"There's a good reason for that, Captain." Pressman turned back. "Commander Carter was on the Equinox."
Parker took the news well. He nodded stiffly. "I see, Sir. I'll find someone suitable to man weapons then." He turned away from Pressman and walked to do the door.
"Captain, I hear you served with Commander Carter at one time?"
Parker turned back to face Pressman. "Yes, Captain. About eight years ago, when I was executive officer on the Yamato. She was the second watch's weapons officer."
"How well do you know her?"
"Enough to know she's one tough lady."
Pressman nodded stiffly. "I hope you're right, Captain. Odds are, she'll be needing that toughness when the Romulans get started on her."
Parker stopped and made a complete term. "Sir, if I may note something... I've read Terise LoBrutto's essays on the Rihannsu. They don't seem like the kind of people to torture prisoners for fun."
His remark was met by a scoff. "Terise LoBrutto," Pressman began, "was compromised by her work, Captain. She's not an objective viewpoint on the Romulans." The emphasis on "Romulans" seemed unnecessary to Parker, or perhaps as a retort for his use of their true name. "If she's right, why would they attack a science ship in open and neutral space?"
Though he wanted to, Parker couldn't immediately answer. "That's what I'm going to find out, Sir."
"Just be careful, Captain. We wouldn't want to lose the Enterprise to the green-blooded bastards."
Parker didn't reply to Pressman this time. He simply walked out.


Unknown Location


Carter writhed about the metal floor of Madred's office, her throat raw and her breathing strained. A constant expression of pain contorted her otherwise-lovely face. When the pain stopped again she looked up and saw Madred standing up for his desk. "You're a very stubborn young woman, Commander Carter."
"Carter, Sharon Ma.... aaaaah!" Carter's reply was cut off by Madred, who's finger again pressed the evil button within his hand. She slumped onto the floor, her hair and robes a disheveled mess.
"You know, back on Cardassia we tended to shift between brutality and subtlety. This was just the warm-up. Then would come the rapings and the beatings, and if that failed, the drugs were our last resort; they were very expensive you know." Madred shook his head, as if dissatisfied. "Unfortunately my Rihannsu sponsers do not take kindly to the thought of such brutality. They desire to, what is the human expression again? 'Have their cake and eat it to'? Yes, that is it. Anyway....." Madred stood up and began walking around the desk. "The Rihannsu, sorry, Romulans... they believe very strongly in their own senses of honor. According to their codes, in fact, the attack on your ship was improper, but they are willing to make some small sacrifices to make Rihannsu society more controllable and better able to respond uniformly to threats. But even their desire to emulate the Central Command on Cardassia cannot overcome their peculiar perceptions on their own honor. And because of that, they really don't like torturing war prisoners, particularly with the brutal methods I would apply. Why, I couldn't find a single Rihannsu male in this entire facility willing to rape you. So bothersome." Madred walked up to her and looked down at her. "Not that I have any personal hatred for you, Commander Carter. In fact, I do admire you. Many of those I have interrogated broke within the first hour, some even before I began. Eight hours, however, that is a worthy achievement! Such loyalty, it's no wonder Starfleet defeated us." Madred pocketed the pain control. "I think that when you finally break, I'll even raise a toast with you in honor of your patriotism to the Federation." He noticed the primal, angry glare in Carter's green eyes when she rolled over onto her back. "And you will break. The great truth about sentient beings, Commander Carter, is that they all have limits. Some are set higher than others, but they are there, and I have made a career in breaking them. Oh, I have seen the dedicated last through all of the physical techniques, but even they cannot resist an attack upon the mind." Madred pressed his right index finger against his forehead. "You would be sparing yourself a lot of pain if you answered me now."
Carter continued to suck in breath, staring at the ceiling while Madred walked back to his desk. He slid into the seat. "Oh, Commander, please look my way." She did not obey at first but finally rolled onto her side, looking at him across a distance of about fifteen feet. He hit a switch on his desk and three bright lights appeared behind him. "This question will be simple. How many lights do you see?"
With eight hours of intense torture having long blurred her thoughts, Carter habitually answered, "Three". She immediately regretted it and wished she could take it back. This was a trick; an attempt to slip something through the defensive barrier of non-responsiveness. And she had just handed it to him.
His hand went into his pocket and a moment later Carter felt the pain roll through her once more. "There are four lights."
"Carter!", she shouted. "Sharon! Marie! Lieutenant... aaaaugggk!" The pain intensified as Madred manipulated the power setting. She stopped breathing as the pain overwhelmed her, reducing her movements to tremoring in a fetal position on the cold floor.
"How many lights are there?"
The pain subsided enough for Carter to speak. She only managed the first syllabyle of her name before Madred turned up the power once more. The fire in her body was such that Carter for a moment ceased to exist, replaced only by a shrieking animal trapped within Hell; she had no memory or identity and knew only pain.
When Madred lowered the intensity of the implant to again talk to her, Carter's renewed ability to move allowed her to begin doing the only thing that went through her mind; she began slamming her head on the floor. The ache in her forehead that should have been felt was easily masked by the pain still coursing through her and did not dissuade Carter in the slightest. Why she began to do this she would never understand; perhaps it was out of desperation to stop the agony or perhaps Carter was genuinely trying to kill herself. Either way, she continued to scream and slam her head on the floor over and over.
Suddenly she was grabbed by the guards and pulled to her feet. The pain subsided and Carter, without her body's pain reflexes to push her muscles, went limp from fatigue. She could not resist the two Romulans yanking off her robe and putting the restraints back on, and within the minute she was again hanging naked from the ceiling. Madred crossed his arms. "You've now lost the privilege of being free to move," he remarked. "Now, shall we resume?" He watched the guards walk back to the door, noticing some of the displeasure on their features; they did not like what they were seeing and Madred suspected they were beginning to have sympathy for Carter. They would have to be replaced. He picked up the control and asked, "How many lights are behind me?"
Carter was answering with her name when the pain returned.

[Zaia]

Oh, poor Carter...

[Chris OFarrell]

Damn Madred is an evil SOB. Is Carter undergoing the same implant thing torture that Picard did? Cause that sure as heck didn't look pleasent...

[Sarevok]

Great chapter.

[Crazedwraith]

Great. Torture.

[phongn]

Good work, Steve.

I could go for a donut...mmm....but not a stale one

[Agent Fisher]

I wonder if the game was a final fantasy game.

[Steve]

McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001


A sense of urgency pervaded the Enterprise as the crew frantically prepared for their sortie. Stores were moved into place and damage control equipment checked and re-checked under Commander Dalke's watchful eye; a similar eye was cast by Doctor Nguyen on the medical staff as they prepared sickbay for combat.
On the bridge, Parker watched various engineers check every system and power supply. The rest of the crew were getting used to their stations. Aside from Dalke and Nguyen, Commander Razmara was the only senior officer not present.
"Sir, all weapons diagnostics complete," Lieutenant Jobrie replied from tactical. The high-voiced Trill's sweet voice didn't strike Parker was a good voice for a weapons' officer, and his memory recalled the deeper, stronger voice of Carter. Parker hoped she wasn't being harmed and his stomach twisted at the thought that Pressman might be right. LoBrutto had been highly-immersed into Romulan society in her time and since her return to the Federation a number of people had accused her of treasonous pro-Romulan sentiments. LoBrutto's works were nevertheless widely-read in the Federation, especially among diplomats and travelers who needed to know the particulars of Romulan society. Or Rihannsu. Parker found that he usually called them Rihannsu as LoBrutto had. He supposed it was his own personal act of respect to them. They certainly seemed a more honorable people than the treacherous Ferengi, brutal Cardassians, or sinister Klingons. "No problems," Parker heard Jobrie finish, snapping him back into attention.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Parker said, looking at his personal data display on the right. The ship's schematics were shown, and the light for weapon systems flashed green. There were more systems to check, and some would take much longer. But they would all be done in time.
The turbolift doors opened and Razmara stepped onto the bridge. "Captain, the dockmaster says we'll be ready to depart by 0900 tomorrow."
Parker accepted a PADD offered by Razmara and read the data on it. "Only one hundred and fifty photon torpedoes?"
"And sixty quantum torpedoes. I asked for more quantums but apparently they're a bit short in the fleet locker. Still waiting for another delivery from Operations."
"Sixty is only about ten spreads," Parker said with a furrowed brow. "I was hoping for more."
"Well..." Razmara grinned at him and took her seat. "Give me the night. Captain O'Grady on the Majestic was an Academy friend of mine. And he's got a full stock of quantums. I'll see if he's willing to trade, since he's bound for the Thallonian frontier anyway."
"Oh? What would he trade?"
Though Razmara's answer would have been the perfectly reasonable "Our photon torpedoes" she decided to be a little mischievous and the resulting grin was the widest Parker had yet seen on his new XO. "That's my little secret."
Parker smiled in amusement. "Of course. Well, go do what you have to do."
"Yes, Captain." Razmara stood up and walked off the bridge once more.
When the turbolift doors swished close, Data turned in his Operations chair and asked, "Sir, what do you think the Commander is doing?"
"She was toying with us, Data." Parker laid his head on his hand, his index finger and middle finger pushing at his temple. "She's going to swap torpedoes with Captain O'Grady. The rest was just an act."
"An act?" Data's brow furrowed, showing human-like creases on his outer "skin". "Why should she be acting?"
"It's a tease, Sir," Hamblin replied for Parker, looking over from the helm. "She's joking around with us."
"In what way?"
"She's pretending she's going to seduce him, Data," Parker sighed in exasperation.
"Seduce? As in you say she is faking an intent to pursue sexual relat..."
Before Data could finish, Parker rolled his eyes and muttered, "Data, shut up."
As usual, Data obeyed.


Razmara was on her way to the ship's aft decks on a turbolift when it stopped suddenly. The doors opened and Razmara watched Misty step in. When the door closed and the turbolift ceased moving, Razmara asked, "Commander Greene? What can I do for you?"
"Help me find my XO. She came here to use your holodeck." Misty crossed her arms. "I don't understand why she couldn't use one of the holodeck services on McKinley. She insisted it was a matter of privacy and that the public holodecks wouldn't do."
"Ah." Razmara tapped her commbadge. "Razmara to Bridge."
After a moment, Data replied. "Bridge."
"Mister Data, which holodecks are currently operational?"
"Holodecks 3 and 5, Commander."
"And who is logged for use?"
"Holodeck 5 is being used by Lieutenant SG Horthy from Engineering. He is running an active diagnostic. Holodeck 3 is... curious. The entry code is a general Starfleet one and not assigned to any member of the Enterprise. I shall check..."
"That won't be necessary, Commander. Thank you, Razmara out." She turned to Misty. "Deck 12, Quadrant C. Right, right, left, two doors down."
"Thanks."
The turbolift stopped on Deck 20 and Razmara stepped out When the doors swished close, Misty ordered the lift to Deck 12 Quadrant C. It took about a minute for the lift to reach it's destination. "Right, right, left, two doors," she whispered, repeating it over and over again as she followed the directions exactly. At the appropriate door she found the active holodeck and asked for entry. The computer required her to give her code and Misty did, upon which it complied.
The holodeck was running a customized program. It was a Japanese garden, filled with cherry blossom trees and other Oriental plants. Misty stepped out from the holodeck arch and onto a path of broken, irregular stones. It led to a central courtyard with a traditional Japanese structure on the opposite end, and trees surrounding the circle. Jane was seated in the middle in a white silken kimono with cherry blossom designs intricately sown onto the back, which is what Misty was facing. She was sitting cross-legged and in a meditative state, hands on her knees, with a single katana in her lap. Misty could only make out the jeweled scabbard's tip and handle, as it was laid across her crossed legs. Rubies were set into the hilt and pommel.
Before Misty could speak, Jane jumped with surprising quickness. She was on her feet in seconds, her katana drawn and readied. The computer spontaneously created straw dummies around her. Jane whirled about as is she were a ballerina, but it was not a dance but rather movement in time with the swinging of her sword. The blade sliced through each target with such fine precision that Misty couldn't see the breaks until the dummies fell apart one by one. Without a trace of sweat on her forehead, Jane sheathed the katana and seemed to finally notice Misty for the first time. "Hello Commander."
Before Misty could reply, the holodeck computer spoke in a male Japanese voice to Jane. Jane's reply was also in Japanese and the holodeck turned off. "Nice program. So this is what you do whenever you go on leave."
"Yes." Jane wrapped the scabbard around her waist. From the front one could see the rest of her kimono's design and the plain white silk of her matching ankle length hakama. "I like to keep in shape."
"Y'know, Janey, you don't look that athletic, but that was pretty impressive."
"Thank you, Misty. I know how hard you work out to keep your figure." A smile crossed Jane's face. "But the key to what I just did isn't the strength of my muscles but rather in how quickly I can move them. It's not a matter of power or stamina but movement."
"Yeah, ninjitsu or something like that, really cool Janey."
"Um..." Jane giggled for a moment. "It's not ninjitsu, Misty. Most of the real Japanese arts died out with original Japanese culture in the 21st Century. I'm a student of Modern Kendo." And from there Jane launched into a quick explaination, something she had memorized long ago." Unlike Old Kendo it's barely as old as the Federation. It was created in the mid-22nd Century by Ikemoto Matano, who traveled to see other races and combined surviving knowledge of Kendo with Andorian Hosh'kuskr and Old Vulcan il'Saeul to make Modern Kendo. There are several schools of Kendo, each originating from a different master that has come about over the years."
"Yeah, uh, okay."
A slight grin formed on Jane's face. "I just blew you away, didn't I?"
"Yeah, 'cause, like, you've never been a talkative one before." Misty crossed her arms. "So, going to get to work on the final departure protocols?"
"Lieutenant Tuvok has everything he needs."
"Tuvie told me..."
"Tuvok told you an 'exaggeration'," Jane bent and moved the index and middle fingers on her hands to signify quotation marks, "so you'd leave him alone and stop calling him that ridiculous nickname."
"Hmph."
They stepped out of the holodeck and into the Enterprise hall. "I'll go change and return to the Valiant immediately," Jane promised. "See you there?"
"Uh, yeah, see you there." Misty watched Jane walk off and decided to do a little touring of the Enterprise. A part of her wondered if she'd ever get a chance to command a behemoth like a Sovereign. Then the next part wondered if she'd want to. With that thought in mind, Misty continued on.


Razmara was returning from one of the cargo bays when she ran into Data on his way to the airlock. Since it seemed so uncharacteristic for the android to be off the bridge, Razmara asked, "Mister Data, what's going on?"
"Captain Parker ordered me to meet a couple of guests at the airlock," came the calm reply. "We were due to give a tour to two VIPs and Admiral Pressman does not want us alerting the press to any change in schedule."
The reply that followed was pure sarcasm. "Oh boy, VIPs, I wonder who..." Razmara rolled her eyes and followed Data to the airlock. When the came around the corner to face the two attendees, Razmara felt her jaw drop.
The two men standing at the airlock entry were living legends of Starfleet and intricately linked to the name Enterprise. Of the two, Ambassador Spock looked more robust and healthy. Doctor, and Admiral, Leonard McCoy looked very much like the 140 plus years he had lived. The two men were not speaking when Razmara and Data approached. "Ambassador, Admiral..." Razmara felt her voice trailing off. "I wasn't expecting..."
"Commander Sophia Razmara." Spock pronounced her full name with some emphasis on the rank. "It is good to see you have reached your potential."
Razmara felt a great deal of humility swell within her when she answered, "Thank you, Ambassador, for your praise, and for what you did for me and my mother all of those years ago."
"Your thanks are unnecessary, Commander, I did what I believed was proper."
"But not logical?" McCoy looked to his old comrade with some surprise.
"And logical, but it was a logic not seen by most Vulcans." Spock turned his attention to Data. "Mister Data, I presume?"
"Yes, Ambassador."
"Doctor Soong was an acquaintance. I know he would be happy to see that you have made a life for yourself."
By this time, McCoy had walked up beside Razmara. It took him a few moments to notice the points on her ears, hidden as they were by her hair. "You're a Vulcan?"
"Half-Vulcan, actually," Razmara replied with some degree of disgust in her voice.
"And emotional too." McCoy smiled thinly. "I like you already."
At that Razmara had to grin. "I'm honored to hear it Sir. But I don't see how I was acting that emotional."
"Trust me, young lady, when you've been around Vulcans as long as I have, you'll see."
Spock cleared his throat. "I believe that Commander Razmara and Mister Data have other duties they will have to attend to, Doctor. We should make our tour brief." McCoy looked back to Razmara and rolled his eyes, drawing a grin from her.
As they walked on, Spock stayed behind long enough to let Razmara catch up to him. They let McCoy and Data go ahead a little before they resumed walking. "I have followed your career with some satisfaction," Spock admitted to Razmara.
"Any particular reason why?"
"I believe that you serve as a crucial lesson to Vulcan." Spock did not react to the smirk that momentarily crossed Razmara's face. "When the Vulcan people supported the family of Stovuk against your mother's family, they made an error based on a false assumption on the nature of logic. They believed that unless you received the training of a Vulcan our people's otherwise-unbridled passions would make you brutal and a threat to society. Yet you have restrained your emotional impulses just like any human would and have risen in rank to one of the most prestigious positions in Starfleet. I hope that this will persuade the people of Vulcan that their way is not always the right one."
"You'll understand if I don't care very much for Vulcans, Sir, no offense intended toward you."
"None taken." Spock's inhuman calm reminded Razmara of just what had been at stake in her mother's fight. She might have ended up just as emotionless as Spock had her father's family taken her away. "I understand that your family has much reason to be upset with Vulcans. Between Stovuk's rape of your mother and..."
"How can you say it so cooly?"
Razmara's question made Spock stop for a moment. He considered her momentarily and replied, "You believe I am being disrespectful." It wasn't a question.
"With all due respect, Ambassador, that... that man" - how odd a way to refer to one's father! - "raped my mother so brutally that she gets scared whenever a man so much as touches her on the shoulder. She spent a lifetime alone because she couldn't even stand the thought of sex. Stovuk broke both of her arms, Sir, he broke her pelvis and... and her spine! He nearly killed her! She spent months in the hospital just having her body repaired! And you stand there and you remark on it like it's some statistic! I...." Razmara felt tears flow down her face while she realized just how she sounded. "Oh God, I'm sorry."
To her surprise, there was a strange softness to Spock's reply. "Do not be sorry. In fact, allow me to say that I envy you. I was never allowed the luxury of a choice in how I was raised. And while I could once feel emotion if I desired it enough, I have become so accustomed to control that now I cannot."
"I try not to be angry," Razmara confessed. "But it seems like every Vulcan I meet has this chip on his or her shoulder. Like I'm some freak of nature."
"For all of our teachings on diversity in the universe, Vulcans are a people unaccustomed to change and difference. You are, to them, an abberation. I do not say that as an insult but as an expression. You are a woman of noble Vulcan blood who is not Vulcan in spirit." Spock continued to walk so as to catch up to Data and McCoy, prompting Razmara to do the same. "The concept, to a Vulcan, is disturbing. Even frightening."
"So I'm some kind of boogie-woman?" An amused-yet-bitter smile curled on Razmara's face. "Used to scare little Vulcan children, I suppose."
"Not in that fashion, but yes, you do cause fear among Vulcans, because you have broken their preconceptions. Indeed, that is why I and my father have taken pride in your achievements. By proving yourself you work to undo the misconceptions that cause Vulcans to reject you. Perhaps in time it will lead to even greater understanding between Vulcans and Humans."
"Your father supports me too?" Razmara expressed surprise. "I thought he was one of the most powerful Vulcans alive?"
"He is. But Sarek is unique. Though he is too devoted to control to show it openly, he has a deep appreciation for Humans. We do not agree on all things but we did agree together to support your mother thirty years ago. As we agree now that your career is of paramount importance to the future of relations between Humans and Vulcans."
Razmara let it sink in for a moment. "I never knew."
"It is not something to be discussed openly." Spock turned the corridor before Razmara and found McCoy and Data on the far end. "Let us catch up to the good Doctor and Commander Data. Time grows short."


"And located behind this door is the upper level for the navigational..."
"Was the man who built you, this 'Doctor Soong', a Vulcan?"
McCoy's question caused Data to stop. "No Sir. My creator, Doctor Noonian Soong, is a human."
"Ah." McCoy "hmphed" and began walking along. "Because I'll be damned if you don't sound like one." The older man looked around at the corridors of the Enterprise and a well of emotion sprung up within him as he sifted through memories of long ago. One hundred years... I'll be damned if I know where the time goes! It seemed like a great time passed before McCoy managed to speak again to the golden-skinned android who - to put it frankly - reminded him too much of Spock. "Well, she's a new ship," McCoy began to say, "but she's got the right name. Now you remember that, Mister Data."
"I will, Sir."
McCoy nodded with approval. "You treat her like a lady, and no matter what happens... she'll always bring you home."


The airlock doors closed behind Spock and McCoy. They had toured most of the ship - including the bridge, where Captain Parker gave them a warm welcome - while noting quietly the frenzied preparations for departure. They had not been told Enterprise was to leave but it was not a very hard thing to guess when one considered how fast the crews had been moving.
Entering a small lounge overlooking Enterprise's berth, Spock and McCoy stopped for the moment and looked out the window at the majestic ship. Neither spoke for a short time before, finally, McCoy said, "How do you think they'll do?"
"I suspect, Doctor, that they can do no worse than we did."
McCoy found himself grinning at that. "They're supposed to be this brave new generation, but they didn't seem so different to me."
"Indeed."
"Though, I suppose, it's meant to be that way." McCoy looked out the window and considered the name emblazoned on the mighty ship's starboard hull. The letters U.S.S. Enterprise made McCoy feel... proud. The legacy this ship's crew was carrying started with him, and Jim, and Spock, and Chekov and Scotty and all the others. "I wonder what Jim would say if he were here?"
"I believe he would remind us that our time has passed, though the admission would be a great burden to him as well." Spock considered his next words carefully. "And he would also ask us to trust those who have followed."
"Yeah, I think so too." McCoy began walking away. "I could use a good drink right about now. Coming, Spock?"
There was a moment when Spock considered refusing his old comrade. But he remembered that now McCoy was the only comrade he had left. "I will be along shortly."
McCoy snorted, perhaps with amusement, and walked on. Spock turned back to the Enterprise for a moment and could not help but consider his own... feelings toward the ship. The Enterprise... the very name made him recall all of the old times, and for a moment Spock wondered if it had truly been that long since he and the others had completed their own voyages aboard that other Starship Enterprise.
Though none of this new Enterprise's crew was present to see him, Spock raised his right hand in the Vulcan salute and greeting. "Live long and prosper," he said softly. With that last act done, he turned to follow McCoy.


Growing tired, Misty was returning from the office of the dockmaster for Valiant's berth. She came around a corner at the Valiant's berth to enter the waiting room for the airlock and she saw Jane standing at the airlock, wearing her silken kimono and hakama. She was speaking with two Japanese men dressed in plain-clothes. Misty was just close enough to make out the sounds of Japanese in the conversation and choose to stay across the room.
Upon closer inspection, it was clear the two men were related. One was older, in his sixties or even seventies. The other looked the same age as Misty and Jane. Both had brown eyes and similar Oriental-features, nothing really unique to Misty, while the younger man's hair was pitch black in direct contrast to the elder's gray. From a distance Misty observed Jane stepping up to the younger man and embracing him. She said something to him and their lips locked together into a kiss, after which the younger man put an arm on Jane's waist and the three walked away from the airlock. Misty finally let her curiosity get the better of her and walked after Jane. "Hey, Janey!"
Jane turned, as did her companions. As Misty got closer she noticed a strange glint in Jane's eyes, something she'd never seen in two years of knowing her It went well with the wide smile on her face. "Hello Commander."
"I, uh...."
"Sakata-san, Takuro, this is my superior, Commander Misty Greene." Jane looked to Misty. "This is my adopted father and sensei, Sakata Noburo, and his son Takuro, who is... a great deal more to me." Jane and Takuro exchanged looks that told Misty just what they were to each other.
"Mister Noburo..."
Amused grins came over the faces of the two Japanese men, matching Jane's own. "Sorry, Misty, I sometimes slip and think in Japanese while speaking in English. Sakata is the family name. It comes first in Japanese."
"Oh." Misty blushed a little, noticing Jane was doing the same. "Well, uh, the dockmaster says we'll be ready to go on time. Tuvie's volunteered to make sure everything's in order in the morning."
"I know, Commander."
Feeling very awkward, Misty nodded and said, "Well, uh, I guess I'll leave you to see your old boss... or teacher, or whatever." She stepped back and began walking into the airlock.
"She seems to be a very interesting woman," Takuro said to Jane in English. He pulled Jane closer. "It's good to see you are in good hands."
Jane, for her part, was doing everything possible to constrain her joy at being with Takuro again. It had been nearly twenty-six months since she had last seen him. "I will tell the Commander that she has your vote of confidence, koibito."
"I shall see you in the morning, Takuro," Sakata said to his son. "This evening is for you and Jane." The elder man walked off, leaving Takuro to follow Jane to her on-station quarters.


It was nearly 0230 when Parker finally walked into his quarters, tired from a day of rapid acclimation to the new ship. The coffee he had sipped down at midnight was wearing off and he was ready for sleep, at least for the six hours allowed him. Data, needing no sleep, had volunteered to continue overseeing the stocking of the ship's stores and promised to not wake him up until 0900. Parker was certain he'd be up before then, of course.
After indulging in his nightcap and slipping into bed, Parker closed his eyes and his mind wandered. He found himself thinking of Sharon Carter. He hadn't known her very well, as she had been one of dozens of officers serving under his command at the time, but he did recall her quite vividly. She was a firebrand and a very good officer. He didn't want anything to happen to her.
It was with this in mind that Parker slipped away into sleep.


Unknown Location


There was to be no rest for Carter. Even after he tired of watching her twitch in her restraints Madred made sure to leave the implant on when he left. At a low level, it caused a constant fire to burn within Carter's body, keeping her awake. The pain was enough that she felt like screaming at times, but for now all she could do was cry. It was something terrible to be here alone - naked and chained - and humiliated by a horrible man.
Carter's eyes closed as she tried to restrain her weeping. If Madred saw this he would only push her harder in an attempt to break her. Carter was determined not to let him torture her into submission but neither did she want to endure more pain. She had never given much thought to the idea of being captured by an enemy and tortured and now Carter regretted that oversight. She might have been better prepared.
Suddenly the pain in her body subsided. Carter felt a warm hand touch her on the cheek. She was facing a Romulan man about her age or a little younger in appearance. He looked like any other Vulcanoid Carter had seen. He spoke to her in the Romulan language. Carter couldn't understand what he was saying until he raised a cup of water to her lips. Carter tilted her head back and he allowed the cup to follow. Cool and fresh water served to quench her thirst and wet her throat, made raw from Madred's torture. Even though she drank the water greedily some managed to trickle out from the sides of her mouth, making two lines of cool water that ran down her face and neck. The wet drops mingled with her sweat and created an uncomfortable sensation on her bare skin, which was already chilled from the temperature of the room. It even tickled a bit as the two drops curved along the outsides of her breasts and ran down her sides and hips to her legs. The Romulan pulled the cup away and regarded her for a moment. Carter wished she knew their language, but she did bring herself to gasp, "Thank you."
The Romulan nodded and turned to walk away. He moved out of Carter's sight for just a moment when she heard the sinister whine of a Cardassian phaser. The Romulan cried out and fell backward, dead, a blackened hole on his chest. Carter's breathing intensified as she heard Madred's footsteps on the metal floor draw closer. "I suppose I could have stopped him before he gave you that water," Madred said. "But I think it does not matter either way. His death, after all, was your fault. Had you given me what I wanted earlier..."
Carter's eyes closed and her heart picked up pace. Perhaps it was in anticipation of renewed torture, or perhaps something more. She knew what it was soon enough: rage. She hated Madred more than anything right now. "Bastard," she rasped while he bent over and took from the dead Romulan the controls for her implant.
"Oh, these troublesome Rihannsu." Madred slipped back into his seat. "They're not going to be too happy I killed him, but I suppose I can lie simply enough. I'll just tell them I caught him trying to free you."
Carter was still reacting to what had just happened. "He was only showing mercy," she said hoarsely.
"Of course. And by letting him do so before killing him, I have made you lower your guard." Madred raised the control. "You Humans are too sympathetic for your own good. You've become so upset about his death that it's jeopardized your control." He triggered the lights behind him. "How many lights?"
"You son of a bitch!" Carter's scream went from anger to agony when Madred pressed the button on the control. She screeched like a wounded animal and pulled helplessly against her restraints. Her body twitched and her reflexes demanded she move. When she could not, it made her body ache even worse, as if the energy it was trying to allocate for movement suddenly had no outlet. Except, of course, in her remaining ability to scream. Which Carter did, quite loudly, as it was the only physical way she could react to the pain. "Cart...Carter! Sharon! Maaaaar...aaahhh!" Carter finished a scream before she finished, "Marie! Lieutenant! Commander!"
"How many lights are there, Commander?" Madred turned up the power.
The burning in Carter's nerves was horrifying. She began crying while screaming, trying to find some way to give outlet to the waves of pain crashing within her. "Carter!," she screamed once more. "Sharon! Marie!" Each word, each syllable, came between pained howls. "Lieu...Ten...Ant!" She couldn't get to work on Commander because, quite mercifully, Carter passed out from all of the pain.
It wasn't much of a passing out, however, as Madred soon awoke her. Other Romulans were carrying her dead benefactor's body out and one was handing Madred a hypospray. "Well, it's been a full day. Sweet dreams, Commander." He pressed the hypospray against her neck and Carter felt the gush of air that meant that whatever drug the spray was loaded with had been injected into her bloodstream. "It's a fun little drug. Sleep deprivation can be a terrible thing." Madred began to walk away. "But the drug also blocks sensory input. Sensory deprivation and sleep deprivation, combined, can be more powerful than the most painful interrogation methods." Carter was already feeling her sight fade when she faintly heard the door swish close.
Soon she was blind. Carter could hear nothing at all, could smell nothing, could feel nothing. She couldn't even feel the sweat that she knew covered her body. She screamed but did not hear it.
And then she screamed again. And again. And yet each time, she would hear nothing.


McKinley Base, Earth Orbit, Sector 001
20 May 2368 Earth Standard Time


Waking up early in her spartan quarters on Valiant (and only Commanding Officers and Executive Officers received individual quartering at that), Misty Greene replicated a cup of rich, strong, and utterly tasteless black coffee. While the coffee circulated through her brain and woke her up, she began to look over various data reports on her ship's readiness. Ten minutes after this began, her display suddenly added a window display to inform her that McKinley's Comm system had a call incoming, from the U.S.S. Pericles out on patrol on the Klingon border. Smiling at the name of the caller, Misty touched a button and accepted the call. "Jakey!"
Commander Jake Herscher was about 3 centimeters taller than Misty, with rich blond hair and an athletic and lanky body. He had been her "boytoy" since High School and was now serving as Executive Officer on the starship Pericles. His blue eyes were sweet and endeared him to Misty's heart. Looking at him, Misty realized how much she missed him, and for a few moments she allowed herself a small grin because of the various thoughts seeing him provoked, including those concerning what she wanted to do with him that were intimate, carnal, and sometimes even depraved. "So, how is it out there? Any Klingon trouble?"
"Nothing in months," Jake answered her. "I heard you're heading out again on that little rustbucket. Still not looking for a real starship Misty?"
"This little rustbucket can kick your starship's pansy ass," retorted Misty with a silly grin. "Oh Jakey, when will you be back anyway?"
"Not for another two months, baby."
"But I miss you," she whined, only half-jokingly. She did, after all, miss her precious boytoy.
"And I miss you." Jake sighed. "And I'm reminded of that all the time. Really, every day I'm out here, staring at these stars and wondering when those smelly barbarians are going to come charging across the Zone again to pick a fight. I'd really like to be staring at you."
A smirk crossed Misty's face. "With or without clothes?" They both giggled at that. Seeing Jake brought out the inner child within Misty and made her even more immature than usual, such was the strange form of love they had together. Jake also happened to be talented in certain ways, meaning their nights together were usually very fun, very passionate, and very pleasurable.
"Both."
After more laughter, they spoke for the next ten minutes on varying personal issues and planning for their next night together.
When they exchanged goodbyes, Misty started changing into her uniform. They would be leaving within two hours and she had to be ready.


Phillips was returning to Intrepid from the rental office for the station's storage lockers when he found an expected but now feared sight. His family was standing at the airlock to the Intrepid. His eyes first went to Zandra, his wife, a woman with a light and slightly-tanned complexion, lovely brown eyes, and a gorgeous body that he literally worshipped at times. Standing beside her on the right, at one hundred and sixty-seven centimeters compared to her one hundred and seventy, was Patrick Junior, his eldest child at eleven Terran years and his only son. Patrick Jr. had his mother's eyes and face but his father's hair, nose, and build. And, like most kids would, he wanted to follow his father's career and become a Starfleet fighter pilot. Phillips had even been compelled to buy him a model kit of his old SF-30 Valkyrie fighter for Christmas. Standing by her left was eight year old Jessica, who more closely resembled her mother save for having her father's blue eyes; Phillips was almost dreading her growing up because he was certain she would also inherit her mother's body and attract a horde of would-be suitors. And in Zandra's arm was Willow, only 14 months old, with her mother's eyes.
"Zandra, sweetie..." Phillips walked up to them, seeing the disappointed and angry glare in his wife's eyes.
"You told me you'd be available all week, Pat." Zandra looked up at him. "What's this I hear about your ship leaving today?"
"Baby, something came up." Phillips put a hand on her cheek. "We're being sent on a mission, I can't say what."
"You promised me." Zandra's eyes began to tear up. She had been building up to this for hours. "You promised me we could spend the week together with the kids."
"I know I did."
"Then why? Can't they find someone else?" Even with the bitterness in her voice Phillips knew that she knew the truth. "Pat, our flight back home leaves next Monday. Please don't tell me..."
"Honey, we'll be back home before then, I'm sure of it." Phillips kissed her on the lips gently while suppressing the desire to make it more passionate; this wasn't the place. "I'm so sorry..."
"Patrick..." Zandra was still tearing up. "When are you going to get a planet-bound post? Weren't you promised the post on Pacifica?"
"They're still deciding on whether to form the command or to leave the squadrons seperate. Until they do..." Phillips shrugged. "I know we've had our hearts set on me getting something planet-side, but I haven't yet. And I've got to make sure that whatever it is, I'll make enough to take care of you and the kids."
Suddenly Patrick Junior spoke up. "Besides, Mom, Dad's a Starfleet officer. This is his duty! He's got to do it. Right, Dad?"
Zandra looked over at her son with a combination of amusement and bewilderment. "But I want Daddy home!" Jessica whined in disagreement.
"Oh, sweetie, I'll be home one day." Phillips hunched down and gave his daughter a hug. He turned to his son, standing up to his full height, and set his hand on Patrick Junior's shoulder. "Son, you're right, but that doesn't mean it's easy. I want to be home with you four very much. And I'm going to one day, no matter what it takes."
There was a nod from Zandra. "I know."
Patrick reached over and rubbed his finger on his baby daughter's chin. Willow did not respond since she was sound asleep. "She's growing up so fast."
"You've said that about all of the children, Pat," Zandra pointed out. "So, when are you going to get back from this emergency mission?"
"By Saturday, maybe even earlier. I can't tell you anything more, hon." Phillips bowed his head. "I didn't want this to happen, I..."
He found the index finger of Zandra's free right hand on his lips. "I know, Pat," she said to him. "Well, the kids and I will be waiting for you."
"Of course you will." He kissed her on the cheek.
"Oh, Dad, before you go, can I ask you something?"
Phillips turned back to his son. "What is it?"
"I, uh, my school has a course I can take next year. JROTC preparation, they call it. Should I enter it?"
"Well..." Phillips scratched at the nape of his neck. "It'll get you ready for JROTC in High School, and if you complete that you'll get a commission sooner if you join Starfleet, but it can be rough on you. Think you're ready for military-style discipline, Patrick?"
"Yeah!"
Somehow, Phillips doubted it. But he couldn't exactly say no to his son, knowing how badly Patrick Junior wanted to fly. "Well, you have my support. If your mother allows, go ahead." He noticed the bemused glance from Zandra as she feigned annoyance. Yes, honey, I'm foisting the decision on you, even though I know you'd rather keep Patrick out of Starfleet if you can. But I know you'll do what's best for him. Halting his thoughts for the moment, Phillips checked his watch. "Well, Commander Howard is expecting me and we pull out in two hours. I'll see you when I get back." He gave his wife a last kiss and hugged his kids before stepping into the airlock. Zandra called out to him to be safe, and he replied with a nod and a thumb's up gesture, which Patrick Junior enthusiastically copied. He continued on into the bowels of Intrepid, still smarting over that pained look he'd seen in Zandra's eyes. One of these days he was going to go planet-side, even if it meant retirement. That much he resolved to do now as he had in the past.
There was only the question of making it happen.


The bridge of Avenger was bustling with activity when O'Farrell arrived, having secured some of his belongings in his quarters before entering the bridge. He could see Tasha seated at the helm, running final launch checks. To his right, at weapons, was the big and burly Serbian farmboy Lt. J.G. Branislav Kojic, a native of the Belgrade region. He was only 25, having just won his first promotion as an officer. Brown hair and baby-blue eyes were his distinguishing features, as well as an excellent muscle tone that made him quite handsome to the ladies, or so O'Farrell had heard. At Operations, on O'Farrell's left, was Lt. S.G. Phil Leeson. An Australian like O'Farrell, Leeson was lanky and thin, though a little athletic in muscle tone, and possessed sandy-blond hair and brown eyes. Deep in the bowels of the ship was the ruddy-faced Irishman, Chief Engineer Lt. S.G. Miles O'Brien, who was actually the eldest member of the Avenger's senior crew; he had been an enlisted man with a technician specialty up until the Cardassian War, when he won a brevet commission that Starfleet permanently granted at the end of the conflict on the advice of the war hero Capt. Ben Maxwell. O'Farrell liked and admired the man, even if he couldn't stand O'Brien's tastes in alcohol.
"Final checks cleared, Commander." Tasha looked over her shoulder. "We're ready to depart."
"We'll let Enterprise get all the attention." O'Farrell eased into his seat. "Do your thing, everyone."
Avenger's atmosphere was informal enough that everyone went along with it. After the airlock was cleared the ship slowly eased out of it's berth, came about, and headed for an exit. Spacedock control vectored them in so that they could use the Gamma entryway after an arriving New Orleans-class ship, the Demosthenes, came through. Once outside, Tasha pulled Avenger up into formation with the other ships from the squadron that were waiting; Hood, Minneapolis, and Valiant. A few moments later Great Lakes came out Alpha Entryway. Intrepid was clearing her moorings and would join them soon enough.
Now all that was left was Enterprise.


Everything was now ready. The Enterprise crew was at three-quarters her intended complement and a little heavier on enlistees than Parker would have liked, but they would be enough. The ship's torpedo magazines were fully stocked with over two hundred quantum torpedoes and about fifty of the older photon torpedoes. Every section of the ship had been checked, double-checked, and triple-checked for problems; they were good to go.
Despite the best efforts of Pressman to keep everything hushed up, news on a Starbase traveled fast, and large crowds of onlookers were present at Enterprise's berth, awaiting her departure. From the bridge of the Enterprise Parker watched them over an external video line via the display screen to his right. All of his officers were taking their places and checking their appropriate systems. They each affirmed readiness up to Data, who reported, "All systems are at one hundred percent, Captain. We are ready to depart."
"Clear all moorings. Mister O'Keefe, contact Spacedock control."
"Clearing all moorings." Data flipped several buttons on his station and the umbilicals that provided life support and power from the station to the Enterprise were blown away by non-violent explosions of air.
O'Keefe came next. "Spacedock Control is on, Sir."
"Spacedock Control, this is Enterprise," said Parker with much subdued excitement. "We are requesting permission to depart."
A female voice replied, "Enterprise, this is Spacedock Control. You are clear for Entryway Beta. We will open doors in ten seconds."
"Mister Hamblin, maneuver us into position please."
Hamblin's hands moved over the maneuvering portion of his control panel. The ship's thrusters fired and pushed her into position facing the spacedock's entry doors. At the ten second mark, they slid open. The trails of running lights below Enterprise, on the spacedock "floor', seemed to beckon them to open space. "Doors opening, Enterprise. Good luck and Godspeed."
"Mister Hamblin, one quarter impulse power."
"Sir, might I remind..." The younger man seemed to think better of the complaint he was about to register while Parker shared an amused look with Razmara. "One quarter impulse, Sir."
Enterprise's main engines fired and she swiftly exited the starbase. Waiting for her outside were the other ships, arranged in an arrowhead formation with Avenger and Valiant on the flanks and Intrepid and Hood on the insides. The lead position had been left to Enterprise. "Ease us into formation, Mister Hamblin."
With uncanny accuracy, Hamblin brought the Enterprise into position at the head of the arrow. "Set course for Radcliffe's Nebula at warp factor 9, Mister Hamblin."
"Aye Sir."
"Mister O'Keefe, be kind enough to relay Mister Hamblin's course data to the other ships."
"Aye Sir!"
When both were done and made verbal confirmation, Parker exchanged an anxious glance with Razmara. "Well, let's get this show on the road," he muttered under his breath. Aloud, with none of his concerns allowed to weaken the strength of his order, Parker stated, "Bring us to warp, Mister Hamblin."
With a few deft strokes of his controls, Hamblin did just that, and Enterprise and her companions made the jump to warp.

[Agent Fisher]

first post

[Sarevok]

Another excellent chapter.

[Kuja]

Steve...good, good stuff. A great blend of humor, emotion, alternate identities (the new Yar and Troi for example), torture, and a few good pokes at geek culture.

Keep it up.

EDIT: Just read the newest chapter, can't wait for what's coming up!