From: ueh@pool.sunyit.edu (Eric Hausgaard)
Subject: ST: 3GEN  [9/9]
Organization: State University of New York -- Institute of Technology
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1992 04:44:48 GMT

I oo ith ih ow?" he asked politely.
     "Just clip it to my sleeve."
     "Ith ih ige un uf ohs eely ooilliain arrhy ames."  He released
the clip gingerly, leaving it dangling from her shoulder.  "Bleah."
     "What did you say?"
     "I said," Gwyn told her, "that this is like one of those
really humiliating party games.  Are we going to bob for apples
next?"
     Jack started to laugh and found, not with any particular
surprise, that she couldn't stop.  At last Gwyn knocked his head
against hers so hard that her skull rang like a bell and said
sharply, "Get a hold of yourself!"
     "Sorry," she panted.  She bent her head forward, pressing her
face against her knees.  "But this--this is mad, Gwyn.  This was
supposed to be a relaxing vacation on the most luxurious resort
planet in Federation space, and here I am being held for ransom in
some slimy cave heaven-knows-where, I'm so tired I could just fall
over and die, and hungry--words don't begin to describe how hungry
I am--"
     "You don't need to describe it, thank you very much," said
Gwyn drily.
     "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't complain when you're just as badly
off."
     "Worse," said Gwyn.
     "Worse?"
     "Much worse.  I have to go to the bathroom--"
     Jack started laughing again until the tears streamed down her
face, while Gwyn regarded her with an expression of injured
dignity.
     "It's all very well for you," he said.
     "No, no, sorry," she gasped when she could put words together
again.  "This is just--it's madness, absolute madness.  It couldn't
be worse.  I mean, what else can you do but laugh?"
     "There has to be a way to get these ropes off," said Gwyn
grimly.  He started backing up toward the wall.  "If I can rub them
on something, a sharp stone--"
     "There is not one stone in this entire cave which is not
entirely coated with slimy moss," Jack said.  "You won't do it that
way."
     "If we had Admiral Hethor here--"
     Jack spluttered.  "Stop making me laugh!  Can you imagine?"
     "I wish *I* were Caitian," said Gwyn.  "Wonderful sharp
teeth."  He leaned his head back against the wall.  "There has to
be something we can do.  I'm going insane just sitting here."
     "Wait," said Jack suddenly.  "That silver clip of mine."
     "Please don't tell me you want me to put it back in your hair,
because I'm not going to do it."
     "No, of course not, don't be ridiculous.  But it's metal, you
see, brittle metal, and if we could break it open, we might be able
to find a sharp edge--"
     Gwyn shuffled over to her with astonishing rapidity for
someone whose hands and feet were tied.  "Here we go again," he
said, and closed his teeth around the top of the clip.  Dropping it
on the floor, he brought his heel down on it hard, but it remained
intact.  Further attempts were equally unsuccessful.
     "Here," said Jack.  She used her foot to push the clip up
against the wall of the cave, then lashed out at it with both feet
as hard as she could.  There was a sudden metallic ping, and the
clip shattered.  Gwyn shuffled over to inspect the fragments.
     "Anything that looks sharp?"
     He squinted down at the wreckage.  "Hard to say.  Maybe by
touch--"  Turning his back on the remains of the clip, he used his
bound hands to feel the broken pieces.  "No," he murmured, "no, no,
no--ow!"
     "Found one?" asked Jack.
     "I'll say I found one.  I think I'm bleeding."  He grunted,
shifting the fragment in his hand.  "I don't know about this, but
turn around and I'll have a go at your hands."
     "Just don't cut my fingers off," said Jack.  The two of them
shuffled around until they were back to back.
     "I can make no such promise," said Gwyn.  "I can't see what
I'm doing."  With painstaking slowness he began to saw at the rope
that bound Jack's hands.  Seconds stretched into minutes, then into
what seemed hours, while Gwyn continued his difficult task. 
Then...
     "Got it," he muttered.  "At least, I think so.  Give it a good
hard pull."
     Jack brought her hands together, then pulled them apart
sharply.  The rope at her wrists slackened.
     "Yes!" she exulted.  In a moment she had untied her wrists,
and turned around quickly to free Gwyn's hands as well.  Then both
of them set to work on the ropes that bound their ankles.
     "That's all very well," said Gwyn when the two of them were
free, and could stretch their cramped limbs for the first time in
five hours, "but how are we to get out of here?  You can bet these
tunnels are as dark as the innards of a Cirellian fangbeast, and
we've got no light at all."
     "No light, no weapons, and no idea of which way to go to get
out," agreed Jack.  "But what choice do we have?  We can't stay
here."
     "True."  Gwyn moved to the mouth of the cave, peered both ways
down the tunnel.  Jack started to say something, but he held up a
hand for silence.
     "I don't see a light," he told her a moment later, "and I
don't hear them either.  Maybe they've gone to sleep:  it must be
night by now."
     "Maybe," said Jack dubiously.
     "Well, there's nothing for it.  Here."  He extended his hand
to her.  "Can you remember any of the turnings we took to get
here?"
     "The last few -- I think."  She took his hand, and the two of
them moved cautiously out into the tunnel.
     "All right then," said Gwyn.  "We'll move slowly, and I'll
feel ahead with my foot so we don't fall into anything nasty. 
Which way, Captain?"
     "Right," said Jack.
     "Right it is," said Gwyn, and the two of them shuffled off
into the darkness.


From:  Lt. Maverint Slike

     Maverint pulled himself up off the floor in main engineering. 
All around him warning lights were flashing indicating nearly every
system throughout the ship had suffered some kind of damage.  He
had been down in engineering on some of his off time to run a
systems check between the engineering department and his console at
the CON on the main bridge.  Although he had mentally prepared
himself for the G-warp jump and thought little of it as the
announcement of the test rang out through the ship, he was taken
completely by surprise by the sudden lurch the ship made and the
complete bending of reality around him as they travelled into the
gravitational field.  
     Maverint slowly gathered his wits as he braced himself against
his console as a second later the back up lights came on and
flooded engineering with a very dull white light.  Mav punched up
a status reading.  All he got was 'Survival Sequence 6'.
     "Great..." he thought as he went around the warning and began
to take look at the main energizer.  A few minutes later, Mac Scott
came around the corner from where his office as Chief Engineer was. 
Mav looked up and met Mac's gaze, communicating in a second how bad
the situation they were in really was.
     "Maverint..." Mac said.
     "Sir?"
     "Have you had a look at the main energizer, lad?"
     "Just punched it up."  At this, Mac smirked.  He was obviously
pleased with Maverint's efficiency.  Maverint continued, "The
energizer's in very bad condition.  I'm not sure we will be able to
replicate all the components we need with the limited amount of
power."  Mac's smirk faded instantly and he rolled his eyes, bowed
his head slightly then put his hand to his forehead.  He stood
still for a few moments, leaving Mav to just look at him rather
blankly, waiting for Mac's instruction.  Finally he put his hand
down to his side and looked back up at Mav.
     "Above all else, we need that energizer up and running. 
Without it, we won't be able to accomplish much of anything."
     "Yes sir."  Mav said and promptly turned back to his console. 
     
     "Maverint?" came Mac's voice, polite but sounding a little
annoyed.    
     "Sir?"
     "I'm going to put you in charge here for now.  I'm going to be
running through a lot of the Jefferies tubes trying to manually
repair the physical circuit damage."
     "Yes sir."
     "Sure 'in you're up for it?"
     "Yes sir."  Satisfied with Mav's quick and decisive answer,
Mac wheeled around and walked out of main engineering.  Maverint
looked around engineering for a brief moment, smiled, then turned
back to his work.  
     "Something tells me this is going to be one of the longest
reigns of command I will ever have..." he thought sombrely as his
eyes raced over the energizer's schematic.


From:  Commander Gwyn Davies

     Night had fallen on Rhysa, and now the cave was not only dark
and damp, but cold.  As Gwyn and Jack inched along the slimy floor,
blindly feeling ahead for any obstacle or sudden drop, he could
feel her hand shaking in his.  Almost without thinking he took off
his jacket and handed it back to her.  She didn't refuse it.
     They had come perhaps a quarter of a kilometre since they had
first left their prison an hour ago:  their progress had been that
painstakingly slow.  Gwyn wasn't easily alarmed, but right now
every nerve in his body was shrilling at him.  What with the
deathly blackness, and the strong possibility of getting lost or
falling down a hole somewhere, the journey toward the outside world
had taken on the unpleasant quality of a fever dream.  
     This certainly wasn't turning out to be the sort of indolent,
luxurious holiday Rhysa was famed for, thought Gwyn with a grimace. 
Not that he'd really wanted that anyway, but he could have done
without this particular brand of excitement.  
     Mind you, even this situation had its advantages.  He glanced
back at Jacqueline, but couldn't even discern her shape in the
absolute darkness.  The only way to tell she was there was the
pressure of her hand in his and the faint sound of her breathing
behind him.  "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
     "I'm fine," she said.  "Just--a little tired."
     "Then you're doing a good deal better than I am," he said,
"because I'm scared nigh out of my wits."
     The admission startled her:  he could hear her sharp intake of
breath.  Then she let it go in a laugh that was half sigh, and said
"Me, too."
     "Do you hear anything from the Ferengi?"
     "No, but I keep thinking that any moment--"
     "I know.  That's exactly what I'm thinking."  He felt ahead
with his foot.  The ground seemed firm.  He took another step. 
"But we can't move any faster, not without breaking our necks."
     "There don't seem to be very many other tunnels in here,"
observed Jack.  "The path is more or less straightforward, for all
that it winds around."
     "Probably carved by an underground river," said Gwyn.  "That
would explain the boranium cyclide deposits in the rock."
     "It was a very clever idea, I must admit.  The Ferengi plan,
I mean."
     "For all we know it may still be a very clever idea," Gwyn
said dryly.  "We're not anywhere near the outside yet--"
     A shriek echoed in the darkness, cutting off his words.  Jack
gripped his arm convulsively.  "Oh no," she breathed.  "They've
found out."
     "It'll take them a while to catch up to us, though.  Come on. 
If we can find a hole in the wall, anything--"
     They loped along the tunnel as quickly as they dared --
certainly faster than was safe, but hopefully not fast enough to
carry them right over the brink of any sudden drop.  Gwyn struck
his arms against the walls of the tunnel on both sides, blindly
searching for some place of refuge.  Suddenly his arm struck empty
air, and his flailing hands found the shape of a narrow crack in
the rock, just barely deep enough to hold the two of them.  The
crack was diagonal, its mouth facing away from the approaching
Ferengi; it just might hide them -- as long as their captors didn't
look too closely.
     "In here," he hissed, grabbing Jack by the arm.  She gave a
startled exclamation as he pulled her into the alcove with him.  "I
beg your pardon," he said, "but I assume you prefer this to the
alternative?"
     "Immeasurably," said Jack in a peculiar flat voice, and they
fell silent, waiting for the Ferengi to catch up to them.
     It did not take long.  "Idiot!" came a sibilant voice from the
darkness.  "Fool!  To let them get away--"
     "_I_ let them get away?" said the second voice.  "What did I
have to do with it?  This is _your_ plan, Vog.  And I think I've
had enough of your attitude.  I may be a Daimon on holiday, but I
am still a Daimon, and deserving of your respect!"
     Gwyn could feel the muscles of Jack's stomach tighten suddenly
against his forearm; she was trying desperately not to laugh.
     "Of course, Daimon Prak," said Vog in conciliatory tones.  "Of
course you are.  I was speaking to myself, dear friend.  I was
saying to myself, 'Idiot!  Fool!'"
     _Right_, thought Gwyn, _and I believe you too._  But Prak
seemed placated:  he said in a calmer voice, "They can't have
gotten far, not without light.  And they might make a wrong turning
at the junction--"
     "If they do, we'll be collecting them in pieces," said Vog. 
"That's a thirty-metre drop.  No, we must catch them before they go
that far.  Follow me!"
     A blinding light slashed the darkness and glided on up the
tunnel as Vog and Prak passed the alcove where Gwyn and Jack were
hidden and scurried on.
     "Come on," whispered Jack a moment later.  She slipped out of
the crack and began to move forward, drawing him with her.
     "What are we doing?" asked Gwyn, startled.
     "We've got to see where they go, which way they turn.  I was
watching the light as they passed:  the path is clear, so we can
move quickly.  We'll just have to hope they don't turn around."
     There was no time for argument.  He took her hand again, and
together they headed for the light.


From:  The Wruokior

     "Nine . . . Eight . . . Seven . . ."
     "You will notice that the subject in question is reacting
normally..."
     "Six . . . "
     "The lifeform is unaware, it simply continues with its
everyday tasks, low intelligence quotient may have some bearing
on this..."
     "Five . . . Four . . ."
     "You will also note fellow researchers, and those of you
from the military, that the monitors recording our host indicate
an increase in synaptic nerve response at this time.  This, being
triggered..."
     "Three . . ."
     "...by the larvae ingesting a greater, or substantially more
nutrient rich, amount of synaptic fluids.  Preparation for the
final stage of infancy are being performed.  Of course as you are
all aware, this will have no adverse effect on the host, until
the birthing takes place the host shall be unaware of any
infestation."
     "Two . . ."
     "Please focus your attention on the biped's round bulbous
head, or at least what we assume is his head.  Because the host
does not have a hardened exoskeleton it makes infestation and
penetration simple and quick.  At the base of this head we shall
see the hatching..."
     "One . . ."
     The subject slowly pitched forward, its head snapping back
with an audible whip-like crack.  What emerged brought applause
from the gallery, and death to the subject.

     "Fantastic..."  
     "Excellent work..."
     "Good show..." 
     The group crowded around MuPolk, heaping him with such
adulation as he had never seen, nor expected from this bunch of
eggheads and hotheads.  But nevertheless his work had been
incredible to say the least, and he was not one to pass by such
hard-earned praise.
     "It is what we have been searching for.  My scouts have
FINALLY found the ultimate incubator, a quasi-intelligent host
for our young; no longer shall we have to rely on mechanical
breeders."  The crowd roared with obvious approval as Mupolk
finished.
     "But will they resist?"
     "How can they?  They shall not know what is happening, until
it is far too late..."

     MuLorien slowly triggered the engines on his craft,
thrusting him forward in space toward the class M planet of
Gomoriahe.
     He had already signalled the inhabitants below, stating that
his navigational system had malfunctioned and that he required
immediate landing rights.  They had declined his request, stating
that they had never seen his craft before, nor encountered his
race, thus he was required to remain in orbit, quarantined before
landing.  This, in MuLorien's mind would not suffice as an answer
for his imminent danger and he began telling them so.  His craft
was damaged, and if he was not allowed to set down immediately,
his life support systems would fail.
     He found himelf snickering to himself when just moments
later, the inhabitants granted him emergency clearance.  MuLorien
made one final tranmission before entering the class M planet's
atmosphere, a transmission beamed millions of light years away...
     "TRANBEGIN : Baby in the Cradle : STOP"
-- 
         "Seize the moment, Mirabor...Seize the moment" -- Picard 
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    All Flames/E-mail to ueh@sunyit.edu  |   SUNY Institute of Treknology 
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