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Stardate 91024.5, _USS Christopher Pike_, Captain's Ready Room. The
door chimed. Captain Harry Bernard, a sixty-year old career officer with
thinning grey-frosted brown hair and the beginnings of a pot belly, looked
up from his terminal over the rim of his antique reading glasses.
"Come in," Bernard said.
The door swept open and in hopped (yes, literally hopped) Commander M.
Robert Avenger. His black boots shone from recent polishing. While Star
Fleet records listed his age as 38 -- almost 39 -- Terran years, he didn't
look a day over 20, with a full head of hair and a closely shaven face that
didn't look like it could even support a decent beard yet. Above his communi-
cator pin was a single 2 1/3" hot pink button with Klingon lettering, a gift
from Dr. T'Lilith. As Avenger understood it, the slogan was pronounced "boch
ghIchraj" and was an obscure Klingon insult translated as "Your nose is shiny."
In a not-very-good impression of Ted Cassidy that retained an overtone
of his usual goofiness, Avenger spoke. "Yoouuuuu rang?"
"Take a seat, Number One," Bernard replied, and Avenger did just that.
Picking up one of the chairs in front of his desk, Avenger began to head for
the door.
"Uh-uh. You know that's not what I meant."
Avenger put the chair back down, then walked around behind his captain
so that he could read over his shoulder. It was one of Avenger's more
annoying quirks, but Captain Bernard didn't mind so much. His executive
officer was well known for his quirky behavior, but he put up with the
quirkiness because the man could get the job done. In the nine months
Avenger had been aboard the _Pike_, he'd pulled them out of one scrape after
another, sometimes on pure instinct and sometimes based on scientific know-
ledge or even Federation history! A holographic memory, Avenger had said.
I can believe it, Bernard thought. He remembers all kinds of things I've
never even heard of...just wish he'd remember what I told him yesterday.
Despite his usual isolationist tendencies, Avenger had developed a good
working rapport with most of the bridge crew and the science staff, plus it
was rumored that he had somehow broken the icy wall of their part Vulcan/
part Klingon Chief Medical Officer and was often seen spending his off-duty
time with her. "Introducing her to obscure ancient entertainment programs,"
Townsend had said. Townsend had a head on her shoulders too...if she could
just control her temper, she'd make a hell of a first officer for the
_Pike_'s new captain, Bernard thought.
The captain shut off his terminal's screen, lest Avenger read too far
on his own, and turned to face his first officer.
"I called you in here for a reason, Bob. There are going to some big
changes around here in the near future...and your help will be appreciated."
"Oooookay," Avenger replied. "Would you like fuchsia or just a nice
gloss black on those walls? The battleship gray gets really dull after--
"I'm serious."
The harshness of his tone was enough to warn Avenger that the time for
fun was over. The Commander moved back around the Captain's desk and sat
down in one of the chairs. Putting on his serious face, he looked at his
captain with grim determination. Avenger didn't know the captain's great
secret though, so he didn't realize the faux pas he had just committed.
Never should have gone into Star Fleet anyway, Harry thought. I should have
been an artist instead.
Dreams of dolphins and sea creatures and memories of a childhood long
since gone danced through his head for a moment before he returned to the
more serious topic at hand. My father and Picard were both right, though,
he thought. I *did* need to learn calculus.
"Go ahead," said Avenger, waiting patiently.
The captain leaned back in his chair, looking up at a distant speck of
dust on the ceiling. "I've recommended you for promotion," he began. "A
ship's opening up soon and they'll be needing a good captain, one who knows
how to work with her crew."
"But Captain," Avenger interjected. "I'm quite happy here. I'm just
starting to get to know the people here. I think I need more time."
"Yes, I know." Captain Bernard sat upright and tugged at his uniform.
Smiling to himself, he remembered what the officers on the _Enterprise_ used
to call that--the Picard Maneuver. "The ship that's opening up is this one."
That surprised Avenger, but didn't elicit much else from him.
"I'm getting older, Bob," Bernard explained. "I'm getting kind of
tired. Star Fleet offered me a desk job and I'm going to take it." He
paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. "You'll face the same decision
yourself someday."
Not if I can bloody well help it, Avenger thought.
"I'm not going to kid you," Bernard continued. "Command of a starship,
especially this old bucket, isn't easy. I can't guarantee Star Fleet will
even pick you. You might stay on as first officer, or might even get moved
elsewhere, depending on whims of a new captain. But I think you should at
least be given the chance."
Avenger considered this for a moment. "Well, um...what can I say but
thanks, Captain?"
"That'll do. We ought to be hearing back from Star Fleet in a week or
two. You might want to use that time to choose yourself a first officer,
just in case."
And I know just who I want at my side, Avenger thought. If it weren't
for T'Lilith's friendship, I'd have wanted off this boat six months ago. I
wonder what kind of trouble John's causing Miles these days?
* * * * *
Avenger hit the pause button. T'Lilith looked uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, I *am* pleased for you," T'Lilith replied, with something else
hidden in the words. "I really am."
T'Lilith revealed emotions to Avenger sometimes...something she didn't
do with other humans -- hell, not even with other Klingons most of the time.
She wasn't exactly sure why she did it, although it just didn't *feel* the
same when she opened up to him. He was a good friend, more understanding of
the conflicting nature of her dual heritage, even moreso than her own sister
had been. She would miss the time they had spent together these past few
months. Despite what others might think about his own sanity, she thought,
he's been my isle of sanity in a sea of conflict.
"A starship command will do great things for you and your career," she
continued.
"But there's something else." Avenger was worried about her. "What
is it?"
"I..." She hesitated a moment and then her Vulcan side kicked in. "I
have accepted a promotion myself. I leave in less than two weeks for Star-
base 124 as a Captain of Biosciences."
"That will be an excellent opportunity for you! I wish you the best."
Silence passed between them for several moments. As Avenger's real
feelings broke through his shields, his mood took a downward turn.
"I will miss you."
Tears began to well up in his eyes and he sniffled twice.
T'Lilith reached out and pressed her fingers to his. He tensed, the
muscles on the back of his neck becoming a tangled knot. He knew that for a
telepath like T'Lilith that such a gesture was the rough equivalent of a hug
from a human, something he wasn't even comfortable with. He really did not
know what to make of it. While the contact was pleasant, it also frightened
him. When she finally pulled her fingers away again, he was simultaneously
disappointed and relieved.
"I will miss you too, my friend."
* * * * *
Stardate 91113. Avenger, in dress uniform plus black cape, stood at
attention with the other members of the _Pike_ bridge crew at the reception
area outside the main shuttle bay. The bosun's whistle sounded as the
admiral's shuttlecraft finally set down. The _Pike_'s soon-to-be former
captain stood nearby, anxiously waiting for this all to end.
Standing beside Avenger was Lt. Cdr. John Heins, just transferred over
from the _Dublin_ and wearing a red dress uniform (despite the fact he'd
been wearing security yellow for the last umpteen years). O'Brien was sorry
to see Heins go, but he knew this day would come eventually. Heins leaned
over toward Avenger, and it was now that Avenger first noticed that Heins
was wearing his collection of Star Fleet awards and medals. That's odd,
thought Avenger. John never wears his medals at home.
"Nervous?" Heins whispered.
His hands perceptably shaking, Avenger whispered back a curt "Yes."
"First time?"
Avenger smiled and relaxed some. Heins had remembered the lines from a
favorite film Avenger had shown him on numerous occasions a few years before
and was now using the words to comfort him. Avenger scanned through his
memory for the appropriate response, responding a few milliseconds later.
"No, I've been nervous lots of times."
* * * * *
Stardate 104256.3. Avenger looked up from the old leatherbound book
in his hands. Despite not wearing his glasses, he could tell it was the
_Croutonprize_ sitting there high above the Earth. The honor guard was doing
a fine job of piloting the _Rampage_ in toward the _Croutonprize_'s second
shuttlebay, giving Avenger the opportunity to catch up on his reading and
collect his thoughts. The main shuttlebay was already stuffed, what with the
_Jenice Mannheim_ and several of the _Croutonprize_'s own shuttles already
stored there. Avenger looked back down to his book, while feeling around his
collar for the eyeglasses he had hung over it a few moments ago.
Avenger looked again at the book before him, a "going-away" gift he had
received from Kabeta when he was promoted to first officer of NCC-1779-A and
read a passage aloud. "Now all the youth of England are on fire, and silken
dalliance in the wardrobe lies; now thrive the armorers and honor's thought
reigns solely in the breast of every man." [1]
Avenger shuddered and skimmed ahead, then read aloud again. "The French,
advised by good intelligence, of this most dreadful preparation, shake in
their fear, and with pale policy seek to divert the English purposes." What
have we gotten ourselves into? Avenger wondered.
FADE TO BLACK
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
"The Perfect Game"
Part 6: "The Bridge on the River Styx"
Written by The Admiral
Guest stars
John Heins
Dave McDonnell as Captain Harry Bernard
Geraldo Rivera as Ouran'julius of Borg
Ed O'Neill as Commander Ahla Mohd
Directed by Brent Spiner
Music by John Tesh
Notes:
[1] _Henry V_, Act II, Chorus
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lt. Cdr. Rhee Savan lay on her back looking up into a tangled mess of
fiber optic cables and magnetically confined micro plasma flow tubes. In
her teeth she clenched a plasma phase wrench as she shined the pocket laser
through the mess again.
"Aha," she exclaimed through the wrench. Grabbing hold of the culprit
tube, she shut off the laser and dropped it into the pouch at the waist of
her uniform. She removed the wrench from her mouth and began to apply its
soft beam to the afflicted area.
"Well, that little patch-up job should get us back up to at least a
99.3 percent engine efficiency rating." I hope, she thought.
"Mrrrow?"
Rhee put the wrench away and began to pack up her gear.
"Prancer, is that you?"
"Mrrrrrrow."
Rhee hopped down from the crawlspace she was working down to find her
cat waiting patiently. She scratched him behind the ears, then moved to
close up the compartment.
"Hi, Rhee," smiled a passing engineering lieutenant.
Rhee smiled back and picked up Prancer, who purred loudly in response.
"It's good to be back," she said. Her smile began to slide away before she
finished her sentence, however. "But I don't much like the current state
of affairs."
* * * * *
Crossfire and Avenger rode the main turbolift in silence, both lost in
their thoughts. Unlike most Star Fleet admirals, Avenger had never retired
his old captain's uniform -- he took it with him up the flag ranks. He was
the only admiral he was aware of that wore the admiral's ranks on a field
command uniform. Too bad for the rest, he thought. I'm a field commander.
Always have been. Let the desk jockeys wear their fancy suits. After a
moment, he realized that this choice of uniforms might actually make this
transition somewhat easier on the _Croutonprize_ crew.
The doors opened onto the main bridge. While Avenger was not unfamiliar
with the _Salad_-class -- he'd lived aboard this very ship for a year --
that first step onto the bridge always elicited a peculiar reaction in
Avenger. Compared to the bridge of the _Pike_, this was like entering some
sort of cathedral or shrine.
Soraya stood up from the Captain's chair as they entered. "Admiral on
the bridge!" she shouted. She looked as if her worries had just been
relieved, Avenger thought.
Avenger and Crossfire moved away from the turbolift. While Crossfire
joined Jez at the tactical station, Avenger walked straight down the ramp,
a hand up in the air.
"No flag courtesy with me, Soraya," Avenger spoke in a tone that also
acknolwedged his own happiness at working with her again. Speaking louder,
so the entire bridge crew could hear him, he continued. "I will respond to
Captain or Admiral or Bob or most anything else you might want to call me,
so don't worry so much about titles, okay? Just concentrate on getting your
jobs done."
"Well, it's nice to have you aboard anyway," Soraya said. She stepped
closer and lowered her voice, which required him to bend down to hear her.
"Morale's been terrible lately. No one thought we'd have a chance with
Highlander in charge." She hesitated a moment, then continued. "Not that
he's all that bad or anything, it's just that they're glad a Borg expert will
be handling things now. They feel a lot safer with you here."
"I wish the circumstances were a lot different, Soraya," he whispered
back. "I really do." He stood up straight, raised his voice and tugged at
his uniform. "I have an announcement to make. A few hours ago, Lt. Cdr.
Crossfire was appointed as your new Chief of Security. You all know he is
capable of the job, but now he'll actually be giving the orders."
Crossfire didn't even look up from the tactical console as the other
bridge officers looked up in acknowledgement. Jez looked just a little sad
that he hadn't been picked, but Crossfire stepped in quickly.
"Jez," he said. "I'm going to spend a lot of time running tactical
simulations and getting this ship battle-ready. As far as I'm concerned,
you're in charge of internal security. I don't want to be bothered with it.
Got that?" The cat nodded, a proud feeling of accomplishment growing inside
him. "But tactical's mine until I say otherwise."
"Mrow meowr blrbl." [You got it, Chief.] Jez hopped down and headed
toward a turbolift to begin coordinating internal security.
"Can I speak to you a moment, Admiral?" Soraya asked. Nodding toward
the Captain's Ready Room, she continued. "Alone."
Avenger followed her to the door, which promptly opened for them. He
hesitated a moment, thinking of the hours he had spent here with Chris Crouton,
chatting over various subjects, from strange new worlds to C-shells to root
beer. Slowly and reverently, he followed Soraya in.
As the door shut behind them, she spoke up. "Highlander doesn't know,
sir. We only found out just before you got here. The rumors are starting to
spread through the crew and all." She paused, looking off at the wall, a
little perturbed. "I was wondering if maybe you shouldn't go tell him, before
he finds out from intraship gossip."
"Good idea," replied Avenger. His right hand moved to stroke his beard
thoughtfully. "I'm going to be relying on your knowledge of this ship,
Commander. I don't know exactly what Jolt Warp will do on a ship this size
and who knows what Crossfire's new weapons designs will do. Any ideas, any
suggestions you have are not only welcome, but expected." He paused. "Don't
hold back."
"All right. I was thinking..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered
her late captain and friend. "Since Chris's death, I've been spending more
time exploring local Cyberspace with Zort. It might be useful at some point,
considering the Borg effectively live there."
"That would make sense, yes. Tell you what. Let's get the senior bridge
officers together in one hour, then you and Zort and I can go over details of
C-space immediately after. It's always good to have a back-up plan."
Avenger dug deep into one of his pockets. While regulation Star Fleet
uniform pants did not have pockets -- most anything needed could be carried in
pouches on the sides of the tunics -- Avenger preferred ancient clothing styles
and often filled his voluminous pockets with potentially useful knicknacks.
Finally, out came a 2 1/3" bright blue button, which he held to his lips to
blow dust off of. Brushing the rest off with his sleeve, he attached it to
his uniform, above the communicator.
"'Trust me, I know what I'm doing.'?" Soraya read curiously.
"Sort of my motto," Avenger smiled. He turned to leave, but stopped at
the open door and turned back. He reached deep into his pockets again and
removed another button, which he tossed to her before ducking out the door.
She held it up to inspect the red number "2" emblazoned over a white penny-
farthing bicycle on a black field...
* * * * *
The sound of bagpipes rolled over the lush, green hills of Aberdeen,
casting an eerie pale over the scene unfolding. Highlander crouched down
low in a bog, hearing his own breaths pounding out of his lungs mixed with
the chirping of distant crickets. A whispery glow lit from his left as the
Borg soldier materialized.
"Take this, you reject from a f***ing machine shop!!!" Highlander leapt
to his feet and brought his katana around hard, metal smashing against metal.
The Borg brought its metal arm around and shot a short jolt of electricity
into his left leg, paralyzing it and knocking him to the ground. From his
knees, he brought the sword around again, going for a killing blow at the
neck, but the soldier outwitted him as its defensive shields came up and
blocked the blow.
F***, thought Highlander. How do I beat the real thing when I can't
even--
The thought was interrupted by a WHOOSH followed by a short thud. The
Borg's head bounced from side to side as it looked for its new opponent,
while simultaneously fighting sensations of pain. A look of terror actually
crossed the Borg's face before Highlander heard the crack of bones, and then
the soldier's head fell back, eyes rolling back, as it fell to the ground in
a heap. Highlander used his sword for leverage and lifted himself to his
feet. The effect of the Holodeck's light phaser stun, which simulated the
soldier's paralyzing shock, was already beginning to slowly wear off. He saw
a dark figure standing on the hill above, a small crossbow in hand.
"A delay-timed explosive bolt sometimes does the trick, Commander. An
old friend of mine prefers the same effect with late 20th century firearms."
As the Holodeck program faded around them, the light in the room came
up, and Highlander found Admiral Avenger standing before him, shouldering a
crossbow.
"I didn't know you were aboard, Admiral." Highlander paused a moment,
then switched topics back. "Since when did you take up bows? I thought that
was Crossfire's thing."
"I prefer not to use weapons at all, if I can help it, Commander." Oops,
first mistake, Avenger realized. I should have called him Captain to begin
with. "My wife gave me a toy crossbow last birthday. It's rather good for
stress relief, and more accurate than the old dart pistol I used. After a
while, I decided to try out the real thing."
"So why *are* you aboard, Admiral?" Highlander asked, switching topics
back and putting the katana back in its scabbard at his waist.
"I'm sorry, Commander. I really am. Star Fleet really thought it was
for the best."
"What???" F***, he thought. This guy can beat around the bush forever.
"They've given me command of the _Croutonprize_ and its task force.
We're going after the Borg."
I'll just bet they GAVE it to you, you bastard, thought Highlander.
F***, what do I have to do around here to get a promotion?
"They didn't think you were ready to face the Borg on your own. I'm
sure once this is all over--"
Highlander covered up his anger and put on an extremely professional
face. "You'll need help running things here." He paused again, then slipped
in a true statement that could also be interpreted as a personal jab. "You
haven't commanded a starship in nearly 10 years, Admiral. And your know-
ledge of the _Salad_ class is.....lacking, sir."
"I know, Karim. That's why I need you at my side. You DO know this
ship...and its crew. And if it's anyone I'd want leading an *away team*
against the Borg, you'd be on the top 3 list." Oops. Brutal honesty is not
always the polite thing, but it was so woven into Avenger's personality he
could not help himself. It was true though...he'd rather have had Heins or
Crossfire leading such a team.
"Fine. See you on the bridge." Highlander moved abruptly toward the
door, but stopped suddenly. "Whoa. F***ing deja vu." He shook his head
to clear it. "Have we done this before?"
"No, you're thinking of Kirk and Dekker," said Avenger.
"Oh. Right." Highlander left.
Avenger looked off into a distant corner of the Holodeck as he let out
a long sigh. "Get us through this, Chris."
* * * * *
The vague shapes on the Croutonizer pad solidified into the forms of
Vice Admiral Mark Bradford and his intrepid band of carry-on luggage. From
out behind the Croutonizer console stepped Lt. Iluvanna Lin-Eleniual, full-
time _Heisenberg_ Croutonizer chief and part-time Star Fleet Intelligence
officer.
Bowing slightly, Iluvanna spoke. "Welcome aboard, Admiral."
Mark, slinging his bags over his shoulder, nodded back. "Thank you,
Lieutenant. I assume I'll be using the VIP quarters?"
"Yes, Admiral." Iluvanna hesitated, then spoke again without the note
of humor one might expect when discussing this topic. "You, uh, wouldn't by
chance be in need of an escort, sir?"
"Why?" Mark asked as he looked about. "There wouldn't happen to be a
fair lady willing to give a guided tour?"
"No, that's not it," replied Iluvanna. "It's just that Dr. Hertzman
gets a bit annoyed every time an Admiral shows up in Sickbay."
"Well, Lieutenant. I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. I think
I'll be able to find my way around your ship just fine." And with that, Mark
nodded politely to Iluvanna and left the room.
* * * * *
In the _Croutonprize_ conference room, Zortylwankoid babbled on endlessly
to anyone that couldn't avoid listening about the potential uses of Cyberspace
to improve household appliances, about the new memory upgrade he had just
installed in Zen -- well, frankly, about nearly everything one could imagine.
Lts. Himle and Chuang ignored him by conducting a paper shuttlecraft contest
using paper salvaged from Avenger's last set of tactical briefings. Susan
Parker yawned and leaned back with her eyes closed, intent on resting until
this meeting began. Soraya sat at a seat far down the table from Himle and
Chuang, looking semi-bored by Zortyl's ramblings. The occasional paper shuttle
rained down around her as Crossfire entered and took up station in the corner
nearest her.
"I hear Highlander isn't taking it well," Crossfire said without turning
from his view of the stars.
"I don't know. He looked fine to me last time I saw him," Soraya said,
chin resting on her hand.
"Covering up his anger and acting like a good little soldier isn't going
to help us when we come face-to-face with the Borg."
"No, it isn't." Sound familiar, Crossfire? she thought.
A paper shuttle bounced off of Crossfire's arm. Before it had fallen
far, Crossfire held it in his left hand, crumpling it into a ball with an
unnoticed curt glance in the direction of Himle and Chuang.
The door to the conference room opened as Admiral Avenger and Lt. Cdr.
Savan entered. There was a remarkable difference in height between the two,
and Avenger walked bent over so that he could carry on a decent conversation
with her over the usual din of shipboard activity.
"Sure, I can hook it up like you want it," said Rhee. "No problem."
"I'll have the chair brought up right after the meeting," said Avenger.
"Thanks, Rhee. It will be a great help."
"Oh, and by the way, Admiral..."
"Yes?"
"Thanks for giving me some lines," she beamed.
Avenger smiled as Rhee moved to find a seat. He stopped and looked
around curiously, an action which did not go unnoticed by Himle and Chuang.
Quickly hiding their latest shuttles behind their backs, they looked up at the
ceiling and whistled as if nothing were going on. Zort continued to babble.
Avenger turned and stepped out the door, in the direction of the bridge.
"Coming, Commander?" he asked.
"Somebody has to man the bridge, *sir*!" called back Highlander.
"Jez the Wonder Kitty, you have the conn," Avenger called back, then
returned to the room with the usual purpose in his stride. He plopped himself
down into an empty chair *not* at the head of the table, slouching a bit and
turning so he could stretch out his long legs. Crossfire glanced at the empty
chair in which the captain usually sat at these meetings. Avenger simply
shrugged quietly at him, so Crossfire ignored it and found another chair to
sit in. Finally, the door opened again to admit Highlander. Zort continued
to babble (as usual).
"Well, folks," Avenger opened. "The Federation is not a happy place to
be right now."
"No shit," said Crossfire rather matter-of-factly.
Ignoring him, Avenger continued. "Since the Borg seem to be taking their
sweet time at making their next move, the Federation has decided to take the
initiative. We've got to be ready to take them when they arrive."
"Why do you think they're hesitating?" asked Soraya.
Crossfire spoke up. "They're trying to catch us with our pants down.
The longer we wait for them, the more likely we are to make mistakes when
they DO show up."
Avenger stood up at this point and began to pace. He removed the odd
hair from the fringe of the bald spot growing on the right side of his head.
"I never intended to replace your captain," Avenger finally said. "Nor
do I think I really could. We've all lost a good friend, and somehow it
doesn't feel right for me to be running his ship.
"But I am, and there will be no question of that in the coming weeks.
You're the best crew in Star Fleet. Make sure you can prove that to me.
We'll need all the help we can get.
"You'll all find my methods a bit unorthodox, but that's what's always
worked for me. And as you all know, the Borg adapt very quickly...perhaps
it's that perpendicular thinking that's gotten me out of so many scrapes
with them before.
"Let's work together on this and get the job done. If you have any
ideas or suggestions, please make them available to me ASAP. You might be
surprised at how the silliest sounding idea can be useful to me.
"We'll be working in conjunction with starships _Volvo_ and _Plasma_.
The first officer of the _Volvo_ and I are old friends, so you'll probably
find the _Volvo_ following our lead pretty well. With three ships, we should
have more options in any confrontation."
Avenger stopped and looked out into space. "I don't know if there's
anything more that I can say right now. I'm as bothered as any of you by
what the Borg pulled in the LMC." He turned back to the group. "Let's show
them just how ticked we are.
"I'll be around to all of your departments in the next few hours to
check in and see what you're all up to. Let's get to work."
Things broke up and there was much hurried talk as some of the officers
dispersed. Soraya and Zort remained seated and Rhee lingered behind.
"Oh, Admiral," Rhee whispered. "I received a new box of 'Fearful
Symmetry' trading cards by mail pod today..."
"I've still got to run that autosort program on the last batch." He
looked down at his wristwatch...an old replication of an even older Timex
that had somehow weathered the years. "2215 work for you?"
"Sure."
Rhee left and Avenger turned to face his new second officer. "So what
can you tell me about Cyberspace?"
* * * * *
Kabeta looked up from her terminal, her eyes weary, as her office door
whooshed open. Mark noticed dark, puffy bags below those eyes and his
expression turned to one of gentle concern.
"I see you found your way to the bridge okay, Admiral. I'm glad."
Kabeta spoke with the more usual cheery voice, but it was evident she was
straining to make it work. A dozen smurfs dressed out as a marching band
tromped by on the floor into the captain's anteroom, blurting out an awful
Muzak rendition of "Light My Fire" as they went. Mark's gaze followed them
until they were gone, then he shook his head and returned his gaze to Kabeta.
"Um, yes, it was quite easy," he finally said. "What bothers me is
that everyone on your ship seems to think I'm going to end up in Sickbay."
"Ah, then you haven't heard about Admiral Avenger...?"
"No." He thought for a moment about Avenger, then smiled and nodded.
"Okay, so what's ol' Claudius been doing to your ship?"
"Claudius?"
Bradford smiled at her. "Never mind. Long story."
"Ah, okay. Well, um, the crew has come to call him the Ship's Origin,
since that's where he always seems to head when he's looking for the VIP
Quarters..."
"And the effective coordinate origin of the _Heisenberg_ lays right
about in the middle of Sickbay, doesn't it?" Mark nodded, grinning. "Yup,
that sounds like Avenger all right."
"Well, I'm just glad it doesn't apply to *every* Admiral that visits the
_Heisenberg_." She stood up and shook her head. "Most people find that the
starship _Heisenberg_ takes a little...getting used to."
A small doghouse flew by, a beagle in scarf, goggles and leather flight
cap sitting atop it. "Yes, I suppose it does," Mark agreed.
Kabeta turned to the window and watched the _Terry Nation_ move into
position alongside the _Melbourne_ a few thousand meters away.
"Are you ready for this, Mark?"
"Are any of us, really?" he said philosophically. "All we can really
ask of ourselves is our best. The Borg will be expecting that anyway." He
paused, then switched speeds. "When's the last time you had a good night's
sleep?"
"I don't remember." She turned and looked at him, curiously. "Why do
you ask?"
"The last time I saw bags like *that* under someone's eyes was in a
hologram of Admiral Leonard McCoy."
Kabeta turned back to the stars as any attempts at cheeriness left her
face. "Sleep hasn't been treating me well of late."
* * * * *
"Captain's Log, Stardate 104257.5," Kabeta began. "We have arrived in
our patrol sector near the joint borders of Romulan, old Federation and
Hidden Valley Ranch space. So far, all is quiet. Perhaps too quiet.
"More nightmares and insomnia last night. I don't know how well I'll
be prepared for a Borg encounter. I'm glad Mark is here to catch me should
I fall."
Kabeta hesitated a moment, her head nodding and her eyes half-closing.
She suddenly jerked back awake, then shook her head a little to shake out
the sleep.
The comm panel chirped at her. "Captain," Kleber reported. "There's a
message coming in from the _Melbourne_." Kabeta remembered that Mark had
deployed the _Melbourne_ just outside of _Heisenberg_ visual range, in order
to increase the long range sensor capacity of their force.
Kabeta stood up and walked into the adjoining anteroom to get some tea.
"Please put it through, Michael." Captain Muirden appeared on the small
terminal screen on her desk as she returned to it.
"G'day, Kabeta," the Aussie captain began. "Mr. Fox is observing some
rather...unusual gravitational waves in this sector. Um, perhaps he should
explain it."
Lt. Cdr. David Fox, expert science officer of the _USS Melbourne_ and
one-time next-door neighbor of Kabeta aboard the _USS Schro"dinger_, moved
into view on the screen. "Hello, Captain. I've been observing local
distortions in the gravitationally woven fabric of spacetime...what could
well be the effect of something massive moving through it. It's too bad I
didn't come across this technique before...it might have made an efficient
way of finding Lucky Charm vessels."
"Is that what you think you're seeing here?" Kabeta asked.
"Well, no. But it could well be some sort of vessel. By tracing the
source of these objects and noting the path, I think it's safe to say that
whatever it happens to be is approaching us rather rapidly from somewhere
within Federation space."
"*Federation* space?" interjected Muirden from behind Fox.
"Yes, Captain -- er, Captains," replied Fox. A hint of static played
through his last word.
"Captain, I'm beginning to lose your signal. Perhaps you'd better rejoin
us as soon as possible. If this is the Borg, we'll need to work together."
"On our
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