Star Traks: Melting Pot is based on Alan Decker's Star Traks, which in turn is based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry, may he rest in peace. Copyright 2004. Star Traks: Melting Pot "Slippery Slope" by Paul Cloutier Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy. Franz Kafka Four and one half years ago... The USS Clausewitz cruised through the, hopefully, empty space between Bajor and Cardassia Prime. After the disaster at Chin'toka, where the allied fleets of the Federation, the Romulans and the Klingons had been decimated by the addition of Breen warships to the Dominion/Cardassian task force, not to mention the Breen attack on Earth, itself, all Federation ships had been ordered to observe and report, but not to engage any enemy ships. While many captains welcomed these orders, especially the few who had been lucky enough to survive what was being called "The Second Battle for Chin'toka", they rankled Captain Jeremy Branson, the Captain of the Akira-class Clausewitz. "How are those scanners doing?" Branson asked, for like what seemed to be the tenth time in as many minutes. "Sir, long range scanners are functioning at maximum efficiency," answered Lieutenant Bryce Carlyle, the Clausewitz's Helmsman. "'Maximum efficiency' my kneecap!" yelled the captain, who seemed to always mention various parts of his anatomy when he was perturbed, "that stupid slug probably doesn't know a spanner from a stembolt!" "Sir," Lieutenant Carlyle found himself playing peacemaker again, "Lieutenant Ustrano received top marks during its time at Starfleet Academy and its previous commanders had nothing but praise for its abilities." "Oh yeah," challenged Branson, "if it was so hot, why were all its previous commanders so anxious to get rid of it?" "Probably because they were all close-minded bigots like yourself," Carlyle mumbled, too softly for Branson to hear. Then, louder, "I'm sure I don't know, Sir." "Ha! I know the reason. It was because they got tired of their ships smelling like a damn fruit basket. They got tired of having to squeeze out of the way when that monstrosity 'walks' down the corridor. They got tired of watching the appalling things that beast eats. In short, they couldn't stand the sight of that disgusting creature any longer!" Lieutenant Carlyle was widely considered to be the most patient, tolerant unbiased person in all of Starfleet. His parents had been missionaries who had toured the length and breadth of space promoting the low-carb lifestyle. Growing up he had visited numerous worlds, finding beauty, wonder and happiness on each. Shortly after he had entered Starfleet Academy, his parents had been eaten by a group of fanatic, low-carb zealots on Adkins IV. Proving that sometimes missionaries did their job a little too well. Starfleet, recognizing the rare inner tranquility of Ensign Carlyle had tried everything they could to stamp out such un-Starfleet-like attitudes by posting him on ships under commanding officers who promoted the traditional ideals of 'Humans are best'. They had not yet managed to deter the young Lieutenant. In fact, they never would. In about 20 minutes a flying piece of ferro-plastic was going to end his tolerant attitudes, his benevolent personality, his happy-go-lucky outlook and, incidentally, his life. It would also terminate his subscription to 'Alien Playmate', but the less said about that, the better. Ignoring the Captain's rantings, Lieutenant Carlyle turned his attention to his viewscreen. Had he just seen a tiny flash? Yes! There it was again! "Captain, contact bearing 126 mark 14. Range 70,000 meters!" "Finally! Take us closer." "But, Sir, our orders call for us to observe and report only!" "We can't report much if we don't find out what's over there, can we?" Against his better judgement, Lieutenant Carlyle sent the ship towards the sensor blip. The blip had turned out to be a badly damaged Jem'Hadar Attack Class ship. It was spinning lazily in space, the crew dead and the engines spewing low-grade radiation. Captain Branson was conferring with his Chief Science Officer, an elderly man who was recognized as being an expert in his field. Unfortunately, his field was Advanced Anomalous Mountain Climbing and Spelunking. Which, basically, meant that he was an expert on mountains and caves. Yes, one would have to look high and low to find another expert like him. Fortunately, Doctor Montagne was one of those rare individuals who hadn't let his education get in the way of his ability to think. This being the case, he was somewhat reluctant to examine the wrecked ship, "It's insane, you lunatic! We should get out of this area as quickly as we can!" he shouted at Captain Branson. Branson thought he detected a hint of opposition to his plan to board the disabled ship, "Doctor, come now. Think of this opportunity. Starfleet might not get another shot at examining an advanced Jem'Hadar ship. All they've seen is that old one that Sisko found five years ago. Who knows what advances the Dominion has made since then? And this ship might even have Breen weaponry aboard. Why would you want to pass up such a chance?" "I can think of at least two reasons, Captain," Doctor Montagne said, regaining his composure, somewhat. "First of all, it is expressly against our orders to go anywhere near that ship. Secondly, the Jem'Hadar don't just leave intact ships floating around space. That hulk is either waiting for retrieval or is a trap. If you could put your glory hounding aside for one minute and consider what is best for this crew, you'll clear out of here at our best possible speed! Sir." he added, as an afterthought. "Pah!", Branson spat, "this crew consists of low-life aliens and alien lovers! To Hell with them all! I can get a better crew at any Starbase in the sector. Getting another Jem'Hadar warship would be just about impossible!" Doctor Montagne just shook his head, sadly. <> Knowing how Branson's thought processes (for want of a better term) functioned, Montagne headed down to Main Engineering to warn Lieutenant Ustrano about the forthcoming disaster. Another panel shorted out, blowing its plastic cover off and sending it sailing across the conn station to embed itself in the back of Lieutenant Carlyle. Carlye didn't seem to mind very much. This may have had something to do with the four other panels which were currently sprouting from the poor Lieutenant's back, making him look something like a stegosaurus. Branson was alone on what was left of his Bridge. He didn't understand what could have possibly gone wrong. It was just a simple salvage operation. That damned Klingon Security Chief of his must have messed it up. One minute the six man squad was floating over to the ship in their EVA suits (the radiation leaking from the engines had made transporting impossible), the next minute the Jem'Hadar ship was exploding. Now, the explosion wouldn't have normally been a big deal, but Branson had ordered the ship's Shields lowered so that the disabled ship could be held in place by a tractor beam. It was a simple axiom, that, somehow, never made it into the Captain's Response, Aptitude and Preparation Manual. Now, Branson had read the Manual forwards and backwards. He had memorized every tiny bit of information in it. In short, Captain Branson was full of C.R.A.P., but he had never read that you should make sure that your Shields were up if you were in close proximity to an exploding spaceship. How could that have been left out? Must have been some damn alien proofreader! Turning his attention to the one functioning panel left, he detected six approaching ships. Ah - good old Starfleet had detected his trouble and were coming to his aid. You could always trust good, old resourceful Humans! As he looked closer he was amazed to see that, somehow, Starfleet had managed to disguise the rescue craft as Jem'Hadar ships. That was certainly clever. Now they were furthering their disguise by firing on his ship. Hmmmmm. It was JUST possible that those were actually REAL Jem'Hadar warships, after all. Oh well, so much for the Clausewitz. Branson sounded the allcall to announce, "This is the Captain to all hands. Abandon ship! I repeat - abandon ship!" Down in Main Engineering, Ustrano and Montagne just looked at each other in shock. The Jem'Hadar didn't take prisoners. Why would the Captain sentence all of the crew to death? Ustrano, not taking its eyes off the ruptured EPS junction that it was repairing, activated the allcall, "Belay that order! All hands remain at your stations or in your quarters. Repairs are progressing and we will be departing, shortly! Turning to Montagne, Ustrano said, "See if you can raise any other ships. If we can get some help here we might have a chance." Montagne quickly made his way into Ustrano's office where he configured one of the diagnostic panels for long-range communication. Opening an outside channel he broadcast a general distress call. Back on the Bridge, Captain Branson was furious. <> Marching briskly over to the turbolift, he slammed into the door which refused to open. <> He then crawled back to the Jefferies tube opening and, flinging the cover off, started his way down to Main Engineering. Just as he left, a Jem'Hadar phased poleron beam blew right through what was left of the Bridge. Montagne made his way back to the massive Velvattian who was the ship's only chance of surviving. Under Ustrano's direction, he grabbed a coil attenuator and went to work on the warp flow regulator. As he spoke, he related his success, "I managed to raise the two nearest Starfleet ships - the USS Sun Tzu and the USS Liddell Hart. They will be here in under twenty minutes. How goes the battle? "I have managed to raise minimal Shields. We are moving at about 70% impulse power, back towards Bajoran space. I have tied the sensors arrays into the Shield assignment systems so that when incoming fire is detected, power will be, automatically shunted to the correct Shield arrays. The hull breaches have been sealed with force- fields and the structural integrity fields seem to be holding at about 48%. With a little of the luck that you Humans seem to rely on, we may make it, yet." "You managed to have the Shields automatically increase where the enemy fire is concentrating? That's amazing!" "I could only do it because nearly every EPS junction between here and the Bridge has been blown. With normal Starfleet wiring, it would never work." Sparks blew out over the seemingly oblivious Velvattian as the automatic shunting sent power racing down the conduit it was currently repairing. The sparks stopped as it finished welding the new conduit in place. Just then, Ensign Terlish came flying out of one of the Jefferies tubes where she had been adjusting the isolinear power relay. Montagne rushed over to help the young Bajoran. Just as he reached her, a very disheveled, very angry Captain Jeremy Branson came out of the tube. "What's the idea of belaying MY orders? Damn uppity aliens always thinking that they're better then everyone else! I'll have your commission you damn slug!" "Captain, is anyone else alive on the Bridge?" asked Ustrano, calmly. "How the Hell should I know? I came down here on important business!" "The lives of the people who serve under you aren't important?" Montagne asked, aghast. "Stay out of this, Montagne!" snarled Branson before turning his wrath back on his Chief Engineer. "Pay attention to me!" he bellowed. "Captain, I will stand for whatever punishment Starfleet sees fit to impose upon me, if we survive this folly of yours. Right now I am just a bit busy trying to save what is left of this ship and her crew. If you choose to not help in that endeavor, I must ask that you please at least stay out of my engineers' way." Ustrano turned back to monitor a fluctuation in the warp core's matter-antimatter intermix flow rate. The Captain, enraged by this cavalier attitude, grabbed one of the Velvattian's tentacles. With an apparently negligent flick, the tentacle sent the Captain into the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of him and he lay there gasping. After several agonized seconds, he managed to get his wind and, snarling, withdrew the phaser he wore at his side. Leveling the weapon at Ustrano he yelled, "That's it! I've had it with your attitude! Assaulting a superior officer! Disobeying a direct order! Conduct unbecoming an officer! I find you guilty of these crimes and hereby sentence you to death!" Ustrano whipped another tentacle over and snatched the phaser from Branson's hand. A second tentacle snaked over and whipped the Captain's head back and forth a couple of time to see if that would snap him out of his rage. The slaps failed to have the desired effect so, heaving a sigh, Ustrano picked up the Captain and bashed him against the wall several times until he was rendered unconscious. Just then, the whole ship shook as the concentrated fire of three of the attacking warships finally overwhelmed the Clausewitz's makeshift Shields. "Well, looks like the whole thing is a moot point," said Ustrano, softly. It turned to Doctor Montange and extended a tentacle, "It has been a pleasure serving with you, Doctor." "And with you, Lieutenant," the elderly gentleman replied, straightening his singed and rumbled lab coat so that he could die with as much dignity as possible. And then... nothing happened! "This is Captain Driscoll of the USS Sun Tzu to the Clausewitz. Is anybody alive over there?" Now... Captain's Log; Stardate 57829.3 - We have been traveling at flank speed for ten days now, since receiving our orders to report back to Earth for debriefing. I have been reviewing the logs of the events which transpired over four years ago aboard the USS Clausewitz and I can find no reason that any charges were ever brought against Lieutenant Commander Ustrano. True, it did assault a superior officer, but that officer had clearly lost control of his faculties and was a danger to the ship and crew. The review board which oversaw the hearing, at the time, seems to have agreed with this assessment as they cleared Ustrano of all wrong-doing, put a citation for bravery and dedication to duty in its personnel folder and transferred it to another ship. I can see no reason why this case should be re-opened at this time. Captain Branson, seems to have come through that inquiry relatively unscathed, as well, for I see that he has just been made an admiral and assigned to the Tactical Warfare, Investigations and Testing Sub-Division under Admiral Windgarde. I had hoped that project "Open Arms" could be kept out of the political infighting that seems to permeate Starfleet Headquarters and which the Humans seem to be so fond of. Unfortunately, it appears that we have come to the attention of T.W.I.T.S.. From what I have been able to gather from private conversations with Admiral Sontak, there seems to be more and more T.W.I.T.S. appearing at Headquarters. Evidently, this Sub-Division has become much more prominent in the past few months, although Starfleet has always had T.W.I.T.S.. Admiral Windgarde appears to be a man on the move, as the Humans are fond of saying. "Captain," Lieutenant M'Dral suddenly announced, "I have two incoming Priority channel communiques for you. One is from Admiral Sontak and the other is from President Bradley Dillon!" "Very well, Lieutenant. Please direct President Dillon's message to my Ready Room and explain to Admiral Sontak that I will be with him as soon as the President has finished with me." Seetamyn rose from his center seat on the Bridge and made his way to his Ready Room. Ensuring the Priority Channel was free from extraneous signals and was appropriately scrambled, he activated his viewscreen. The dapper figure of the President of the Federation appeared on the screen. "Ah, good. Captain Seetamyn, good to finally have a chance to speak to you." "Thank you, Sir. It is good to speak to you as well," the Vulcan replied. "I want you to know that I have tried to avert this trial, but, apparently there is some regulation about me interfering directly in an internal Starfleet matter. Admiral Windgarde seems to have a bug up his butt about this one, for some unknown reason. Anyway, my legal team assures me that there is nothing to worry about. This is barely more than a nuisance suit, although why a military tribunal would make the time to hear it is beyond me. It seems that someone over at Starfleet HQ is jealous of Project "Open Arms" and is trying to discredit you. I will have a top- notch legal team standing by once you reach Earth." "Sir, I thank you for this offer, but if this case is as flimsy as you seem to be suggesting, why would we need such a team?" "You won't, you won't, I'm sure. This is just to show that the office of the President is fully behind you and this whole Project." "I understand, and I thank you again, but would it not be a more effective demonstration of our merit if we were to win this case without any outside aide?" "Well... yes," Dillon reluctantly agreed. "In that case, Sir, I will, respectfully, decline your very generous offer. Project "Open Arms" was initiated to prove that alien species are just as capable as humans. To have to be rescued by a legal team provided by a human would seem to undermine the whole purpose of the Project." Very well, Captain. Your logic is, not surprisingly, unescapable," Dillon said with a grin. Seetamyn wondered if Dillon's smiling was due to the confidence he had in Captain Seetamyn, or over the fact that he would not have to pay the fees for the defense team. "One last thing, Sir. If I may ask, why are there quotes around the 'Open Arms' in Project "Open Arms"?" "In was decided by a focus group that the 'Arms' part might be offensive to aliens who don't have any arms. Putting it in quotes makes it less offensive. At least according to the marketing firm that we hired to come up with the name." "Thank you, Sir. That question had been troubling me for some time." "Glad I could help. And, Captain, Good Luck!" Dillon ended the transmission and the stoic features of Admiral Sontak replaced the image of the chubby human. "Captain, there have been some further developments that I felt you should be informed of," the Vulcan admiral began, without preliminaries. "Thank you, Admiral. Please proceed." "Apparently Admiral Branson has arranged with several holovision companies to broadcast the trial, sector-wide." "What does he hope to accomplish by doing this?" "As far as I can determine, he is hoping to discredit the whole Project on live holovision." Sontak shuffled a few papers on his desk, "Ah, here it is. This is a press release from the office of Admiral Branson. To quote; 'To show the whole of the Alpha Quadrant the inferiority of aliens and establish a human-centric referendum for the future...'" "One wonders if Admiral Branson has considered what this will show if, in fact, he loses." "Indeed," agreed Sontak. "There is one more thing. It may be nothing, but it is out of the ordinary and, therefore, noteworthy. A new species of alien has been appearing here at Headquarters. Most of the new aliens seem to be working for the Tactical Warfare, Investigations and Testing Sub-Division. The odd thing is, there is absolutely no information about these new aliens. No First Contact documentation, no Admittance Vote, no surveys or planetary information, at all. It is very peculiar." "What do these aliens look like," queried the Captain, " perhaps some of my people have encountered them, before." "That's another thing, no one has ever seen them before. Nobody here at Headquarters knows anything about them. As for appearance, they like look very much like humans, except that they have yellow eyes." "I will mention this to my crew. Any information that they may have, I will forward to you, immediately." "No. There is no rush. I will see you, in person, in two days. I am sure that the information, if in fact you gather any, will wait until then." "Very well, Sir. I will see you when we reach Earth. Seetamyn, out." The ship was traveling at a constant speed, towards a well-known destination, in friendly space. This meant light duty for the crew and, after the frantic pace they had maintained as they prepared to leave the Omega Configuration, this was a welcome change. Ustrano, Dil Mantron and Banjo could be found in Holodeck 3. Banjo and Dil were working out, while Ustrano observed. The Holodeck had been programmed to depict a Borg planet. Dil stood, alone, in the middle of a field. He was unarmed, except for a Betazed katana. The sword was nearly identical to its Terran counterpart, except it was slightly longer and forged as opposed to the traditional 'folding' method used for the Japanese version. Approaching the Helmsman, from the west, was a group of about 20 Borg. Between Dil and the group of Borg was a weird orange rock with an oddly shaped piece of metal sticking out of it. The Borg advanced, past the strange rock, never taking their focus off of the lone Betazoid. This was unfortunate, because, if they had kept looking at the rock, they would have seen it transform into Security Chief Banjo. The oddly shaped piece of metal, his new scythe. When the Borg were midway between the two officers, both charged. The Borg were caught betwixt two madly spinning blades of death, their adaptive abilities useless against non-energy weapons. The fight, if it could be called that, didn't last very long. Banjo and Mantron surveyed the field with satisfaction. "Well, I must say. This new scythe is every bit as usable as my old one," Banjo enthused. "I'm glad you like it," rumbled Ustrano, sliding over to the two as the holo-program ended. "You're really quite good with it. As is Dil with his sword." "Yes, Lieutenant, for a 'solid' you show remarkable talent," Banjo agreed, with a smirk. Ustrano and Mantron had become close enough to the Changeling to know when he was joking with them. This was one such time and they knew his 'solid' comment was said in jest. "Swords, daggers, staves and bows were all part of my martial arts training," Mantron explained. "Of course, phasers tend to make all of those, obsolete." "Against an enemy susceptible to phasers, perhaps. But an enemy, like the Borg, with defense against energy weapons would require more primitive methods. That is why I enjoy watching the two of you," explained Ustrano, "I get to learn effective, close quarters techniques." "I somehow can't image you ever being at a disadvantage, my friend," observed Banjo. "You could simply overwhelm any who opposed you." "Against an unskilled enemy, you are correct, but a well-trained group of halberdiers or calvary would have an excellent chance of defeating me. Learning from you two has helped me to improve my skills to the point where I would be able to hold my own against even a highly skilled opponent, now." "Glad we could help, "assured Mantron. "So, what's tonight's movie?" The trio got together once a week for these workout/movie nights. They had been allowing Ustrano to pick the movies for some time, since his choices were, invariably excellent. They had been working their way through the Terran movies of the late twentieth/early twenty-first centuries, since these movies seemed to be filled with the violence, gore and simple story-lines that they craved. They had enough, drama, intrigue and stupidity in their daily routines, they reasoned. "Tonight we have 'Equilibrium'" "What's it about?" "Well, the description the Computer gave me is that it is a story about a dystopian society where everyone takes some sort of drug to suppress their emotions." "What, you mean they turn into a bunch of Vulcans?" "Pretty much, yes." "Whee. It sounds thrilling." "At least give it a chance." "OK, OK, Computer, reconfigure holodeck for movie viewing and begin show." They had long ago dispensed with going to the small theater on the ship, since the holodeck was more than capable of simulating a theater. Banjo and Mantron were still grumbling as their popcorn materialized and the movie started. Five minutes later, their grumbling had ended. They uttered not a word for the next 102 minutes. After those 102 minutes, they only said three words; "Computer, replay film." When the film had finished its second showing, Banjo, Mantron and Ustrano rose from their seats as the holographic movie theater dissolved back to the orange- on-black lines of the holodeck. Then, apparently with one mind, they spoke; "Computer create three guns like those used by the hero in the movie." Three shiny handguns materialized on the floor in front of the trio. They bent down and each retrieved one of the weapons. They spent some time marveling at the solid mass of each one and ejecting the ammunition clips. The guns were switch-selectable between three different modes; single-shot semi-automatic, three- shot burst automatic and full automatic. Mantron eagerly selected 'full automatic' and called out, "Computer, restart program 'Borg Attack 3'." The holodeck again took on the appearance of an empty field with an advancing Borg presence. Mantron held his firearm out in front of himself and, with a grin, pulled the trigger. Never having fired a real pistol before, Dil was a trifle surprised by the kick the weapon had. Enough kick to swing his arm up over his head and knock him over backwards. His surprise was so great that he kept his finger pulling the trigger as he fell over. Fortunately the holodeck safeties were active so the bullets that went slamming at Banjo and Ustrano only knocked them down, too. Everyone sat looking at each other in shock and surprise as the Borg advanced and grabbed them. Banjo quickly yelled, "Computer, freeze program!" before they found out what the holo-Borg had in mind for them. "Well, that was certainly educational," Ustrano observed, wryly. "I had no idea firing a pistol was like that," Mantron explained. "I think you are over-reacting," Banjo scoffed. "Yeah, well YOU try it," Mantron challenged. "OK, Computer reset program and restart." Banjo rose to his feet, turning to face the oncoming horde. Extending his arm he fired. He had also set his weapon for 'full automatic', but, after observing Mantron's demonstration, he had more of an idea of what to expect. He managed to keep his arm down and pointed in, more or less, the right direction, but the continual 'kicks' from the gun soon had his whole body rippling like a windswept pond. As the gun expended the last of its ammunition, and his body stopped vibrating, he noticed that he had managed to hit only 2 of the approaching Borg. Annoyed he called out, "Computer, reset program." "So, not as easy as you thought, huh?" Mantron asked. "It seems that we need a bit of practice, that's all," Banjo announced, trying to convince everyone, including himself. The three selected, 'single shot' on their weapons and Banjo and Mantron called on the Computer for reloads. Then they tried again. And again. And again. After about two hours of pistol practice, Banjo, Mantron and Ustrano were causally slaughtering dozens of Borg at a time. In 'single shot' mode any of them could drill a Borg in the head at 10 meters. They found the 'three-shot burst' mode to be the most effective, balancing stopping power against reload times. They had the Computer create 36 round ammunition clips so that they could fire twelve bursts before needing to reload. Finally, they had to call it a night. Tired but satisfied, they headed off to their quarters to sleep. Mantron summed up all their thoughts as they left the holodeck, "A phaser is OK, I guess, but there is just something really satisfying about holding that heavy piece of metal and feeling it jump in your hand." Captain's Log; Stardate 57834.9 - We have entered the Sol system and are fast approaching Earth. We have received our debriefing schedule. It appears that each of the crew has been allocated a mere fifteen minutes of interview time with Starfleet Intelligence. The Command Staff has been scheduled for a two-hour group interview in addition to the personal meetings. The interviews will take place over the next three days at McKinley Station and Starfleet Headquarters. Admiral Sontak and I will be having a somewhat more in-depth discussion, thereafter. Lieutenant Commander Ustrano's trial is scheduled to begin next Monday. Apparently Starfleet is allowing us weekend liberty on Earth. One wonders what they might be thinking, since none of the crew are actually FROM Earth. "Sir, I have received docking instructions from McKinley Station," reported Lieutenant M'Dral, looking up from her station. "Take us in, M'Dral," ordered Commander Thog, who was currently in command of the ship while Seetamyn and Ustrano reviewed their defense for the Velvattian's trial. M'Dral guided the ship into its assigned berth and brought it to a stop. Instantly workbees scuttled out, attaching umbilicals and service lines. "McKinley Station is reporting green across the board, Sir," M'Dral announced, moments later. "Thank you, Lieutenant." Thog activated the allcall, "We have docked with Mckinley station. You may all consider yourselves off duty until Monday morning. Those of you who have received interview appointments, please make sure that you keep those appointments. Remember, you are representing this ship. That is all. Have fun!" "That was truly inspirational, Commander," Banjo observed from his station. Thog considered her response carefully for several long moments before deciding that the tried and true retorts were still the best, "Oh, bite me, Commander!" Laughter overwhelmed the Bridge, just as Captain Seetamyn emerged from the turbolift. With a just barely lifted eyebrow, the Vulcan announced, "If you all recall, the Bridge Crew are to be the first ones interviewed. Lieutenant Commander Ustrano is to meet us down at Starfleet Headquarters in twenty minutes. I recommend that we proceed there, immediately. Afterwards, perhaps we can get together for a bite..." Seetamyn had to stop as the amount of laughter on the Bridge suddenly redoubled, leaving his "to eat." unheard. Even as they laughed, however, his crew were getting to their feet. They all boarded the turbolift and made their way down to Transporter Room 1. Occasionally, Lieutenant Mantron would loudly clack his teeth together, sending them into new gales of giggles. By the time they had reached the transporter room, Lieutenant M'Dral had serious hiccups. Normally hiccups are no big deal, but with Benzites, it means that the amount of respirant mist that they produce is doubled. This, coupled with a bit of hyperventilating, also caused by the excessive laughter, meant that the corridor was completely obscured by fog. The group felt its way down the corridor and, eventually, found the transporter room. Stumbling in, they made their way to the transport pad, the mist quickly gathering in the room. "At your earliest convenience, Ensign," Seetamyn spoke to Ensign Zamtra. Rapidly losing site of his control panel, Zamtra quietly cursed, "Tragus, in the country of the blind," as his practiced hands sought, and finally found the correct controls. Sliding the bars up, he sent the others on their way. Since he was not considered by Starfleet to be part of the Command Staff, even though, on the Menagerie, Captain Seetamyn included him in all important meetings, his interview was not scheduled until the following day. He had been trying to decide where he would spend his first night on Earth. Seeing all the mist in the room, suddenly reminded him of something he had heard. England! Setting an automatic transporter sequence, he jumped up on the transport pad. The auto sequence activated and, with a sparkling whirl, sent the young Tamarian to West Sussex, England. He had heard that the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew were beautiful and he was going to find out, firsthand. At Starfleet HQ, eight aliens stood, sat, fidgeted or otherwise waited in the main interview room's antechamber. The ninth one was trying to get a date. "So, have you been working for Starfleet Intelligence long?" Dil said as smoothly as he could. "Lieutenant, I really have too much to do to flirt with you, right now," The gorgeous Betazoid looked up from her reception desk and Dil realized that she wasn't a Betazoid at all. The yellow eyes were kind of a dead giveaway. This must be one of those new aliens that Seetamyn had been inquiring about. Strange that he would have mistaken her for a Betazoid. Even though he had no telepathic abilities, he could usually spot one of his own kind. Maybe this new species was some sort of distant cousin, or something. Deciding to do his part for inter-alien relations, he tried turning on his charm, "Would you happen to have a syntheflesh patch?" "Why do you need one? "'Cause I just scraped my knee, falling for you!" Thankfully, the young secretary, as well as the rest of the crew, were spared any further charm attempts as a light lit on the woman's desk, indicating that the interview could now begin. Seetamyn rose and led his crew into the room. As the door closed behind them, the young secretary pressed a button on her desk. Her viewscreen activated, but no picture appeared on it. "Yes," came a voice from the darkened viewscreen. "I have scanned the Bridge crew from the Menagerie, as you ordered. Their surface thoughts were the normal muddle of impressions and images that would be expected. No one had any special thought concerning the Omega Configuration." "Excellent! Thank you, my dear. Continue with the plan and causally scan the rest of the crew, when they arrive." "Yes, Master," the woman turned off her viewscreen. The darkness of the inactive unit was, somehow, different from the darkened, active unit, but both darknesses were equally proficient at absorbing the sudden flare of light behind those golden eyes. <> Thog thought. <> The others, with the apparent exception of Captain Seetamyn, seemed to be thinking the same thing. Countless technical questions about radiation density, angular torque, power levels, matter-antimatter intermix regulation, the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow - all data that would be more efficiently read by computers directly from the Menagerie's Computer core. Why subject the Bridge crew to this? Finally, the interview drew to a close. The three Human admirals who had been conducting the interview thanked the crew and wished them a pleasant visit to Earth, then they rose and left the interview room. The crew, somewhat more dazed than the admirals, also rose and made their way outside. As they exited the Headquarters building, Seetamyn's commbadge squawked, "Captain, this is Admiral Sontak. According to the schedule, your interview with Starfleet Intelligence should be concluded, now." "That is correct, Admiral." "Then I would like to request some of your time. We have several issues to discuss." "Very well, Sir. I will see you in a few minutes. Seetamyn, out." "Regretfully, I must pass on our dinner engagement," Seetamyn seemed truly sorry to have to desert his crew. "We understand, Sir," Thog assured him. "We will be on Earth for several days. We can reschedule." "Yes," the Vulcan agreed and then turned around and headed back into the Headquarters building. As he walked down the corridors, he made a quick detour to the Quartermaster's Office. Requisitioning a PADD, he then continued on his way to the section housing the Project "Open Arms" personnel. Reaching Admiral Sontak's outer office, he was immediately ushered in to see the Admiral by a prim, middle-aged Terran woman. Mrs. Rosenthal was considered to be one of the most adept secretaries in Starfleet, but she had been bounced from office to office because none of the Admirals that she had previously worked for could stand the unflinching moral definitiveness that she projected. A sniff from Mrs Rosenthal could convey more disdain and superciliousness than a look from a French Maitre'd offered a hamburger from McDonalds. Admiral Sontak, of course, was undisturbed by Mrs. Rosenthal's demeanor. For one thing, he was, if anything, even more upstanding than she was. For another, he was completely immune to her sniffs. Not that she had ever had a reason to use one on him, but even if she had, she would have found out that it was impossible to lay a guilt trip on a Vulcan. Mrs. Rosenthal had met her match. Seetamyn found himself in the unusual position of having to gamble. The one person at Starfleet Command who had to know about the Foreenans was Admiral Sontak. Unfortunately, the one person at Starfleet Command whose integrity was so rock-solid that he might reveal the existence of the Foreenans, if he felt it was in the Federation's best interest to do so, was also Admiral Sontak. With little choice, he entered his Admiral's office and, without a word, handed over the PADD. On it he had written: "WE NEED TO MINDMELD." If Sontak was surprised by the message, he didn't show it. Instead he extended his hands to Seetamyn's face, while the Captain responded in kind. There was no "My mind to your mind" mantra since that was only needed when melding with aliens or, occasionally, done by inexperienced Vulcans. Seetamyn and Sontak were instantaneously one mind. Sontak knew everything that Seetamyn knew about the Foreenans and Seetamyn knew of all the Admiral's concerns about the Tactical Warfare, Investigations and Testing Sub-Division and the new aliens. While still melded, the two Vulcans discussed matters, Sontak :-: <> Seetamyn :-: <> Sontak :-: <> Seetamyn :-: <> While Captain Seetamyn and Admiral Sontak were breaking out their chessboard, Lieutenant Mantron and Lieutenant Commander Ustrano were feeling decidedly left-out. Mantron, Ustrano, Banjo, M'Dral, B1 & B2, Pish and Thog had been joined by Lieutenant Aceed Sperr, and Ensign Hirthnole. The ten had made their way to a fancy restaurant that was famous among Starfleet officers. The group had gotten some strange looks as they had eaten, but their Starfleet uniforms had kept most of the curious away. After dessert, Thog and Sperr had headed off together for a romantic evening and Banjo and Pish had decided that that sounded nice, so they did the same. Ensign Hirthnole had discovered that a galactically famous circus was currently performing in Mexico, so he and Lieutenant M'Dral had gone to see if they had any unicycle acts. B1 & B2 had heard that a delegation of Bynars was visiting the planet and had gone to spend some time with them. Mantron and Ustrano were left to fend for themselves. After wandering around San Francisco for an hour or so, they found themselves completely underwhelmed by the purported beauty of the Earth. Seeing as how they had both attended Starfleet Academy, this was no big surprise. They had each seen all of the wonder and beauty of the planet years before. Their home was the Menagerie, not this big rock. Unfortunately, they couldn't leave the rock at the moment. Ustrano was required to stay nearby before his trial and Mantron had no desire to desert his friend. Finally, they decided to head for the Starfleet BOQ. These modest suites were kept in readiness for use by visiting Starfleet Officers. Made to resemble starship quarters, the Bachelor Officer Quarters allowed officers on leave at Earth to have a place to stay that was near Starfleet Headquarters. The two settled into their familiar-seeming rooms and went to sleep. The weekend had passed with only one major incident. Apparently, there had been a holovision crew in San Francisco doing a talent search for the new season of "Federation Idol" and Ensign Hirthnole had managed to get a chance to audition. His beautiful rendition of "Can't Touch This" had emptied the auditorium faster than any fire drill could have. As he was escorted from the premises, he mused that most of the Federation STILL wasn't ready for his talents. How else could you explain their reaction to his act? His unicycling was first-rate. He had shampooed and conditioned his hair and beard so that they were nice and shiny. He had bathed and scrubbed his skin until it was a bright pink. The song he had picked was upbeat and he had bounced all over the stage in perfect rhythm. Why couldn't anyone accept naked, unicycle riding singing? Oh well, he would have to continue to restrict his performances to the Menagerie for a bit longer, he supposed. At least his crewmates appreciated his talent. Lieutenant M'Dral, who had accompanied him to the audition to provide moral support, had tried to comfort him, but she had been laughing so hard that her efforts weren't very effective. Finally, her mirth had proven contagious and the elderly Tellarite had joined the young Benzite in laughing at the close- minded fools. Now the two sat, along with the rest of the Bridge, Engineering and Ship's Services crews in a Starfleet courtroom. Having so many crewmembers as well as the normal courtroom riff-raff - the curious, the bored and the authors hoping to capture a bit of real courtroom flavor, would have made the seating very, very crowded. Thog had solved this potential dilemma by positioning Velvattians, members of Banjo's "Alien Assault Squad" at either end of the rows where the Menagerie personnel were sitting. Oddly enough, this had markedly decreased the number of people who tried to squeeze into those rows. Instead, the two back rows, unoccupied by Menagerie staff, were packed with the rest of the observers. As the sergeant at arms announced the start of the session and the three Starfleet judges who were to preside over the proceedings took their seats, Thog tried to size up their opponents. The prosecuting attorney was one of those new, yellow-eyed aliens. <> Thog mused. <> She then noticed that his departmental insignia indicated that he was attached to the Tactical Warfare, Investigations and Testing Sub-Division. So, Windgarde and his T.W.I.T.S. were even involved with this. <> Thog stopped her musings as the opening statements were read. "The prosecution will show, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the creature..." "Objection. Ustrano is a sentient being from a Federation member world. It is also a Command Rank Officer in Starfleet and should be treated with respect," Seetamyn interjected. "Sustained. The prosecution will treat the accused with the respect due a Starfleet Officer," the Chief Justice agreed. This didn't seem to sit well with Admiral Branson, who was seated at the prosecution's table, "Respect my earlobe!" he shouted. "That damn monster disobeyed my direct order, assaulted me and risked the entire crew!" "Order! Order!" shouted the Chief Justice, slamming his gavel down upon its sound block. "One more outburst like that and I'll throw this case out." "Your Honor," Seetamyn insinuated, smoothly, "I move that this court does just that. This material has already been reviewed and Lieutenant Commander Ustrano has been cleared of all wrong-doing. This retrial violates his protection from double-jeopardy and is completely without cause." The Tribunal conferred, briefly, amongst themselves for several minutes before the Chief Justice spoke again, "Captain Seetamyn has just voiced an opinion which is shared by this Tribunal. While it is the policy of Starfleet to allow retrials when new evidence has been discovered and to, furthermore, allow our admirals a certain degree of latitude in seeking to redress past wrongs, this court has reviewed the findings of the previous trial and have found overwhelming evidence that then Lieutenant Ustrano acted in a manner consistent with conduct becoming an officer. We fully agree with the resolution absolving it of any wrongdoings. This court has not seen the office of the prosecution deliver any new evidence for this hearing and, under the Starfleet Rules of Evidence, the defense must be allowed to examine any evidence which the prosecution is to present, prior to the start of the trial. So we must ask - is there any NEW evidence to be presented for this trial?" The prosecutor rose from his seat, anyone looking VERY closely might have been able to notice that his eyes seemed to glow slightly brighter for an instant before he replied, "No your honor, there is no new evidence to present." "Very well," answered the Judge, with a look of annoyance, "we, therefore, have no other option but to completely dismiss these charges and censure the Tactical Warfare, Investigations and Testing Sub-Division for their frivolous waste of this Tribunal's time." He slammed his gavel down, again. "No! No! By the hair on my chinny-chin-chin I'll see that monster dead before I allow it the opportunity to mutiny against another captain!" raved Admiral Branson. Now Thog had heard the phrase 'foaming at the mouth', before, but she had never expected to see an example of it. Today was her lucky day. Branson, with a strength born of total insanity, lifted the heavy prosecution table and hurled it at Seetamyn and Ustrano. Seetamyn sat calmly, not moving a muscle, as Ustrano causally flicked out two tentacles and caught the flying table. It gently put the table down on the courtroom floor. Branson turned and ran towards the doors. When he got to the doors, however, he suddenly sprang to the side and tackled one of the bailiffs. Wrestling away his phaser rifle, he quickly turned and stunned the other bailiff at the back door. The bailiffs near the front of the court came running and he spun to fire at them, too. Before he could, however, the Velvattians blocking the Menagerie rows entwined the frothing Admiral and relieved him of his weapon. The other bailiffs ran forward and clipped stasis binders to the admiral's wrists. Screaming about being touched by more of the 'slime-beasts', the Admiral was dragged away. As the Justices, audience and officers of the court filed out, the crew of the Menagerie gathered around Ustrano, offering congratulations. The Velvattian tried to assume an air of modesty an nonchalance about the whole things saying only, "It was nothing!" "You can say that, again!" agreed Mantron and the crew broke into laughter. "Well, since we had been scheduled to be here at least one more day, anyway," Seetamyn decided, "everyone's shore-leave is extended until 2200 hours." Another massive cheer went up as the crew started to disperse. Seetamyn excused himself to return to the ship. There were still things he wanted to discuss with Admiral Sontak. The Pirate's Cove was busier than they had expected. It appeared that most of the crew had returned to the ship early. It seemed that being around Humans was making them more uneasy than usual. They were not bothered by other aliens, the ship's Klingons mixed freely with Tellarites and Bolians associated with Andorians - it was just the Humans that were causing discomfort. They and those new aliens - had anyone ever even heard of what they were being called? The Menagerie was, even more than in the past, fast becoming a home away from home for Starfleet's non-Humans. It was only 2000 when Ustrano, Banjo, Mantron and Pish entered the lounge. Had their normal table not been always reserved they would have had difficulty getting seats. Thog and Sperr were there with M'Dral and Hirthnole and Zamtra. Everyone was discussing what they had done while planetside. The new foursome joined their friends in conversation. Soon Todd, their normal waiter floated over with their normal drinks as things got back to normal. The club doors opened and their Bynar companions entered. They scurried over to the table. "We thought that you might like to know that Admiral Branson has been remanded to Tantalus for observation. "Gee, you don't think they'll find anything wrong do you?" laughed Mantron. The table laughed at this but quieted down as the Bynars spoke up, again, "Actually, there is no doubt. Somehow there was a terrible computer mix up and the Admiral has been 'accidentally' scheduled for a five year stay, complete with daily applications of an ancient therapeutic technique called 'electro-shock therapy'." The table was absolutely quiet at this announcement until Hirthnole started chuckling, quietly. That broke the dam and the whole table burst out in loud, raucous laughter. Ustrano gathered up the two Bynars in a bearhug as everyone excitedly gathered around to hear more about this 'terrible computer mix up'. The group was so caught up in this good news that they failed to notice the entrance of Captain Seetamyn and Admiral Sontak. The two Vulcans made their way over to the table where, when they were noticed, the others quickly made room for them. Seetamyn introduced the man who headed the Project that had brought them all together, "As not everyone here has yet had the opportunity to meet Admiral Sontak, I thought I would take this opportunity to introduce him to all of you. As some of you might have already heard, the Admiral will be joining us in an observation role for a little while." Sontak bowed his head, slightly and Todd came over with drinks for the New arrivals. Seetamyn raised his glass, "I believe that it was our very own Lieutenant Commander Ustrano who first voiced this toast. It has come to symbolize our solidarity and unity. On this day, to celebrate its victory in court, I would voice it, again; Through these fields of destruction, Baptisms of fire I've witnessed your suffering As the battles raged higher And though they did hurt me so bad In the fear and alarm You did not desert me My brothers in arms "Brothers in arms," the others answered, even Admiral Sontak. Everyone chit-chatted amiably for a little while longer, but the introduced solemnity had put a damper on the celebratory environment. Eventually, everyone drifted away, headed for bed. Sontak and Seetamyn were left, alone at the table. Seetamyn turned to Sontak, "Would you like to have another drink before retiring, or would you prefer another game of Tri-D chess?" "Since you have beaten me in five straight games, the logical course of action would be to have another drink," came the Admiral's reply. "More of the same or something different?" The Admiral held up his glass, peering at the orange-colored fluid remaining in it. He pondered for a few seconds and then answered, "While there are an infinitely diverse number of combinations of beverages that might be found satisfying, I believe that this current combination is quite suitable. So another of these would be logical. What did you say it was called, again?" "Carrot juice," answered Seetamyn, signaling for another round. "Fascinating." It was later, deep into ship's night. An insistent, electronic beeping woke up someone. Stumbling from their bed, the person activated a super-scrambled secure line. A line that had secretly been installed in their quarters, but, up until now, never used. The system activated, but the viewscreen remained dark, only a voice signal was being broadcast, "It is time. The mission you were hired to do is ready to be carried out." "I understand." "During the re-supply at the spacedock, a certain package was smuggled in, hidden in a crate of Terpassian Butterscotch. Retrieve that package. Inside you will find a small vial. Tomorrow, the ship will be sent on a new mission and some medical supplies will be taken on board, including a supply of Deslamlottin. Make sure the contents of that vial get dumped into that Deslamlottin. Here is the security code. Make sure that you re-activate the security field, afterwards." "It won't kill anyone, will it?" "That is not our intention, you know that. This will just embarass the fools. You've done this before, there is nothing to concern yourself about." "Understood - out." The transmitter was deactivated and the figure made its way back to bed. After all this time, the Menagerie was finally targeted for assassination! Elsewhere... "So, there is no evidence that they learned anything in the Omega Configuration?" "No, Master." "Excellent! Everything is going according to plan." "Master if I may ask a question?" "You want to know why we went ahead with that farcical trial. Very well, I shall tell you. First of all, it kept the ship here over the weekend, buying us enough time to do a complete core dump of the Menagerie's Computer. Our analysts have thoroughly examined that dump and agree that their foray into the Omega Configuration was unsuccessful. Secondly, we have given them a victory. A minor victory, to be sure, but they will now feel confidant and secure. Thirdly, it allowed us time to position our fleet for maximum effectiveness. If, by some miracle, they escape the trap that we have set for them, we will have to act more directly, and those ships will serve that purpose." "You expected the trial to fail, Master?" "Of course, as an opening gambit it allowed me to position the board to my liking. Now all that is left is to play out the Game. A Game that will give me control of the Alpha Quadrant!" Captain's Log; Stardate 57850.8 - We are finishing preparations to disembark from McKinley Station. Our supply levels have been brought up to date and the crew seems to have enjoyed their shore leave. Admiral Sontak is joining us to observe Project "Open Arms" in action, firsthand. "Lieutenant, take us away from the station at one quarter impulse." "Aye, Sir," came Mantron's easy reply. Just as they were clearing the docking ring, M'Dral called out, "Sir! Incoming Priority One message from Starfleet Command!" "On screen," came the calm response. The viewscreen sparkled into a picture of Admiral Tsang-kung, head of Starfleet's Emergency Medical Division, "Captain! I'm glad I was able to catch you before you left Earth. We have just received a report of a medical emergency in the Keratinian System. We have the correct supplies with which to cure the population, here on Earth. Our nearest hospital ship is three days away, unfortunately. If you can take these supplies and begin treatment, we can save over three days of valuable time." "We would be happy to assist, Doctor. Send the coordinates for the transport of the supplies and coordinates for travel to the system and we will do our utmost." "Thank you, Captain. I am transmitting the coordinates, now. Godspeed to you - Emergency Medical - out." "Sir, Ensign Zamtra reports that he has received transporter coordinates." "Have him beam up the supplies and secure them in a cargo bay. Lieutenant Mantron do we have course information?" "Yes, Sir, course laid in." "Very well." Several minutes passed and then Zamtra's voice came over the internal comm system announcing that all was in readiness with the supplies. Seetamyn had taken the time to familiarize himself with their route and the system for which they would be soon headed. When he heard Zamtra's announcement he nodded to Lieutenant Mantron, "Lieutenant, Warp 9.5. Let's show everyone how the Menagerie handles herself in an emergency situation. Destination - the planet Bouffant - engage." TO BE CONTINUED...