 |
||||
Stardate 104301.3, San Francisco, Earth
"Boothby," Kabeta called.
The old man stooped over a bed of petunias, selectively removing an
odd dandelion or two.
"I'm busy," he grunted.
She dropped to her knees by his side and placed a gentle hand on his
arm, almost lovingly. Star Fleet Academy seemed especially quiet now.
Classes had been suspended when the war started and all cadets were on combat
exercises, just in case they were needed. She was surprised to find Boothby
still at work on the grounds amidst all the confusion. To be honest, she was
surprised to find him still working at all.
"Boothby, I need to talk to you. Please."
The old man turned to look her in the face. His wizened features were
wrinkled and cracked from far too many years in the sun. His brittle white
hair played about his burned scalp, barely covering its leathery skin. He
seemed thinner...and shorter...than she remembered.
"I...know you, don't I?"
"Kabeta," she said, offering him a hand up. "Class of 2412."
He was old beyond his years. Some joked that Boothby had been here
long before the Academy was built. Others suggested that he had tended the
great hanging gardens of Babylon before coming here. Despite the jokes, it
appeared that age was finally beginning to catch up with him, though he was
still rather spry for a man well into his second century of life.
"I'm sorry, dear," he said as she lifted him to his feet. He brushed
away some dirt from his gardening apron and removed his gloves. "I'm
afraid my memory's not quite what it used to be..."
"'Excuse, please,'" she intoned, in the semi-Slavic tones of her long-
forgotten youth. "'Is this way to oBservtory?'"
"Good lord," he gasped. He fished out a beat-up pair of spectacles
and placed them over the bridge of his nose. "Kabeta. Now I remember you."
"It's good to see you again, Boothby," she sighed, choking back tears.
He shook his head in amazement. "Captain Kabeta of the _Heisenberg_.
Who ever would have thought?"
"You're the only one that ever believed in me, Boothby."
"Pshaw. You just needed help believing in yourself."
"You're right," she admitted. "Boothby, I need your help again."
FADE TO BLACK
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
"The Perfect Game"
Part 16: "Rendezvous"
Written by the Admiral and Kabeta
Guest stars
Denzel Washington as Anthony Morgan
Special guest star
Ray Walston as Boothby
Music by Basil Poledouris
Directed by Bill Bixby
Notes:
[1] _Henry V_, Act IV, Scene I
[2] A reference to the time Gary Hren, John Heins, Kath, Kris, Kris'
mom and the Admiral went to see the Jim Cameron film _Aliens_.
[3] ST:TCG "Drawn In"
[4] Romulan Ambassador Nomonculus, ST6:TUC
[5] _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_
[6] Marcie to Peppermint Patty in numerous _Peanuts_ strips
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Why don't you take a seat right here?" He stopped at the foot of a
gigantic oak tree overlooking the San Francisco Bay.
"Oh, Boothby!" She looked up in awe. "It's still here...after all
this time!" She helped him to the ground, then joined him, feeling like a
kid again.
"After a long day keeping the kids off my flowerbeds, I still like to
come here and rest afterwards."
"When a student hasn't already taken up residence."
"Depends on the student," Boothby smiled. "There were always some whose
company I didn't mind." He patted her on the shoulder and then pulled her
forehead back gently until her head rested on his shoulder in a grandfatherly
gesture.
"I'm sorry I didn't get to see you last year."
"Hmm?"
"Picard's funeral. I'm sorry I couldn't make it."
"Yes, well you were in quite a mess as I remember it." The spout of a
humpback whale poked out of the water a few hundred meters away, exhaling
and spraying high into the air. It slid back into the water gracefully,
followed by its large black tail. "To be perfectly honest, I didn't go to
the funeral either."
"But why? I thought you and Picard--"
"Jean-Luc didn't enjoy those things any more than you and I." He patted
her on the shoulder again. "I slipped out to France a few weeks later and
visited the plot. Gave their groundskeeper a few tips."
She chuckled, but her mind drifted back to more unpleasant matters.
"Something's been on your mind, child. Better tell me now while you've
got the chance." He smiled down at her. "I'm not getting any younger, you
know."
"Um..." She tried to find the best way to describe her problem. "You
know about the nova..."
"Damn shame, that was," he muttered. "And peculiar too."
"I agree," she said, sitting up and wrapping her arms about her knees.
"I think there's something terribly wrong going on at Star Fleet."
"Damn right there is," Boothby grumbled. "They should have never let
that putz Van Tripp take charge."
"Boothby!"
"Look, Kabeta. I've met a lot of good people here in my lifetime, but
I've met the crud too. Wesley Van Tripp was a putz when he was eighteen and
he's still a putz. Kind of like Nick Locarno..."
"Maybe, but it's not very nice to--"
"Look, I just tell it like it is."
"Yes," Kabeta agreed. "You always did. I think that's what I found
so fascinating about you."
"So what are you going to do about this problem, Kabeta?"
"Me? Oh, I don't think--" She turned to look at him, closely. "If
anybody is going to get to the bottom of this..."
"If you want something done right, do it yourself."
"I knew you were going to say that." She nodded. "I figured that's
what you'd tell me. I guess I just didn't trust myself enough to do it on
my own."
"That's what I'm here for."
"What's the Academy going to do without you?"
"Are you reassigning me, Captain?"
"Nooo..." She stood as if to leave. "Thanks, Boothby. Really."
Before he could slip away, she leaned forward and embraced him tightly.
"Thank you. For everything."
"Listen, Kabeta. You do one thing for me, will you?"
"Yes?"
"Keep your friend Avenger's nose clean. There was always something
about him I could never quite trust..."
"Avenger? Oh, he's harmless. Strange, yes, but harmless."
"Suit yourself." He pulled out of her stranglehold and looked her in
the face one last time. "You take care of yourself."
Boothby smiled and turned, slowly hobbling back to his flowerbed and
unfinished weeding. Kabeta still felt a gnawing in her gut. "Harmless,"
she had said. "Strange, but harmless." Who should she believe?
* * * * *
Avenger looked across the Ready Room at the junior science officer with
the heavy accent he had worked with on so many interesting projects. She had
comes so far in the meantime, grown so much, and it was making him feel old.
"Slept lately?"
"A little," mumbled Kabeta. "How's your hair?"
"Missing, mostly."
She stood up and walked around behind Avenger's desk, examining the
damage herself.
"Something's *really* been eating at you."
"I just lost my first officer and stood by and watched as 25 billion
other people died. I haven't heard anything from my wife in over a week and
at last word fighting in the Klingon Empire had picked up again. _Subaru_
last reported in three days ago on its way to Yoyoboq and neither has been
heard from since. Boom-Boom's gone missing. Now the Borg are suddenly dead
quiet, obviously plotting their next big move. All that and Crossfire's dad
is on board."
"Crossfire's dad?" she gasped in mock astonishment. "No wonder you're
stressed!"
"You don't know the half of it," he grumbled.
"No," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I suppose I don't."
He looked at her curiously, trying to discern what she knew.
"You know," she said. "I still wonder what happened to Anthony..."
"Anthony?"
"Anthony Morgan. He was supposed to take command from Highlander
before he..."
"Ah, *that* Anthony. I didn't know you knew him."
"He used to be a good friend of mine," said Kabeta.
"Used to be?"
"Things changed," she said, making it clear she didn't want to go
into further detail. "I keep wondering if his disappearance has anything
to do with what's going on. I feel like, sooner or later, the Borg will
explain it all to me...and I almost don't want to find out."
"Hunh, I know what you mean," said Avenger. "Something about the Borg
really troubles me. Plus, sometimes I can *feel* Bjorn plotting against
me. Sooner or later, I know he'll come calling."
"Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that
about yours."
"Art thou his friend?" [1]
"You remembered!"
"Hey!" cried Avenger with mock offense. "How old do you think I am?"
"Two hundred and fifty something, but who's counting?"
Avenger smiled and stood.
"It was a quiet night aboard _Dublin_ when you first introduced me to
the world of _Henry V_," he recalled as he paced the room. "And all that
other blasted Shakespeare!"
"It was good for you to be exposed to literature," she countered. "Not
like that...whatever it was you were always watching."
"Look, I happened to be raised on television," he lectured. "_The
Prisoner_ was full of social commentary which is just as relevant now as
it was then. _Doctor Who_ -- now that was classic science fiction."
"_Speed Racer_???"
"Hey!" Avenger exclaimed. "I was young." He walked around behind her
and leaned in close to her ear. "Besides, don't you like..." He reached
out and placed his hands just over her shoulders. "Chim-Chim?!" As he
pronounced the character's name, he clamped down on both her shoulders
suddenly.
"Would you stop that?!?" She jumped up and pulled a Picard Maneuver,
then shook her head and looked him in the face. "You've been hanging around
that _Volvo_ crew again, haven't you?"
"Just remember what I did for you when we saw _Aliens_."
"Got into all kinds of trouble that John and I had to repeatedly bail
you out of, as I remember," she smirked.
"No, no, no. Not aliens -- _Aliens_."
As recognition crossed her face, she nodded, then waved an accusing
finger. "If you had done what you told me you were going to do..." [2]
"But the point is, I didn't. And I wouldn't."
"No, you didn't." Maybe he didn't have any part in this mess. Maybe
she was just seeing demons in the shadows.
Avenger paced again. Kabeta moved to the couch and sat. She patted
the other seat, to no avail.
"Admiral, will you please sit down?!?"
Reluctantly, he sat down. First he tapped his feet repeatedly, then
played games with his various fingers, then finally began to pull out the
odd whisker from his beard.
"What are you so nervous about?"
"I'm worried."
"About T'Lilith."
"Yes..." The way he hesitated made it clear to Kabeta that T'Lilith
was not his only concern.
"She's going to be all right, Mike." She gently put an arm across his
shoulder and he surprisingly did not resist. "All ranks aside now, Admiral.
I'm just speaking to you as an old friend."
"Yes, I knew that." His fingers now tap-danced across the barer parts
of his scalp in an effort to avoid pulling hairs.
"Mike, I've never seen you this nervous."
"You look like you could use a dimensional stabilizer yourself."
"Uhh...yeah." Just like the old days, Kabeta had no idea what he was
talking about.
"Did you ever get in so far you could never get out again?"
Kabeta tensed, removing her arm. "Yes, actually." She was reminded of
a time when she and Jez the Wonder Kitty were drawn away to a far-off world...
She had disobeyed a direct order from Avenger on that day and still regretted
the strain it had put on their friendship. [3]
"How did you get out of it?"
Maybe he is involved? Or maybe he just knows... Should I just ask him?
"Um, I'm still in it. Though maybe not as deep."
"I'm getting deeper all the time."
Silence reigned as time slipped by. Thoughts whirled in their heads,
worries nagged at their intestines, questions circled like hungry vultures.
"Mike, I have to ask you a question about Alpha Centauri."
Avenger's door chimed. "Saved by the bell," he smiled.
Shonyo, he is involved.
Avenger looked up, at once relieved and saddened by not being able to
admit his guilt. "Come in."
The door slid open to admit Crossfire. "Admiral..." He noticed Kabeta
and nodded to her. "Captain."
"What can we do for you, Zeph?" asked Avenger.
"Stop calling me by that ridiculous first name, for one thing."
"It's one of his peculiarities," smiled Kabeta. "One of those things
that makes him unique."
"Annoying was the word I was thinking of. Sir."
Avenger nodded Odo-style at Crossfire. "What have you got?"
"A headache or two, but that's not important right now. We're being put
back on patrol. Intelligence thinks the Borg may have obtained No-Doz after
all."
"Shonyo, so Kleber was right?" Kabeta gasped. "Was that what they were
really after?"
Avenger glared hard at Crossfire. "I doubt the Borg have No-Doz. It's
probably just a clever ploy on their part to scare us into submission."
"Um, something else," added Crossfire. "yaz called to tell me you've
received a rather unusual transmission, Captain."
"Me?" Kabeta's look of surprise was apparent. "Did he say who it was
from?"
"No, Captain."
"I'd better get to the bottom of this." She looked from Crossfire to
Avenger and back to Crossfire, noticing an uneasy tension between the two.
Her suspicion that Crossfire was involved was now confirmed. "We'll talk
again soon, Admiral."
'And you're not off the hook yet,' he read between the lines.
After Kabeta rushed past, Crossfire turned to leave. Avenger shook
his head and waved Crossfire closer. The Ready Room door slid shut.
"She knows, Zeph."
"Kabeta?" Crossfire turned to look at the door. "How?"
"She's bright, for one thing. She can also read me like a book."
"Would it hurt to tell her?"
"Eventually? No." He thought of Bjorn, beckoning him forth. "But now
is not the time."
"There will never be a better time." [4]
"'Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so.'" [5]
"You're weird, sir." [6]
"Thanks." Avenger smiled weakly. "At least somebody still notices."
* * * * *
"Any luck on interpreting that string of stuff we intercepted, Lt.?"
Kabeta turned around to look at Lt. Snark at communications.
"Dear Captain true, the message we have here/ is math and math and math
again, I fear." Despite his penchant for pentameter, Geoff Snark rarely
spoke in rhymes. This time, though, it slipped out anyway.
"What?" Furd the Nurd sounded bewildered.
"What he was *trying* to say, I think," began Kleber, "was that this
seems to be a string of differential equations."
"Differential equations?" asked yaz. "Who in their left mind would
beam a bunch of diffekews out into space?"
"They look pretty straightforward," said Zenador, looking over Snark's
shoulder. "Shouldn't take too long to solve, and see what they say..."
"...if anything," finished O'Forever.
"Okay, then, you mathematicians, get to work," Kabeta said. "I'd like a
full report before the _Croutonprize_ leaves, if at all possible."
"I guess one privilege of being a Captain is that everyone else gets to
do the dirty math," yaz quipped.
"Don't look at me," Kabeta said, doing her best to look innocent. "I
never could quite get the hang of differential equations. Gave me no end of
trouble in my physics classes." She left the bridge, leaving Furd with the
conn, and headed for her Ready Room.
Once inside the door, she stopped to think. "Anthony never did under-
stand my problems with diff eq's..."
Late one evening that year, Kabeta sat on the floor of her friend
Anthony's Star Fleet Academy dorm room. They were about the same age, though
Anthony was a senior and Kabeta only in her second year. He turned from the
replicator and handed her a cup of mint tea as she pondered her physics
homework.
Kabeta took the cup gratefully, sniffing the aroma and smiling. "This
mint stuff of yours is pretty nice," she said, her voice thick with the
Russianish accent of her native Xavion.
"Don't you have anything like it?" Morgan asked. "I'd think herbal tea
was a pretty obvious concept."
"Maybe," she conceded, "we did have some sorts of tea-like drinks, but
nothing like this mint." She looked from the cup to her friend, and smiled.
"You take such good care of me."
He smiled back. "Well, someone's got to teach you how to get along in
the Federation. Not to mention physics."
At the mention of the subject at hand, Kabeta scowled good-naturedly.
"Well, even that is going much more smoothly this year," she said. "At
least Prof. Papaliolios --" her tongue tangled slightly around the name
"-- makes things more understandable than they did last year. I finally
understand harmonic motion!"
"Well, that's good," Anthony said slowly, "but what was it that gave you
so much trouble?"
"I never understood the diffa--differ--oh, bother my mouth! differential
equations! That's it. I never quite got the hang of differential equations
before, how to get from the problem to the equation, how to solve the equation
once I had it, things like that. But Professor P. made it clear in his first
two lectures! It was such a revelation to realize that I actually could
understand this stuff."
"Well, I'm glad you feel better about it," he said. "But to be honest
with you, 'beta, I just don't see how someone could not understand differ-
ential equations."
Kabeta's expression froze. She looked at her friend, not smiling this
time. She looked down at her chronomoter, which she pulled from her pocket.
"Oops, I need to be going," she said, collecting her papers. "Thanks for the
tea." She scooped up her belongings and stood to leave.
"Wait," he said. "Did I say something wrong?"
She looked at him, still almost expressionless. "To be honest with *you*,
Anthony, I don't much like your 'math and physics are everything' attitude.
Whether it makes sense to you or not, I really didn't understand diff eq's.
And I don't like your implying that there's something wrong about that."
Anthony looked very surprised. "Hey, 'beta, I didn't mean it that way.
I'm sorry." Clearly, the implications of his remark hadn't occurred to him.
"Let me walk you back to your dorm."
Kabeta looked at him stiffly for a moment more, then her expression
softened. "Yeah, okay," she said, and smiled.
"I never did quite forgive that remark," Captain Kabeta mused. "I wonder
if he ever realized how much it hurt me." Feeling nostalgic, she called up
her old school files, and went looking for the old physics notes that formed
the first link of her friendship with Anthony Morgan.
As she flipped through the pages of diagrams and differentials, she came
across a place where, in the margins (so to speak) of her notes, she seemed
to have drawn a map of the Xavion system to explain to Anthony better the
place she grew up. She smiled rather sadly, wishing there were someone now
she trusted so much.
Suddenly, she shook herself. "No time for nostalgia now," she said to
herself. "There's a war going on out there." She stood up, shut down the
terminal, and walked back out onto the bridge.
"Any progress?" she asked of the mathematicians at the science station.
"Nothing to speak of," Kleber replied. "We've solved almost all of them,
but can't seem to find any pattern in the results."
"Pity, that," Kabeta said. "May I take a look?"
"Of course, Captain," said Furd, scooting slightly back out of the way
as Kabeta came up to the science station. Kabeta looked over the string of
equations, and suddenly had an eerie sense of deja vu. She had seen this
list before, and recently. But where?
Seeing her puzzled look, yaz asked, "You see something in these we've
missed, Captain?"
Kabeta nodded, very slowly. "Yes, but I don't know what. It's nagging
at the back of my brain that I've seen these before. Now where was it?"
"What on earth have you been doing lately that would involve reading
differential equations?" asked Zenador, mildly incredulous.
"Well, I was just thinking about my old physics classes..." she trailed
off. "Wait. I was just looking at some old notes. Hang on a sec." She
hurried into the Ready Room, a vague sense of dread creeping up on her. She
booted up the terminal again and ran a quick printout of the pages of notes
she was looking at. She came back out to the science station, and started
comparing notes.
"I thought so," she breathed. Next to the map of the Xavion system was
a list of equations that exactly matched the one they had intercepted.
"But what on earth would that mean?" Kleber looked totally baffled, as
did most of the others.
Kabeta knew. With an absolutely chilling certainty, she knew. "There's
only one person who would even remotely know of these equations," she said.
"Remember I was telling some of you about my old friend, the one who was to
take over on the Croutonprize?"
yaz nodded. "Of course, that Morgan fellow, right?"
"That's the one," said Kabeta. She turned to Kleber and Snark. "I hope
I'm wrong about this," she said, "but was there any sign of Borg traces with
these transmissions?"
Kleber and Snark looked at each other. Slowly, Kleber nodded. "We
weren't going to mention it unless we could make some sense out of these,
but yes, they were on one of the frequencies the Borg use and in one of the
codes we've cracked."
Kabeta looked almost ill. "I was afraid of that." She looked around.
"Don't you get it?" she asked. "The Borg have taken Anthony Morgan."
Stunned silence greeted her words. The bridge crew turned around to
look up at the science station and the knot of people there. "B-but why the
differential equations? What's the message?" asked O'Forever.
"I don't know for sure," said Kabeta grimly, "but I can guess. See this?"
she pointed to the diagram. "This is a crude sketch of the Xavion system
that I drew for Anthony years ago. My guess is that we are being tipped off.
The Borg are headed for Xavion."
"It makes sense..." yaz trailed off. "Oh, hell. From what I remember,
that planet will never make it against a full-fleet Borg attack. Or a half-
fleet one either." He stopped abruptly, realizing that this was the Captain's
homeworld they were talking about.
"Seems an awfully complicated tip-off," said Furd.
"Well, he knows about me and differential equations; it became sort of a
running joke between us after awhile. So he sends differential equations,
knowing that, especially with his recent disappearance on my mind, it'll get
me started reminiscing." Kabeta winces at just how well he knows her. "And
he knows me well enough to know almost exactly how I'd react -- which is to
say, looking up my old physics notes. And the rest is..."
"...right here in front of us," interrupted Zenador.
"But why are they tipping us off?" asked O'Forever.
It was an obvious question, but no one else had yet thought of it. "Good
point," said Kabeta. "But I can't see as we have much choice; if we know
where they're going to attack, don't we have a duty to prevent?"
"A sound argument, Captain," said Admiral Bradford, who had come onto the
bridge and joined the group while they were deep in discussion.
"Oh, hello, Admiral," said Kabeta, surprised. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," he said, smiling just a little. "Aren't you due on the
_Croutonprize_?"
"No, just got back from there," said Kabeta, glancing hurriedly at her
chronometer. "And Avenger's warped out of orbit now... Mark, will you warn
Star Fleet? I'm not sure I'm up to that just now."
"Of course, Captain," he said.
"Thanks," she said, honestly grateful to be spared the task of bearing
the news to headquarters. "I'll tell the _Croutonprize_. Mr. O'Forever,
how long would it take us to get to Xavion at high Jolt-Warp?"
"About eighteen hours, Captain," O'Forever said. "After that last
tangle with the Borg, McDonagh's still working on the engines a bit, so
he asked that we not go any higher than Jolt-6."
Kabeta looked less than thrilled with that analysis. "Very well," she
sighed. "Lay in the course, and let's get going. Mr. Snark, make sure the
_Melbourne_ and the _Terry Nation_ have all the details of what we know and
what we're doing."
"At last report, the _Chivalier_ and their task force, except the
_Subaru_, was on patrol in a relatively quiet sector," said Mark. "I'll
let them know we may need them."
"Good idea," said Kabeta, nodding. "Let's go. Furd, take the conn while
I go send news of our plans to Avenger and the _Croutonprize_. I'll send it
No-Doz, so it'll stand half a chance of catching up with them." As Furd
nodded, Kabeta and Bradford stepped into Kabeta's Ready Room.
"Are you all right?" Bradford asked her.
"I will be," she answered. "But it was sort of a shock."
"I can see that," he said, nodding. "All right, then. I'll prepare a
nice tactful report to the higher-ups --"
"Leave my physics notes out of it, if you could?" Kabeta smiled, looking
just a little embarrassed at the thought of having her old notes and
scribblings made public knowledge.
Bradford laughed. "That's why I said 'tactful,' Captain." He deftly
stepped around the small army of miniature platypi that scampered across the
floor as he left the room.
Kabeta sighed as she turned to the computer. "Prepare message to
Admiral Avenger, USS Croutonprize, Confidential."
"Begin message as desired," Pandora replied.
Kabeta cleared her throat. "Admiral, Kabeta here. The "unusual
transmission" we received gives us reason to believe that some portion of
the Borg fleet is on its way to Xavion. And that that part of the fleet
includes Anthony Morgan. We are on course for Xavion at Jolt-6, and Admiral
Bradford is contacting the _Chivalier_ in case we need them." She swallowed.
"Good luck. Kabeta out. End transmission."
FADE TO BLACK
----------------------------------------------------------------------
An old promise kept...
[ Avenger grasps a tennis ball tightly. Image of Bjorn's ]
[ face from "Serving the Best" overlaying the picture. ]
Avenger (whispering): We will return to face you at Wimbledon...
An obsession without end...
Avenger: Tell Bjorn I will keep my state and show my sail of greatness,
when I do rouse the Speakers of Borg!
A man over the edge...
Crossfire: I don't think he belongs in that chair any more.
Zort: What a loon.
What secrets lie in wait on the courts of Wimbledon?
Zort (pointing): What the froop is that?
Ridiculus: We will be forced to destroy you. Oh, um, yes.
[ Klingon bird of prey _wilyum reyqIr_ in the grips of Borg vessel SMC1. ]
Crossfire: I should have stayed in bed today.
STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
"The Perfect Game"
Part 17: "Wimbledon"
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