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 "Hair Trauma" *************** Warning! ***************** This is as close to a musical episode that you're likely to see with Melting Pot! ****************************************** by Paul Cloutier Captain's Log; Stardate 57870.8 - We have been traveling at high warp towards the Keratinian System for a week, now. Tomorrow we should reach our destination - the planet Bouffant. Oddly enough, we have not been able to find out anything about either the medical emergency that they face or the inhabitants of the planet, itself. Needless to say, this lack of information is highly unusual and more than a bit disconcerting. Even Admiral Sontak's personal access codes have failed to uncover any further information. The medical supplies that we beamed aboard, before leaving Earth, have been locked with an encrypted security field. We will, allegedly receive the proper unlock code once we reach Bouffant. B1 & B2 have offered to hack the security code, but, for the time being at least, I have ordered them to refrain. We are flying towards a planet in the middle of a medical crisis and we do not even know if what we will face is contagious. The only thing that we have learned is that the hospital ships which were supposed to rendezvous with us have been further delayed and will not be arriving for an additional week. If the people of Bouffant are to be saved, it is up to us to do it. Seetamyn made his way to Sickbay. The ship was still over an hour away from Bouffant, but he had wanted to check on Doctor Pish's readiness for the upcoming crisis. Well, at least he assumed it would be a crisis. With a decided lack of solid information one way or the other, preparations were somewhat difficult. As the doors to Sickbay obediently opened in front of him, he looked around at the unusually empty medical center. Seeing him enter, Pish got up from her seat in her office and came out to greet him. The tiny Bajoran had spent most of her youth in a Cardassian Labor Camp. Upon being released, after the admission of Bajor into the Federation, the newly liberated young woman devoted herself to the healing arts. A tendency to fall to pieces when violently confronted had been her ticket to the Menagerie. "Sir, have you found out any more information regarding the plague on Bouffant?" "I am afraid not, Jantoo," replied Seetamyn, remembering to use his CMO's first name. "I only came to ascertain the state of your preparations." "Oh well, hope springs eternal," she said, ruefully. "I've had most of the staff off-duty to rest up for the expected frenzy to come. All medical personnel are scheduled to be back on duty in thirty minutes. I was just double-checking the Sickbay equipment. Ustrano and M'Dral have diverted additional power supplies to us and converted one of the Holodecks into a quarantined triage unit, as you know." "Yes, Ustrano had reported to me that all the modifications that could be done to prepare the ship had been completed. I suppose all we can do now is wait." "Yes, Sir," agreed Pish. "Very well. I will inform you as soon as we get any further information." Seetamyn made his thoughtful way back to the Bridge. Something was decidedly wrong, lately. First the anticlimactic resolution to the Foreenan's Quests. Then that idiotic trial, back on Earth. Now, an emergency medical mission with absolutely no information available. Had he been the paranoid type, he would have thought that there was some sort of conspiracy against him. Clearing his head of such unproductive thoughts, the placid Vulcan made his way back to the bridge. Seetamyn WAS wrong - but only in thinking that a single someone was after him! Seetamyn exited the aft turbolift onto the Bridge and surveyed his crew with satisfaction. For the supposed dregs of Starfleet, he was more than pleased with his officers. At Helm was Lieutenant Dil Mantron, a Betazoid who had bounced from ship to ship after his commanding officers had discovered his lack of psychic abilities. As an additional cloud over his head, five of the twelve ships that he had served on, had been destroyed soon after his departure, and a sixth one had simply vanished without a trace. Starfleet Intelligence had thoroughly interrogated the hapless Helmsman, but had discovered nothing more than coincidence governing the incidents. Seetamyn had some theories about his Helmsman, but they didn't point towards any malicious actions or even intentions on the part of the Betazoid. Shifting his glance to the left, Seetamyn saw his Ops Officer, Lieutenant M'Dral. M'Dral was a Benzite and was prone to getting overexcited in times of stress. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal but Benzites had to use special respirators in normal oxygen/nitrogen environments, and the respirant vapors from M'Dral's hyperventilating had threatened to completely engulf the ship in fog on several occasions. Seetamyn had been working with the young woman on meditation techniques but he had met with limited success, so far. Manning the Security Station was Commander Banjo. When the Changeling had first come on board, there had been some initial friction between Banjo and Seetamyn, but Banjo had showed his competence time and time again and he had formed strong friendships with various crewmembers and become a respected, important part of the crew. Next, the Vulcan's gaze settled on his First Officer, Commander Thog. The Klingon woman had been a Security Officer before being transferred to the Menagerie for excessive violence. Seetamyn had discovered that her propensity towards violence was due to her deep feelings of inadequacy. Her family had been virtual slaves on Qu'noS, the Klingon Homeworld, for countless generations. Seetamyn wasn't sure how he could best help his First Officer reach her full potential, but he hadn't stopped looking for the answer to that question, yet. He finally turned his attention to the Science Console. As usual, it was 'manned' by the ship's two Bynars. Because their actual names were unpronounceable identification strings of ones and zeroes, they had agreed to be addressed as "B1" and "B2". Since no one could really tell them apart, anyway, and since they were never separated, the crew had taken to calling them "The Killer B's". Seetamyn had tried to put a stop to this, knowing that the crew of their previous posting, the USS Perry Rhodan, had called them this to make fun of them. B1 & B2 had assured him that they didn't mind the nickname coming from the Menagerie personnel. Finished with his visual survey, Seetamyn got down to business, "Status?" he asked, walking forward to his center seat. "Sir, we will enter the Keratinian System in the next fifteen minutes. Bouffant is the second planet from that sun and, currently, on the far side of the system from our entry point. We will require an additional thirty minutes to reach the planet at full impulse speed. We have received no further communications from Starfleet and our hails to the planet have not been answered." "Very well. M'Dral - continue hailing Bouffant. Mantron - continue course and speed. All we can do is continue on." The minutes passed by slowly as the ship moved ever closer to Bouffant. Admiral Sontak made his way to the Bridge, but only stood quietly off to the side to observe what was going on. He had come aboard, ostensibly to observe Project "Open Arms" in action, but everyone knew he was only there to decide whether or not to reveal the existence of the OverMind to Starfleet. That would have to wait until the current crisis was overcome, however. In the meantime, he had been keeping to himself for the most part. Apparently he took the title of "Observer", seriously. The planet Bouffant became visible on the ship's main viewscreen. Sensor readings confirmed the meager data that the library files had already provided - Class M, temperature never moving much from 30 degrees Celsius, 30% of the planet covered by shallow, fresh-water seas. Bouffant appeared, quite literally, to be a veritable paradise. Seetamyn felt a pang of sympathy shoot through his body. What sinister malady was threatening this vista of beauty? His thoughts were interrupted by M'Dral's excited announcement, "Sir, we have established contact with the planet!" "Excellent, Lieutenant," responded the Captain. "They are asking that we please hold for..." M'Dral stopped in mid-sentence, her face registering her confusion, "for their Most Mane-ificent!" The main viewscreen switched then from an external view to show a woman seated behind an elaborate desk. She appeared to be human, and would have been wholly unremarkable except for one thing. She had the most amazing hair that Seetamyn had ever seen. Her hair had that carefree, windswept look that was usually only achievable by a team of talented stylists and several hours of attention. It's rich, honey color caught and seemed to magnify every light in the room. She twitched her head, slightly, an unconscious act that seemed more born of habit than of any particular conscious volition. That hair seemed to draw the full attention of everyone who viewed it, leaving no room for superfluous thoughts in the viewer's mind. It was as if the hair was some magnificent creature crouched on her head and not actual hair at all. This beautiful illusion was suddenly shattered when the woman on the screen opened her mouth, "Welcome to Bouffant," came the most annoying, nasally coarse voice anyone on the Bridge had ever heard. "I am Redken, the Most Mane-ificent of Bouffant. Please have your Captain and Chief Medical Officer beam down to this office to discuss the situation as soon as possible!" Seetamyn stood and addressed the viewscreen, "I am Captain Seetamyn. Will we need environmental protection suits or need to take any special precautions?" "Just make sure you wear shoes! And hurry! Bouffant out!" The viewscreen switched to external view as contact was terminated. Seetamyn could see that the Menagerie was taking up a standard orbit around the planet. Seeing no other choice, he contacted Doctor Pish and asked her to meet him in Transporter Room One. Giving Thog command of the ship, he exited the Bridge on his way to that same destination. The pair arrived in the main transporter room nearly simultaneously. Ensign Zamtra was waiting for them, having received destination coordinates from the Bridge. Zamtra was one of the first Tamarian graduates from Starfleet Academy. His people communicated via means of metaphors - allusions to their distant past, applied to current situations. This made communications with non-Tamarians somewhat difficult, and had resulted in the newly commissioned Ensign being assigned to the Menagerie. Some people might have been a bit concerned about having a Transporter Chief who was a lowly Ensign. Some people might have been concerned about having a Transporter Chief who still spoke mostly in metaphors. Seetamyn wasn't one of those people. Of course, he wouldn't have been concerned about a Borg Cube suddenly materializing in front of him, either. Vulcans were funny that way. As the Captain and CMO hopped up on the activator pad Zamtra called out his customary, "Timpo, with his cards marked!" and sent them on their way. Seetamyn and Pish reappeared in an elaborate office. If Seetamyn had thought that the desk he had seen on the viewscreen had been ornate, it looked downright plain compared to the rest of the office. Glass and brass gleamed from every surface and the reflected lights all shone back on Redken's wondrous hair. Seetamyn realized that the whole setup was designed to make the Most Mane-ificent look even more spectacular. Speaking of which... "Thank you for coming. I am sorry for the veil of secrecy that we have had to surround this entire affair with, but once you know of our situation, I'm sure that you will understand." "Very well," acknowledged Seetamyn as he and Pish took seats in front of the desk. "You see, our planet was founded during the Eugenics Wars on Earth. Well, technically we were founded several decades AFTER the Eugenics Wars, because that's how long it took our ship to get to this planet. However, it was LAUNCHED during the Eugenics Wars, so we use the launch date as the date of the founding of this planet." Redken's voice was, if anything, even more annoying in person than it had been over subspace. Pish was visibly cringing at every syllable and Seetamyn wasn't sure if even his Vulcan stoicism could block out the sound if she insisted on relaying the entire history of her planet! "We were the result of a successful experiment to produce the most beautiful hair on Earth. When Khan and his gang started their trouble, we all decided to leave, since war is usually very bad for hairstyles. We founded Bouffant, as I mentioned, and we have been here ever since. We keep our existence completely secret because we have become the Quadrant's most sought after hairstyle models. Yes, if everyone knew where we were, they would be forever visiting us and we wouldn't have any time to maintain our hair!" <> the thought echoed through Seetamyn's mind. Things must be really desperate if the Carl Jaroch persona had been awakened! "Yes, I can certainly understand your situation. But what about this plague?" Seetamyn asked, desperation from the fragment of Human consciousness in his mind tingeing his voice. Pish didn't notice it, her mind had retreated back to her Labor Camp days in an effort to escape Redken's voice. Even the Cardassians were better than that! "Oh, yes! You must help us! Th whole planet has come down with an awful case of Athlete's Foot! The terrible itching is so bad that we can't even think about our lovely hair!" Seetamyn had called for a briefing as soon as he and Pish had returned from the surface of Bouffant. Had he been Human, he would have been annoyed at this turn of events (had he been Andorian, he would have opened fire on the planet, but that's another story, altogether!). Pish, Ustrano, Mantron and Banjo were the only other crewmembers present, since they were the only ones that would be directly involved in 'saving' Bouffant. He quickly brought the others up to date on the situation. After he finished speaking, silence descended on the room. It wasn't the quiet, contemplative silence of people considering a difficult situation - this was more the 'I can't freakin' believe what I just heard' kind of silence. Finally, Mantron broke the silence, "Well, this is serious!" he said. "We'd better step on it!" "Yes!" agreed Banjo, "we must put our best foot forward!" Pish was struggling to hold in giggles at this point, while Seetamyn, for his part was somewhat surprised by the apparent enthusiasm that his staff was displaying. They were even more professional than he had originally thought! Ustrano decided to join in the fun, "I have a burning desire to stomp out this problem!" it rumbled. "We must remember to toe the line during all this!" Mantron added. Pish was now in serious pain. How Banjo and Dil could be saying all these things with straight faces was beyond her. Seetamyn chose that moment to adjourn the meeting, sure that his crew had things well in hand. They stayed in the Briefing Room to work on some details while he headed back to the Bridge. As the Briefing Room door slid shut behind him, he could have sworn that he heard laughter, but it must have just been his imagination. Mantron and Ustrano were hard at work in Cargo Bay 3. Ustrano was configuring a small probe with atmospheric maneuvering equipment as well as an immunization dispersal system while Mantron was calculating and programming in the probe's flight path. Pish and Banjo had already delivered the medical supplies after Pish had deactivated their security field, using the code she had gotten from Redken. Following standard procedure, Banjo had accompanied the ship's CMO the entire time to make sure that there could be no tampering with the supplies. Usually this procedure helped ensure the safety of a planet in the midst of a deadly plague. Banjo wasn't sure that this actually qualified, but following procedure made him look efficient and, more importantly, let him be close to Jantoo for a while. So he wasn't complaining! The 'supplies' had turned out to be nothing more than super-concentrated Deslamlottin, a bio-genetically engineered virus that, when inhaled, would make a person totally immune to the Athlete's Foot Fungus. As the two men worked, they discussed their current assignment, "Well this was certainly a waste of time!" complained Mantron. "I don't know about that," disagreed Ustrano. "Look at it this way - all most of the rest of the Quadrant knows is that we were dispatched to cure a serious plague on this planet. Once the Deslamlottin is dispersed, the 'plague' will be over and we'll look like heroes!" Mantron paused for a few moments while this sank in. Then a grin broke out on his face. It might be nice to be a hero for a change! The two soon finished up and launched the probe. After observing its telemetry for a short time, they cleaned up the cargo bay and headed to their quarters to clean up. Tonight was another Movie Night and Ustrano had decided on a Stephen Chow double feature. They would soon be watching "Shaolin Soccer" and "Kung Fu Hustle". Afterwards Ustrano, Banjo and Mantron would again practice their gunplay on the holodeck. The three were becoming quite the gunslingers. The ship had just 'saved' an entire planet (at least as far as anybody knew, anyway) and they would soon be heading back to the Omega Configuration with Admiral Sontak. Everything was perfect. Something was seriously wrong! The entire Senior Bridge Staff was awakened from their sleep that night by an urgent summons from the Bridge. There was another emergency on Bouffant of some sort. As Commander Thog stumbled out of the aft turbo- lift, she saw that the rest of the crew was already at their stations. With the exception of Seetamyn, they all looked as disoriented and frazzled as she felt. Then, the main viewscreen caught her eye. Pictured on it was a woman in what appeared to be a polyester pantsuit, reclining on a piano with a microphone in her hand. She appeared to be... singing? "Something seems to have gone wrong, Captain - Call me irresponsible* Call me unreliable, Throw in undependable too Do my foolish alibis bore you, Well I'm not too clever I just adore you Call me unpredictable Tell me I'm impractical, Rainbows, I'm inclined to pursue Call me irresponsible Yes I'm unreliable, But it's undeniably true I'm irresponsibly mad for you - Captain! You must help us! The entire planet is turning into... LOUNGE SINGERS!!!" "That's... Redken?" asked Thog, aghast. "Yeah, who'd have thought her singing voice would be so good," Mantron answered. Seetamyn tapped his commbadge, "Doctor Pish, are you seeing this?" he asked. "Yes, Sir!" came the tiny squeak of the Doctor's reply. "I'm not sure that I believe it, but I certainly am seeing it." "Evaluation?" "Until I can get some tissue samples, I can't even begin to make an analysis, much less give a valid evaluation." "Take your team down to the surface and get whatever samples you think you need." "Yes, Sir. Pish out!" Doctor Pish and her medical crisis team materialized in a courtyard in front of the government center on Bouffant. Why anyone would name their government center the 'Beauty Parlor' was beyond her comprehension, but that wasn't important, now. The team split up, each dressed in their haz-mat/bio isolation suits. Moving like clumsy, blue robots through the singing citizens they valiantly tried to get samples from people who seem much more interested in dancing around the courtyard, than in standing still so that blood and tissue samples could be taken. Just as the team was finishing up, Pish felt herself being lifted by several pairs of hands. She screamed for help as she was placed on the raised rim around a decorative fountain as four Bouffant men knelt before her and started singing, Ain't she sweet? See her walking down that street. Yes I ask you very confidentially, Ain't she sweet? Ain't she nice? Look her over once or twice. Yes I as you very confidentially, Ain't she nice? Just cast an eye in her direction, Oh me oh my, ain't that perfection? Oh I repeat, Well, don't you think that's kinda neat? Yes I ask you very confidentially, Ain't she sweet? Her team clapped as they helped an embarrassed Pish down from her perch. Seeing that they had taken as many samples as they could, she called the ship for a beamout. Once back in Sickbay, they set up decontamination fields and set to work. Mantron and Ustrano had retrieved the probe which had dispersed the Deslamlottin so that samples of any remaining chemical residue could also be analyzed. With samples of both the mutagenic chemical as well as the resultant organic tissue, Pish and her team were confidant that reversing the 'lounge singer effect' would be quickly accomplished. "Captain, it appears that reversing this 'lounge singer effect' is impossible!" Doctor Pish's startling announcement stunned the gathered senior staff. Seetamyn had called a briefing to review developments, but the opening statement by Jantoo had even surprised him. "There is evidence that the Athlete's Foot Fungus infection wasn't natural. Some sort of tailored virus has been secretly dispersed to produce the outbreak. The Deslamlottin was also altered by an unknown chemical. These two viruses combined to produce this mess. Unfortunately, without a pure sample of either the original virus or the Deslamlottin additive, the odds of us finding a way to reverse the 'lounge singer effect' are incredibly slim!" "Tookiao when Gojira walked!" shouted Zamtra. "The transporter logs didn't detect anything unusual in the Deslamlottin when we transported aboard from Earth!" "Wait a minute!" Mantron interrupted. "The transporter logs didn't have any record of what was transported! We checked when we were trying to find out about the supposed plague on Bouffant!" "Yes, Lieutenant, that is true," Zamtra replied, serenely, "but, apparently, when the security field was released around the Deslamlottin, these encrypted transporter logs were revealed as well." "Oh," said Mantron, abashed. "Very well," Seetamyn broke in, "what other information do we have?" "Sir, we have been monitoring all the subspace communications traffic to and from Bouffant for any clue." "What traffic," asked Pish, "the planet has always maintained communications silence so that the 'fans' of the models wouldn't be able to find them!" "That was before, Jantoo," Banjo answered. "Now they are making up for their previous silence. I have never seen a planet with more comm traffic in peacetime." "What are they doing, asking for more medical help?" "Not exactly. Their comm traffic falls into three general categories - Most of the traffic concerns booking dates and performance schedules for their new export product - Lounge Singers Extraordinaire! Secondly, there are numerous requests to textile and fabric manufacturers for some sort of material known as 'polyester'. Apparently, there is some sort of serious shortage of this material on the planet. The last category seems to be requests to music schools and piano manufacturers for piano players and pianos. It seems that these primitive Earth instruments are greatly favored by these 'Lounge Singers Extraordinaire'. Starfleet has also appointed a liaison to help the Bouffantans deal with their new abilities. The bulk of the remainder of their traffic is communiques to and from this liaison." "Who could possibly help an entire planet deal with such a change?" mused Pish Jantoo. Banjo consulted his notes, "Apparently he is an ex-Starfleet Captain named Alexander Rydell. He currently runs some sort of resort and it appears that he actually volunteered to handle this. He seems to be some sort of expert in the field of bad music." "So, in essence, what you are saying is that there has been no clue to helping us reverse this crisis," Seetamyn summed up. "That is correct, Sir. We are currently focusing our attention on trying to discover how our supply of Deslamlottin was altered. If we can find out how that was done, we may be able to synthesize an counter-agent." "Do we have any clue as to who might have been responsible?" "No, Sir," Banjo replied. "We are working under the theory that someone smuggled the alterant on board during our resupply back at Earth. There are no transporter logs of anything being transported that could cause this effect, so if must have come aboard with the bulk cargo. We have been going over the cargo bays but it is unlikely that our saboteur will have left any clues behind." "Understood, but it is, currently, our only lead. Have we received any further information from Starfleet Command or Starfleet Medical about how best to proceed?" "Actually, Sir, nobody at Starfleet seems to think this is very serious, anymore. They actually seem to be quite pleased by this outcome!" "We are most displeased by this outcome!" the voice came over the super-secure scrambled line in the darkened quarters on board the Menagerie. "I don't understand. Isn't this what you had intended?" "No! The chemical that you were to add to the Deslamlottin was only supposed to make the Bouffantans' hair fall out! This 'lounge singer effect' was completely unexpected. Someone has altered the chemical that you were to use. Someone has deliberately double-crossed us!" "I see. I should go to Captain Seetamyn and explain what has happened. The crew of the Menagerie might yet save the day." "Are you insane? If you confess to tampering with medical supplies you will be thrown into a Federation prison camp!" "Well, this was supposed to be my last job, anyway. At least this way the Menagerie might be able to save herself. Who was our contact at Starfleet?" "I don't know, for sure, but he was some sort of Admiral. He never told us his name, but he had enough pull to get the chemicals transferred to your ship." "Very well, I'll go now and see what can be done to remedy this situation." Seetamyn was in his Ready Room. He needed some time to think. There was only one possible explanation for the failure of the Deslamlottin and that was that it had been intentionally sabotaged. While a Human captain might have tried avoiding that conclusion, Seetamyn had no such squeamishness. A Vulcan wouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of his job, no matter how difficult that job might be. Since he was fully confident in the assessment of his Chief Medical Officer, only deliberate sabotage was left as an option. So, now all he had to do was deduce who could have possibly done such a thing. He would need a chance to analyze each and every crewmember's possible motives for committing this act. A Human might have called such a possibility 'unthinkable', but the act of calling it 'unthinkable' only proved that it had been thought of. Seetamyn closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to imagine himself as another member of the crew. His eyes flew open, suddenly, as his ears detected the faint whine of a coalescing transporter beam. Was this some sort of attack? Reaching into his desk, he quickly withdrew a small, personal phaser and extended it at the transporter beam. As the beam faded, one of his eyebrows raised, slightly. The beam had brought Linnea, the ship's Orion Hospitality Manager. Normally, Seetamyn would have placed Linnea near the top of any list of suspects for the sabotage, but she had been on the ship for over five months and had been the very model of an upright Federation citizen. "Captain, please forgive this unannounced intrusion, but I have a confession to make. You see, I am the one who sabotaged the Deslamlottin!." OK, so much for being an upright citizen! "Why would you do such a thing, Linnea? Have we not treated you with respect and made you a member of this crew?" "Sir, you don't understand. I am a character assassin. My family has been in this business for centuries." "A 'character assassin'?" Seetamyn asked, puzzled. "I don't believe that I have ever heard the term." "It is an ancient and honorable occupation in the Syndicate. Normal assassination is messy and the aftermath can be unpredictable. Who's to say that the person you kill isn't just replaced by someone even worse? So, a long, long time ago. My great, great, great, great grandfather came up with the idea of character assassins. Instead of killing someone and leaving a power void which might result in a generally unstable situation (which would be bad for business), this new class of assassin would ruin their target's reputation, destroy their business, make them a laughingstock, a buffoon. Then, whoever had hired the character assassin would be ready to quietly take over their business, publicly humiliate them and easily take their place. As I said, my family has been in this business for a long time. I never really developed a taste for it, however. I had done a few jobs, here and there, but I was more drawn to the legit side of our business - the hospitality stuff. It was agreed that I could retire after one, final job - this one. Several of the big bosses were most annoyed by your intervention in their symbiont scheme so I was sent to make you look like fools. Just after I came on board, however, we ended up in that Omega thingee and all communications were cut off. All I could do was bide my time and wait. Finally, we solved all the Foreenans' riddles and returned to normal space - to Earth, in fact. That's when things got weird. Apparently, people at Starfleet contacted my family to set up a hit on you. I was supposed to 'fulfill Starfleet's prejudices' against you. My family was overjoyed - double the money for this hit! Then, everything started to fall apart. The altered drug was supposed to make the Bouffantans' hair fall out - nothing more. This lounge singer mutation was some sort of curve ball that the people at Starfleet threw at us. These mutants are cutting into Syndicate business! Furthermore, Starfleet is keeping hush on this whole thing. Apparently they are waiting for their hospital ships to arrive before renouncing this whole fiasco as being the Menagerie's fault. Someone has pulled a double-cross on us and my family is scrambling to find out who." "You say that Starfleet is involved with all of this?" "Yes, Sir. The drug I was supposed to add to the Deslamlottin was simple superdihydrotestosterone. Everyone's hair would have started dropping out almost immediately. For a planet full of hairstyle models, you can imagine how devastating that would have been. The hue and cry would have been heard across the quadrant and the Menagerie would have looked like a ship of idiots. Instead, something unknown was substituted and we have this current crisis to deal with." "Linnea, do you still have the container that the new drug came in?" "Yes, Sir," she said, pulling the small vial from a pocket in her dress. "Very well. Please stay here for a moment. I will take this to Jantoo for analysis. Once we find out what we are dealing with, we may be able to reverse its effects." Seetamyn stood and quickly made his way out of his Ready Room and down to Sickbay. The activity there was considerably more frantic than the last time that he had visited. Quickly finding the diminutive doctor, he held out the vial. "Doctor, this vial was discovered, stuck in a waste chute in the cargo bay that the emergency supplies were stored in. Perhaps it will provide a clue." "Thank you, Sir," the nearly exhausted Bajoran replied. "At this point we're willing to try anything." Nodding, Seetamyn excused himself and made his way back towards the Bridge and his Ready Room, trying to decide what to do about Linnea. He decided that he needed more information before rendering a final verdict. When he returned to his Ready Room, he found the young Orion woman pacing. He sat back in his chair and indicated that she should take seat in one of the chairs facing him, on the other side of the desk. "So, what's going to happen to me?" Linnea asked, hesitantly. "I have not yet decided. Before I do, can you tell me why you revealed these things to me?" "There were, basically two reasons. First of all, as I told you, I was never really into the business. I just had problems with gaining somebody's trust, only to betray them, later. You Starfleet guys are all supposed to be on the same team, right? So why are you being betrayed by your own people? That just didn't jive with my sense of fair play." A faint smile briefly touched Seetamyn's lips, "And the second reason?" "Twice in my family's past, assassins deliberately failed to hit their targets. In both cases, the targets went on to significantly improve the Syndicate's power and reputation. The assassins had decided, early on in their missions, that these two men were worth saving. I think the Menagerie falls into that category, Sir. The people on board this ship are among the very finest that I have ever met." "I see. Let me ask one more question and then I will tell you your punishment." "Yes, Sir," Linnea gulped. "What do YOU think your punishment should be?" "Well, Sir, under Federation Law I should be placed on trial for interfering with a mission of mercy. Since I am an Orion, I will probably receive the stiffest sentence - 10 years in a penal colony. However, I DID come to you and reveal all. It is possible that a word or two from you might mitigate my sentence down to five years." "I see," Seetamyn said, thoughtfully. "As you might know, I have always felt that one of this ship's greatest strengths was its diverse crew complement. Since you are the only Orion on board, I believe that it would diminish our strength to lose you. Therefore, I sentence you to continue being part of this ship of misfits." Linnea leapt over the desk, and wrapped her arms around the Captain, crying. "Oh thank you, Sir," she sobbed. Seetamyn was left with little choice but to hold the young woman in his arms as her crying subsided. "But, Sir," she asked, "how can you ever trust me, again?" "You've already admitted to believing that the Menagerie was worth saving. If that is the case, if you are willing to serve this ship and her crew to the best of your abilities, then I have no problem with keeping you on board." "I do so believe, Sir. But what about my family?" "You had mentioned that this was to be your last job. You had also mentioned that their contact at Starfleet had pulled a double-cross on your family. Well, Linnea, I have a pretty good idea of who at Starfleet was responsible. You tell your family that if they honor their agreement to release you from the assassin's guild, that we will deliver the Starfleet traitor to them." "Deliver to them... Sir, you do know what they will do to him when they get him, don't you?" "Linnea, you may have noticed that we tend to do things around here a little differently than most Starfleet ships. This traitor has put the crew of this ship at great risk, not to mention the population of Bouffant. I am not such a fool that I would want to keep someone like that alive so that they can come back to haunt us, later. The only problem I foresee is keeping Commander Banjo away from him while we get him to your family." Linnea grinned for the first time since arriving in the Ready Room. "One more thing. When this crisis has passed, I want you to confess to the rest of the Bridge crew. You can leave out the part about the Orion contract, but they should know that someone at Starfleet is after us." "I understand, Sir, and thank you, again." Linnea turned and left the Ready Room, this time by the door. As she made her way back to The Pirate's Cove she couldn't help reflect upon her luck. She had never really been comfortable with the family business, but what else was she to do? Since coming on board, she had felt more and more as if she had been returning to a home that she had never known. This latest conversation with the captain had finally brought it all into focus for her. She, like the rest of the crew, had always been a misfit, never fitting in where she was. Now, she was part of a family. Perhaps the oddest family in the annals of history, but most people didn't get to choose their family, anyway. If hers was made up of beings who didn't look anything alike, then so be it. It was what was in their hearts and minds that counted, anyway. Linnea's step took on a little bounce, as the young Orion girl, happier than she had been in she couldn't remember when, entered her restaurant, looking forward to her new life. Seetamyn emerged from his Ready Room and took his seat on the Bridge. "Please contact Sickbay," he ordered M'Dral. The Benzite quickly established contact with the ship's medical center and put the video feed up on the main viewscreen. The scene that appeared terrified them all! Pish Jantoo was standing on a biobed kicking her feet up. Several other doctors, biotechs and nurses were dancing around the bed singing, You've gotta accent-tcu-ate the positive, Eli-my-nate the negative, Latch on to the affirmative, Don't mess with Mister In-between. You gotta spread joy up to the maximum, Bring gloom down to the minimum. Have faith or pandemonium's liable to walk in upon the scene. To illustrate my last remark, Jonah in the whale, Noah in the Ark, What did they do Just when everything looked so dark, Man, they said we better Accent-tchu-ate the positive, elim-my-nate the negative, Latch on to the affirmative, Don't mess with Mister In-between, Don't mess with Mister In-between. "By the Great Bird!" Mantron cried. "They've been infected!" Seeing that the Sickbay viewscreen was active, Jantoo quickly jumped down from her impromptu stage. "Sorry, Sir. We were just celebrating, and some of those songs are just so catchy!" "Does this mean that you've found a way to counteract the 'lounge singer effect', Doctor?" Seetamyn asked. "Yes, Sir!" the diminutive Bajoran shouted enthusiastically. "That sample that you brought us was the key. We are currently synthesizing enough of the cure to treat the whole planet. Lieutenant Commander Ustrano has readied a new probe for dispersal. We should be ready to treat the planet in about four hours!" "Excellent work, Doctor. Proceed with the curative dispersal at your discretion." "Captain, we have an incoming communication from the Most Mane-ificent," Lieutenant M'Dral reported. The probe with the curative agent had finished its work about one hour ago and returned to the ship. Sensors had indicated progressively less singing on the planet since the probe had begun its program. Comm traffic had, likewise, tapered off to just about nothing. "On screen," Seetamyn said, standing. The main viewscreen flickered to life, bringing up an image of the planet's leader. She looked a bit tired, but was overall none the worse for her ordeal. "Captain Seetamyn! I cannot thank you enough! You have saved our planet and our entire way of life! You have our eternal thanks! Please excuse me now, but there are months of work ahead of us before we can repair the damage that has been done by this terrible plague!" "Excuse me, your Most Mane-ificent, but what damage are you speaking of? We have not observed any disruption to any infrastructure on Bouffant." "Are you blind, man?" Redken suddenly screeched. "Can you not see what terrible tragedy has been inflicted upon my poor hair?" She reached up and gathered some of her beautiful, honeyed hair in one hand. "Look! Can't you see how dull and unmanageable it is? Oh my gawd!" she suddenly exclaimed, looking more closely at her hair. "Split ends!" Captain I must go!" And the transmission abruptly ended. The Senior Staff was gathered outside the doors to The Pirate's Cove. Seetamyn had asked all of them to attend a special meeting that evening. No one knew what he had in mind for the evening, but they all assumed that he would be offering one of his long-winded toasts to their job well done. The crew all looked upon Seetamyn as a kindly, old grandfather who rarely knew what exactly was going on and who could, at the drop of a hat, launch into the most boring, detail-laden monolog that was imaginable. The odd thing was - Seetamyn had carefully cultivated this persona in order to force his crew to perform to the best of their abilities. No one wanted to disappoint their kindly, old grandfather, after all. At precisely 2200 hours, Seetamyn, himself, opened the doors and ushered his friends into the restaurant/lounge. No one else was present, tonight. Even Cerulean and Todd had been given the night off, as had the rest of Linnea's staff. Mystified Banjo, Pish, Thog, Sperr, Zamtra, M'Dral, Mantron, Ustrano, B1 & B2 and even Ensign Hirthnole approached their customary table. There, they found their customary drinks waiting for them. As they took their customary seats, Seetamyn moved off to the side where Linnea stood, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She had chosen to wear one of her micro-dresses. The similarity to her traditional slave-girl outfits provided her with a comfort zone for the consequences of what she was about to share with the others. Seetamyn spoke quietly with her for several moments before taking his customary place at the head of the table. Before seating he spoke, "We twelve have stood beside each other since we became a crew, seven months ago. During that time we have done what Starfleet had considered impossible - we solved the mystery of the Omega Configuration. In so doing we formed into the crew that Starfleet never believed that we could be and we became more, we became a sort of extended family for each other. We found strength and support from our crewmates, something most of us had never had, before. We found that diversity DOES bring strength and we each have become a better person through this knowledge. Tonight there will be two announcements. I hope that these announcements will bring us all even closer together as a family." With that he took his seat and gestured to Linnea to step forward. The Orion looked more unsure of herself than anyone could ever remember seeing her. Hesitantly, she approached the head of the table, until she stood in front of the others. Then, she began to speak, "Captain Seetamyn has asked me to speak to you today, because you need to know what you are facing. I also want you to know the depths to which your enemies will go to to defeat you. First of all, I need to tell you that it was I who sabotaged the Deslamlottin..." she had to pause at this point at the babble that burst forth from the officers present. As the hubbub died down, she continued, "You see, I have been an enemy among you from the start. I was placed on board your ship for vengeance from the Syndicate after your interference with our Bracktian Symbiote Scheme." "Wait a minute!" Jantoo interrupted. "I examined you myself and you were seriously injured! You would have died if I hadn't saved you!" "This is all true, and, again, I thank you for your kindness. It is true that I would have died from my injuries, however my injuries were not sustained during the crash of my ship. You see, I landed hard on purpose, hard enough to cripple my ship and bang me up, but the only injuries that I really got were bumps and bruises. After crashing, I made my way out of the wreckage and planted several passive sensors around the crash site, outside of the effects of the radiation leak from my engines. I then put myself into a deep, self-hypnotic trance and preprogrammed a bio-feedback response to trigger when my vital signs returned to a certain level. When you materialized on the planet, you triggered one of the remote sensors to rupture several power conduits around me, causing me serious injury. When you revived me, the post-hypnotic response I had programmed activated and I told you my sad story. The Syndicate was well aware of your search for a Hospitality Officer, so I had constructed my cover story to make me seem like a good choice for the position. Of course, that wasn't that difficult, since the part of my story concerning my experience with the hospitality industry was absolutely true. You see, my family has been character assassins for centuries. We infiltrate into organizations by gaining their trust, then betray them and reap the profits. I've always found it to be distasteful, at best, and the longer I spent among all of you, the more sure I was that I didn't want to betray all of you. Then something weird happened - someone in Starfleet contacted my family to set up a hit on you. They planned this whole Bouffant thing - the original plague, the delay of the medical ships, everything. They told me that I would be putting a chemical into the Deslamlottin that would cause the Bouffantans' hair to fall out! Then they pulled a switch and created that lounge singer drug. When I realized that my family had been double-crossed, I went to Captain Seetamyn and told him what I have just told you. He asked me to let all of you that it was Starfleet that was after you. He had wanted me to leave out the part about my being a Orion character assassin, but I thought you all deserved the whole truth." Silence engulfed the table as Linnea finished. She had come clean and was proud of herself for doing so, but she knew that these people, people who had once called her 'friend' would never accept her again. She stood with her head bowed as tears began to flow from her eyes. She had never really had friends before - they weren't a real good idea in her line of work. Beside her, Seetamyn took to his feet. He surveyed the table for several long minutes, allowing everyone else to form their own conclusions. Finally he spoke, "What Linnea has told us is that someone at Starfleet has decided to eliminate us. At present, we don't have any clue why or who this is, but, at least, we now know what we are facing. What she hasn't told you is that the only reason she actually went through with the poisoning is that this was to be her last job. If she pulled it off, she was to be allowed to retire. Even still, she verified that no one would be killed before she acted. Finally, rather than let us all be hung out to dry, she came forward with a sample of the chemical that she used to alter the Deslamlottin, even expecting that she would be sent to a prison camp for doing so. She put the well-being of this crew above her own, and for that I thank her. Now for the second announcement that I promised you - I have asked Linnea to stay on in her capacity as Hospitality Officer. Further, I would like her to become a part of our Senior Staff. I believe that her opinions and experience would be a boon to us. However, I realize that asking all of you to accept her is a large request. If you decide that you would rather not have her be a permanent part of our extended family, then I will abide by your decision." Seetamyn sat back down. Each of the others seated at the table looked at each other for a long time before Banjo, of all people, spoke up, "What Linnea has described is, more or less, the exact same way that we Founders have waged war for time immemorial. Yet, all of you have accepted me as part of this crew. I see no reason not to accept this young woman." The rest of the crew echoed the Changeling's sentiments and soon Linnea was accepted into their family by unanimous decision. The young Orion stood, crying even harder, at the head of the table. This time, her tears were of gratitude and joy. Mantron hated to see the girl crying, he came up and wrapped a brotherly arm around her and she buried her head in his shoulder. In so doing she pressed herself closely against his body. Mantron soon became aware of the feeling of having the incredibly attractive and barely dressed young woman held in his arms. His reactions were not quite as brotherly as had been his initial embrace. His face reddened and other, less visible, reactions occurred. Linnea could feel the stiffening of his posture and the young woman, quickly regaining her composure, grinned wickedly. Wiggling her shoulders slightly she snuggled in even closer, much to the apparent discomfort of the Helmsman. "Oh, get a room!" Ustrano broke the moment, causing giggles from several of the others. Mantron and Linnea broke apart, he with a look of shock and embarrassment on his face, she with an impish grin in her eyes. She broke away from the group for a moment and hurried over to the bar. Activating a replicator, she returned with the groups' normal drink order. This time she had included a Rigellian Lime Rickey for herself. Ustrano and Banjo swiped a seat from another table and positioned it next to Dil's chair. Delighted, Linnea hopped into it and reached to her left to take the Betazoid's hand in her own. Seetamyn rose as everyone retrieved their drinks and raised his glass of carrot juice upward in toast, "And now we are thirteen!" He was answered by the rest at the table, "Brothers in arms!" "Master, I am sorry to have to inform you that the Bouffant Plan has failed. The crew of the Menagerie has managed to reverse the 'lounge singer effect'." "It is of little importance. While the distribution of my influence could have been more easily facilitated by utilizing the Bouffant entertainers, the dispersal via Starfleet ships is nearly as effective." "Yes, Master. But, what shall we do about the Menagerie? "Have the fleet re-positionings been accomplished?" "Yes Master. All of your orders have been carried out. All is in readiness." "Very well, make the announcement!" The next morning the Senior Staff reported to their stations. After verifying that the conditions on Bouffant had completely returned to normal, preparations were made for the ship to depart from the Keratinian system. They had yet to receive another assignment, so Admiral Sontak and Captain Seetamyn had decided to head the ship back towards Earth. They had decided to investigate the identity of the Starfleet Admiral who had betrayed them. As Sontak had logically decided - the OverMind had been there for 200 centuries, another couple of months would not be any great delay. Dil Mantron sat in the Helmsman's seat with a dazed look in his eyes, much to the delight of M'Dral, Thog and Banjo. Fortunately, he was so out of it that he failed to hear their speculations about his condition. Finally the preparations had been completed and the ship was ready to go. As Mantron was laying in a course that would return them to Earth, M'Dral suddenly announced, "Sir, there is an emergency bulletin being broadcast over subspace. It appears to be on all channels, Federation, Starfleet and civilian!" "On screen Lieutenant," Seetamyn ordered. The main viewscreen came to life with the image of Admiral Windgarde and the Bridge's speakers came alive with the sound of his voice, "Attention to all who can hear my voice. The USS Menagerie, under the command of Captain Seetamyn has gone renegade. They have captured and taken hostage Admiral Sontak, the head of the Federation's Project 'Open Arms'. They have attacked a Federation planet with a chemical bombardment and caused serious damage to the citizenry. They may be under the influence of some sort of alien possession. They should be considered EXTREMELY dangerous and all civilian ships are advised to stay clear of these renegades. All Starfleet and Federation military personnel and ships are ordered to shoot down this ship, on sight." TO BE CONTINUED... * All song lyrics are from various Frank Sinatra songs. Copyrights held by their respective owners.