From: ferguson@wizard.etsu.edu (Jason M Ferguson)
Subject: starfleet vs aliens
Reply-To: ferguson@wizard.etsu.edu (Jason M Ferguson)
Organization: East Texas State University, Commerce, TX
Date: Sat, 10 Oct 1992 19:32:48 GMT

I found the idea in the original Next Generation vs Aliens story.
The problem is that it's against the rules to kill off Picard or Riker or
Data or any of our other favorites. So, why not change the rules slightly?
I just noticed the formatting is a bit off, sorry. 
The next part is coming soon. Very soon. As soon as I finish it off.

And without further ado:
-------------------------------------------- Cut Here -----------------
Starfleet vs. Aliens

	"Computer, resume log." An pleasant-sounding beep ensued. "Captain's log, continued. The Kren is continuing patrol of the Cardassian border, with nothing notable to report. Crew is looking forward to rotation at Starbase 112, in three weeks. Lt. Depalmer has been disciplined for her remarks about the visiting
Cardassian delegation a week ago. Personally, I wish there was more I could
do about crewmembers with that sort of attitude, but these day an Excelsior-
Class starship isn't a choice assignment..."
	The lights in the ready room dimmed notably. The modulated voice
that had been chosen oh-so-many years ago for computers on Excelsior-
class ship announced:
	"Captain to the bridge. Yellow Alert has been initated by First
Officer Monroe."
	Captain Thomas thumbed the intercom button. "On my way." He
headed for the turbolift, wishing he had a Galaxy-class ship with ready room
on the same level as the bridge.

	Commander Monroe was standing next to Lt. Corcoran at tactical.
"Are you sure that they're just a frieghter? They tried the same trick
during the war."
	Lt. Corcoran spoke up. "No sir," she said. "No evidence of any
type of weapons, and only minima shields. I'd say they have a genuine
problem."
	"I'd rather the Captain make the decision to render assistance to 
them. Can we determine whether they are actually in distress?" Monroe
asked Corcoran. "Or whether they just biloxed something on their own
to lure us in?"
	"Unknown, sir." Corcoran was about to continue, But Captain
Thomas had chosen that moment to enter the bridge.
	"What's the problem, Commander?"
	Monroe went to full attention as he relayed facts. Thomas
hated it, but wasn't going to change the man.
	"We have been contacted by a Cardassian frieghter requesting     
assistance. They claim that their warp core is behving erraticly
and are afraid to attempt to activate the enigines, so they asked
assistance from the closest ship that seemed qualified to help
them, which happened to be ourselves." Monroe relaxed once he
had finished his explanation.
	"Commander, that hardly nessesitates going to yellow alert
status. Starfleet directives order us to render assistance to all
ships that request it." Thomas was a bit upset at Commander Monroe.
	"Unless it is felt that such action would endanger the ship.
That's why..." Monroe didn't get to finish.
	"Commander, come with me to my ready room, will you please?
Commander Renauld, you have the con." Lt. Commander Renauld moved
to the center seat, while the Captain took the XO to be chewed out
in private. It was one of the few things that constituted entertainment
in the Kren; Starfleet had never considered such things as recreational
lounges or holodecks for older vessels, so gossip was a hobby that few
people did not partake in. This would be the best to happen on the ship
in the next few days.

	"Take a seat, Commander." Captain Thomas perferred to be standing
while addressing any of his officers in such briefings or private
meetings. "The Cardassian War is over Commander. Or do you have some
information that Starfleet hasn't communicated to me?"
	"No sir, but after Picard's warning..." Monroe stopped. He knew
that it was bad form to mention Picard to Thomas. Thomas, like every
other Starfleet Captain, respected to man to the end of his abilities,
but was also rather envious of the man's accomplishments. Every Captain
not commanding a galaxy class, and especially the ones commanding the
older line ships, knew the feeling.
	Monroe was lucky. Thomas didn't take it personally this time.
	"I've been apprised of Picard's feelings. I've also been given
more information than you are privvy to, and I still feel that we are
in no danger from a Cardassian frieghter half the age of this ship."
Thomas continued. "I realize you lost family in the war, but I have to 
ask you: are you allowing your feelings to affect your judgement here?"
	"No sir, I just felt that increased vigilance was called for
at all times, especially now." Monroe was getting at something, trying to 
save his skin.
	"Explain." Thomas was willing to give the man time to hang himself
using his own words. 
	"Sir, this is an older ship, without the advanced sensor systems
available to ships of laters classes." Monroe paused, Thomas gave no
replay. Therefore, he continued: "Normally, an Excesior-class ship
would not be assigned to any type of patrol duty, but instead to
duties such as transporting officials and other non-critical duties."
	Thomas still said nothing. Monroe knew at that point the captain
was simply planning an argument to counteract his points. A transfer, if
possible, might start looking attractive, but it would be one of a long
string. Captains noticed those things, but not too favorably.
	"Ever since Wolf 361, however..." Monroe was continuing his
discourse, but Thomas jumped upon hearing about Wolf.
	"Yes, some of the best ships and crews in Starfleet are gone.
We can accept this, hard as it may be, and do our job, or we can use it
as an excuse. I agree: the only reason the Kren is on patrol duty is
because of a lack of ships to do the job otherwise. But the issue is
that our help has been requested. I see no reason not to give it to them.
Dismissed." Thomas didn't lose his temper. As much as he disliked 
Commander Monroe, that action might've been taken as a victory.
	Monroe simply nodded. With a curt "sir," he was gone.
	Thomas thumbed the intercom button again. "Bridge, detail
personnel to assist the frieghter. Captain out."
	He didn't wait for the usual "aye, sir."

	The bosun sounded in the ready room, a day later. Thomas hit the 
button. "Yes?"
	"One of the crewmembers of the Cardassian frieghter has requested
permission to beam aboard the Kren," sounded the voice. 
	"Reason?" asked Thomas.
	"He wishes medical assistance. He says that the frieghter doesn't
have the facilites to assist his condition."
	And we do? though Thomas. He put the thought out of his head; he
had to stop thinking of the Kren as an out-of-date, well, friegter. It
wasn't easy. "Do we have information on his condition?"
	"A full medical record was trasmitted to us at the time of the
request. Medical Officer V'shath has notified us that the Cardassian's
condition is nothing that connot be handled."
	"I see no reason not grant the request. Make it so."
	Once again, Thomas cut of the intercom before he could hear the
"aye, sir" response.

	"Doctor V'shath to Captain Thomas."
	Thomas felt like a communications officer in his own ready room.
	"What is it Doctor?"
	"It's about the Cardassian crewmember who boarded for medical
treatment."
	"What about him?" Thomas wasn't too interested, but Doctor
V'shath would tell him anyway.
	"I'd like to keep him here under observation for the next 25
hours." 
	The Catian has gotten Thomas attention now. He was good at that.
"What for, Doctor?"
	"It turns out that his condition was related to some sort of 
growth in his lung."
	"Cancer, Doctor?"
	V'shath's voice came back a bit uncertain, like it always was
when the topic related to a patient. "Closest analogue, I think. I'm not
totally sure: I've never seen anything like that on a Cardassian before."
	"You've worked with Cardassian patients before?" Thomas got the
words out, then regretted it.
	"It's in my service record, sir. Oh, and he requests that some
of his belongings be beamed aboard."
	"I'll give the order. Thomas out."
	He thumbed the button, then directed the intercom to transporter
room one. "Transporter room, Chief Marcus," spoke the intercom. 
	"Chief Marcus, contact sick bay for a list of items to have
transported aboard from the Cardassian frieghter. Then contact them to
have the items brought aboard." Thomas cut off the intercom. He waited
for the next call. He was sure it wouldn't be long.

	Sure enough, twenty minutes later, the bosun sounded. "Captain,
one of the items that was brought aboard is some sort of lifeform. Most
unusual thing I've ever seen." The transporter chief sounded unusually
excited. Something interesting was happening. But Thomas couldn't say
anything about the man's attitude.
	"Is it dangerous?" Safety was a concern here.
	"Not as such; it's in some sort of stasus field. But if it got
loose..."
	"Understood. Contact Science officer T'Sela and have her examine
it. What else was brought aboard?"
	"Nothing strange. A change of clothing, some food. They don't
trust our replication system here."
	"Alright. Tell Commander T'Sela to contact me with a report
on the creature. And for God's sake tell medical about what the Cardass-
ian tried to bring aboard." The intercom was cut off.
	Thomas contacted security.
	"Security, Lt. Corcoran."
	"Lieutenant, detail a security officer to Sick Bay to watch our
guest. He just tried to bring a potentially dangerous lifeform aboard
my ship."
	"Aye, sir." 
	Thomas realized he didn't hear those words that often.

	Science Officer T'Sela examined the creature enclosed in
the stasis device. It was not an aesthetically pleasing creature;
it seemed to be some type of analogue to a Terran spider.
	"It is unlikely the sensors are correctly calibrated."
	The younger officer spoke up. "But sir, I've triple checked
the calibration. I don't believe the statsis device is causing that
sort of error."
	T'Sela did not turn to face the officer as she replied. "Sawek
once theorized that no sort of creture could use an acid for circulation
in any case of orgnic life. More to the point, no corrosive agent could
be used."
	"But the Hortas..."
	"A Horta is a silicon, not carbon, based lifeform. We are going
to need to study the creature without interferance from this stasis
item."
	"We should have security in here. You're forgetting this is a
potentially hostile creature." With that, T'Sela turned. Her eyes
seemed glacially cold for an instant, then were back to normal.
	"I have not forgotten. However I feel that the pursuit of
knowledge is its own end, so any non-destructive means are justified."
	The younger officer, Ensign Veral, hadn't heard that sort of thing
from a Vulcan before. However, that Vulcan WAS a coomanding officer,
so it wasn't wise to point that out. The T'Prel story flashed to the
forefront of Veral's mind, then was pushed back.
	"One thing sir, we don't know ow the statsis generator operates."
	"We should find out then, ensign." T'Sela realigned the miniature
sensor array toward the control panel of the stasis generator. The idea was
to figure out the exact internal configuration of the control system of the
generator. Veral would remember with horrid detail how the idea turned
to a nightmare. 
	The stasis field deactivated. The creature stood on its legs
for a second, located T'Sela, then lept as if each leg was a spring.
	T'Sela had time only to whip around, to see the facehugger
flying toward her face...



.

Oklahoma: where men are men, and the sheep are bleeding from the end...
- Jason Ferguson                  - Commerce, TEXAS                     -
- ferguson@wizard.etsu.edu        - "I thought, therefore I was"        -
- AMIGA: A Machine Is Going Awry  -      - Descartes-                   -
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