"Vulcan, Stardate 104254.2."

The desert sands discolor the air as the wind blows them about.  The intense
heat of the red sun overhead is lessened by the brown clouds brewing on the
horizon.  Fifty yards from us is a lone woman in customary Vulcan robes,
seated on a rock near the edge of a cliff that overlooks the brewing storm.

Two women in white robes, the hoods drawn up about their heads to protect
them from the blowing sand, step into view close by us.  The elder speaks
first, her voice somewhat gravelled, from years of living in the desert, her
tone somewhat stern.

Elder:  Day in...day out.  Without fail.  She sits upon that rock for hours
  at a time, thinking.  (a pause, then a sigh)  I know not what.
Younger:  My sister has been to Hell and back, Mother.  She does not return
  to our world so easily...
Elder:  Her resistance to my attempts to aid her is completely illogical.
  I know there is little I can do, but...(sterner)...she will not even
  allow me to try.

The winds settle down somewhat...the proverbial calm before the storm.  The
two women remove their hoods.  The elder woman's sharply pointed ears are
surrounded by a mop of silvery and light brown curls.  Despite the usual
image, it is true that, while rare, Vulcans can develop as light a blond or
as deep a red head of hair as any human.  The younger woman we have seen
before.  Her pointed ears and short-cropped light brown hair are offset by
the bony ridges of her father's genes.

T'Lilith:  Mother, she is still very much the Klingon.  She wishes to
  fight her own battles.
T'Laedyn (with disgust):  Battles!  Your father polluted her mind with
  ideas like that!
T'Lilith (defensive):  We all do what we must.  (a pause)  T'Kreila is
  maturing.  Her help was instrumental in defeating Lucky Lecter.  (a beat)
  The Vulcan way has done much to bring her back to us.  Had she taken the
  Klingon path, I fear she would no longer be alive.
T'Laedyn (changing subjects):  You must talk to someone...or I must.  Star
  Fleet will not leave your sister alone.  For much of the past year, the
  visits were once a week.  I made a formal request to the government and
  for a time the visits stopped...but in the past two weeks they have been
  almost daily.
T'Lilith (angered):  Are they *still* interrogating her?  You should have
  told *me*!  (fuming)  Heads will roll at Star Fleet over this.

T'Laedyn opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates a moment.

T'Laedyn:  With you I imagine they would... (a beat)  Consider that their
  intentions may be honorable.  What do we really know of these Borg?  If we
  are to protect ourselves against an improved Borg Collective, anything
  T'Kreila can remember would be of great benefit to our defense.
T'Lilith:  Mother, how can you agree to such immoral treatment of your own
  daughter?
T'Laedyn:  Emotion clouds your view, T'Lilith.  Logically, her knowledge...
T'Lilith:  Yes, yes, yes.  I know.  (shaking her head)  I know.

A great quiet passes between them as they hear the wind howling in the
distance.  The great sandstorm moves closer by the moment.  T'Laedyn
repositions the hood over her head.

T'Laedyn:  I do not want my daughter to be injured by the sandstorm, but
  she will not heed *my* wishes.  (a beat)  Perhaps you can give her the
  sense to get in out of the storm.

T'Lilith nods in acknowledgement and brings up her own hood.  T'Laedyn turns
and walks back to their small abode.  T'Lilith walks slowly up to her sister's
side.  Sensing no response from T'Kreila apart from minor annoyance, she
decides to sit down beside her, taking in the view as well.

T'Lilith:  It has been a long time since we sat out here together, Sister,...
  ...watching the storms.
T'Kreila:  Mm hmm.
T'Lilith:  How are you feeling?
T'Kreila (sarcastically):  A *Vulcan* is not supposed to feel, remember,
  be'nI' [Sister]?
T'Lilith:  QeHwI'Hom...  [Little angry one...]

T'Kreila's jaw clenches in response to the nickname T'Lilith gave her when
they were but small children.
 
T'Lilith:  QeHwI'Hom, I am not pleased with what Star Fleet Intelligence
  has been doing to you.  I *will* see to it that these interrogations stop.
T'Kreila:  jISaH'be.  [I don't care.]
T'Lilith:  I know you are hurting.  I can feel your pain.  What can I do
  for you?

T'Kreila remains silent for a moment, then, to T'Lilith's surprise, stands
up and speaks.

T'Kreila:  If you really honor me, and we both know you do, then you'll help
  me get off this nagh ramqu' [crummy rock] and away from all the shrinks
  and interrogators...and *especially* HER.  (a beat)  I need my space.

T'Kreila turns and storms off toward the house.  T'Lilith continues to take
in the view for a moment more, thinking, then climbs to her feet to follow.

FADE TO BLACK
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
		STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
			"The Perfect Game"
		      Part 5: "New Frontiers"

Written by The Admiral

Guest stars
	Barbara Bain as T'Laedyn
	Rick Berman as Admiral Paul Murgrave
	Melinda Snodgrass as Admiral Sarah Tainor
	Michael Piller as Admiral Soma
	Norman Schwartzkopf as Admiral Craig Bowman
	Lalla Ward as T'Kreila
	Neil Patrick Harris as Lt. Howsam
	Anne-Marie Martin as Lt. Cdr. Townsend

Special guest stars
	Christopher Plummer as Admiral Wesley Van Tripp
	Katharine Hepburn as Ambassador Kennedy

Very special appearance (which cost us quite a few credits) by
	Leonard Nimoy

Directed by Rob "Pizza Boy" Bowman
Music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Notes:
[1] This refers to an unpublished ST:TCG Season Four story in which Avenger,
  still on vacation, encountered the "missing" Crossfire on a backwater world
  near the HVR border.  In exchange for Avenger not doing something really
  really stupid there, Crossfire slipped him some information he had uncovered
  on the events detailed in the first two episodes of the HVR trilogy.
[2] ST:TCG flashback episode "Into the Net"
[3] Spock remained in the Romulan Empire from the time of ST:TNG "Unification"
  until sometime after the reunification with Vulcan that was finalized in
  ST:TCG "The Crouton on the Edge of Forever."
[4] See _Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home_
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We see a glass-enclosed conference room at Star Fleet Headquarters, dressed
out in the usual Star Fleet regalia and obviously a place where Admirals
meet.  A peculiarity of this room is that it has an antique glass HINGED
door for its entrance, a subject of surprise to numerous Star Fleet officers
upon their first visit to "The Room".  Legend has it that only Admirals
Leonard McCoy and Avenger avoided facial injuries on the first try.  Of
course starship replicator use records indicate that Avenger has damaged
his eyewear on standard sliding doors on numerous occasions.

Admiral Murgrave and Admiral Soma, a blue-uniformed Vulcan with a receding
hairline, are already waiting inside, preparing for the briefing.  Kabeta
and Crossfire enter the hallway outside The Room, and as they are about to
enter, hear a cry from behind.

Kennedy:  I should have suspected you'd be here, kid.  (slaps Crossfire
  hard on the back)  How you doing, my boy?
Crossfire:  My two best friends in the world are dead and my worst enemies
  are back, with boards up their butts.  (straighting his frown, not into a
  smile, but into that neutral area in between)  Apart from that, not too
  bad, I guess.
Kennedy (seriously):  Listen, kid, I'm glad you're back.  They're going to
  need someone to kick them in the tail and keep them from slacking off.
Kabeta (deadpan):  So will Star Fleet.

A silent pause, then Kennedy bursts out laughing.

Crossfire (with gentle sarcasm):  Oh, you're fuuuuuny, Kabeta.
Kennedy (sudden sense of recognition):  Captain Kabeta?  (extending a hand)
  Star Fleet's finest, right here in my living room.  You never know what
  you'll wake up to.

The three enter.  Another party of three rounds the corner shortly there-
after.  Avenger, Van Tripp and Admiral (ret.) Craig Bowman are talking seem-
ingly non-stop.

Van Tripp:  Well, we're glad you could make it, Admiral.  Your advice will
  be appreciated.
Bowman:  Those old bastards really get on my nerves sometimes.  It's time
  we took them out for good.
Avenger:  I'm with you, but...it might not be as easy as you think.

Avenger instinctively pulls open the door for them.  They look at him and the
door strangely for a second, since they would have required a few seconds to
figure it out otherwise, and then enter.  Avenger follows them in and closes
the door behind him.

Admiral Tainor walks with purpose around the corner, carrying a large stack
of 3-inch Megaterabyte isolinear storage units (disks).  Her shoulder length
auburn hair continually falls across her eyes, interfering with her vision.
At the same time, Rear Admiral Mark Bradford comes running around the other
corner carrying a stack of printouts, a stack large enough that he has to
use both arms and occasionally his chin.  Apparently, Admiral Avenger still
prefers printouts of some things, like personnel rosters and fleet statistics,
and as usual, Mark had to retrieve the information.

Catastrophe, of course.  Mark notices her only at the last second, and this
prevents either of them from serious injury, but disks and printouts go
flying.

Bradford:  Oh--!  (Mark kneels down and begins to collect the disks.)  I'm
  very sorry, milady.  I didn't see you coming.

Sarah Tainor kneels down herself, intent on helping clean up the mess, but
Mark has been swift in his action and merely returns the stacks of disks
to her hands.  He hesitates a moment, noticing the soft smoothness of the
skin covering her slender fingers and for a moment catching on her eyes.
A deep green and very clear -- none of that bloodshot mess he so often sees
in Avenger's face.  Just as his eyes and hands pull away from hers, he
embarassedly realizes that she returned the glance.  As he accumulates the
printouts into his arms, she stands up before him.

Tainor (stammering, as if she can't retain her train of thought):  It's..
  um..it's okay.  I..I shouldn't have been going so fast anyway.

She takes a deep breath and then blows her hair out of her face.  Mark
climbs to his feet, printouts in hand.

Tainor (not stammering any more):  Long hair can be such a pain sometimes.
Bradford:  Perhaps, (noticing her collar now) Admiral, but it has its
  pleasures as well.
Tainor (smiling up at him, with both her mouth and her eyes):  Yes, it does...

Her voice drifts out as they lose time in one another's eyes again.  A split-
second later, Mark comes to his senses, juggles the paperwork and somehow
manages to pull open the glass door, stopping to hold it open for her.

Tainor (surprised):  Why, thank you, kind sir.  (Going through the door.)
  And they say chivalry is dead.
Bradford (following her into the room):  Only because technology keeps trying
  to kill it.

They move into the room and find their seats, piling their baggage in front
of them.  The others move quickly to their seats as well.  Wesley Van Tripp
stands at the head of the table and clears his throat.

Van Tripp:  All right.  Let's get down to business, shall we?

The long conference table closely resembles those found in standard starship
conference rooms, excepting that this one is made of real oak.  As noted
before, the Star Fleet Commander has seated himself at the head of the table,
as is only appropriate.  Ambassador Kennedy has found her place at the far
end opposite him, with Crossfire and Kabeta sitting just to her right and
Murgrave and Avenger to her left.  Admiral Tainor and Murgrave are beyond
Avenger at Van Tripp's right, with a grumbly Bowman and a rather sedate Soma
to his left.  Admiral Soma looks to Crossfire like the type of Vulcan that
speaks in a sleep-inducing monotone even when he's not speaking.

Looking around the room, we see pictures (actual oil paintings!) of several
legendary Star Fleet Admirals and Captains, a golden name plaque resting
below each painting, highlighting that individual's career.  As the eye
scans across, we see Garth, Pike, Nogura, Kirk (done while he was still on
the five-year mission), Sulu, Garrett, Jameson, Tryla Scott, Picard (a trio
of images, from his days on the _Stargazer_, _Enterprise_ and finally the
image of the old man the people in this room had come to know), Shelby and
Bowman (yes, the same Bowman).  Next to Bowman's picture is an empty spot
on the wall with a plaque below it.  On closer inspection, we notice that
the plaque reads "Christopher P. Crouton".

Kabeta rests her hands on the table in front of her and discovers damage
to the table.  As she looks down, she sees the initials "L.H.M." carved
neatly into the table, obviously the work of an old-fashioned pocketknife.
An intricate symbol is carved next to the initials, and after a moment of
observation she realizes it is a doctor's caduceus.

Van Tripp:  As you are all aware, we have fallen on hard times.  (a beat)
  Ordinarily, a meeting of this nature would be restricted to officers of
  flag rank,...but these are not ordinary times.  I have asked Lt. Cdr.
  Crossfire, as Star Fleet's expert on tactics, and Captain Kabeta, as our
  top starship captain, to join us as well today.  (to Kabeta)  We will
  welcome your input as much as anyone's, Captain, so please feel free to
  put forth any ideas you might have.
Kabeta (slightly uncomfortable with the attention put on her):  Thank you,
  Admiral.
Van Tripp:  Admiral Bowman has asked permission to join us for this meeting
  as well.
Bowman:  I shouldn't have *had* to ask.
Van Tripp:  Yes, well...your experience should prove useful to us, Craig.
  (turning)  And, of course, Ambassador Kennedy has joined us due to her
  own previous involvement with Borg situations.

Bowman coughs out a half-laugh at this, and is rewarded with a sharp glance
from Crossfire.

Kennedy (sarcastically batting her eyelids at Bowman):  Still a sweet talker
  I see, Craig.

The other officers chuckle at this little interplay, but Avenger is over-
whelmed instead by an unsteady sense of deja vu.
				---------
FLASHBACK
Star Fleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth, Stardate 95835.7.

We are in an enclosed conference room, much like the one above, off in a
corner of the large building.  A couple of officers, flag officers and
civilians stand about in the room, chatting about old times, sipping at
coffee or Earl Grey, munching on cookies and donuts.  The door opens and a
head pokes through, about 6 feet high in the air, looking about, making sure
it's in the right place.  Finally, the rest of the body follows the head
through and freshly promoted Rear Admiral Avenger enters the room, a bit
nervously.  His head of hair is quite full, except for a single small hole
beginning to appear about two inches toward the right ear from the top of
the head, and his face is clean-shaven.  Above his communicator is a bright
green button that reads "I wish you'd stop asking me that."

Admiral Jean-Luc Picard notices the "young man" who stands nervously in the
corner for several minutes.  He finally breaks off his conversation so that
he may approach Avenger.

Avenger (thinking):  Oh no.  Here's the moment of truth.
Picard:  You can only be Avenger.  (extending a hand)  Jean-Luc Picard.
  Welcome to Star Fleet Headquarters, Rear Admiral.
Avenger (quite nervously returning the handshake):  Um, uh, thanks, Admiral.
  It's, um, an h-honor to finally meet you, sir.  I'm..uh..I hope I'll be of
  some use.
Picard:  If you can give us here half of what you gave us at Regulus, then
  you don't need to worry.  I must say you've done some impressive things
  over the past four years.  (a beat)  I was sorry to hear about the _Pike_.
Avenger (looking away as his face slides into a frown):  So was I.
Kennedy (appearing seemingly out of nowhere):  All right, Picard, who's
  the dashing young ensign who's crashing our party?
Picard:  Ambassador Kennedy, I'd like you to meet Rear Admiral M. Robert
  Avenger.
Kennedy:  What's the "M." stand for?
Avenger:  Some people just call me "Mad."
Kennedy:  No kidding?  (nudging him with an elbow)  How*ever* did you think
  to pull a stunt like that?

Avenger merely points at his button, still a bit down over the reminder of
the _Pike_, which he lost only a few months before.

Kennedy (to Picard):  I think I like him.  He's got a sense of humor.
				---------
Kennedy:  I'm the one that gets to keep the politicians off your backs
  while you get the real work done.

Another chuckle, combined with a sigh of relief, passes through the room.

Van Tripp:  Before we begin to explore options for the coming weeks, I
  think we should take an objective look at the situation we are facing.
  Admiral Soma?

The Vulcan admiral steps to his feet and motions to the wall viewscreen.
Footage of the SMC and LMC battles begin to appear.

Soma:  The Borg attacked without warning nearly simultaneously in both of
  the Magellanic Clouds.
Crossfire:  *Not* without warning.

Soma raises an eyebrow at this.  Crossfire realizes he's let his guard down,
but Avenger swiftly steps in to save him.

Avenger:  Well, we've known for a year that they'd be trying something like
  this.  Plus... (a pause, and a noticeable glance *away* from Crossfire)
  ...certain intelligence information that came into my hands rather anony-
  mously some months ago reported disruptions within the Hidden Valley Ranch
  Empire.  We thought perhaps there was some sort of internal power struggle
  going on, but we've never had a confirmed report. [1]
Bradford:  Maybe it was the Borg.
Avenger:  Exactly what I was thinking.
Bowman:  An interesting idea.  But why the hell would they want to attack
  the Ranch?
Kabeta (treading carefully):  To take out a potential ally?  (a beat, then
  defending her idea)  Oh, I know we don't get along with the Ranchers...
Crossfire (mumbling under his breath, but loud enough for Kabeta to hear):
  Particularly you.
Kabeta (continuing unabated):  ...at least not right now.  But the Borg
  would certainly see that a surprise alliance with the HVR would be to
  our advantage.
Crossfire:  The Borg would never yield such an obvious advantage.
Bradford:  Bodies.
Bowman (whirling around, surprised):  What?!
Bradford:  Bodies.  We hit the Borg pretty hard before.  If they're planning
  on mounting a comeback, they *need* more soldiers.  Ranchers would be
  perfect -- they're humanoid and most of them are too stupid to put up
  much resistance.
Crossfire:  I don't know how the hell I missed that one. (turning toward
  Van Tripp)  We're going to have to take this into account.
Van Tripp:  Agreed.  We can continue this train of thought in a moment.
   Admiral Soma, please continue.
Soma (bowing slightly toward Van Tripp):  Thank you, Admiral.  (resuming
  his speech right where he left off)  Their attacks within the Magellanic
  Clouds were directed primarily at the Starbases, although we also believe
  they have attacked the colonies we had set up as well.
Avenger (saddened):  And Camelot too, I bet.
Soma:  Their primary purpose in these attacks seems to have been to destroy
  all of our distant exploration efforts.
Crossfire:  Oh, come on, Admiral.  That just isn't "logical" and you know it.
  Remember "divide and conquer"?  (testing the other officers now)  What
  would the Borg gain by destroying our Magellanic Cloud bases?

The room is silent for a moment.

Bradford:  I think it's more a matter of what we lose than of what they gain.
  We lose a couple of colonies, a couple of bases that took us a time to
  build, sure.  If we took a few more years, we could do it all again.  (a
  beat)  But we're scared now.  Our best crews and ships have been out on
  those frontiers.  Since the attack, morale has been at an all-time low on
  the _Salad_-class ships.
Kabeta:  Yes, that *has* been a problem, even on the _Heisenberg_.
Bowman (grumbling):  *I* never had that problem.
Van Tripp (ignoring him):  Sarah, what *do* we have left out there?
Tainor:  As far as we can tell...nothing.  There has been no response to
  communications, although the colonies were not yet equipped with No-Doz
  level communications technology.
Avenger:  So you're telling me the ships I came back with are all we have
  left from BOTH galaxies?
Murgrave:  Yes.  (shocked)  Didn't they tell you?

Avenger's heart plummets into his stomach and his head makes a loud thud as
it hits the table.
				---------
FLASHBACK
Jumbled, quickly edited clips from nine years ago, Stardate 95677.3, aboard
the _USS Christopher Pike_:

Townsend:  Are you crazy?

Heins (at tactical):  It's Bjorn, Mike.  Caught us completely by surprise.

McReynolds (ic):  The reactor core's going to breach any second!

Howsam:  Borg tractor beams are locking on...they're pulling us in!

Avenger:  All hands, abandon ship!  Repeat, all hands, abandon ship!

Bjorn (ss):  This set is ours.

Avenger (pounding his hands on a door):  Dammit!  Dammit all!! [2]

				---------
Avenger lifts his forehead from the table.

Avenger:  I heard Miles decided to retire.  Now I know why.
Van Tripp (putting a hand on Avenger's arm):  Miles is getting older, my
  friend, and the Borg have frightened him too many times.
Everyone (except Soma and Van Tripp):  He's not the only one.
Avenger:  So what do we do now?  Just sit around and wait for them?
Van Tripp:  That's about all we can do, I think.  But we can try to be
  ready for them.
Crossfire:  First thing I'd suggest is No-Doz commlinks on every ship.  The
  Uni-Mind will be communicating at at least those speeds.  We need to be
  able to coordinate quickly.
Van Tripp:  We'll see how fast we can implement that.
Avenger (raising his head):  No ship travels alone.  We found out in the
  Dilemma that we needed more than one ship for every Borg ship we faced.
Tainor:  That's a good idea.  In fact, it's just what I've been thinking.
  (pointing to the stack of disks)  Personnel records and suggested layout
  for the entire fleet.
Van Tripp:  Very good.  Perhaps I should review these before we continue...
  Shall we reconvene in say...an hour?
				* * * * *
The young Vulcan stands a good eight inches above T'Lilith as he replies with
the same phrase he has spoken five times already.  T'Kreila stands impatiently
in the far corner.  If she were a human teenager, we could expect her to be
popping gum loudly and looking around with her nose up defiantly...but she is
most definitely NOT a human.

Sobol:  The Ambassador is in private meditation and can not be disturbed.
  If you will leave your name, I will discuss--

A shaky, yet powerful, aged voice comes from the doorway that has just opened
behind Sobol.  Standing there in silhouette is a 200-or-so year old Vulcan
male, dressed out in a variety of functional and ceremonial robes.  Well,
to call him Vulcan is only a half-truth.  We notice a peculiar medallion
hanging about his neck (and for those that are observant, it is the same one
worn by Dr. McCoy in the famous "They drafted me!" scene from ST:TMP), a
variety of very human wrinkles, and a solid bowl-shaped head of white hair.

Spock:  It is all right, Sobol.  I will see her.
Sobol:  Yes, sir.
Spock (impatiently):  You may go, Sobol.
Sobol (almost surprised):  Yes, sir.
Spock:  Jolan tru.

Sobol leaves.  T'Lilith lowers her head in some strange form of reverence,
then almost curtseys as she speaks.

T'Lilith:  Ambassador, thank you for seeing me.  I don't know if you
  remember--

Spock gently lifts her chin up with two fingers so that she looks straight
at him.  He sees the awe and idol worship in her eyes, but it doesn't affect
him, at least not visibly.  He simply responds with that almost smile he
used to use with McCoy and Kirk.

Spock:  Of course I remember you, T'Lilith.

Spock raises his hand in the Vulcan salute.  T'Lilith replies.  Spock looks
to T'Kreila for some sign of acknowledgement, but she simply turns away to
look out the window.  Spock and T'Lilith lower their hands as Spock turns
to face her again.

Spock:  I trust you will believe me when I tell you I have never violated
  our agreement.

T'Kreila raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to Spock.  She even cracks
a hint of a smile.

T'Kreila (teasingly):  Oooh, sister.  (a beat and then a full grin)  Does
  the Admiral know about you two?

T'Lilith turns and stares hard at T'Kreila for a moment, then turns back
to Spock, blushing slightly in green.

Spock:  I had planned to attend your wedding, but there were matters on
  Romulus that needed my immediate attention. [3] I trust you will forgive me.
T'Lilith (with a slight smile):  I am honored, sir.
Spock:  Your husband is well, I take it?
T'Lilith:  He is.

Spock shuffles across to a stone couch resting against the wall.  As he
sits, he motions T'Lilith to join him.  He also motions for T'Kreila to
pull up a chair.  She hesitates for a moment, then shrugs her shoulders with
a "What the hell?" attitude and pulls up a stone stool.

Spock:  Forgive my manners, ladies, but my legs do not provide the support
  they once did.  (a beat)  T'Lilith...it has been a very long time.  One
  of the drawbacks of living on Romulus for so many years is that I have
  not been able to track the progress of your career.  (a beat)  What can
  I do for you today?
T'Lilith (gesturing toward T'Kreila):  It is about my sister, Ambassador.
  She has not been well.
T'Kreila (bluntly):  I was a Borg, if that's what you mean.

Spock pauses a moment out of respect, where a human would show a sense of
pity.  He then speaks, without any of that hinted pity.

Spock:  My...mind meld with Captain Picard some years ago, and the part of
  him that was Locutus, was certainly an uncomfortable experience.  D'Tan's
  continued reports on the Borg have kept me aware of their threat.  (to
  T'Kreila)  You are finding Vulcan to be somewhat restrictive to your
  recuperation, I take it?
T'Kreila:  Yes.  (surprised)  How did you know?
Spock (looking off in the distance):  I experienced the same problem a long
  time ago.  (looking back to the sisters, explaining)  My physical body
  had healed in the Vulcan way, but...a part of me required the company of
  humans. [4] (to T'Kreila)  I would imagine that you require the company of
  fellow Klingons.
T'Lilith:  Do you think you could do something?
Spock:  I will see what I can arrange...
				* * * * *
Back in "The Room" at Star Fleet Command.

Van Tripp:  Are we all back?  Good.  For the first order of business, I'll
  turn things over to Sarah.

Admiral Sarah Tainor, one of the younger members of the Admiralty, stands
up and approaches Mark.  Taking her cue, he stands up before her.  She
removes something from a pocket with her left hand while brushing back her
long reddish brown hair from her face with the right.  Standing close to
Mark now, he can catch the faintest scent of an exotic wildflower from
Rigel VII about her neck.

Tainor:  You have served Star Fleet well for many years, Mr. Bradford, and
  Admiral Avenger's reports of your service under him are nothing but exem-
  plory.  In fact, it is believed you have carried a much greater workload
  in the LMC than one man should have to handle...
Bradford:  We were still but building our forces, milady, and I could do
  nothing but my best on the short staff we worked with.
Tainor:  True.  Star Fleet...(a smile)...and I...wish to reward you for
  that service though, and I am sure a more suitable position will later
  be found to meet your abilities.  In the meantime...

She reaches her hands up toward his neck.  While Mark is not the giant that
Crossfire is, by any means, Sarah Tainor is neither a tall woman.  He bows
toward her so that she may more easily reach her target.  She smiles her
appreciation and adds an open square pin to the five closed squares he
already wears about his neck, the group now balanced as three on each side.
Finished with her work, she smiles sweetly at him and steps back one step.
He closes his eyes and nods his thanks, then returns to a full upright
standing position.

Bradford:  Thank you,... (with a hint that he'd rather use her name)
  ...Admiral.
Bowman:  Admiral Tainor suggested that each of the three _Salad_ class
  vessels should lead a trio of starships at all times, these three task
  forces representing the best we've got.  I think the other Star Fleet
  vessels should be grouped from 3 to 10, as appropriate.
Murgrave:  In the case of the _Salad_ class task forces, a flag officer will
  serve aboard the _Salad_ class ship to coordinate battle tactics for your
  task force and any other task forces that should join you in battle.
Tainor:  Vice Admiral Bradford, you will be working with Captain Kabeta
  aboard the _Heisenberg_.  The other vessels in your task force shall be
  the _Melbourne_, commanded by Captain Muirden, and the _Terry Nation_,
  commanded by a new, but relatively familiar commander who has just
  transferred over from the _Croutonprize_.
Crossfire:  Gretzky.
Van Tripp:  Since Captain Kabeta is the Romulan Empire's favorite Star
  Fleet captain (Kabeta blushes, thinking of Torbog), her force will be
  assigned to the area near the Hidden Valley Ranch-UFP-Romulan border.
Bowman:  If the Borg *have* assimilated the Ranch, they may well make their
  first strike against the Romulans.
Avenger:  The Borg attacked the Romulans long ago...doesn't surprise me if
  they try it again.
Van Tripp:  The _Chivalier_ will be accompanied by the _Subaru_ and the
  _Comatose_ and will patrol the furthest reaches of the Federation fron-
  tiers, near Borg space.  I trust Vice Admiral Data, who will be taking a
  leave of absence from Star Fleet Academy for the duration, will be able
  to keep Captain half japanese under control.

Crossfire suddenly bursts forth with hysterical laughter.  This takes
*everyone* in the room completely by surprise, but after a few seconds,
Kennedy, Avenger, Bradford and Kabeta join in.  The rest stare at them,
wondering what's so funny.  Bowman begins to angrily tap his feet and
eventually Crossfire, in tears and red-faced from laughing so hard, notices
Bowman and shuts up.  The others continue for a few seconds until the silence
becomes deafening.

Crossfire:  Sorry, sir.  I just couldn't believe you said that.
Avenger (changing the subject):  What about me?  Where do I fit into this?
  (a beat, with only silence facing him)  I *have* to be involved in this
  somehow, Wes.  Damn it, the Riddler is one of them now!  And Bjorn will--
Van Tripp:  Bob, I think you're becoming a bit obsessed about Bjorn.
Avenger (pulling out hair):  Of course I'm not obsessed!  I just know him.
   And he knows me.  We've tangled too many times to--
Crossfire (with authority):  Admiral...

Avenger stops and looks at Crossfire.  He notices that Crossfire is not
looking at him as much as watching him...watching his nervous habit and
how it interacts with his spoken words.

Avenger:  Okay, so maybe I *do* have a sore spot when it comes to Bjorn.
  (serious)  But I *know* the Borg.  I'm one of the most experienced field
  commanders around when it comes to the Borg, and I'm still young enough
  to handle them in the field.  If you were to keep Crossfire or me out
  of this, you'd probably be signing your own death warrant.
Bowman:  You really think we'd let either of you go roaming with them
  around?  You must really be--
Van Tripp (cutting Bowman off):  Bob, I know your experience.

Silence floats through the room for a moment.

Bowman:  That boy Highlander is in no shape to command the _Croutonprize_.
  He's a hell of an officer, but he doesn't have the command experience or
  the control of his temper to face the Borg on his own.
Soma:  Unfortunately, he is the only choice available at the moment.
Murgrave:  Star Fleet has been pretty short on experience captains lately,
  and the best choice for the _Croutonprize_ command disappeared near the
  Ranch Neutral Zone a few weeks ago.

Kabeta cringes, realizing he is speaking of her long-lost friend.

Kabeta:  But between... (forcing herself to say it) ...Chris's death...and
  the Borg strike in the LMC... (losing herself in thought, then coming
  out of it again)  The _Croutonprize_ will need an experienced commander
  to pull the ranks together.
Bowman (acknowledging Kabeta for noticing all that):  Exactly.  (turning to
  Van Tripp)  I'll volunteer to take the _Croutonprize_.
Van Tripp (shaking his head):  No, Craig.
Bowman:  Why the hell not?  I test drove the goddamn _Salad_ class against
  the Borg eleven years ago!  What the hell kind of ship do you think the
  _Nostromo_ is?  I've got more experience with the _Salad_ class and the
  Borg than anybody in this room.
Kennedy (correcting):  I'm not so sure about that, Craig.  (a beat)  Be-
  sides, aren't you getting a bit too old to be blasting Borg?  You can't
  pull twenty-hour shifts any more.

Bowman glares hard at Kennedy as he sits back in his chair.

Van Tripp:  Craig, you're right about Highlander.  He can't handle that ship
  alone.  We *do* need someone with Borg combat experience in command there.
Bowman:  You're damn right.
Van Tripp (matter-of-factly):  Effective immediately, Admiral Avenger will
  take command of the _USS Croutonprize_ and her task force.  Case closed.
Bowman (somewhat angry, somewhat surprised):  What?!?
Kabeta (taken aback with surprise):  What?!?
Avenger (with surprise, glee, sadness and martyrlike guilt):  What?!?
				---------
FLASHBACK
(Edited from ST:TSG "Phi Phi Pho Phum")

Avenger:  Captain, you will need a chair.
Crouton:  Yes, I shall require a chair.  Any suggestions?
Avenger:  Join me at a game of 3-dimensional chess?

Avenger:  Your move, mon capitan.
Crouton:  I hate this game.

(Edited from ST:TSG "The Good, the Bad, and the Crouton")

Avenger:  No!
Crouton:  Yes!
Avenger:  I'm not going to let you do this!
Crouton:  Too bad!
Avenger:  Mutiny!
Crouton:  I know!
Avenger:  ...Look, Chris.  I admire your sense of duty, but this IS a
  court-martialable offense.
Crouton:  I know.  But I have to do it.

(Edited from ST:TSG "The Black Knight Returns")

Avenger:  Check and mate, mon capitan.
Crouton:  ARRGH.
				* * * * *
Avenger is brought back to reality by the sound of Crossfire's voice.

Crossfire:  Admiral Van Tripp, I'd like to request transfer to the
  _Heisenberg_ at this time.

Kabeta looks up sharply at Crossfire.

Avenger (thoughtfully):  No, wait.
Crossfire/Van Tripp (annoyed at the interruption):  What?

Avenger stands up and walks around to Crossfire.  While he is speaking loud
enough for everyone to hear, and he most certainly intends for Van Tripp to
hear this, the words are clearly for Crossfire's ears.

Avenger (sincerely):  The _Croutonprize_ is currently without a security
  chief.  I don't think Jez is ready for this kind of burden.  (a beat)
  I'd ask John, but he's got a ship of his own to worry about.  Crossfire,
  I've always trusted your instincts, even if I've disagreed with them
  occasionally.  Highlander knows the _Croutonprize_.  Soraya knows it.
  *YOU* know it.  (a beat, then with open honesty)  I don't.  I'm going to
  need all the help I can get out there.  (quietly)  Please stay.
Crossfire:  Admiral..er, Captain..er, what the f*** am I supposed to call
  you now anyway?!?  I'm not sure I want to stay where--
Avenger:  At least get me through THIS.  We can figure the rest out if
  and when we're safe again.

Crossfire crosses his arms, holds his breath and sits back thinking.  He
looks over at Kabeta, who with a return glance of her own reminds him of
the conversation they were having several days earlier, back in the LMC.
Crossfire also remembers the freedom Avenger gave him a year ago.

Crossfire:  All right.  If you're acting captain, then I'll be your *acting*
  Security Chief.  But that's all I'm promising.
Avenger (shaking Crossfire's hand vigorously):  Thank you.  Very much.
  I mean it.

Crossfire yanks his hand away when the hand-shaking goes a bit overboard.

Crossfire:  All right already!!!
Murgrave:  Bob, we *do* remember how well you and Heins worked together at
  Regulus.  He won't be far away now either.  The _Volvo_ is part of your
  task force.
Soma:  As is the _USS Plasma_.
Kabeta:  Isn't that the ship that Captain... (hesitantly, and with some
  reverence for the dead) ...that Chris served aboard during the Dilemma?
Tainor:  It is, although Captain Robertson took a planetside assignment
  and promotion to Rear Admiral a few years ago.  He has a suitable
  replacment in John Cary though.
Bowman (clearing his throat a bit rudely):  I hate to interrupt your little
  party, but the Borg aren't going to be sitting around waiting for *you*.
  Why don't you get off your butts and get some work done already!
Van Tripp:  Agreed.  (Standing, signalling the end of the session.)  Good
  fortunes.
Kennedy (almost prayerlike):  To us all.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Next time, on an all-new episode of

		STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
			"The Perfect Game"
	      Part 6: "The Bridge on the River Styx"

Avenger takes command of the _Croutonprize_.
Crossfire:  I hear Highlander isn't taking it well.

And the Borg Collective makes its first move.
Mark:  I don't think they're going to give us a chance to think about it.

Will the _Heisenberg_ crew be able to come up with a clever counter?
Ender:  I don't see what good tugging at our shirts is going to--

DEATH TRAP on STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION!