"Personal Log, Stardate 104274.5," spoke Crossfire.  "Hmm.  Zen, is
this thing on?"
     "Affirmative," replied Zen, in a very similar voice.
     "Oh.  Are you sure?"
     "Positive," Zen snorted.  "Really, Commander, if you don't trust the
recording equipment, then why do you even bother recording log entries?"
     "I don't usually," mumbled Crossfire.  "Wait a minute!  Why should I
tell you anyway?  You're just a piece of technocrap."
     "Well, I wouldn't go *that* far," huffed an offended Zen.  "Besides, if
it's none of my business, then why are so many of these logs recorded into
*my* precious memory banks?"
     "Fine!"  Crossfire took a deep breath and allowed his face to cool to a
lesser shade of crimson.  "Zen, please continue recording."
     "Continue recording, confirmed."
     "Personal log.  In addition to the time I'm spending maintaining our
readiness for the Borg and the usual mess of administrivia a security chief
has to plow through, the Admiral - er, Captain - er -- oh, f*** it!"
     "Would you like me to save that last portion for the log, Commander?"
     "No, Zen."
     "I didn't think so."
     "Anyway," Crossfire continued.  "I've been informed that now I get to
babysit a couple of hundred jarheads on top of everything.  I guess they
didn't have a kennel handy, so they're using the _Croutonprize_."
     "Should I forward a copy of this to Star Fleet, sir?"
     "No.  Why do you think they call this a *personal* log??"
     "Oh, right.  Sorry, sir."
     Crossfire shook his head.  "Sometimes, Zen, I feel like I'm talking to
myself."
     "In a manner of speaking," Zen chuckled.  "You are."

FADE TO BLACK
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
               STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
                       "The Perfect Game"
                    Part 10:  "Mail Bonding"

Written by The Admiral and Crossfire

Guest stars
	Anne-Marie Martin as Lt. Cdr. Townsend
	Phil Morris as Lt. Cdr. McReynolds
	Neil Patrick Harris as Lt. Howsam

Introducing
	Robert Patrick as Sergeant-Major McKelvey
		and Special Guest Star
	Kirk Douglas as Colonel Rust

Music by John Philip Sousa
Directed by Darin Foat

Notes:
[1] For more information, read "Fearful Symmetry."
[2] From ST:TCG "Into the Net"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
     "Marines?" Highlander asked.
     "Marines?" Soraya asked.
     "Marines," sighed Avenger resignedly.  "Star Fleet seems to think that
we may need them sooner or later."
     "For what?" wondered Highlander.  "Borg fodder?"
     "Now now," Crossfire warned.  "They *might* come in useful somewhere."
Turning back to Avenger, he added:  "Should we stumble onto Planet Playtex
along the way."
     A little chuckle went around the bridge.
     "All right.  That's enough of that!" exclaimed the rather annoyed
female second officer.
     "Or we could just shoot them out the Crouton tubes."
     A panel chirped.  "Docking connections secured, sir," Himle reported.
"Starbase is awaiting permission to send them aboard."
     "Highlander, Crossfire," Avenger called, turning for the turbolift.
     Soraya cleared her throat.
     "Oh.  Um.  Sorry, Number Two," said Avenger.  "You have the conn."
     Avenger, Crossfire and Highlander entered the turbolift and left.
     "That's not what I meant," said Soraya to no one in particular.
				* * * * *
     "Are you ready for them, Commander?" asked Avenger.
     "Jez is supposed to meet us at the airlock with several...escorts."
Crossfire broke into an evil grin.  "We wouldn't want them to get lost now,
would we?"
     "Wouldn't be my first choice," muttered Highlander.
     "I've converted two holodecks into standard Marine barracks," Crossfire
continued.  "I figured they'd feel more at home sleeping together in a packed
room with tri-level bunk beds."
     "That's a new one," thought Avenger.
     "Not really," explained Crossfire.  "Marines *like* those conditions."
     "Admiral," Highlander interjected.  "I was wondering something."
     "Yes, Commander?"
     "Yes, well, that's just it," said Highlander.  "I'm your first officer,
right?  Why don't I feel like one?"
     Avenger's eyebrows wrinkled in concern.  "What do you mean?"
     "You rely on Soraya's and Crossfire's advice, but rarely ask me for my
opinion.  Most Star Fleet captains even refer to their first officers by the
nickname 'Number One' from time to time.  F***, you call Soraya 'Number Two'
every time I turn around and that isn't even normal!"
     "I--" Avenger stopped.  "Um.  Er."
     "You were Chris' first officer, Commander," explained Crossfire.  "You
are a constant reminder to the Admiral of the man he has replaced--"
     "I didn't replace him.  I'm just filling in."
     "--and more importantly," Crossfire continued, ignoring Avenger.  "He
doesn't perceive you as *his* first officer.  His first officer is aboard
the _Volvo_.  In short, he's ignoring you so he can run away from his own 
feelings."
     "Well, thank you for psychoanalyzing me, Crossfire!" exclaimed Avenger.
     "You're welcome, sir," nodded Crossfire matter-of-factly.  "Any time."
     "Is that why you switched the center seat for the one from the _Pike_?"
asked Highlander.
     "I'm used to my chair," explained Avenger.  "It's more comfortable."
     "Doesn't carry all those unpleasant memories with it," said Crossfire.

     "The Borg have got us, Captain!!" yelled Howsam.
     The bridge rocked as a tractor beam sliced into the saucer section of
the _Christopher Pike_, carving it like a Christmas turkey.
     "There's a rescue ship on its way, sir," said Townsend, pulling her
blood-stained hair away from a large gash in her forehead.  "The shuttlecraft
and escape pods are our best bets.  The Borg will be too busy carving up the
ship to worry about us."
     Avenger made his way back across the bridge, staggering toward his
beloved command chair.  He grabbed hold tight of an armrest and pulled
himself into it.
     "Shields down to 17% and dropping!" Heins exclaimed.
     "McReynolds, what's the news?" Avenger screamed into his commpanel.
     "I've got to take the mains off-line, Captain!" the chief engineer called
back.  "The reactor core's going to breach any second!"
     "Mike," Heins finally said.  "We're not going to make it.  You *have*
to make a decision."
     Avenger clenched his hands about the armrests of his command chair,
his knuckles turning white.  He clenched his jaw so tightly that the veins
in his forehead bulged.
     The main tractor beam flared to life again, ripping into the hull,
drawing the ship ever closer.
     Townsend looked to him with pleading eyes.  She had a closer bond with
this ship than any of them and she was ready to give it up.
     The main viewer flickered and switched to a dim corridor inside the
Borg ship.  A Swede with a white metal headband and electronically assisted
serving arm stepped forward.
     He smiled grimly.  "This set is ours," said Bjorn.
     A Borg soldier whispered into existence near a science station, pushing
Atkinson and two ensigns to the ground as it stepped forward to interface. [2]
 
     "The hell it doesn't," said Avenger, turning to hide the pain in his
eyes.  The turbolift doors opened.  Crossfire and Highlander stepped out,
then stopped and turned to face him.
     "Somebody had to tell you."
     Avenger nodded, but remained in the turbolift, alone but for his night-
mares.  Touche', Crossfire, he thought.  Now we're even.
     "Coming, *Captain*?" asked Highlander expectantly.
     Avenger shook himself from his catatonia and inhaled deeply.  "Coming,
Number One."
				* * * * *
     The Marines filed in, dressed out in fatigues, duffel bags and phaser
rifles in hand.  One Marine in particular, one who wore more stripes than
the others, detached himself from the group and approached Avenger.
     "Sergeant-Major Sean McKelvey, chief tactical officer and XO, reporting
for duty as ordered, SIR!"
     McKelvey stood sharply to attention and snapped a sharp salute at the
Admiral.  Crossfire stifled a giggle and fought to keep a straight face.
Avenger intentionally slouched, then pulled out a pocket Revenger and began
to play with it.
     "If I have to say 'at ease' to get you to relax, Sergeant-Major," Avenger
said as he fumbled with the phone button, "I think I'll puke."
     McKelvey relaxed to 90% of attention.  Avenger sighed and shook his
head.  He looked to Crossfire for help but was surprised to find him staring
at someone.
     "Crossfire?" he wondered quietly.
     "What--um, who?" said Crossfire.
     "Admiral?" asked Col. Jeff Rust as he approached.  He was a mean-looking,
tough, grizzled man, the kind you did NOT pick a fight with and expect to
live.  He was all Marine, from his polished size 15 boots to his closely
trimmed white hair.  His first impression of the Hero of Regulus was not a
favorable one and his disappointment was rapidly showing.  He had expected
Avenger to be older, wiser-looking, EXPERIENCED, but what he saw was a green
kid...and a flake at that...someone who didn't look like he could earn the
rank of Admiral.  Hell, Avenger didn't even look like he even belonged in a
Star Fleet uniform.
     "Colonel Rust, I presume?"  Avenger extended a hand.  When Rust did not
return the gesture, Avenger frowned and merely withdrew his hand.  Any other
flag officer might have busted Rust down for insubordination.  Avenger's
response to this test simply confirmed Rust's suspicions.
     "If you'll lead us to our barracks, we can all get underway immediately.
I trust you've made arrangements for..."  Rust's voice trailed off as his
eyes fell on Crossfire.  He examined the eyes and face intensely as his own
face brightened, if only slightly.
     "This is our first officer, Commander Highlander," Avenger interjected.
"Should you have any questions pertaining to our mission and I am unavailable,
you may confer with him."  Gesturing to Crossfire, Avenger noticed that Rust
was paying little attention and hadn't even noticed Highlander.  Crossfire
returned Rust's stare with one of his own.  "Our security chief, Lt. Cdr.
Crossfire, has been making arrangements for your men and will continue to
serve as a liasion between our crew and yours."
     Avenger paused uncomfortably.  Rust continued to stare at Crossfire
thoughtfully.  Crossfire stared back, if for no other reason, because he
didn't like to be stared at.  Avenger slipped the Revenger out of his pocket
and began fiddling with it again.  As his finger slipped across the grenade
sound effect, both Rust and Crossfire snapped awake and turned sharply toward
the source of the noise.  Embarrassed by the sudden attention, Avenger pushed
the Revenger back into one of his voluminous pockets.
     "Oh, um," Rust stammered.  "Thanks."
     "Any time," mumbled the confused Admiral.
     Rust and Crossfire both returned to their original composure and now
faced one another again.
     "So," asked Rust, stumbling over his words.  "How have you been?"
     "Fine," said Crossfire.  Short and to the point.
     "Good," replied Rust.  Silence passed between them again for a moment.
"I guess I'll be seeing you around then."
     "I suppose so," admitted Crossfire without emotion.
     Highlander and Avenger looked from Crossfire to Rust back to Crossfire,
then turned to each other with inquiring looks.  Simultaneously shrugging
their shoulders, they turned back to the spectacle...only to find Rust
collecting his duffel bag and following his men out of the cargo bay.
     Meanwhile, Crossfire scanned down a list, signed at the bottom and
handed a PADD back to a random security ensign, all as if nothing had
happened.  Highlander shrugged his shoulders again and walked away shaking
his head, ready to coordinate the troop movement with Jez.
     As the bay emptied, Crossfire followed Avenger out of the bay and down
the hallway.  Silently, they walked into a turbolift.
     "Bridge."  Avenger waited for the doors to close, then spoke again.
"So, um...you two know each other?"
     "You mean Colonel Rust?" asked Crossfire.
     "No, Jez the Wonder Kitty!" exclaimed a sarcastic Admiral.  "Who do you
think I mean?!?  You talked as if you knew each other."
     "Well, Jeff Rust IS my father."
     The turbolift doors opened and Crossfire stepped nonchalantly onto the
bridge, leaving behind an admiral with a very confused look on his face.
				* * * * *
     "So then Kerry said--"
     "Mind if I join you?" interrupted Susan.
     "Please do!" Rhee affirmed happily.  Fizzix Dude, who had somehow
managed to find his way into yet another episode of "The Perfect Game"
despite a desire by some of the writers to keep omnipotent beings out of
the story, smiled at Susan as she sat down.  Prancer looked off randomly
into space.
     "I've just been telling stories about the _Melbourne_," explained Rhee.
     "All the juicy stuff about Muirden's sex life, really," snickered the
Fizzix Dude.  "Or lack thereof?"
     "Now that's not very nice!" said Susan.  She turned to Rhee, put her
elbows on the table and plopped her chin onto her hands.  "You didn't wait
for me before you started?"
     They all shared a laugh, except for Prancer, who, as noted before, was
staring off randomly into space.  The doors to Ten Forward hissed open, but
no one entered.  In the hallway, AJ jumped backward from the open doors, tail
shoved down between his legs, whimpering.
     "Go ahead, AJ," said Zen from a nearby comm unit.
     AJ, frightened by the voice, ran hurriedly into Ten Forward, tail still
between his legs, still whimpering.
     "Anyway," continued Rhee.  "David and I set up this electronic eye to--"
     Prancer leaped into her lap suddenly, digging his claws into her legs.
     "PRANCER!!!"
     Frightened, the cat leaped from her lap, digging his claws in for more
leverage, and jumped and bounded across Ten Forward.
     AJ stumbled through Ten Forward.  Any time a stranger came too close, he
tucked tail and ran in a different direction.
     And then the C A T leaped right into his path.
     'Lunch,' thought AJ.
     Too late, Prancer noticed that instead of running AWAY from the huge
creature he had detected, he had run straight into its path...and the great
monster now saw him.
     Oops.
     Feet, toes, claws flying everywhere, Prancer wound up his legs and tore
off across Ten Forward.  AJ hastily pursued him, ducking between and under
people, spilling drinks, fumbling desserts and causing various crew members
to flub their pick-up lines.
     "I think your cat has a little problem," noticed the Fizzix Dude with
mild amusement.
     "I'd say it's more than a *little* problem," Susan noted as Rhee leaped
from the table and chased frantically after her cat.
     "Say, isn't that Crossfire's dog?" someone asked.
     "Crossfire's back?"
     "Crossfire has a dog?"
     "Who's Crossfire?"
     The doors to Ten Forward parted again to allow Jez to enter.  Having
received Rhee's request for assistance from Security, he bounded in ready
for trouble.
     Out of nowhere, Prancer appeared, ran over the top of him and bounded
out the Ten Forward doors.  As he pushed himself back to his feet, Jez saw
something very large and dark...and canine running straight at him.  All the
hairs on his back leaped to attention and he jumped up onto the bar.  AJ
followed, leaping onto and knocking over a bar stool as he chased the feline
security officer.  Drinks and patrons went everywhere as they tore through
the room.
     "Oh, no," muttered Rhee, stopping to catch her breath.
     The doors to Ten Forward opened again.  Everyone's eyes followed Jez
and AJ as they tore through the room and toward the open door.  As Jez ran
through his legs and into the hallway beyond, everyone in the room found
themselves looking at the looming figure of Lt. Cdr. Crossfire.
     So did AJ, as he pushed out his paws frantically to halt his forward
motion, stopping inches from Crossfire's feet.
     "How did you get out of my quarters?" he asked, sternly.  AJ whimpered
and put his tail between his legs.  "Come on," Crossfire said more gently,
as he led AJ out of Ten Forward by the collar.  "Bad dog," he warned from
somewhere down the corridor.
     "Great," complained Savvie, looking around at the ruins of his bar.
"Just great."  He reached for a mop, handed a junior bartender a broom,
and began to clean up what he could.
     "What next?" Rhee wondered as she dropped back into her chair, out of
breath.
     "Well, at least you'll be in shape for your next physical," suggested
Fizzix Dude.  He received two handfuls of flying peanuts for his trouble.
     The doors to Ten Forward opened yet again.  In walked a man with a vague
feline nature about him...in the way he looked, in the way he walked.  His
stiff posture spoke of a strong military background, but his agile steps
spoke of another side to the man.  He walked straight up to the bar and
ordered his drink, hardly noticing the mess Ten Forward was in. 
     "What do we have here?" smiled Rhee, admiring the stranger.
     "Looks like the Marines are in," whispered Susan.
     "Oh, brother."  Fizzix Dude rolled his eyes and quickly snapped himself
out of the episode.
     "He IS kinda cute," admitted Susan.
     "No fair!  I saw him first!"
     "Hey, I was just teasing you."
     "Oh.  Any idea what his name is?"
				* * * * *
     "We had a false alarm at Ross 614 a few hours ago, but otherwise it's
been fairly quiet."
     "Kind of the same here," yawned Kabeta, rubbing her eyes.  "Mark's been
using the time to establish a better communications network with the local
task forces so that we can counter-strike as a team."
     "Your own little Uni-Mind.  I like it."  Avenger scrutinized the image
on his viewscreen more closely.  "When's the last time you had a good night's
sleep, Kabeta (Kah-BEET-ah)?"
     "Not you too!"  Her head slumped forward somewhat.  "And, by the way, I
hate to remind you again, but it's pronounced Kah-BAY-tah."
     "Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Old habits don't fit the nuns any more, you know?"
     Kabeta's apparent confusion was answer enough for Avenger.
     "Never mind.  Look, you need your rest.  If sleep isn't doing the trick,
at least go play or something.  You DO know how to use a Holodeck, don't you?"
     "Yes, mother!"  Kabeta rolled her eyes.
     Avenger smiled, snapped her a smart salute and closed the channel.
				* * * * *
     Dr. Icefalcon entered Holodeck 7 with caution, as he always did when
interrupting a program.  One never knew what might be going on inside,
especially when it was one of Crossfire's programs.
     What he found didn't completely surprise him.  Most of the room was the
classic golden grid on black walls, but the far wall had been formed into a
nearly 2-dimensional meadow that looked remarkably like a life-sized replica
of an ancient Terran video game known as "Duck Hunt."  The difference was that
Crossfire was using live ammunition (or at least as live as the Holodeck would
allow).
     Another shot rang out, disrupting Icefalcon's sense of balance and
stinging his eardrums.  Crossfire heard him stumbling about and paused, but
only for a moment.
     "Zen," ordered Crossfire.  "Headset for Dr. Icefalcon."
     "Say 'please.'"
     "Zen, I've had enough of your sh*t for one day."
     "Oh, all right!"
     A pair of heavyweight headphones appeared on the floor before the ship's
surgeon.  He set down his medical bag and picked them up, placing them snugly
about his ears.  As soon as they were in place, Crossfire resumed his game.
     "Is something bothering you?" Icefalcon asked.
     "What?!" yelled Crossfire over the sound of his Beretta.
     "STOP SHOOTING AND I'LL REPEAT IT!!!" Icefalcon yelled...over silence.
     "You don't have to yell."
     "Is something bothering you?"
     Crossfire sat down, removed a box of bullets from his bag and began to
reload an empty clip.  "Could be.  I've got a lot on my mind these days, you
know?"
     "Is it these Marines?"
     "Geez, what is everybody's infatuation with these jarheads??"
     "So they ARE bothering you."
     "No," stated Crossfire firmly.  "My problem is that everyone keeps
trying to get inside my head.  First the stuff about Chris and now this."
     "Uh-huh."  Suddenly, dramatically, Icefalcon changed tactics.  "Weren't
you going to enlist in the Marines?"
     "Yeah," admitted Crossfire, pulling a second clip from his pocket.  "I
almost did.  When all that Borg sh*t erupted, I was...convinced that Star
Fleet was the way to go." [1]
     "So why did you want to be a Marine?"
     "Oh, the usual reasons, really."
     "So why do these particular jarheads have you worked up?"
     "Kevin, how many times do I have to tell you?"  He dropped the empty clip
from his Beretta and replaced it with one of his reloaded clips.  "I have a
lot on my mind right now.  All this Borg sh*t and everyone is expecting good
ol' Crossfire to pull a rabbit out of his hat and save the day.  That's hard
enough to do, and who knows if anyone will figure the Borg out, but then
there's this Security Chief business..."
     "I've noticed how you avoid promotions and administrative jobs.  I was
surprised when I heard you took on the Security Chief job."  Kevin paused,
seeking the right words.  "Does being in a position of authority bother you?"
     "Being in authority does not bother me," Crossfire stated firmly.  "Being
too tied down to one place, having my freedom of movement taken away...that's
what bothers me."
     "Ahh."
     "You know," thought Crossfire.  "I'm starting to sound like my father."
     "Your father?"  Icefalcon's face lit up in surprise.  "Now I don't think
I've ever heard you talk about him.  I thought maybe he died or something."
     "No, actually he's on board the ship right now."
     "Really?"  Icefalcon couldn't believe his ears -- Crossfire was full of
surprises today.  "So how come--?"
     "How come I'm not hanging out with him, doing typical father-son things,
going to some stupid sporting event or drinking really bad beer with him or
arguing politics with him?  You said it yourself, Kevin.  I don't talk about
him...or to him.  I don't know him."
     "I'm sorry..."
     "Don't be," said Crossfire, indifferently.  "I never knew him; he never
knew me.  We both wanted it that way, and while it broke my mother's heart
when he left, though you'd never know it looking at her, she understood.  I
have met him a few times over the years, including earlier today in the
cargo bay.  That's about it.  No big deal."
     "No hard feelings or anything?  No feelings at all?"
     "Nope.  He has the Marine Corps.  I have Star Fleet.  We have our own
friends, our own worlds.  I'm quite happy with that.  If I ever had any needs
for fatherly advice, I probably got them from Jean-Luc and Admiral Bowman."
     "Interesting," nodded Icefalcon.
     "Kevin, has anyone ever told you how much you sound like a Betazoid
counselor?"
     "Only the Betazoids."
     "Smartass."  Crossfire pulled his headset around his ears again.  "So
are you going to join me or what?"
     Kevin smiled and retrieved his medical bag.  Opening it, he revealed an
ancient CZ-75 9mm and plenty of ammunition.
     "I thought you'd never ask."
     A holographic duck quacked viciously in the background.
				* * * * *
     Holodeck 2 was laid out like a Marine barracks, although one end was
notably vacant apart from a large imposing door.  Behind that door, Colonel
Jeff Rust studied crew manifests at a spartan plasteel desk, the door to his
small personal quarters just beyond.  The door, which seemed to date from
sometime in the late 20th century, opened only after a small metal doorknob
was turned in place by the man on the other side, Sergeant-Major Sean McKelvey.
     "Good evening, Colonel," he began, the thickness of his brogue placing
his origins somewhere in Northern Ireland.  "The men are all tucked in, as it
were."
     "Very good, Sergeant-Major," said Rust, shutting down the terminal and
rubbing his fatigued eyes.  "We'll want to get started with maneuvers first
thing in the morning."
     "Yes, sir.  Will do.  The cat has some of his night crew programming
the simulators in Holodecks 4 and 5, sir."
     "Mm-hmm."  Rust stood up and began to pace back and forth a bit behind
his desk.  "I heard there was a little ruckus in Ten Forward today."
     "Hmm, hadn't noticed, sir."
     "Do me a favor and make sure the men are careful about Ten Forward.  We
don't want to upset the ruling class of this starship TOO much."
     "Yes, sir."  McKelvey relaxed, much moreso than he had earlier before
Avenger.  "Colonel, I have a personal question."
     "You know we don't have any secrets here in my office, Sean."
     "Right, sir."  Rust offered a chair, which McKelvey gladly took.  Rust
sat back down himself.  "This Avenger isn't what I expected."
     Rust smiled.  McKelvey was always straight to the point.  "I have to
admit," he finally said, "that I felt the same way.  Be careful, though.
First impressions can be misleading."
     "I understand, sir.  Still..."
     "You're not sure how far to trust his judgment."  Rust nodded.  "He's
considered one of the best they've got, plus this crew's supposed to be the
best around.  I don't think we have to worry about them..."  His voice
trailed off as he thoughts wandered.  "I am getting old or is it hot as
Vulcan in here?"
     "The Holodeck environmental controls appear to be stuck, Colonel.  I
asked the security chief to look into it, but I think he shrugged me off."
     That's my boy, thought Rust.  "What do you think of him, Sergeant-Major?"
     "Who?  Crossfire?  A little abrupt, but he seems okay to me, sir.  Might
have made a decent Marine, had he chosen the Corps."
     "He almost did," Rust said.
     "How do you know that, sir?"
     "Oh, I've been following his career for years," Rust explained.  "He's
accomplished a great deal.  Considering our current assignment, I was hoping
that maybe I could finally...get to know him."
     McKelvey's confusion was showing.  "Begging your pardon, Colonel, but
why should a career Marine like yourself care so much about a Star Fleet
officer?"
     "Doesn't he seem at all familiar?"
     McKelvey thought about it a moment.  "He does seem to have your kind of
approach to a situation, sir.  Maybe better..."
     Rust smiled at that.  "And?"
     "And?"  McKelvey thought some more.  "Now that you mention it, he did
look like he had your nose."
     "My nose?"
     "And your chin, sir."
     "He does.  Crossfire's my son, Sean."
     "Well, I guess that WOULD explain it, wouldn't it?"
     "Yes."  Rust looked his senior NCO in the eyes.  "We always had this
silent agreement to stay out of one another's lives...  I never wanted to be
a 'daddy.'"
     "You certainly don't seem the type, sir, if you don't mind my saying."
     "Exactly."  Rust rubbed his eyes.  "He's grown up now though.  I'm
getting older...  Hell, I'm getting kind of sentimental in my old age."
     "The men haven't noticed, sir."
     "Thanks, Sean."  Rust stood and paced again.  "Think you could do me a
favor?"
     "Certainly, Colonel.  What do you have in mind?"
     "I'd like to get to know the boy while the opportunity is here...but I
don't exactly know how to approach him.  Perhaps you could warm up to him for
me?  Maybe nudge him in the right direction?"
     "You know you can always count on me, Colonel."
				* * * * *
     "Yowsers, Admiral," said Zort as he dropped into the vacant Executive
Officer's chair.  "I just caught this weirdorewski FAX from the Admiral femme
of your relative acquaintance."
     Avenger took the proferred printout and scanned it.  To him, it looked
like a scrambled printer test page.
     "This is from T'Lilith?" asked Avenger.  "How could you tell?"
     "Well, lookee here."  Zort pointed to the FAX header, which was entirely
in Klingon characters.  "Who else in the Klingon Empire would send a FAX
DIRECTLY to me?"
     "True, I don't know many Klingons that would seek YOU out so directly."
     "Anyway, I figure it's in a kinda froopy code so the Borgies won't get
a clue."
     "Hmm.  I did show her some elementary group theory recently, including
that chapter on DoD coding..."
     "What the froop is DoD?"
     "Oh, sorry, Zort," muttered Avenger.  "I keep forgetting what century
I'm in.  I was showing T'Lilith the kind of coding techniques that were used
during a period of Terran history known as the 'Cold War.'  Modern coding
techniques are actually much more advanced, but the Borg might not figure
that we'd use anything so simple."
     "And so they'd overanalyze it.  Froopin' cute.  Your T'Lilith has quite
a head on her shoulders, doesn't she?"
     "Yup.  The brain inside is even better.  Now if we just figure out what
this whole thing means!"
     "I'll get right on it, Admiral."  Zort stood and snatched the FAX back.
"And if it's a love letter, I swear nobody else will ever see it."
     "They'd better not," said Avenger, completely deadpan.  Zort could not
tell if he was kidding.
     After Zort had departed, Avenger slumped back into the captain's chair,
allowing the worn, abused cushions to support him in that oh-so-familiar
fashion.  While he counted stars and determined his location in the Milky Way
simply by analyzing the orientation and visual magnitude of familiar stars in
his head, Avenger contemplated the day's events.  Eventually, he came down to
one singularly nagging thought.
     "What is so important that T'Lilith felt compelled to FAX me in code?"
he wondered.  "I honestly hope it IS just a love letter."

TO BE CONTINUED
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Next time on

		   STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
			   "The Perfect Game"
		       Part 11: "Ace in the Hole"

Lt. Cdr. Crossfire has a problem...
[ Crossfire and Rhee enter Chez Duane. ]
McKelvey:  Mind if I join you?
Crossfire:  Yes.

[ McKelvey and Crossfire, outfitted in fatigues, sit on rocks in a desert. ]
McKelvey:  You're as stubborn as your father.

And it's only getting worse...
[ Stephen Seagal speaks from behind McKelvey in Ten Forward. ]
Marine #2 (to Crossfire):  "No, we did it with the cat."

Will his father be able to help?
[ Col. Rust hangs about the tactical console on the bridge. ]
Crossfire (to Rust):  GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY CONSOLE!

FATHER VS. SON on STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION!