From: ueh@pool.sunyit.edu (Eric Hausgaard)
Subject: ST: 3GEN [7/7]
Organization: State University of New York -- Institute of Technology
Date: Sat, 26 Sep 1992 08:00:45 GMT


--------------------------------PART SEVEN-----------------------------------


     The silence yielded no answer, but she didn't need one.  Her
heart already felt lighter.  Quickly she changed uniforms, ordered
breakfast from the replicator, ate in haste and hurried out the
door.  If she set a smart pace, she'd make it to the conference
room just in time.

     As she walked into the huge hall--usually reserved for the
most important diplomatic meetings--with its white marble floor and
high-vaulted ceiling, she was startled to find so many eyes fixed
upon her.  Not only was her entire senior staff present, but the
tiers on either side were filled with ranking officers.  She even
recognized some of them:  Admiral Solok, from Nikctalos's old
posting; Dr. Ajo, who'd taught her biology in the Academy; and one
attractive dark-haired woman who looked strangely familiar--Good
heavens!  _Gabriele Lestat_?
     As the women's eyes met, Lestat acknowledged her former First
Officer with a nod, but her expression remained dispassionate. 
Whatever had happened to Gabriele in the last few weeks, Jack
realized, could not have been pleasant.  The pips on her collar
indicated a Commander's rank, for one thing, and she no longer wore
the red of command, but a lab coat over medical blue.
     Jack was insanely curious to know what had happened to the ex-
Captain of the Enterprise, but right now she had to worry about the
fact that she was very likely to be ex-Captain herself.  She forced
herself to look forward, to approach the dais on which Admiral
Hethor sat, his yellow eyes gazing into hers with an unfamiliar
warmth.
     "Admiral," she said.
     "Commander Jacqueline Marie Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise,"
he acknowledged formally--and with perfect grammar.  "Please turn
and face the assembly."
     Obediently, Jack turned, wondering if she were going mad.  She
stared down the length of the hall, while at least seventy pairs of
eyes gazed back at her inquiringly.
     "Over the past week," said Hethor, "I have subjected Commander
Picard and a select portion of her senior staff to numerous tests. 
Those who have witnessed my examination of the Starfleet officers
involved have expressed concern that I was being unduly harsh,
unreasonable, and unfair in my treatment of them.  Those who know
me well have in fact been exceedingly surprised by my behaviour
over the past week, but I swore them to secrecy.  I deemed it
necessary to carry out my plan in order that it should be fully
proved to the satisfaction of every Admiral in Starfleet that these
officers have not only distinguished themselves in battle, but in
every way fully earned the right to serve aboard the flagship of
the Federation."
     "That's it," whispered Jack to herself.  "I'm cracking up."
     She hadn't realized her voice would carry so well in the
vaulted room; the words sounded clearly in the stillness that
followed Hethor's speech, and laughter rippled through the
audience.
     "Her dismay is well founded," said Hethor, and she could hear
the amusement in his trilling voice.  "I have been exceedingly hard
on her.  But it was necessary.  The Captain of the Enterprise must
be no ordinary Captain.  She must be capable not only of
withstanding extreme stress, but of continuing to perform her
duties at optimal level even while that stress remains.  She must
be rational, clear-headed, able both to give and receive orders,
and loyal both to Starfleet and to her personal convictions.  She
must have the trust and respect of her senior officers.  No human
being is perfect, but a true Captain must strive for excellence in
all that she does, while at the same time recognizing her own
weaknesses and limitations.
     "It is my considered opinion, based upon the examination I
have carried out over this past week--and may I mention that the
full documentation of that review is available to anyone who wishes
to see it--that Jacqueline Marie Picard is that Captain."
     Jack closed her eyes.  This was insane.  There was no way this
could be happening.
     "With the authorization of Starfleet Headquarters," said the
Admiral, "I hereby promote Jacqueline Picard to full Captain of the
Enterprise.  Jacqueline, please turn and face me."
     She turned numbly, automatically, and gazed up at Hethor as he
rose from his chair, took a small box from the Lieutenant on his
left, and walked down to meet her.  He opened the box
ceremoniously, and there, lying on a cushion of red velvet, was a
golden pip.  His long graceful fingers fastened it to her collar.
     "You may face the assembly, _Captain_ Picard," he said.
     Half-blind with tears of consummate relief, Jack turned and
faced the crowd again, while applause echoed through the chamber.
     "In recognition of their performance under review," continued
Hethor when the noise had subsided, "I would at this time also like
to confirm Nikctalos D'pyrann, previously designated Borg Unit 889
349 246 345 001, in the rank of Lieutenant Commander and Operations
Officer of the Enterprise, and Lieutenant Commander T'Pryn as
Counsellor of the same.  And, in recognition of valiant service in
the battle against the Borg, I will also announce the promotion of
Barnabas Cole to the rank of Commander, First Officer of the
Enterprise, and of Lieutenant Junior Grade Konnu to full Lieutenant
and Security Officer of the Enterprise."
     Jack watched smiles spread across the faces of her crew--
except for Barnabas, she noted with some concern--and replied with
a shaky smile of her own.  Even now that it was all over, she still
felt like she'd been whipped.  The last few weeks had taken more
out of her than she thought she had to give.
     "This session," said Admiral Hethor, "is now at a close.  I
have somewhat more to say to Captain Picard before the Enterprise
leaves the Starbase, but I will contact her later.  For now, I
thank all present for their attendance and support.  You are
dismissed."
     To the sounds of renewed applause, the newly commended crew of
the Enterprise rose from their seats, inclined their heads to
Hethor, and headed for the door.  Jack brought up the rear, walking
with carefully measured steps in case she fell over--she sure felt
as though she might.  
     But it was all right now.  Everything was all right.

From:  Capt. Jacqueline Picard
  To:  All
Subj:  Cleaning Up and Moving On

     "You really had me fooled," said Jack.
     Admiral Hethor bared his sharp teeth in a smile.  "Indeed. 
You do understand why I did it, though, do you not?"
     "Yes.  It's the little irritations, as well as the big issues,
that can push someone over the edge -- and in a Captain you can't
afford that.  I know what you were doing, but to be quite honest,
Admiral, I can't say I like it."
     "No.  I did not expect you would."  Hethor leaned back in his
chair.  "However, it was necessary.  Had I been less harsh in this
review, other Admirals might have questioned my judgment in
promoting you.  It would not be good for you to go through your
career hearing whispers behind your back -- that was what brought
down Gabriele Lestat."
     Jack was silent.
     "And that brings me to the purpose of this meeting," said
Hethor meaningfully.  He folded his long furry fingers and gazed
archly at her over the desk.  "I am adding two new members to your
crew.  Specialists.  One will work with the Medical department, the
other with engineering, but both are independent researchers and
will operate as such.  In a crisis you may command them, and I am
sure they will be willing to cooperate in any situation where you
require their services, but ultimately they are responsible only to
themselves."
     "Independent researchers."
     "Yes.  One is a Xenobiologist, the other a Cyberneticist. 
Both are rather interested in your Borg officer, to begin with."
     Jack's jaw tightened.  "I can't speak for Nikctalos--"
     Hethor dismissed this with a wave of the hand.  "Don't worry,
Captain, they will not be dissecting him.  And they have other
projects they can work on during the term.  To be quite frank, I'm
assigning one to you because she'll be miserable anywhere else, and
the other just because I think he needs a change of scenery to keep
him from getting stale."
     "Who are they?"
     "The Xenobiologist is Gabriele Lestat."
     Jack let her breath out in a long whistle.  "Admiral--"
     "I know, it will be awkward.  But I think for the best. 
Lestat has some... things to work out where the Enterprise is
concerned."
     "Very well.  And the other?"
     "You don't know him, and he's gone on holiday, so I can't
properly introduce you.  I'll leave his file for you to review when
you get back."
     "Get back."  Jack looked at him blankly.  "Back from what?"
     "Holiday.  I am ordering you to take two weeks' leave.  After
the stress you've been under lately, it would be foolish to return
you to duty without some chance to relax.  Besides, when I reviewed
your file I saw it's been nearly two years since you took a
vacation.  Not wise, Captain Picard, not wise at all."
     "Holiday?  I--"
     "Don't argue with me; the thing is done.  The _Enterprise_
will drop you off on Rhysa, and--"
     "Rhysa!"
     "Why," asked Hethor wearily, "is Rhysa so objectionable to
everyone all of a sudden?  It's a wonderful place."
     Jack decided to let this pass.  "Yes, sir."
     "You are dismissed, Captain.  I wish you and your crew all the
best in future."
     "Thank you, Admiral."

     The Enterprise, with Gabriele Lestat once more on board, left
Starbase 643's docking bay at 1400 hours a freshly refitted vessel. 
Sleek, deadly, gleaming blue in the pale starlight, it streaked
into the void, heading for Rhysa.
     "Captain," came Mac Scott's voice over the intercom.
     Jack settled into the Captain's chair and gazed out at the
stars streaking past the main viewer.  "Yes, Commander?"
     "Um, I didn't have time to tell you this, with all that was
going on, but did you know the Admiral's given us another present?"
     "Present?"  Jack glanced at Barnabas, who was sitting in the
First Officer's chair beside her.  "What do you mean, Mr. Scott?"
     "They've fitted us with the new G-Warp technology, Captain. 
I wouldn't want to use it except in a crisis... but it does look
like a lot of fun."
     A smile curled at the corners of Barnabas's mouth.  "An
interesting way to put it, Commander.  We'll keep it in mind."  He
glanced at Jack; she nodded.  "Bridge out."
     "G-Warp, two new crew members, a forced holiday..." Jack shook
her head.  "This is the Admiral's plan to *relieve* my stress?"
     "Cats are inscrutiable creatures, aren't they?" said Barnabas.


From:  Maverint Slike
  To:  All
Subj:  Ummm...

     "Lights half intensity."
     A beep of complicance and the lights in the quarters dimmed. 
Maverint looked around the room and decided that this lighting
arrangement was fine.
     "Computer," Maverint began as he walked across the span of the
living room from the hallway door to the dining table he had set
up.    
     "Moriarty, please... 'Computer' is so formal and impersonal,"
came the response in a proper English tone.
     "Fine..." Maverint answered, taking the interruption
cheerfully.  He found it oddly humourous to be reprimanded by a
computer for not calling it by name.  Mav moved the candles around
on the table some more, not giving it any thought other than
somehow fussing with them would make everything more perfect. 
"Moriarty.  Could you select some music from the Romantic period of
17th century Earth?"
     "Most certainly, my good man...  A quiet evening at home with
the missus?"
     "Computers are not supposed to pry..."
     "I beg your pardon, sir.  I didn't mean to intrude on any
personal affairs.  I simply wanted to continue the conversation on
a topic you were most likely to readily discuss."
     "You're starting to sound more like a computer Moriarty...
'continue the conversation on a topic you were most likely to
readily discuss..." Maverint mimicked. 
     The comm beeped and the computer fell silent. 
     "I apologize, Moriarty..." Maverint said, sensing he had
crossed a line of some kind.  No response came. 
     Mav smirked, payed it little mind and continued his
preparations.
  
     Beep.
     "Dr. Tanthis, would you report to my office."  Dr. N'Dok's
voice came through Kate's communicator.  
     Kate tapped it to reply.  "Yes Doctor."  
     Kate began to walk briskly through the main sickbay area
towards the CMO's office, taking time to smile and share a quick
greeting with some patients as she passed by.  One thing she made
sure of was to have a good bedside manner.  Passing out of the main
corridor of biobeds and down the hall she wondered what N'Dok could
want.  The medical staff had been changed a bit at the starbase so
she supposed this meeting was to discuss the new personnel. 
     She was partially right.  Turning the corner to enter N'Dok's
office, Kate's eyes went straight to the figure sitting in front of
N'Dok's desk.  The figure was a woman, looking at her hair.  Her
back was to Kate and N'Dok was sitting behind his desk hunched over
a little looking intently at his display console.  Kate noticed the
woman sat with a stiff posture, legs crossed and hands laced
together neatly on her lap.
     "You wanted to see me Doctor?"
     N'Dok looked up from his display and saw Kate standing to the
side of the seated woman.
     "Katherine!  Speedy as usual..."  He started, pausing his
display and standing up behind his desk.  "I've got someone I'd
like to introduce you to."  N'Dok stood up and spread his arm out
to 'showcase' the woman seated in front of his desk.  With N'Dok's
motion, the woman stood up and turned to face Kate.  "This is
Xenobiologist Dr. Gabrielle Lestat." 
     Gabrielle held out her hand and stepped toward Kate.  "It's a
pleasure to meet you Dr. Tanthis."  Gabrielle said as the two shook
hands.
     "It is a pleasure to meet you too, Dr. Lestat."  Kate
stammered a little, puzzling briefly over what the former captain
of the Enterprise was doing back aboard in a blue medtech uniform. 
She moved her thoughts aside quickly as to not be ignorant of any
instructions being given.  
     "Dr. Lestat will be using Medlab Four for her experiments
during duration of her stay with us."  N'Dok was saying.  "I'd like
you to help the good doctor make sure she has all the equipment she
requires."   
     "Of course Doctor."  Kate replied then turned to Gabrielle. 
"I'll show you to the main equipment storage right now if you'd
like."   
     "That will be fine."  Gabrielle responded, exchanging faint
smiles with Kate.  Kate led the way as they walked out of the
office to the equipment storage bay.
  
     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
  To:  All
Subj:  Captain's Holiday - Part I

     "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
  To:  All
Subj:  Captain's Holiday - Part I (Cont.)

     "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
  To:  All
Subj:  Barnabas Has Some Fun

     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
  To:  All
Subj:  The Haunting Past

    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.
-- 
 "Seize the moment, Mirabor...Seize the moment" -- Picard 
   "The closer to the solution, The more problems occur"   
              Even *I* don't want my opinions
    All Flames/E-mail to ueh@sunyit.edu until I graduate.... 
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative