"Captain's Log, Stardate 104276.3," said the Admiral.  "Borg activity has
been sparse in this quadrant since our encounter at LV-826, but they have been
quite busy elsewhere.  The Klingons are fighting a major defensive action and
I fear for the lives of my wife and her people.  If only we can decipher her
cryptic message!  Zort broke through the first level of the code this morning,
but there appears to be at least another level...knowing T'Lilith, there may
be several more.  I suppose I taught her too well...
     "In the meantime, I can't help but wonder what the Borg are up to.  So
far, every period of quiet has followed with a powerful assault at a major
Federation outpost in the same quadrant.  What's their next target?  Earth?
Seems a bit too obvious.  Vulcan?  They've tried it all before."
				* * * * *
     "HUHNH!!"  The man grunted as he hurled a small white ball at a crouched,
padded man sixty feet, six inches away.  The hurler drew himself back up to
his full height and removed his black cap, wiping his brow.
     "Sixty-four miles per hour," said another, older man as he approached
from a few feet away.  He wore a black uniform jersey with the word "ROCKIES"
emblazoned across the front in purple and white, with a black "CR" cap and
white pants with black pinstripes to complete the effect.  "Reasonable
change-up, right in the strike zone.  Now let's try a fastball."
     "Bear," the Admiral whined.  "That *was* my fastball."
     "Oh."  Larry Bearnarth looked down at his clipboard and coughed, then
looked back up at Avenger.  "Well, uh...not bad for an amateur."
     A door and archway appeared near second base of Hi Corbett Field in
Tucson, Arizona, circa 1993.  "Zen," ordered Highlander, "freeze program."
     Zen buzzed and chirped, then replied.  "Vice Admiral Data is no longer
swimming in the pea soup."
     Highlander frowned and slumped his shoulders.  Joe Girardi stood and
removed his mask, looking to Avenger for an explanation.  Highlander looked
up into the sky and repeated himself.  "Zen, freeze program."
     " By your command."  Girardi and Bearnarth froze in place.
     "What's with him lately, anyway?" Avenger asked.
     "Beats me."  Highlander scanned the field, then looked back to Avenger
with a smile.  "Old-style baseball field.  Minor league?"
     "Hi Corbett Field, Tucson, Arizona."  Avenger took in the warm spring
air, then stepped forward and placed the ball in Highlander's palm.  "I guess
that's enough for me, eh, Coach?"
     "Admiral, you're one strange f***ing cookie."  Highlander nodded.  "But
you're right.  The jarheads want to run maneuvers again and need the 'Deck."
     "Oh.  Right.  I'd better go hit the showers then."  Avenger started to
walk toward second base, then turned and continued walking there backwards.
"Has Zort made any headway?"
     "None that I'm aware of, sir."
     "Hrmm.  Thanks, Number One."  Avenger stepped through the doors and into
the hallway beyond.
     "You're welcome, Captain."  The doors closed and Avenger disappeared.
     "Mmmm."  Highlander looked at his wrist chronometer, then smiled.  "Zen,
give me a spring training game, same field."
     Bearnarth disappeared.  A crowd of several thousand plus eight Rockies
and four umpires appeared around Highlander instead.
     "Now batting for the San Diego Padres," the loudspeakers announced.
"Phil Plantier."
     Plantier stepped up to the plate, dug in his feet, took a few practice
swings through air and eyed Highlander suspiciously.  Highlander leaned over
and shook off three signs from Girardi before entering his wind-up.
     The ball sailed straight toward Girardi's glove, but Plantier stepped in
and tagged it, launching it into orbit.  Karim watched the ball sail over the
right field wall and continue on some way beyond.
     "F***!  Zen, end program!"

FADE TO BLACK
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
               STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
                       "The Perfect Game"
                     Part 11:  "Wild Pitch"

Written by The Admiral and Crossfire

Guest stars
	Robert Patrick as Sergeant-Major McKelvey
	Larry Bearnarth (pitching coach, Colorado Rockies)
	Joe Girardi (catcher, Colorado Rockies)
	Phil Plantier (San Diego Padres)
	Dolph Lundgren as Obnoxious Marine #1
	Steven Seagal as Obnoxious Marine #2
	Hans und Franz as other obnoxious Marines

Special guest star
	Kirk Douglas as Colonel Rust

Music by Lalo Schifrin
Directed by Adam Nimoy

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
     McKelvey stayed with the middle of the pack, occasionally slowing to catch
up a slower Marine.  The dry desert heat was stifling.  He stopped near a large
rock to take a quick swig from his canteen.
     He was surprised to see a large man in Star Fleet fatigues run by, passing
up each of his men, one by one.  McKelvey stowed the canteen and followed,
doing his damndest to catch the "spacer" (as the Marines often called their
shipboard counterparts).
     Five minutes and over fifteen hundred meters later, McKelvey passed his
lead man and continued on in pursuit of the spacer.  Able only to keep the
pace the rest of the way, McKelvey didn't catch him until they had completed
their ten kilometer run.
     The spacer walked himself off and did some stretching exercises.  The
Sergeant-Major did the same, finally resting nearby as his men continued to
stream in.
     "That was a good run, Commander," said McKelvey, hoping to break the ice.
     "This?"  Crossfire was clearly not impressed and went about relacing his
boots.  "Not much, though it is nice to compete against live Marines instead
of 'Deck replicas."
     "Easy?  Try this run with a field pack!"
     "I have," said Crossfire.  "You still wouldn't have caught me."
     McKelvey's patience began to wear thin.  "You're as stubborn as your
father."
     Crossfire glared hard at him for a moment, then stood up abruptly.
     "Zen, exit."  A hot fudge sundae appeared on a rock next to Crossfire.
"No, I believe I said EXIT."  Zen buzzed and chirped, then a door appeared
not far from Crossfire.  With a quick agitated look into the air, Crossfire
marched straight out of the 'Deck.
     "Well, he IS as stubborn as his father," McKelvey appealed to no one in
particular.
				* * * * *
     "Zort, ANY progress?"  Avenger craned his neck over Zort's shoulder to
take in the display.
     "Zen just found the first prime number.  It'll be a slurge minutes 'fore
he's got the other."
     "He's running a bit slow today, don't you think?"  Avenger scratched at
his beard.  "Have you noticed that he's been making a lot of errors lately?"
     "Yessa, Capsters.  Beats the gargegil outta me."
     "Look into it.  We don't need another damn Borg computer virus taking
the system down just as they launch their next attack."
     "I'll see what I can do."
				* * * * *
     "Here, AJ!  Come here, boy!"  AJ thought he heard Crossfire's voice from
behind the strange door.  Funny thing about this door -- it smelled a little
different from the rest.  Where did he know that scent from?
     "Come on, AJ!"  AJ walked up to the door curiously and it parted for him.
Keen.  He bounded into the room, tail wagging, looking around happily for
Crossfire.
     Instead, he saw a small ball of black fur frosted in white.  Now he
recognized that odor.
     "HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Pandora began to fluff herself up, expanding into alternate dimensions.
     Jez popped open one eye from his resting place in the opposite corner of
the room and decided that quiet departure might be his best course of action.
     C A T.  Lunch.  AJ bounded toward Pandora, unimpressed by her fluffiness,
targeting his prey.  Pandora, on the other hand, was quite serious in her
intent.
     AJ leapt into warp and went for the kill.  Pandora waited until the last
possible moment and fired all weapons, scoring a direct hit on AJ's nose.  Ten
seconds later, AJ's sensor scan revealed that he was lying in a heap on the
floor several meters from Pandora.  Damage reports were coming in from all
decks and someone was suggesting that retreat might be in order.
     "Yipe!  Yipe!  Yipe!"  AJ stampeded out of the room, running straight
over the top of the stealthy Jez the Wonder Kitty, who was slinking toward the
door as quietly as possible.
     "Myow mrow mrowr mrowrl.  [I need a vacation.]" squealed Jez as he
crumpled into a heap.
				* * * * *
     Crossfire walked into Engineering and poked around, occasionally nodding
acknowledgement at various engineers until he finally found Rhee somewhere
near the warp core.
     "Rhee, I'm having trouble with the rastorizing blambulator," Crossfire
explained with as straight a face as he could muster.  "It won't rastorize."
     "I see," Rhee nodded.  "That IS a problem.  Shall we have a look at it,
Commander?"  She skipped off to a tiny panel near the floor on the far side
of the core as he followed.
     "Oh, so this is where they keep it!" exclaimed the excited Crossfire,
seemingly astounded.  Rhee opened the panel to reveal a hole filled with
cris-crossing strands of Christmas lights and miniature lava lamps wrapped
around those flashing red tubes that manage to turn up in every incarnation
of Star Trek.
     "Hmm, I can't seem to see...oh, wait a minute."  She reached in and
pointed a section out to Crossfire.  "See this one?  It's not on."  She
flicked the light bulb with her finger and it came to life.
     "You know, it's a good thing Missy isn't here," joked Crossfire.  "The
rastorizing blambulator would NEVER work!"
     "Crossfire, who do you think used to fix it for her?"
     He smiled.  "Well, thanks for the help, Rhee.  Now maybe I can get the
forward phaser array...to....."
     As he trailed off in mid-sentence, they turned toward one another and
caught each others' eyes.  Suddenly their faces lit up and their mouths broke
into wide grins.
     "Ice cream?" asked Rhee.
     "Ice cream," Crossfire confirmed with a wink and a nod.
     Rhee led Crossfire out of Engineering into the snack bar just outside.
It was a small boxy room cluttered by several futuristic-looking vending
machines and a small table.  Sergeant-Major McKelvey sat at the table, his
back to them.
     "Oh, great," grumbled Crossfire.  "They've invaded Chez Duane."
     "Oh...hi," Rhee stammered, flittering her eyelids at the Marine.
     "Don't encourage him," Crossfire muttered under his breath as he crossed
to the ice cream machine.  He began to poke around inside.
     "Hi...go...you...me..." Rhee stuttered and mumbled quietly.
     "Do you want an Eskimo Pie or a Heath Bar?" Crossfire asked.  Not getting
a response, he turned around to find her staring at the Marine.  "Rhee?"
     "Heath Pie," she replied absently.
     "'That selection is not available,'" Crossfire stated mechanically.
     "Oh.  Sorry, Zen," muttered Rhee, still gazing dreamily at McKelvey.
"Eskimo Bar."
     McKelvey set down Tom Clancy's _Designer Genes_, a 10000 page tome about
Jack Ryan and the beginning of the Eugenics Wars (which could easily have been
told in less than 400 pages by an author other than Clancy), and joined LCdr.
Crossfire at the vending machines.  As he passed Rhee, she let out a long
visible sigh.
     "So, this is what you spacers eat."
     "Not always," said Crossfire.  "The ground glass machine is over there."
     "Mind if I join you?"
     "Yes," snapped Crossfire.
     "No," whispered Rhee, her head still somewhere in the clouds.
     "Ssssh," hissed Crossfire.
     McKelvey stopped and shrugged his shoulders resignedly.  He picked up
his book and headed out of the room, stopping only to nod pleasantly at Rhee
and say, "See you later."
     At that, Rhee sighed audibly and dropped into a chair, slumping like a
rag doll.  "He's soooooooo dreamy."
     "Oh, puh-lease," grunted Crossfire.  "Now I think I've lost my appetite."
				* * * * *
     Zort stood up from the computer officer's station and joined the junior
officer at the security railing, leaning over to Avenger.
     "Admiral," Zort reported.  "We have a real ghirgler of a problem."
     Avenger's head tilted back on the cushioned adjustable head rest of
his battered command chair so that he looked at the Yoyoboqian upside-down.
Neither Avenger nor Zort seemed to mind the unusual visual orientation.
"The decoding's not going well, then?"
     "It's not just that."
     "You found what's wrong with Zen then?"
     Zort nodded somberly.  "Borgies have managed to infiltrate Zen on a low
level of Cyberspace.  They stole the trick Data used on Locutus and started
reprogramming Zen's lower lewel functions."
     "That should be easy enough to fix, once you patch the hole they came
in through," suggested Soraya.
     "Not quite," Zort grumbled.  "I'm going to have to core dump Zen and
reload absolutelgargh everything from the froopin' backups."
     "What?  Why?"
     "They reprogrammed him in NosePick Basic.  NosePick is so full of drabl-
gripply bugs I'm surprised Zen hasn't already crashed.  It would explain all
of those strange things he's been doing though."
     "NosePick Basic?" Susan wondered with a bemused grin.
     "NosePick is a dinosaur amongst dinosaurs," explained Zort.  "It was out
of date when respectable programmers were learning Pascal.  It makes Cobol
look like an advanced language."  Zort turned back to Avenger.  "It's been
'round longer than YOU, Admiral."
     Highlander smiled.  "F***.  That IS old."
     "Oh, sure, Number One.  Rub it in."
     "No, really, Admiral," said Zort.  "It's OLD and it *sucks*.  That's why
it's going to take me so grabbledyblargh long to fix it!"
     "Then you'd better get right on it," said Avenger.  "In the meantime,
I'd better look at that FAX myself."
				* * * * *
     A few hours later, Ten Forward hosted the usual late-night activities.
Highlander slithered up to an attractive woman at the bar and smiled.  "Hey,
doll."  She turned, slapped him across the face and marched straight out of
Ten Forward.
     "Number twenty-two," called Savvie, advancing the number on a machine
above the bar.
     "Are you keeping track???" Highlander whined.
     Across the way, Soraya and Jez sipped warm milk together.  Avenger sat
near the windows, sipping a Cherry Coke, staring out into the stars and
occasionally scanning the sheet of paper clutched tightly in his left hand.
     Suddenly, a dozen or so rowdy off-duty Marines barrelled into the room.
At the first hint of noise, Avenger stood up to exit, drawing them all to
brief, but rigid, attention as he passed.  As soon as his back was turned,
they followed with backhanded salutes and twisted faces.  At one point, he
flipped his head around to look at them, but they snapped back to attention
just as quickly.  As he resumed his exit, the backhanded salutes returned.
After the doors finally closed behind him, the Marines burst into guffaws and
uproarious laughter.
     "Aren't *they* mature?" muttered Soraya sarcastically.
     The lead Marine marched up to the bar, a few of his friends in tow, as
the others went to grab tables.  A tall, bristling blond man, he loomed over
the counter at Savvie.
     "Hey, barkeep.  Is there any place on this ship we can get some REAL
alcohol?  We don't like synthehol."
     Matt drew himself up to his full height and leaned forward.  "Any place
on board where YOU can get real alcohol?"  He slowly, calmly opened his mouth
into a tight smile.  "No."
     "Well, then give us three pitchers of synthbeer."  The Marines turned to
join their comrades.
     "What KIND of beer?" asked Savvie, stopping them in their tracks.
     "Keystone?"
     "All right," smiled Savvie.  The Marines left to join their friends and
Savvie turned his back on them.  He smiled sincerely at one of his staff as
he lifted the beer from below the bar.  "Now we can get rid of this crap."
     Highlander swaggered across Ten Forward exaggeratedly toward his next
conquest.  As he passed the Marine's table, one of them reached out and
pinched him through his kilt.
     "Hey, vaitress.  Vhere can I get--?"
     Highlander turned and glared at the Marine, who flushed at his mistake.
     "Oh, entschuldigen.  You look like a vaitress in that girlie skirt!"
     "Ja," said another.  "Ve didn't know you vere just a girlie-man!"
     Highlander's hand leapt to his katana, but Soraya caught him by the
wrist before he could draw it.
     "Why don't you come sit with Jez and me, Commander?"
     They returned to find Jez slurping down the last of Soraya's milk.  Jez
realized he had been caught in the act, but immediately turned non-chalant
and tried to act as if nothing had happened.
     "That's twenty-four now, isn't it?" asked Soraya.
     "What?"
     "Twenty-four unsuccessful conquests tonight."
     "You're counting TOO?"  Highlander sagged into depression.
     "Mrowr.  Mrow.  Mrow.  Mrowl mrow mrowr mrowp.  [No.  Nope.  Nope.  We're
not counting.]"
     "Hey, doll, is this guy boring you?"  A Marine dropped into the chair next
to Soraya and put his arm around her shoulder.  His words were unconvincing, as
if her were reading off of cue cards the entire time.  "Why don't you come and
talk to a real man?"
     Jez's hair stood on end as he hissed loudly at the Marine.
     "Ooooh, nice kitty!" the Marine offered sarcastically.  He returned his
leering gaze to Soraya.  "Did I mention I have a--?"
     "Go *away*," ordered Highlander.
     The Marine leapt to his feet, snapping a sharply exaggerated back-handed
salute.  "Yes, ma'am!  Right away, ma'am!"
     "Hey!!!" Savvie yelled across the bar.  They turned to look and saw the
Marines dragging tables together to make one long one.  One Marine turned a
pitcher upside down, spilling beer all down the length of the table.  Another
took a running start and leapt headfirst onto the table, sliding lengthwise on
his stomach as far as he could before falling off one side into the arms of
comrades.  Shouts and raucous laughter erupted from the group as credits
exchanged hands.  _Croutonprize_ crew members began to hurriedly filter out
of Ten Forward.
     Soraya and Highlander stood up to put a stop to things.  Suddenly, two
Marines came running up behind them calling "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty."
The Marines grabbed Jez and ran toward the table, flinging him down the length
of the beer-soaked surface before he could overcome his surprise.
     Soraya slapped her communicator hard and screamed.
     Highlander slapped his own and added, "Security to Ten Forward!"
     Jez slid along, yowling loudly and scrambling his feet in all directions,
doing everything in his power to try to gain traction.  He finally found it
in the arms of an awaiting Marine as he slid off the end of the table.  The
unlucky Marine took the full force of Jez's four sets of whirling claws.
     Sergeant-Major McKelvey rushed into Ten Forward and straight up to the
Marine's table.  He scanned the room for trouble as he broke the news.
     "All right, fellows.  That's enough for tonight."
     The doors to Ten Forward opened again and Crossfire entered with five
yellowshirts in tow.  Crossfire was easily distinguishable.  He was the one
levelling a large phaser rifle.
     "What the hell is going on here?!?" Crossfire demanded.
     "Just a little fun, Commander," said McKelvey.  "Nothing more.  I'm going
to put them to bed now."
     Jez sputtered in the corner, shivering and trying to shake the beer out
of his fur.  His eyes burned with revenge.
     Soraya stepped forward, babbling hysterically.  "Marines.  Table.  Jez.
Beer.  Slide.  !!!"
     Crossfire nodded impatiently and turned on the Marines, glaring hard at
them and ignoring their Sergeant.  "You were playing 'Aircraft Carrier' with
my second-in-command?"
     "No," said the Marine that had hit on Soraya.  "We did it with the cat."
     "Look, Commander," interjected McKelvey as he stepped close to Crossfire.
"We were just leaving...."
     "This is going have to go on report, you know.  The Admiral will not be
pleased."  Crossfire shook his head at the Marines.  "So much for a few good
men..."
     "Look," hissed McKelvey.  "I'll take care of this!"
     "Sergeant-Major, don't you have something else better to do?"
     McKelvey glared hard at Crossfire.
     "I don't like it when people follow me around and I certainly don't like
it when they stick their noses into my business.  Now would you just go away?"  
Crossfire's tone made it clear he was not asking politely.
     "Commander, you're overstepping your bounds.  I'm not going to let you--"
     Crossfire merely smiled quietly and tapped his communicator pin.  "Zen,
lock onto the Sergeant-Major here and croutonize him into the nearest brig."
     A look of surprise, shock and anger crossed McKelvey's face as his body
disintegrated into its component croutons and left Ten Forward.
     "Done, sir," acknowledged Zen.  "Can I do anything else for you?"
     Crossfire stared down the remaining Marines.  "Yes.  Stop teasing AJ."
     "Oh, you're no fun any more!"
     "I never was."  He slapped his communicator off and dared the Marines
again with a harder stare.  This time, they scattered, not wanting to meet
the same (or a worse) fate as their commander.
				* * * * *
     McKelvey seethed inside security brig #4.  The yellowshirt on the other
side of the security field jumped when he looked up from the sitcom on his
portable holoviewer, having not expected anyone to be occupying the cell.
     "Uh, sir...  This is a secure area.  You're not supposed to be in there."
     "I know," spat McKelvey.  "Would you mind letting me out of here?"
     "I'll have to get authorization from a superior first, sir."
     "Oh, lovely."  McKelvey rolled his eyes and sat back on the bunk.
				* * * * *
     Avenger's door chimed.  And again.  And again.
     "Come in!" he finally complained.  He sat hunched over a table covered
in hair, eraser shavings, crumpled bits of paper and empty two-liter bottles
of Dr. Pepper.
     "Long night?" wondered Susan.
     Avenger looked at his watch wide-eyed and suddenly leapt to his feet.
His clothes were wrinkled and his hair, what was still intact, was a mess.
     "Why didn't somebody tell me it was tomorrow morning already???"
     "You're a big boy," smiled Susan.  "We figured you could take care of
yourself.  However, we did think you would want to know that _Volvo_ and
_Plasma_ have arrived at Ross 154."
     "Any sign of the Borg?"
     "No word yet.  Obviously no ship is there now though."
     Avenger crossed to a desk and begin to dig through its drawers.  "Hold
current position and tell me when they find something."
     "Very good, sir."  She rocked back and forth on her heels.
     "Was there anything else, Lt.?"  He looked up from the lowest, deepest
drawer of the desk.
     "Well..."  Susan looked about the Admiral's quarters, intrigued by the
few personal effects he had hanging around the room.  "Colonel Rust has been
trying to reach you.  Seems his XO's locked up in our brig and no one else
in the chain of command could be reached to approve his release."
     "We'll see about this."  Avenger tapped his communicator, but there was
no response.  He tapped it several more times with similar results.
     "Sorry, Admiral," said Susan.  "Forgot to tell you.  Zort's reloading
Zen's intraship communications software.  The only way to reach you was to
come down here myself."  She looked at him expectantly.  "Besides, we were a
little worried about you.  Nobody's seen you since last night in Ten Forward."
     "Time gets away from me sometimes," admitted Avenger.  "Aha!  There it
is!"  He pulled something out of the bottom of the desk drawer and slammed the
drawer shut.  He leapt across the room and resumed his frantic scribbling.
Susan walked forward slowly and leaned in over his shoulder.
     "Maybe you'd better get a nap or something..."
     "I think I've almost got this code cracked," said Avenger.  "I can't
believe the work she put into this thing.  I finally cracked the other prime
number, decoded that mess and found that the remainder's in yet another code.
She really didn't want the Borg to find out."  He sighed and looked off into
space.  "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep until I know T'Lil is
okay."
     She rested a hand gently on his shoulder and whispered, "I understand."
Absent-mindedly, she glanced at the FAX from T'Lilith, then at Avenger's
scribble notes, then back to the FAX.
     "Um, did you try Inverted Code 47 with the words in Latin?"
     "Inverted Code 47--?"  Avenger looked down at the paper, then back up
to Susan.  "Whatever for?"
     "I don't know.  It just looked like Inverted Code 47 in Latin to me."
     He looked down curiously at the paper, back to Susan, back to the paper,
then opened his code book to Inverted Code 47.  After several minutes of
scribbling, he finally looked at the result, blinked twice, then handed it
to Susan.
     "I sure hope you know Latin, Lieutenant."
				* * * * *
     "I'm sorry it took so long to get you out, Sean," said Rust.  "The
Admiral was a little hard to reach."
     "It's all right, Colonel."  McKelvey rubbed his brow.  "I shouldn't have
gotten myself into this mess."
     "I take it you're not making much progress with Zephiram, Sean?"
     "Who?"
     "Crossfire.  My son."  Rust sighed and smiled quietly.  "I should have
expected he'd react like this.  I would've at his age."
     McKelvey seethed quietly in the chair across the desk.  His uniform was
still wrinkled from a restless night's sleep on the hard bunk in the brig.
     "With all due respect, Colonel, I think you'd be better off NOT getting
to know him."
     "I think I can make those decisions for myself, Sean."  Rust sighed again
in impatience.  "Maybe you'd better get yourself cleaned up.  You just leave
Crossfire to me."
				* * * * *
     "What?"  Col. Rust looked from Avenger to Crossfire back to Avenger.  "You
have got to be kidding me."
     "Frankly, Colonel," Crossfire acknowledged.  "I'd tend to agree with you,
if it weren't for experience.  But then again, why would she have gone to all
the trouble to multi-code this message if she wasn't serious?"
     Avenger's head tilted forward and he began to snore lightly.  Just as
suddenly he snapped to attention.  "Trust me.  T'Lil's not the kind to come
up with something like this out of the blue."
     "No, that'd be more like you," Highlander interjected.  "She must have
thought it through pretty thoroughly and found it to be a logical conclusion."
     Rust shook his head again.  "It will not work."
     "Maybe you should give it a try, Colonel," suggested Crossfire.  "It
might give your men an edge, at least until the Borg learn the trick."
     "It'll never work," Rust repeated.  "Besides, my men will never go for
it.  They couldn't do something like this with a straight face."
     "Then let them enjoy themselves while they do it," snapped Avenger
impatiently.  "They certainly enjoyed themselves enough at my expense last
night."  His communicator booped as he drifted back off into dreamland.
Highlander answered the call instead.
     "Go ahead, bridge.  Nice to see Zen's functioning again."
     "Don't jump to any conclusions," Zort called in the background.  Then
they heard Susan clear her throat.
     "_USS Plasma_ has detected a Borg resonance trace in the Ross 154 system,"
reported Susan.  "They've been there...quite recently."
     "As I expected," said Avenger suddenly.  Then he nodded off again.
     "One other thing.  We've picked up a minor gravitational flux on one
dynoscanner."
     "Borg ship on its way?" asked Soraya.
     "On its way?" asked Susan.  "How about maybe hiding somewhere nearby?"
     "Red alert," ordered Highlander.
     "Zzzzzzz," snored Avenger.
				* * * * *
     "Recall _Plasma_ and _Volvo_ and get me Star Fleet Command on-line,"
Highlander ordered as he took command of the bridge from Susan.  Soraya went
directly to the science stations, while Colonel Rust quietly joined Crossfire
at tactical.
     "Let me see the gravometric flux reading, Dave," Soraya requested as
Susan joined her.  A new display popped up on the monitor.
     "We ought to be able to see them if they're *that* close," said Susan.
     "Maybe not..."  Soraya looked as if she had an idea.
     "Crossfire," began Rust.  "Zephiram.  I was wondering if we could have
a little talk..."
     "Not now," said Crossfire abruptly.  "I'm a little busy.  SIR."
     "You don't need to call me 'sir'--"  Rust suddenly stopped, looked at
the status board, then reached over and pushed a button.  "No, you've got
this all wrong.  You need to--"
     Crossfire stopped, gripped the railing firmly and turned beet red.  He
took a deep breath and turned toward Rust slowly.  "Colonel, with all due
respect, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY CONSOLE!"
     Taken aback, Rust began to redden himself, but was cut off before he
could reply.
     "What if they're using a cloaking device?" Soraya wondered aloud.
     "Dave," said Susan.  "Scan for a vessel cloaked by any of the means
we're already able to detect."
     "Too late!" Himle shouted as a large cube slipped out of cloak just off
the _Croutonprize_'s stern and grabbed hold with a tractor beam.
     "  Warning.  Silverware has been tarnished."  Zen buzzed, clicked
and then spoke again.  "  Warning.  In the event of an actual emergency,
party hats will descend from the ceiling.  Place them firmly over your head
and dance with the devil by the pale moonlight."
     "I thought you fixed him?!" exclaimed Soraya.
     "Froopin' flabbergrabble gloop de gloop!!" exclaimed Zort as he dived
deep under his console and began to yank wires.
     "  Intruder alert.  Engineering has cooties."
     Zort jumped to his feet and typed rapidly into his console.  Suddenly,
all displays on the bridge froze and printed out a single line of text:

                    Segmentation fault (core dumped) 

				* * * * *
     "Look, Zeph, do you have to be so hard-headed?  I know this isn't a good
time, but will you at least talk to me when this is over?"
     "Colonel, if you don't stop following me, I'm going to stun you with
this phaser."  He pointed the phaser menacingly at Rust.
     "You wouldn't stun a superior officer," Rust challenged.
     "Examine my service record."
     Rust backed off.  Crossfire took the opportunity and ducked out of the
turbolift and dashed down the corridor.  Rust sighed, exited the lift and
relaxed against a wall.  He tapped the Star Fleet Marine emblem on his collar.
     "Sean, take Delta Squad to Engineering.  We have Borg infiltrators.  I
want the rest of the men distributed throughout the ship.  MOVE."
     A shiver went up Rust's spine as a green will'o'the'wisp flickered before
him.  Then, suddenly, he was face to face with a biomechanical entity.  For
the first time in three years, when he had faced the Lucky Charms, Rust
looked fear in the eyes.
				* * * * *
     "What do I do?" asked Neal.  He looked to Highlander and Soraya for
answers, but found none.
     I can't let myself panic, thought Highlander.  What would Chris have
done?  He pondered this for a moment and realized Chris probably would have
gone off and sulked in the corner while the rest of the crew worked out the
solution.  Not the right move for him now.
     Suddenly, Zen came back on line.
     "Thank you, Zort."  Highlander looked to the science stations.  "Have
we been able to get through to our support ships?"
     "Borg interference is too strong," reported Soraya.  "We're isolated."
     "All right then."  He looked about, sizing up the situation.  He noticed
the tactical console was empty.
     "Soraya, keep an eye on the interference.  If it breaks up at any time,
I want you to get a message through."  Highlander stepped up to the security
railing and ran his hands lovingly over the tactical console.  It's been
awhile, he thought.
     "Neal, look for an opening.  If we break free, I want you to put some
distance between us and the Borg.  Matt, I want you to look for opportunities."
     Highlander began to manipulate weapons power.  "Zort, you just keep Zen 
running."
     "I'm doing my best," Zort replied.  "But it's not going to last long at
this rate."
     "Okay, now if we can just get the Borg out of Engineering..."  Highlander
knew Crossfire and Jez well enough by now to realize they would already be on
that problem.  "Somebody want to wake the Admiral?"
				* * * * *
     Crossfire practically caught Rhee as he and Jez rounded the corner into
Engineering.  Her face was ashen and her crew streamed past with similar looks
of fear and panic on their faces.
     "How many?" he asked, sorry he had to be so blunt with her.  It worked
though, as she regained her composure quickly.
     "Uh, I don't know.  Five, maybe six.  They've got control of the warp
core and are trying to shut down main engine power."
     "Not if I have anything to say about it."  He looked around, frowned.
"I'm going to need some help to pull it off..."
     McKelvey and a dozen Marines appeared from the other end of the hallway
and raced forth.  McKelvey was prepared to ignore Crossfire and continue past,
but Crossfire stopped him with a hand.
     "Sergeant-Major, would you like to aid me in an experiment?"
     Surprised, but focused, McKelvey looked at him for an explanation.
     "Just follow my lead."  Crossfire turned and marched straight into the
main Engineering area, followed by the squad of Marines.  Six Borg drones had
stationed themselves at various points around the warp core.  Noticing the
approaching group, the marauders turned and formed a line to prevent inter-
ference.  Crossfire gestured for the Marines to wait there as he walked
straight up to the closest Borg.
     "Excuse me," he said, looking below the drone's waist.  "Are those Bugle
Boy jeans you're wearing?"
     Acting as a single mind, the six soldiers looked down simultaneously.
     "Now!" yelled Crossfire.  He reached up, grabbed the nose of the nearest
Borg and slapped it hard across the bridge of the nose with his other hand.
Before the Borg could recover, he pushed it to the floor and yanked out some
key components.
     The Marines looked incredulously at McKelvey, but he waved them on.
Taking Crossfire's lead, they leapt forward and slapped, poked and confused
the Borg with old vaudevillian comedy routines.
     "I guess it's a good thing your boys like intellectual comedies,"
Crossfire said to McKelvey.
				* * * * *
     The Borg lunged, attempting to take Rust by the wrist.  The Colonel
pulled his arm away and brought his hands down hard on the Borg's neck.
It looked at him, impassionately, then brought its mechanical arm around
to bear.
     "I think not," said Rust.  Reaching for his boot, he withdrew a small
knife and plunged it with both hands into the soldier's electronic eye.  It
staggered backward, reeling in shock, and fell over backwards.
     "That was too easy."   Almost as he finished saying it, two more Borg
appeared to Rust's left.  He whirled to face them and reached to his belt.
     "Damn," he swore as he realized he wasn't wearing his phaser.  "I'm
too distracted...making me sloppy."
				* * * * *
     "Crossfire, what's going on down there?"
     Crossfire slapped his communicator and ducked out of the way of a
Marine and his target.  "We are regaining control down here, Commander.
Rhee should be able to move her people back in shortly."
     "Great," Highlander responded.  "But we've got more beaming into other
parts of the ship."
     "I'll take care of it.  See if you can get the battle computers back on
line, then run Crossfire program 29-Theta."
     "Got it, Commander.  Keep in touch.  Bridge out."
     Crossfire grabbed McKelvey by the shoulder.  The Marine whirled, a fist
ready to pummel him.
     "Think your men can handle it here?"
     "Uh...what?  Oh, sure."
     "Come with me."
     McKelvey followed Crossfire down the hallway at a run.
     "Where are we going?"
     "To my quarters," said Crossfire.  "I've got some equipment there that
might come in useful--"
     His words and feet came to a halt as he rounded the last corner.  Right
outside the turbolift, a Borg forced Colonel Rust to his knees.  The other
drone moved around behind, prepared to immoblize him...
     "Colonel!"  McKelvey fired his phaser at the immobilizing Borg, missing
and scorching the wall instead.  Before the Borg could respond further,
McKelvey was on top of it, wrestling it into the wall.
     Rust continued to struggle against the other Borg, losing a hopeless
battle.  The Borg pressed down, harder, harder, harder on his neck.  He felt
as if his shoulder were going to snap under the pressure.  Breathing became
more difficult, his vision fuzzier.
     The world suddenly exploded around him.  He heard - felt - five short
thuds, then felt himself being crushed by the Borg on top of him.  Something
warm and sticky began to run down his face, down his neck.
     The weight lifted as the Borg fell to the ground at his side.  McKelvey
and Crossfire had pulled it off of him.  He reached up and felt his face,
landing his fingers in the sticky goo of Borg nutrient solution that had
dripped out of the dying drone onto him.  He saw a hand extended and grasped
it firmly.  Crossfire pulled him to his feet.
     "Geez, Dad," joked Crossfire.  "How did you ever manage with the Lucky
Charms?"
     Before Rust could respond, McKelvey patted Crossfire on the arm and
led him into the turbolift for destinations unknown.  Rust looked down at
the dead drones, then at the closing turbolift and smiled.
				* * * * *
     "Captain's Log, Stardate 104277.6.  Crossfire and company have sent the
Borg off with the kind of confused looks on their faces I used to give to that
dork of an assistant principal at my high school...
     "Zort has purged the NosePick programs from the central computer core
and has Zen mostly in working order again.  Make a note to put him in for a
commendation for his timely work.
     "I'm happy to report that T'Lilith and the Klingon Empire appear to be
in good shape.  Apparently, all that television I exposed her to over the
years has paid off.  Who would have ever thought the Three Stooges and the
Marx Brothers could have an edge on the Borg?
     "After some initial...difficulties in assimilating with our crew, the
Marine contingent seems to be settling in.  I am...relieved that Crossfire
finally seems to be getting along with them."
				* * * * *
     "Your people could use a little more discipline."  McKelvey lifted his
glass.  "But you do have a nice ship..."
     "They did a good job in clearing out the Borg, but your Marines are still
a pain in the ass," said Crossfire as he downed more synthale himself.
     "I'd say the same about you, Commander.  But clever too."
     Crossfire set down his empty glass across from McKelvey's.  "I had better
get back to duty."
     "Me too.  Mustn't let my Marines think I'm getting soft on them."
     While the appearance of tension remained on the surface, they exchanged
a knowing look, and almost a smile, and parted company.  They left Ten Forward
in different directions.
     From a far corner of the busy lounge, Col. Jeff Rust smiled quietly to
himself.

FADE TO BLACK
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Next time, on all-new episode of

		STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
			 "The Perfect Game"
		 Part 12: "King of the Pakleds"

A crisis of epic proportions...
hj:  Who's been messing with my food slot?

And Captain Boom-Boom of the _Comatose_ is missing...
Chi An:  Lynn's probably off-duty.

A devious villain has his sights set on the _Subaru_...
[ Seated figure in silhouette, whistling "If I Only Had a Brain" ]

Could the Borg be far behind?

BOOM-BOOM AND THE PAKLEDS?  On STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION!