From: ueh@pool.sunyit.edu (Eric Hausgaard)
Subject: ST: 3GEN  [8/9] 
Organization: State University of New York -- Institute of Technology
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1992 04:43:49 GMT

     Maverint sat listlessly on the couch.
     "She's over fifteen minutes late..."  Maverint whined to
himself, sluggishly reaching out to grab hold of the padd on the
end table and fall back into the contours of the couch.  He glanced
over at the dining table.  He had put out the candles and now that
side of the room looked dead and barren. 
     He turned his attention back to the padd and tapped the padd's
power button.  A display of the new G-Warp drive technical notes
came up in a glow on his face.  As his eyes passed over what would
seem a jumble of circuits and equations to the untrained eye, he
thought a little about his regrets of having given up his position
in the chief engineering staff to take over at CON...again. 
     Looking back, he had earned a great deal of respect with his
handling of the CON aboard the Valiant III and when the opportunity
to serve aboard the Enterprise in the engineering staff came up,
Maverint was sure he had found his place...or rather, it had found
him.  Being a chief engineer had long been his goal and being
assigned a place aboard the coveted Enterprise was sure to put him
that much closer to his goal.  Maverint had convinced himself the
thrill of controlling a starship was just part of his well of
experience and that he could focus on his aspiration to be an
starship engineer.  In the moment he was offered the CON position
aboard the Enterprise, he jumped at it.      He recalled the rush
of adrenalin as he took orders from the captain to pilot the
Valiant closer to the Romulan warbird...the rush as he piloted the
Enterprise through the meteor cluster to evade the Borg.  It was
that feeling that made his decision, not his aspirations.  
     'It was a good trade... for now.' He thought.  'I need some
excitement...' His gaze strayed to the table for a moment.  He
chuckled lightly then turn his attention back to the padd.  Soon
his eyes glazed over slowly as the padd's light cast its magic over
him... light to dark...


From:  Captain Jacqueline Picard

     "No, not Rhysa!  Anywhere but Rhysa!"  Jack wasn't entirely
serious -- just mostly serious.  She whirled and tried to walk away
from the turbolift, but Barnabas caught her firmly by the arm and
turned her back the right way with an exasperated sigh.
     "We're here now, Jack.  You might as well enjoy yourself.  This
is the most secure vacation spot in the Federation, and the only one
Admiral Hethor would hear of.  Anywhere else, you might be tempted
to work.  Here, you'll *have* to relax and enjoy yourself."
     "I can assure you right now," said Jack, shouldering her heavy
bag, "that I am bound to do neither.  I don't like Rhysa and never
have.  It's not that I'm allergic to vacations, but--oh, I don't
know, I'd rather be anywhere else.  Earth.  I could have gone to
Earth."
     "No, you couldn't.  It's too far out of our way."  Barnabas
pushed her into the turbolift, and the doors hissed shut behind
them.  "And like I said, we're here now.  Make the best of it."  He
glanced up at the ceiling.  "Bridge."
     "Transporter Room Two," said Jack.
     Barnabas looked at her.
     "I know, I know."  Jack plucked a bit of lint off her skirt. 
It felt strange to be out of uniform.  Even when off-duty she
rarely bothered to change, except to go to bed.  The Starfleet
uniform just felt right.  Okay, maybe she took her work too
seriously, but surely there was nothing really wrong with that?
     "I mean it," said Barnabas with quite unnecessary emphasis. 
"Have a good time."
     Jack stared at him.  "You can't *force* me to have a good
time, Number One."
     His gleaming face creased in a half-cynical grin.  "Apparently
not."
     The door slid open.  Jack looked down the corridor, then back
at Barnabas.  "Don't do anything too exciting without me," she
said.
     "That," said Barnabas, "is a promise I refuse to make. 
Goodbye.  See you in two weeks."
     "Two weeks--?" protested Jack, but the door had already shut.
     "Jacqueline," came a voice.  It was not entirely familiar, but
it was definitely British.
     "Moriarty?" she said, and glanced around not knowing where to
look.
     "Yes.  I wished to bid you an appropriate farewell."
     "You sound different."
     "I--"  For the first time, Moriarty actually sounded
flustered.  "I decided to change again," he said.  "I grew bored
with my previous form.  You know how it is."
     "No," said Jack.  "So what have you done now?"
     "Oh, nothing particularly radical.  But different."
     Jack felt a sort of obscure disappointment.  "Oh.  I'd...
rather liked your new form."
     "Um.  Well, yes.  But-- well, it's ceased to be appropriate,
shall we say that.  Enjoy your stay on Rhysa."  A click, and the
voice was gone.
     "'Ceased to be appropriate?'" Jack said aloud.  "What on earth
does he mean by that?"
     She really *had* liked that form he'd chosen.  Actually, if
she were to be honest with herself, she'd found it attractive. 
That was probably why she'd had that stupid dream.  
     Well, then, she told herself firmly, it was clearly for the
best that he'd changed.  The idea of being attracted to a mere
hologram -- absurd!
     With renewed determination she set off down the corridor
toward the Transporter Room.  Maybe it would be good to get off
this ship for a while, after all.


From:  Captain Jacqueline Picard

     "Two weeks of this?" said Jack at the end of her first day on
Rhysa.  "I don't think I can take it."
     She walked to the open window and sat down on the window-
ledge, curling her sandalled feet beneath her.  Wistfully she gazed
out at the glittering stars and wondered what the Enterprise was
doing now.  
     It wasn't really right of her to complain.  The day on which
she'd beamed down had been an uncommonly beautiful one, the
welcoming committee had been most gracious, and the accomodations
they'd assigned her were comfortable to say the least.  But when
she'd talked to the Recreational Advisor, the man had seemed
stunned that she didn't want to do any of the things people
normally did on Rhysa, and hadn't known what to do with her after
that.
     She would have just spent the week exploring, but the Advisor
had suggested she not do so alone.  He'd offered to introduce her
to some handsome young man, but Jack had recoiled for reasons which
(although quite clear to her) she hadn't really been able to
explain to the Advisor.  No, if she were to find anyone to walk or
ride or generally do things with, she'd have to find that person
herself.  Unfortunately, the prospect of finding the sort of
someone she required in a place like this wasn't very good.  They'd
have too much sense to come here.
     "Am I really a horribly boring person?" murmured Jack,
dropping her chin upon her folded arms.  "Everybody else seems to
be having fun."
     Maybe she was just antisocial.  A cold person, not very
likeable, perhaps.  Snooty and aloof.  Thinking herself too good to
get involved with all the fun and frolic that was Rhysa.
     "Oh, but it's not that," said Jack in exasperation, uncurling
herself and sliding off the window-seat.  "It's not, it's not, it's
not."
     *Then what is it?*  The Advisor's voice echoed in her mind,
patient but incomprehending.
     "I want a real friend," Jack murmured.  "Someone who
understands me.  Can you give me that?"
     Silence.
     "I didn't think so," said Jack.

     The end of the third day found Jack dressed in a long floral-
print skirt and a boat-necked blouse the colour of her eyes,
sitting in a chair by the edge of the dance floor and wondering for
the thousandth time that week why she had let herself be bullied
into coming here.  She had spent two days in her hotel room
reading, then finally gave in and attended a party in the hopes of
finding someone--anyone--she could have an intelligent conversation
with.  So far it had been a disaster.  Two Ferengi, one Cardassian,
and four well-intentioned humans had tried to pick her up.  At last
a drunk Betazoid sat down and poured out his soul to her because,
he said, she was the only one in the room who would listen.  Jack
had felt sorry for him, but he had not improved her evening.
     Now she was hiding in the shadows, watching other people
dance.  They weren't very good dancers.  Jack had enough of her
mother's talent to know.  Why, oh why, had she let them talk her
into this charade?  She would have been happier on a Contemplate
Preserve.
     So wrapped was she in morbid contemplation of her woes that
she didn't even see the man coming up behind her.  She only heard
the voice, rich, deep, and strangely familiar:
     "Do you dance?"
     "No," said Jack, not looking at him.
     "Oh, good," said the man in what sounded like consummate
relief, and folded himself into the chair beside her.  Jack glanced
at him in surprise, but he had seated himself beneath the canopy
and his head and shoulders were lost in shadow.  She could hear the
smile in his voice as he went on:  "When I saw you looking abjectly
miserable at this scintillating party, I dared to hope you might be
a kindred spirit.  Believe me, I am desperate for a kindred spirit
right now.  I have no idea what I am doing here.  This is a
wretched place."
     "It's supposed to be impossible to be bored on Rhysa," said
Jack.
     "Apparently," observed the man dryly, "we have achieved the
impossible."
     Jack found herself smiling in spite of her resolve. 
"Apparently.  Now, since you have gone to all this trouble to seek
me out, may I dare to hope that you might be intending to offer
some sort of intelligent conversation?"
     The man drew back in mock horror.  "At a party?  Are you mad?"
     "Yes."
     "Oh, good," he said, relaxing again.  "So am I.  All right,
then, tell me something.  Can God make a rock bigger than He can
lift?"
     Jack was instantly exasperated.  "You know, that is the most
stupid question--"
     "Why?"  he interrupted.  "Why?  Tell me why it's stupid.  Is
it just stupid because you can't answer it?"
     "No, it's stupid because nonsense is still nonsense when you
talk it about God."
     "C. S. Lewis.  But what do *you* think?"
     "That is what I think."
     "You let other people tell you what to think?"
     "Only when they're right."
     "Ah, yes, but how do you know when they're right?  Just
personal preference, or logic?"
     "Not preference.  Partly logic.  Partly something else."
     "What else?"
     Jack opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it.
"First," she said, "where are you from?"
     "Don't change the subject."
     "No," said Jack, "this is important.  Where are you from?"
     "Does it matter?"
     "Yes."
     "Why?"
     "Because of my 'something else.'  I need to know if you've
heard of it or not."
     The man's teeth flashed in the darkness.  "What," he said,
"this?"  He pulled a padd out of the pocket of his loose black
jacket and flicked it at her.  Jack caught it and stared at the
letters scrolling down the screen.
     "Oh," she said, and then laughed.  It was a real laugh, the
first truly joyful laugh she'd had in a long time.  "Yes!  Yes, oh,
where did you get this?  Do you know how hard they are to find?"
     "I programmed it myself," said the man, taking it back.  "From
a hard copy I managed to scrounge."
     "That must have been a lot of work.  You could have--"
     "Yes, I know there are faster ways to do it.  But it wasn't
the speed that mattered to me."  He slid the padd back into his
pocket.
     "Well," said Jack.  "Far be it from me to say that one cannot,
after all, find *anything* one pleases on Rhysa.  Even, it seems,
a good--if disappointingly insincere--debate."
     "Is it?"
     "Is what?"
     "Is it disappointing that I was insincere?"
     "Well, no, not if that means you're on my side."
     "Is it?"
     "What?"
     "Your side."
     Jack laughed again, this time with unreserved delight.  "You
are perfectly dreadful.  Do you always insist that everyone qualify
their terms?"
     "Only when it counts."
     "Oh, very well.  No, it is not *my* side, exactly; it is,
rather, the side I happen to be on."
     "Good," said the man.  He leaned back and motioned to the
waiter.  "Two iced teas," he said when the man had hurried over,
order-padd in hand.  "Medium sweet, chilled, lemon, no ice."
     The waiter nodded, vanished into the crowd and reappeared
almost instantly with the drinks.  Jack took hers from the
proffered tray and gazed down at it with something like reverence. 
"How could you possibly know--"
     "Well," said the man with a grin that glittered even in the
shadows where he sat, "if we agree on something as bizarre as the
Bible, it seems only logical that we'd agree on something as
mundane as iced tea."
     "I am now going to say something incredibly stupid," said
Jack.
     "And what's that?"
     "What's your name?"
     The man laughed.  "It does seem that we've come at all this a
bit backwards, haven't we?  I'm Gwyn Davies."
     "And what nationality might you be?" asked Jack with a grin.
     "I know, I know.  Now what's *your* name?"
     "Jacqueline Picard," said Jack, and they both laughed.
     "But you don't sound French," said Gwyn.
     "Nor you Welsh.  But I'm only half French.  My mother's
background was either Scottish or Irish, I can never remember
which."
     "Well, whatever you do, don't say that to an Irishman or a
Scot."
     Jack smiled and sipped her drink.
     "But your name is familiar," said the man after a
companionable pause.  "You're in Starfleet, aren't you?"
     "Yes," said Jack, a little hesitantly.
     "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to talk shop here.  For some
reason I can't even place where I've heard of you before, except
that I knew you were in Starfleet.  It's just that I'm in Starfleet
too, you see.  I'm a cyberneticist."
     "*That* Gwyn Davies?  I've read a couple of your papers.  But
I'd never seen you, of course.  As a matter of fact," she amended,
"I can't say I've seen you even now."
     "What?  Oh."  He grinned again, and moved his chair into the
light.  "Is that better?" he said.
     "I--" began Jack, but the easy comment died on her lips. 
     Sitting there in the chair before her, dressed in a rumpled
black suit with a plain grey tunic, was Moriarty.
     She almost got angry before she realized that this was not
Moriarty after all, could not be.  She had always wondered how
Moriarty had managed to invent so singular a face for himself; now
she knew.  He must have scanned the active Starfleet personnel
records and grabbed the first one he liked.
     Or... was it that simple?
     _It'll be all right,_ said Gabriele's voice in her mind.  _I
think he likes her._
     _Jacqueline,_ said Moriarty's voice.  _A beautiful name, don't
you agree, Mr. Cole?  A shame to have her called by anything else._ 
And then his strange remark as she was leaving the Enterprise. 
_It's ceased to be appropriate, shall we say that._
     Gwyn.  Gwyn Davies, Cyberneticist.  Admiral Hethor's voice
joined the chorus now:  _One is... a Cyberneticist... You don't
know him, and he's gone on holiday, so I can't properly introduce
you._
     _I want a real friend,_ said her own voice.  _Someone who
understands me._
     What was going on?  
     Moriarty had deliberately selected Gwyn's looks and even a
good deal of his personality when he'd decided to take on a new
persona.  He must have gone looking for someone Jack would respond
well to, someone she might even find attractive, to make sure she'd
be willing to keep him around.  He couldn't have known then that
Jack would ever meet Gwyn Davies -- certainly not that his alter
ego would actually join the crew of the Enterprise.         
     _'Ceased to be appropriate'--well, I should think so!_ thought
Jack indignantly.  _No wonder he decided to change when he got those
crew profiles from Admiral Hethor!_  Of course, it could be another
cyberneticist they'd be getting on the Enterprise, not Gwyn at all.
But how many other cyberneticists from Starbase 643 were on holiday
at the moment?
     Another thought occurred to Jack then, and she nearly choked
on her drink.  Had Admiral Hethor planned this?  Had he sent them
both to Rhysa, hoping they'd meet?  He must have known Gwyn's
philosophical bent as well or even better than he did Jack's: 
surely it was no coincidence that he'd forced them both to go on
holiday, to the same place, at the same time.  Was this the
Admiral's attempt at making up for what he'd put her through?
     This was all crazy.  Utterly, completely crazy.
     "Jacqueline," said Gwyn, frowning, "are you all right?"
     "I--I'm fine."  She forced herself to look at him, and to
smile.  "Just--you surprised me.  Never mind."
     Gwyn regarded her shrewdly for a moment.  Then he said, "I'm
a fool.  You're the new Captain of the Enterprise.  You're Jean-Luc
Picard's daughter."
     "Yes," said Jack shakily.  "And you're about to join my crew."
     "I'm what?"  It was Gwyn's turn to be shocked.  "What did you
say?"
     "You mean Admiral Hethor didn't tell you?"  Colour flooded
into her face.  "Oh, no, maybe it isn't you after all.  Are there
any other cyberneticists from your lab who are on holiday right
now?"
     "No."
     Jack relaxed.  "Then it *must* be you.  I wonder why he didn't
tell you?"
     "It must," said Gwyn, recovering himself with obvious
difficulty, "be the Caitian sense of humor."

     It was long past midnight.  The glow-globes in the square
began to dim, and the dancers ceased their movement; partygoers
lurched out of the taverns and wandered back toward their room. 
Two Ferengi, arm in arm, stopped in the archway of their hotel and
favored the neighbourhood with a garbled rendition of "Melor
Famagal" in two-part not-quite-harmony.
     "Shut up!" yelled someone from an upper room, and lobbed a
boot at Daimon Prak.  He staggered aside just in time to keep it
from hitting him in the face.
     "Ssssss," said his companion, revealing a row of jagged teeth
in the moonlight.  "Not... very friendly."  He picked Prak up,
dusted him off, and the two of them continued on their weaving way.
     "I'll kill him tomorrow," mumbled Prak.  "I'll remember his
voice."
     "That would be unprofitable," suggested the other Ferengi. 
"If we bide our time, we might be able to blackmail him."
     The Daimon made an assenting gurgle.
     "That would," continued his friend silkily, "be a most
satisfactory bonus to our original plan."
     "I don' know about this, Vog," slurred Prak.  "If the
Federation finds out--"
     "But they won't find out," Vog insisted.  In the half-light
his eyes glittered clear and bright; he did not seem quite so drunk
after all.  "We play our cards right, my friend Daimon, and we will
turn this holiday into a very... profitable venture."
     "She is a handsome woman," said Prak dreamily.  "It might be
hard to give her up when the ransom comes in."
     "By then, my dear Prak," Vog said, "we may well have found a
way to keep both of our prizes.  Leave it all to me.  Captain
Jacqueline Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise will soon be in our
hands--and a pretty price she'll fetch, too."  He rubbed his hands
together in undisguised delight.
     "Wha' abt' th' ssybrnnsst?" mumbled Prak, his head drooping
forward onto his chest.  Vog looked at him and realized that he
might have to carry the Daimon up to his room.
     "What was that?"  he asked, and then realized what the other
Ferengi had been trying to say.  "Oh, the cyberneticist.  Yes... he
may be difficult.  Well, if he interferes, we can always hold him
for ransom too.  Nothing like upping the stakes, don't you agree,
friend Prak?"
     There was no answer.  Vog looked down at his newly-won
accomplice with undisguised disgust, then prodded the slumped
figure with a booted toe.  Yes, there could be no mistake about it. 
Daimon Prak was asleep.


From:  Commander Barnabas Cole

     Barnabas walked back slowly from the turbolift, silently
thanking his lucky stars, and simultaneously pondering on the
source of such luck, that he had not, like his unfortunate Captain,
been subjected to a forced holiday on Rhysa.  He knew quite well
the Captain's moral standards were different than his own, which
immediately ruled out what he felt to be the chiefest pleasures to
be had on Rhysa.
     He tried to picture her on a scenic cruise above the planet,
or in one of Rhysa's famed marketplaces, shopping for nothing of
importance and found he could not.   Meanwhile, there were duties
for the acting-captain to take care of.  Entering the bridge, the
ensigns at the helm stood for him.  "At ease," he said, grinning
inwardly, though his features remained calm.
     He sat down in the Captain's chair.  "Attention all bridge
crew, there will be a briefing in the Captain's ready-room at
17:00."
     An immature surge of glee forced one side of his silvery
features to curl into a seemingly wicked grin.  Two weeks with the
Enterprise, doing G-Warp testing, and diagnostics seemed a
supremely satisfying holiday for him.


From:  Lt. Konnu

    0900 hours, Holodeck One.
    Konnu set his cane against the wall and pressed the status
button. The computer informed him that Lt. (jg) Hickock was in the
middle of a training session with the security division. The
Klingon thought for a minute and then keyed in a slight alteration
to the Holodeck's program.
    The holodeck's doors hissed open to reveal 20-25 people in
sparring uniforms and equipment practicing hand-to-hand combat
against each other. The terrain was a very tranquil setting,
probably from earth. It consisted of a bright, sunny meadow
bordered by a small lake on one side, and a forest on the other.
The temperature was cool, and the air smelled of springtime. The
combatants ceased their sparring and formed up in four lines of
six. Sara Hickock approached Konnu.
     "Here ya are chief... Security division One." said the young
woman.
     "I see." Said Konnu passing a critical eye over the
assemblage. "And how do you rate their combat abilities?"
     "This security division has always had one of the best
marksmanship scores, chief, and..."
     "Armed combat is one thing but how can these men and women
fare in unarmed combat?"
     "Against what kind of opposing force, chief?"
     "That should not matter! Here... let's how all of you can fare
against one, unarmed, and lame Klingon..." With that Konnu threw
his cane aside and picked up Hickock and threw her into the nearby
pond. The rest of the security personel looked at each other with
surprise and confusion.
     "Attack me! Come on! Can you all stop one Klingon from taking
over your ship?" shouted Konnu as he assumed a combative posture.
He could hear Hickock dragging herself out of the pond. She was
chuckling to herself.
     "Don't just stand there!!! " She shouted to the security
personnel. "This water is extremely cold and trust me you don't
want to be thrown into it! Get him!!!"
     Suddenly the 24 people rushed at Konnu. There was a fury of
flailing limbs, and suddenly, Ensign Paraul flew into the pond,
followed by two more Ensigns. After a few minutes Hickock was the
only one who was not still in the pond. Konnu was sweating with the
effort he had been exerting. He faced Hickock.
     "I am dissapointed! Their abilities must improve!" hollered
Konnu. Hickock looked at the Klingon and smiled. She moved her wet
hair off of her face and approached Konnu.
     "Now c'mon chief, I haven't had my shot at the belt yet..."
she said. Konnu smiled an evil smile, and barely had time to duck
underneath a viscious round house kick from Hickock.
     As Konnu continued to spar against Hickock, the members of the
security team dragged themselves out of the lake. The battle taking
place was a fury of well placed kicks, versus a few powerful
punches. In the end Konnu lay exhausted by the edge of the water.
Hickock gasped for air as she stood above him.
     "Eye for an eye chief..." threatened Hickock.
     "A Klingon.... is always ready to die.... or swim in this
case..." replied Konnu.
     <<<SPLASH>>>
     Konnu surfaced and spat a mouthful of cool, holodeck water out
of his mouth. He surveyed the security team with a careful eye.
     "Now, the real test begins! Computer, begin program Konnu-1!"
shouted Konnu. There was the usual beep of compliance, and then 30
Klingon warriors materialized onto the meadow. Konnu relished the
look of terror in the humans' eyes for a moment and then shouted,
     "tIHIv!!! <Attack them!!!>"

      The battle had surprisingly gone to the security team, but
not without some cost. Several members of the security team had
been removed by the medical staff. Hickock smiled at Konnu as she
left the Holodeck. Konnu was alone. The Klingon sighed as the
meadow disappeared and was replaced by the familiar yellow grid
decor of an inactive holodeck. He had been somewhat glum the past
few days, but not without reason.
     "Computer, can you recreate the last bridge log of the
U.S.S. Valiant III?"
     Beeping noises from the computer.
     "From what time index?" asked the computer. Konnu strained to
remember. That had been 3 years ago. Exactly 3 years ago.
     "Time index 19:21 point 56."
     "One moment." suddenly Konnu was back on the bridge of the
Valiant III. A heavily damaged bridge, filled with smoke and ozone
from burning electronics. Captain Donavan Faeren was dead upon the
floor, a large peice of shrapnel was wedged into his neck. There
were only three persons alive on the bridge: Engineer's Assistant
Jackson, Lt. Baker at the helm and acting captain Lt. Commander
Konnu at tactical.
     Lt. Konnu watched on as Lt. Baker skillfully piloted the
Valiant into firing position behind the last attacking Cardassian
warship. The Valiant had been exploring uncharted space near
Cardassian territory, when suddenly the ship was attacked by 3
marauding warships. Lt. Commander Konnu fired the last of the
Valiant's loaded torpedoes at the Cardassian ship. The torpedoes
hit their marks as the war cruiser exploded with a vast brilliance.
The Valiant shook as the force of the dead ship's explosion rocked
the badly damaged Federation battle cruiser. 
     The three bridge members relaxed for a moment. Scanners showed
no more enemy ships. Lt. Commander Konnu walked to the Engineering
station. Jackson pointed out the areas where the ship had been
damaged. The Engineering hull had been badly damaged, torpedo bays
2 and 3 were out and the phaser capacitors were damaged. Lt. Konnu
walked to the Tactical station. The displays showed no weapons
ready to fire, and the shields damaged but holding. Suddenly the
tactical display showed the shields go down. A second later
something appeared on the scanner.
      Lt. Baker shouted a warning, but that was all she could do
before the packet of null space hit the Valiant. Once again, the
Valiant rocked with a powerful impact. Lt. Konnu moved towards the
turbolift. It was so strange to see all of this happening again,
but from a different perspective. All the review board saw was the
one camera angle from above the turbolift. It was all they wanted
to see. Jackson screamed out that the null space pocket had caused
a core breach.... detonation in two minutes. Lt. Commander Konnu
issued the order to separate the saucer section from the
engineering hull. 
     Lt. Konnu grimaced. It was that decision which had cost him
his rank. The chairman of the review board was an admiral, and was
the father of an Ensign who was trapped in the engineering hull of
the Valiant as it exploded. The Valiant shuddered as the explosive
bolts fired and separated the saucer section from the doomed
engineering hull. Suddenly, the turbolift doors opened behind Lt.
Konnu.
     "Computer freeze program!" Shouted Konnu. He looked into the
turbo lift. There was a pool of blood on the threshold of the
turbolift. When the doors had hissed open, Lt. Konnu wheeled to
look inside, but had seen no one. The bridge crew had not noticed
the doors open, nor had they noticed what Konnu had just noticed...
the footprints that were formed by someone walking into the
turbolift and into the pool of blood. This person however, wore 3
toed boots.
     Konnu played the previous five seconds over and over for at
least an hour, and then finally decided that he had gone nuts. He
could find nothing to suggest where these footprints came from.
They definately looked alien in origin, but they may have been
formed in some way unknown to Konnu. His evidence was
circumstancial, so he decided to not to rush to Commander Cole. Not
yet at least. He instead went to Ten-Forward for a glass of prune
juice.


From:  Captain Jacqueline Picard

     "So," said Gwyn.  "Tell me about yourself."
     The two of them were leaning over the edge of the topmost
balcony of one of Rhysa's many scenic towers, gazing down at the
creamy-white buildings and immaculate streets of the city far
below.  Beyond the city walls the hills of Rhysa rolled, green
and golden in the sunlight, graced with a host of blossoming
trees whose heady, redolent perfume captivated Jack with every
breath.  She almost began to feel that maybe this place wasn't so
bad after all.
     "What?" she murmured, hardly hearing.  "Oh.  Sorry.  What
did you want to know?"
     "You might as well start with your childhood, I suppose. 
Your family.  What was it like growing up with Jean-Luc Picard?"
     Jack gave a little, distracted smile.  "Never a dull moment.
He was a driven man, a man who always had to be doing something,
learning something."
     "Well, that was one of the things that made him great."
     "I suppose so.  But he was my father, after all:  I never
really thought of him as being that special.  I remember him as
compassionate, but reserved.  Sometimes it seemed we couldn't
talk at all.  Still, I wanted very much to make him proud of me. 
Which was what made it so hard when our philosophies finally came
into conflict."
     "What did your mother think?"
     "She wasn't very happy with me either."  She looked down at
her folded arms.  "I guess I wasn't liberal enough to please my
parents."
     "Funny," said Gwyn.  "It doesn't often work out that way."
     "No.  But you know, I loved them all the same.  Even though
there came a time when we no longer understood each other, when
the simplest communication was painful, I still loved them.  It
was...very hard for me when they died."
     "They never changed their minds," said Gwyn.  It was more
statement than question.
     "No.  Not that I know of, anyway.  There was one
conversation we had where I almost thought my father was
beginning to understand, but the moment just--" she spread her
hands helplessly--"slipped away."
     Gwyn was silent.
     "What about you?" she asked.
     He turned around and put his back to the wall, crossing his
long legs and gazing at the tower's blank face.  "I suppose I had
a much easier time of it.  My parents were simple people -- I
don't mean stupid, but uncomplicated.  When I decided to become a
cyberneticist, my parents were surprised, and I think perhaps
even disappointed, but they didn't try to stop me."
     "Did they think that cybernetics was too much like playing
God?"
     "That was exactly how they felt.  I had the opposite problem
with my parents that you did with yours, you see.  I thought
their ideas were pretty quaint.  It took me a good many years to
see the sense in it, and by then I was already Chief
Cyberneticist and my parents, like yours, were dead."
     "And now?"
     "Some cyberneticists play God.  I just worship Him."  He
grinned at her; she smiled back.
     "So, what else do you do besides cybernetics?" she asked.
     "Don't have time for much else, I'm afraid.  As I'm sure you
know, Starfleet tends to devour one's leisure time.  I play a bit
of cello, though.  And I'm not above a scene or two on the
holodecks now and then.  You?"
     Jack looked blank.  "I don't think--"  Her brow furrowed. 
"You know, I don't seem to do much at all outside of Starfleet. 
Especially since I've been Captain, it's just been one thing
after another.  I used to ride a little; my father taught me. 
And my mother was a dancer as well as a doctor, so I know a bit
about that too.  But lately--"
     "Have you got many friends on the Enterprise?"
     "A few, I suppose.  The bartender down in Ten-Forward is an
old friend of the family, but to be quite frank, Guinan makes me
nervous.  My First Officer is an old acquaintance, too--a really
fine officer, but very melancholy and sometimes even bitter about
what happened to him.  He was in an accident, you see."
     "Transporter accident.  Yes, I heard about that.  It was a
miracle he survived."
     "I think sometimes he wishes he hadn't."  Jack flicked a bit
of loose stone over the edge of the wall and watched it tumble
out of sight.  "And then there's our Counsellor, but I'm just
getting to know her.  And Moriarty, if you can count the ship's
computer, but I'm just getting to know him too, and now I find
that he's not who I thought he was."
     Gwyn stared at her.  "You're friends with the ship's
computer?"
     "He's sentient.  It's a long story, but you'll probably find
out a lot more by talking to him yourself."
     He raised his eyebrows.  "I'll have to take your word for
it, then, but you'll have to pardon me if I say that sounds far
too weird to be true."
     "Believe me," said Jack with a short laugh, "it's both weird
*and* true.  Oh, you'll enjoy the Enterprise, Gwyn Davies.  The
strangest crew in all of Starfleet."
     "I thought that was traditional," said Gwyn.

     "There they are," hissed Vog to his companion, who winced
and put a hand to his bulbous head.
     "Don't do that," Prak whimpered.  "It echoes in my brain."
     Vog was unsympathetic.  "I warned you not to try and
outdrink a Pacifican.  See?  There, at the top of the tower. 
Hurry!"
     Together the Ferengi clambered up the spiral stair toward
their goal.  Vog, his beady eyes bright, kept his hand close to
his chest as if clutching some small and delicate object, while
Prak just mumbled and held his aching head.
     "Here, Daimon," panted Vog when they had reached the balcony
level.  "Take this."  He pressed a skinjector into Prak's hand. 
"Be careful with it, and don't use it until I tell you."  He
glanced out onto the balcony, then smiled and rubbed his bony
hands together.  "Yessss... very good.  Very good indeed.  There
is no one here to interfere, and no one to see us leave.  Now, my
Daimon, follow me.  I will do the talking."
     Prak nodded, and the Ferengi shuffled out onto the terrace. 
The humans, who had been talking quietly, turned and regarded
them with surprise.
     "Greetings, fellow tourists," said Vog, spreading out his
hands ingratiatingly.  "Is the view not beautiful here?"
     "It is," said the red-haired woman.  Vog looked her up and
down and decided that she was indeed attractive--except for those
ridiculous and wasteful clothes.  He smiled at her, but not too
broadly, since he knew a full display of jagged Ferengi teeth was
not often appreciated by humans.
     "My friend and I have been exploring this restful planet
since we came here," he said, "and we have found many hidden
beauties which the brochures do not advertise.  We would be most
pleased to show them to you."
     "For a price, of course," said the man, thin lips curling in
amusement.  Vog did not like the look in those narrow dark eyes. 
This one could pose a problem, if not carefully watched.
     "Of course there would be a price, dear sir," he said.  "But
we are always prepared to bargain."  He allowed himself a
millisecond to glance at Prak, who was insinuating himself
between the humans and the balcony.  Yes, the plan was going
well.  "Shall we say... fifty credits per day?"
     "I don't think we're interested, thank you," said the Picard
woman politely.
     "After all," added the man, scratching idly at his close-
trimmed beard, "we can always do our own exploring."
     "Oh, but I must insist," said Vog.
     At that prearranged signal, Prak pressed the skinjector
against the woman's bare arm.  There was a hissing sound, and she
cried out.  The man whirled and made a grab for Prak, but Vog
darted forward and pressed his own skinjector against the back of
the man's neck.
     "There," panted Vog.
     "What have you done?" demanded Jacqueline Picard, holding
her wounded arm.
     "You have now been infected with Ferengal flu," Vog told
her.  "Unless you follow us, quietly, now, you will die within
twenty-four hours.  We are the only ones who know where the
antidote is."
     "There's no reason we should go with you," snapped the
cyberneticist.  "There are doctors on Rhysa--"
     "Gwyn," said the woman quietly, "I've heard of this virus. 
No independent research has yet discovered a way to neutralize
it, and the Ferengi have always refused to release the formula
for the antidote.  They will only administer the cure to the
patient themselves--for an exorbitant price."
     The man's jaw tightened.  "Trust the Ferengi to turn a
deadly disease into a profit."
     "Of course," said Vog.  "It is one of our most lucrative
ventures.  Now, will you come with us, or will you die?"
     "It would seem," said the man, "that we have no choice."


From:  Captain Jacqueline Picard

     Jack stumbled along the dark forest path, her head reeling,
sweat pouring from her brow.  Her whole body quaked with fever,
and she could barely see straight.  How long had they walked, how
far had they come, and where were they going?  She had no idea. 
All she could think of was how much she just wanted to lie down
by the side of the trail and die.
     Ahead of her Gwyn plodded resolutely, but she could see the
sheen of sweat on his face in the twilight between the trees.  He
was as sick as she was--maybe sicker.  Yet he kept on, as must
she if they wanted to live.
     The Ferengi led the way, alternately skulking and capering
down the path toward their unknown destination.  They chattered
excitedly to each other in their own language, no doubt boasting
of their great achievement in capturing two such valuable
officers of the Federation.  They had discovered only a few
minutes ago that Gwyn was not merely a garden-variety
cyberneticist, but indeed the Chief Cyberneticist of Starbase
643, and this had sent them into paroxysms of glee at their good
fortune.  Jack wished she could be half so happy.
     "You must wear blindfolds now," smirked the Ferengi Jack had
automatically termed One, since he seemed to be the leader.  Of
course they hadn't given their names:  they weren't as stupid as
they looked.
     "Blindfolds!" snapped Gwyn.  "We can hardly see even now,
and you want us to wear--"
     "But you have no choice," Ferengi Two reminded him with a
glittering grin.  "Do not fear; we will not allow you to be
harmed.  We will lead you."
     "Joy," commented Gwyn dryly.  But he did bend down and allow
Ferengi One to bind a strip of dark cloth over his eyes.
     "You too," said Ferengi One to Jack.  She obeyed.  When she
straightened up she could see nothing but blackness, and her
dizziness increased.  One of the Ferengi took her arm, and they
headed slowly down what seemed to be a slope.  Distantly she
heard the hollow dripping of water on stone, increasing in volume
as they headed--was it eastward?--away from the path.  Ferns and
long grass brushed against Jack's bare legs, and she felt warm
moisture seeping into her sandals from the rain-soaked ground. 
They walked in this way for a moment, and then her foot came down
on something hard and rough.  The dripping was very loud now.
     "Turn on the light," hissed the Ferengi on Jack's arm. 
There was a click, then a hum, and they moved forward into deeper
darkness.
     After that there was no telling where they went.  The
journey took them up and down, left and right, sometimes in
circles it seemed.  Jack stumbled many times on the rough path,
stubbing her toes so hard that she was sure they had started to
bleed, but the Ferengi forced her on.
     "Hurry, hurry," he said in his whining, sibilant voice.  "Or
the antidote will do you no good."
     "How long?" called the other Ferengi from some distance
ahead.
     "Close now," said Jack's captor cryptically.
     Hours--or perhaps just long minutes--passed.  Then they made
a sudden sharp turn, and Jack was pushed forward into a large
open space.  Her feet skidded on the wet, slimy ground; she lost
her balance and sat down hard.
     "Take off blindfold now," said one of the Ferengi, and
ripped the cloth from her eyes.  Jack blinked, and looked around
her with bleary eyes.  In her condition it was hard to tell, but
they seemed to be in an underground cave of some sort.  Gwyn was
standing with his back to her, while Ferengi Two leaped up and
down trying to reach his blindfold.
     "Bend down, you fool," snapped Ferengi One.  Gwyn bent, and
Ferengi Two undid the knot.
     "You've got us where you want us," said Gwyn wearily.  "So
where is this antidote you promised?"
     "Not yet," said Ferengi One.  He scurried over to the corner
and returned with a length of silvery rope.  "Primitive," he
said, "but effective.  Hold out your hands."
     Within a few moments, Gwyn and Jack were sitting on the
floor with their hands tied securely behind them and their legs
bound at the ankles.  There would be no escaping now, Jack knew,
and her heart sank at the thought.
     "Now," cackled Ferengi One, rubbing his bony hands together. 
"The antidote."  He beckoned to his companion, who dutifully
trotted over with a shiny black case in one hand.  Opening the
case, One produced a hypo and pressed it against Jack's neck. 
There was a hiss, and instantly she began to feel better. 
Another hiss, and Gwyn received the antidote; she heard his sigh
of relief.
     "Good, good," said Two admiringly.  "The plan has gone just
as you said!"
     "Of course," One replied.  "Now all we have to do is deliver
our ransom demands."
     "They will not be able to trace them to us?" asked Two.
     "I have worked out an elaborate system with many secure
contacts," said One.  "No one will know where the demands are
coming from.  Nor will any scanners be able to find our captives
here, for the rocks are laced with boranium cyclide."
     "But they'll know we're not offworld," said Gwyn.  "And
they'll know you're missing, too."
     "Not at all," Ferengi One sneered.  "Do you think us so
short-sighted?  My friend and I departed Rhysa on a Ferengi
cruiser some hours ago.  You and Captain Picard were recorded as
having left this morning.  You sent no forwarding address because
you wished to be alone, but rumour has it you embarked on a
pleasure cruise of the system.  It's all in the Rhysan computer
system now, I assure you.  And there's no one to say
differently."
     "Our baggage--"
     "--has been forwarded to the Enterprise," said Ferengi Two,
and giggled.  "Be sure, we have thought of everything."
     "I'll bet," said Jack.
     "Please make yourselves comfortable," One told them slyly. 
"We will not be far away--ever."  They gathered up their small
pile of equipment and left the room, tittering to themselves. 
Jack waited until their laughter had faded into the silence, then
let out a long sigh.
     "Well," she said to the silent Gwyn.  "Some holiday this is
turning out to be."


From:  Lt. Konnu

     The Enterprise was at red alert. Konnu was in his office in
Security Station One. There were no enemy ships approaching, no
natural threats about to destroy the ship.  The Crew was on red
alert due to the first test of the Enterprise's new G-warp
engines.
     Konnu would admit he was slightly apprehensive about this
new method of faster than light travel, but who wouldn't be
apprehensive if they had just witnessed their ship undergo a
modular transformation?  The warp nacelles had taken 1 minute and
35 seconds to reconfigure themselves into G-Warp mode.
     "This is Commander Cole..." blared all of the ship's speaker
panels. "All hands prepare for G-warp manoeuvres on my mark.
3...2...1...MARK!  Engage G-warp drive!"
     Without warning, the ship lurched forward under full
impulse power for a brief moment. Then a pocket of gravitic
energy was discharged from the main sensor array.
     "Here we go..." thought Konnu.
     The Enterprise was slightly bent out of shape as she went to
warp speed.  Then the Nova-class starship hit the gravitic
charge.
     The floor literally fell out from under Konnu's feet as the
ship began to shake violently.  Konnu looked around from his
position on the floor.  Everything was blurry and distorted. This
feeling lasted for about five minutes at which time the ship
ceased shaking and lurched back into realspace. 
     The lights went out.  Everything went out.  The only source
of illumination for Konnu was the starlight peeking into his
office.
     The Klingon picked himself up and began pounding at his
computer console. Several minutes later, somebody had the
brilliant idea to engage the backup batteries.  Dim light filled
the interior of the ship.  
     Konnu accessed his computer terminal.
     "Access denied. Power level critical. Engage long-term
survival scenario 6."
     "Chief!  What's going on -- OOF!"  Hickock tripped on
something that was nearly invisible in the dim light.
     "We've lost the main energizer.  That's all that I can say
for certain.  My terminal will not operate under these power
restrictions," replied Konnu.
     "Let's get to the Battle Bridge. That's the only one of
three places I can think of which should be able to communicate
to the bridge," suggested Hickock as she picked herself up.
     Several minutes later they had made their way to the battle
bridge.  Konnu sat in the Captain's (spare) chair.  A fuzzy image
of Commander Cole appeared.
     "It doesn't look too good, Lieutenant," said Barnabas.  "Mr.
Scott reports that the main energizer is offline, all warp power
conduits are in need of serious repair, and impulse engines four
and five need an overhaul."
     "Commander, where exactly are we now?" asked Konnu.
     "Uncharted space, near the Cardassians."
     "The damage you have spoken of will require at least a
week of repair on the Engineering hull."
     "That's correct. The saucer section was shaken badly, but
that's about it.  One more thing.  Under these power
restrictions, the turbolifts will not operate, and Nikctalos has
determined that the power couplings between saucer and
engineering hull have been shaken out of place."
     "Then the Engineering hull is dead weight for the time
being.  Perhaps we should separate.  You could then engage the
emergency warp engine on the saucer."
     "I've thought of that.  We may have to do that.  We'll make
for the nearest Federation outpost, and get word to the
Cardassian government that our ship wandered near their territory
-- that this isn't an act of war.
     "Konnu," said Barnabas.  "It will take the saucer section at
least 12 days to make it back to Federation space.  Mac estimates
at least 10 days to effect repairs.  Even then he advises not
using the Warp drive above Warp 4."
     Konnu understood what the commander was getting at. The ship
would be separated and the saucer would go for help.
     "I understand, Commander.  I will inform Lt. Commander Scott
that he is in command of the Engineering hull," said Konnu.
     "He'll be too busy with repairs.  I want you to take
command until we meet again."
     "But sir!  There are at least a dozen other officers down
here who outrank me!" protested the Klingon.  Konnu didn't like
the idea of stepping out of the chain of command.
     "You once held the rank of Lt. Commander and filled the
position of First officer on the Valiant III... I think you are
more than qualified.  Prepare to separate," said Barnabas.
     "Aye sir." replied Konnu, and thought, _He didn't mention
that I also got the Valiant III destroyed._


     Captain Vortan of the Cardassian Warship Bloodfist paced
around the bridge of his ship.
     "Blast the Wasilsi! Where are they!" spat Vortan. The
viewscreen showed a nebula in front of the ship, but little else.
It was what he didn't see that disturbed him the most.
     "Are we still broadcasting that signal?" asked Vortan.
     "Yes sir!" replied his first officer. "In the past they have
never been this long in responding."
     "I still say fighting them is better than being subservient
to..."  Vortan stopped speaking as he saw the Wasilsi ship de-
cloak.  The ship was blood red in colour and was made of nearly
transparent crystalline material. Protrusions of unknown purpose
were bristled all over the hull of the ship in a random fashion.
The ship was odd, but it was also over 3 kilometres long. It was
as if the Wasilsi ship was built around one huge weapon. There
was an ominously huge nozzle at the front of the ship pointing
directly at Vortan's battle cruiser.
     The viewscreen flickered onto a view of the `bridge' of the
Wasilsi ship.  Vortan could make out several distinct stations on
this bridge, but he could not see anyone... wait... if he
strained, he could just make out an eerie form sitting in the
command position. A long snout...bulging eyes?  `Almost
reptilian.' thought Vortan.  Except for their natural cloaking
ability -- that's why Cardassia had lost its war with these
creatures and was now subservient to them.
     "Why have you summoned us, slave?" hissed the command chair.
     "Almighty master," said Vortan as he knelt. "A Federation
ship has wandered near your territory..."
     "The Universe belongs to us, slave!  Everywhere is our
territory... but I understand what you mean.  Of what consequence
is this?"
     "We thought that you might want to `interrogate' the
vessel... to prepare for next month?" said Vortan.
     "Hmm, it has been three cycles since our last encounter with
a federation ship. I believe some of your pathetic ships were
there as well, were they not?"
     "Yes master, but the Valiant III destroyed all of our
ships."
     "We willed them to!  We will investigate this Federation
ship. It is good that you have brought our attention to this
matter."
     "I live to serve, master," lied Vortan.
     "However we did monitor your conversation before we
appeared, and if it is a fight you desire slave, you will receive
it!" shouted the invisible voice.  Suddenly the viewscreen
returned to watching the nebula and the Wasilsi ship. The Wasilsi
ship began to glow a bright red.
     "Sir!  Shall we raise shields?" screamed his first officer.
     "Our shields are ineffective against null pockets, you
fool!" stated Vortan as he sat in his command chair.  A flash
appeared at the nozzle of the Wasilsi ship.  Vortan could make
out a distortion travelling towards the Bloodfist.
     "What shall we do sir?" screamed the first officer in
desperation.
     "We die!"
     Several minutes later, the Bloodfist's main reactor
overloaded and destroyed the ship.  The wave sent out by the
dying ship slightly illuminated a large cloaked ship making its
way towards the Engineering hull of the Enterprise.


From:  Capt. Jacqueline Picard

     Five long hours had passed in the damp darkness of the cave,
while Jack and Gwyn sat motionless, waiting for their captors to
return.  Earlier they had heard the Ferengi chattering, but now
they seemed to have moved further down the tunnel, leaving their
prisoners alone.  The burning dizziness of Ferengal flu had now
subsided from their bodies, but their present situation was no more
pleasant.  The slow dripping of water from the ceiling of the cave
echoed in Jack's ears until she felt she could no longer stand it. 
She moved her head restlessly.
     "Ow," she said.  "Ow ow ow ow ow!"
     "What is it?" asked Gwyn, a little irritably.
     She winced.  "This clip in my hair--I must have knocked it
when we were running.  It pulls--ow!"  She glanced over her
shoulder, trying to see her bound hands.  "It's going to drive me
absolutely mad, and I can't do a thing about it.  Unless you--"
     "My hands are no more free than yours."
     "No, but you could reach it with your teeth.  It's spring-
loaded; you'd just have to bite down on the top, and the teeth
would open."  She shuffled closer and turned her back to him so
that he could see how it worked.  "See?"
     "This is absurd," said Gwyn, but he bent over without
hesitation and in a moment the pull on her hair was gone.  "Uh oo
-- 
         "Seize the moment, Mirabor...Seize the moment" -- Picard 
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