SSSSS t TTTTTTTTTT kk SSSSSSS tt TTTTTTTTTT kk SS SSS tt TT kk SS SS ttttt aaaaa rr rr TT rr rr aaaaa kk kk sssss :: SSSS ttttt aaaaaaa rrrrr TT rrrrr aaaaaaa kk kk sssssss :: SSSSSS tt aa aa rrr TT rrr aa aa kk kk ss ss SSSSS tt aaaa rr TT rr aaaa kkkkk ssss SSS tt aaaaaa rr TT rr aaaaaa kkkkk sssss SS SS tt aaa aa rr TT rr aaa aa kkk kk ssss SSS SSS tt aa aa rr TT rr aa aa kk kk ss ss SSSSSSS tttt aaaaaaa rr TT rr aaaaaaa kk kk sssssss :: SSSSS ttt aaaa aa rr TT rr aaaa aa kk kk sssss :: MMM MMM ll t ii MMM MMM ll tt ii MMMM MMMM ll tt MMMM MMMM eee ll ttttt ii nn nnnn ggg gg MM M M MM eeeee ll ttttt ii nnnnnnnn ggggggg MM MM MM MM ee ee ll tt ii nnn nn ggg ggg MM MM MM MM eeeeeee ll tt ii nn nn gg gg MM MM MM MM eeeeeee ll tt ii nn nn gg gg MM MMM MM ee ll tt ii nn nn gg gg MM MMM MM eee ee ll tt ii nn nn ggg ggg MM MMM MM eeeee ll tttt ii nn nn ggggggg MM M MM eee ll ttt ii nn nn ggg gg gg gg gggggggg gggggg PPPPPPP t PPPPPPPP tt PP PPP tt PP PP oooo ttttt PP PPP oooooo ttttt PPPPPPPP ooo ooo tt PPPPPPP oo oo tt PP oo oo tt PP oo oo tt PP ooo ooo tt PP oooooo tttt PP oooo ttt 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. Welcome to the Second Season of Melting Pot - who'da thunkit? Copyright 2006. "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing" by Paul Cloutier We humans fear the beast within the wolf because we do not understand the beast within ourselves. Gerald Hausman The Hall was very, very special. For centuries it had served as the meeting place for a very special, very unique group of 'people'. At first it had only served the Clans of Earth, but, once spaceflight became commonplace, it had become the one secure place where the Clans of over 100 worlds could meet and plan and scheme in safety. For the past five months, special emergency meetings had been held, weekly. One of the Clans had been eliminated by the interference of a pair of meddlers. It was only due to the special senses that were possessed by the Clans that they were even aware of this, new timeline. The Clans had been discussing the ramifications of the change, when the discussion had turned to the punishment that should be meted out to the people who had brought about this predicament. The Elder Clans had tried to argue that the results of the meddling had done enough damage to the meddlers and that the anonymity of the Clans always had been and must continue to be of paramount importance. The Younger Clans had argued that with modern technology it would be possble for anyone to do what the meddlers had done and that an example must be made in order to discourage these types of actions. Furthermore, they pressed, these people know about us! They must be silenced! It had then been argued by the Elder Clans that destroying such a high-profile ship would only draw more unwanted attention. So, the Younger Clans had purred, don't destroy them, at least not /physically/! A plan of action was finally decided upon. It made many of the Elder Clans decidedly uncomfortable, but the arguments presented by the Younger Clans could not be ignored. Something would have to be done about the USS Menagerie! Captain's Log; Stardate 58381.1 - We are in the middle of an extended, diplomatic duty schedule. We are conducting the new Multek Ambassador to the Federation on a twenty-world, whirlwind tour. So far we have visited Rigel, Arcturus, Trill, Risa and Vulcan. While the Ambassador, an exceedingly pale man named Kuttle, seemed moderately interested in Risa, he seems disappointed, overall. He keeps asking where the Federation keeps its Roller Coasters. Lieutenant Gisech has explained to me that a 'Roller Coaster' is some sort of amusement park thrill-ride. It appears that the entire Multek Enclave is nothing more than a collection of planets whose main purpose is to provide entertainment services to the citizenry of the Enclave. There is some rudimentary form of government, and basic service infrastructure, but beyond this, everyone there seems concerned with relaxation, entertainment and pleasure. In other news, Commander Banjo has returned from his mission to Sushi IV and reports that the team was successful in ridding that backwards planet of the influence of the gangsters that had threatened to overwhelm it. This leaves us with the problem of what to do with the Utricularia. For present, we have locked onto it with a tractor beam and are simply towing it along, behind us. Commander Ustrano has annealed a black enamel coating to the ship and engaged the Cloak, so, at least, the ship is undetectable for the time being. Currently, the returned crew is trying to keep Ambassador Kuttle occupied while we travel to our next destination, Tellar. "Wheeeeeeee!" "Wheeeeeeee!" "Arrrhhhhhh!" "Blaarrrrrp!" Lieutenant Mantron, Lieutenant M'Dral, Commander Banjo and Ambassador Kuttle were riding in the holodeck recreation of one of Multos' grandest Roller Coasters. Mantron and the Ambassador were having a great time, while Banjo was less enthusiastic and poor M'Dral was practically comatose, rousing up on the upward slowdowns to eject even more of her stomach's contents into the holographic environment. So far on this tour of Federation worlds, the Ambassador had been disapointed by the Federation's apparent dearth of entertainment opportunities. Mantron had made up his mind that the next stop would more than make up for the previous boredom. He, Banjo and Ustrano would be taking Kuttle on a high-speed runabout tour of the planet. With Mantron driving, it was sure to be a white-knuckler! This holodeck excursion was merely a little diversion to keep the Ambassador from brooding on his previous disappointments while the ship trekked from Vulcan to Tellar. Mantron was still questioning the wisdom of taking an Ambassador from a species of people who prided themselves on pure, visceral fun and introducing them to the Vulcans, who were known thoughout the Federation for their stoic, emotionless boringness! Mantron, Ustrano and Kuttle were eagerly looking forward to the excursion on Tellar. Banjo's idea of fun really didn't include hyper-aerobatics over a heavily populated planet, but a responsible party had to come along to make sure that the boys didn't get into any trouble. Banjo wondered how it was that he, of all people, could have become the responsible one! Still, the four crewmembers were looking forward to the adventure. M'Dral was only looking forward to the end of this nightmarish holo-ride! Someone else was also looking forward to the planned excursion. This person wouldn't actually be /going/ on the trip, but he was sure that those who were would have a real blast! Captain's Log; Stardate 58384.3 - we have taken up a standard orbit over Tellar and recieved permission for Ambassador Kuttle's runabout tour of the planet. The Maurice Sendak has been readied and is standing by in Shuttlebay One. Lieutenant Hirthnole gave the thumbs-up signal to Lieutenant Mantron from the control alcove in Shuttlebay One. Forcefields sprang to life as the shuttlebay's doors started to open, revealing the empty, black vacuum of space. Mantron eased the runabout off the deck and flew it out into that vacuum as Hirthnole closed the doors behind them. Zipping down towards the planet's surface in a semi-tight spiral, Mantron brought them back to level flight, a few hundred meters above the main thouroughfare of the capital city. Zooming down to barely ten meters off the ground, he buzzed the street, causing frightened pedestrians to scatter while never actually endangering anyone. Ustrano had installed a widescreen monitor in the main cabin and tied the runabout's sensor feeds into it so that Kuttle could experience the ride as though he were actually piloting the small ship. Ustrano, Banjo and Mantron were all crammed into the cockpit so that the Multek wouldn't have any distractions nearby to interfere with his enjoyment of the ride. From the whoops and laughs that were coming from behind them, the trio from the Menagerie were sure that their special touring procedures were a big hit. Whipping around several of the city's skyscrapers, Mantron sped over to the Tellarus, the large river that flowed past the planet's capital. Skimming even lower, he skipped the runabout over the waves on the river, much to the delight of their passenger. About 10 kilometers outside the city, the river dropped over a mighty waterfall, so Dil followed this course, heading straight down, over the falls, and then plunging under the water at the falls' foot. Bobbing to the surface, the runabout quickly rose to twenty meters before leveling off and sailing through the foamy mist. The Tellarus eventually meandered and slowed, becoming a shawdowy swamp. Dil zipped through the spooky trees and saurian swamp dwellers before taking a heading that brought them to the expansive Tellar Desert. Thousands of square kilometrs of blazing sand scattered with wind-shaped rock formations would be their next playground. Dil was zipping at high speed through a narrow canyon, much to the delight of Kuttle, when the Maurice Sendak's lateral stabilizer blew out, sending the ship into an uncontrolled spin! Dil lost nearly all control over their direction, as the constant changing orientation of the ship made steering a bit difficult. Things looked pretty bad, so, naturally, the inertial dampeners chose that exact moment to fail too! Now the crew and their passenger were flung about by the spinning runabout, like sneakers in a dryer! Just as it looked like Dil would, by a combination of his skills as a Helmsman and his Luck Eater abilities, bring the ship under control, a last, jutting cliff jumped out and clipped the side of the runabout, sending it cartwheeling through the air! Then the engines died! Dil fought the unresponsive controls trying desperately to bring the runabout under control. Banjo was far too busy trying to keep his own body under control as the wicked centripedal forces tried to mold him to the inside of the cockpit. Ustrano managed to get his comm- badge activated and call out, "Zamtra! Get us off of here!" The familiar grasp of a transporter beam engulfed the four, just as the runabout reached the zenith of its flight and settled back to the surface of Tellar as gently as a railroad car full of elephants. Mantron, Ustrano, Banjo and Kuttle re-materialized in Transporter Room One, with the concerned face of Ensign Zamtra staring at them from behind the Operator's Console. Fearing the worst, the three crewmates looked over at Ambassador Kuttle. The Multek seemed agitated over something, possibly the recent near-death experience that he had just survived. "That was wonderful!" he cried out. "When can we do that again?" OK - maybe he wasn't upset, after all! Captain's Log; Stardate 58384.8 - After the incident with Kuttle, I have called a Briefing to try to determine the cause of the runabout's failure. Banjo, Ustrano, Gisech and a Security Detail have been scouring the wreckage of the Maurice Sendak for any evidence that might offer us a clue as to what happened. Commanders Ustrano and Banjo are still in one of the labs running some final tests, but the rest of the Senior Staff has arrived, so I am starting the Briefing. "I went all over that runabout before it was launched," Hirthnole explained. "In addition to the normal, pre-flight checks, I did an additional atmospheric check and Level 1 diagnostic, since it was to be carrying Ambassador Kuttle. The ship was in perfect shape!" "Yes," Seetamyn agreed, "the results of your diagnostics and inspections were recorded in the maintenance logs. The ship passed all of the pre-flight tests with nearly perfect marks." Seetamyn turned towards Dil, "What about the flight, itself? Could you have exceeded the ship's design specifications?" "Sir, I will admit to pushing the Maurice Sendak a bit, but not to the point where it should have caused any systems failures. And certainly not to the point where /three/ systems would fail, one right after the other. Once the data from the 'Black Box' is recovered, I'm sure it will bear me out." "Until that time, I will take you at your word, Lieutenant. I have no reason to doubt the veracity of your statement. Lieutenant Gisech, what has the Securty Team turned up." "Unfortunately, very little, Sir," the Graaken admitted. "Commanders Banjo and Ustrano brought a couple of samples to the Metallurgy Labs down on Deck 8 to run some tests on a few samples, but wreckage exhitited no signs of anything peculiar, at least not upon first inspection. A team from Federation Astronavigation Accidents is on the way to do their inspection, even now." "Oh no!" Dil walied. "Not the FAA!" "At least they'll take care of all the paperwork," Gisech observed, philo- sophically. "Yeah, right! You know how many times, I've had to deal with them after ships that I'd left went 'BOOOM'?" Gisech's answer was never heard as, at that moment, the doors to Briefing Room One irised open to admit Banjo and Ustrano. Both seemed very excited about something. "Sabotage!" Banjo announced, getting everyone else excited, too. "But how, why?" Jantoo asked. "Why? I have no idea," Banjo admitted. "But as to 'how', I'll let our Engineer explain the technical details." Ustrano slithered its way to the front of the briefing room and activated the large viewscreen that took up the entire front wall. While the screen was rarely used, it was there for just this type of presentation. Ustrano called up several pictures of the wreckage of the Maurice Sendak. Some of the pictures were obviously of highly-magnified close-ups of several samples. "What we have here is evidence that three separate explosive charges were placed at very precise spots inside the runabout. The micro-fracture dispersal patterns clearly indicate the use of very tiny quantities of cabrodine to blow out three different systems. The first charge took out the power coupling to the ship's lateral stabilizer. The next, its inertial dampeners and, finally, the engines, themselves. The timing and placement appears to have been done to make it look like Dil had exceeded the ship's capabilities and caused a cascade failure, destroying the ship and killing everyone on board. In fact, if it were not for my Velvattian natural resistance to centripedal force, it is very likely that our unknown sabateur would have succedded." "Wait a minute!" Dil shouted. "Those three systems are all on separate power distribution nodes! There's no way that a failure on one would have caused a cascade on the others!" "That's quite true," Ustrano agreed. "And you, as a Helmsman, and myself, as an Engineer, would know that. Of course we would have been dead. So who would have been left to figure it out? The FAA? They are composed of nearly exclusively Humans. Given the choice between a quick, easy solution that pointed to alien incompetence or a long, drawn out investigation with no clear cut scapegoat, which do you think they would have chosen?" The briefing room was quiet as everyone present drew their own conclusions to that question. "So that leaves us with one rather important question..." Seetamyn began. "...who is the saboteur?" finished everyone else. "Who else had access to that runabout?" asked Gisech. "After the inspections? Let me think... Crewman Der'lop came onboard to upload the latest meteorological data, Yeoman Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link came on board to make sure that there was a fresh supply of barf-bags and Todd came by with some hors'd'ovrs for the Ambassador to snack on, during the trip. Each of them was on board for, maybe, ten minutes." "That would have been plenty of time to place the explosives," Ustrano confirmed. "But where would they have gotten those explosives?" Gisech wanted to know. "They might have had them for months," Ustrano admitted. "As long as they didn't try to beam anywhere with them, they could have carried them on their body with ease. We're talking charges that are about one half of a cubic centimeter in size." "Would our internal sensors not pick that up?" Banjo asked. "Pure cabrodine? Very likely, but spray a thin coating of iridium or even tungsten over it and you could scramble the readings enough to fool the sensors. Again, we're talking about 50 or 100 gram charges. They could have molded them into a pill-shape, coated them with tungsten and then painted them white and told people that they were asprins! They could then carry a pill-box around in plain sight and we'd never be any the wiser!" "That easily?" Banjo asked aghast. "I'm afraid so," Ustrano admitted. "The plain, simple fact is that a person willing to sacrifice themselves in the act, could take out a starship, the Federation Council, the Earth Goverment Center in Paris - any place or any thing that they desired. We don't go around broadcasting that fact, but there it is. That's why we have security clearances and scanning sensors in transporters - to make it just a little bit harder for the would be assassin or saboteur." "I can't believe that the Federation allows such insanity!" Banjo stormed. "What would you have the Federation do to make itself safer?" Seetamyn asked. "Security checkpoints at all sensitive points, movement restrictions based on clearances, registration of dissidents, electronic surrveillance in all public places..." "But then it would no longer be the Federation, would it?" Banjo stopped in mid-rant as the Captain's words sunk in and he saw the nodding heads (and tentacles) around the table). "You mean you're all willing put up with this?" "Its a trade off - increased security risks for increased freedoms," Dil answered. "But how can you stand that constant threat of doom hanging over your heads?" "Most of the time, we don't give it much thought. We are protected by the best and the brightest in the Federation - Starfleet and the Federation Marines. They get the best training, the newest equipment and the respect of the general population and, in return, they keep that population safe. They are given amazing power, but must take on the corresponding responsibility. Hmmph! I keep saying 'they' I guess I should be saying 'we'!" Banjo stared around the table, seeing something for the first time. No that wasn't correct. He had seen it many, many times before, but this was the first time that he really recognized it for what it truly was. The willing acceptance of great responsibilty. Not just to oneself or one's crewmates but to the entire Federation! To an idea - that all sentient beings could live and work together to make life better for everyone. A new sense of admiration and respect took root in Banjo's mind. These frail, weak solids - somehow they overcame any odds against them - the Borg, the Dominion in didn't matter. They did it not for pay or for glory but simply because everyone counted on them to do it. What a buch of nuts! But, damn!, they were fun to be around! Oh well, this stuff must be contagious, he thought as he met each person's eyes and saw the same dedication reflected back from his own face. And now someone was trying to destroy all that! "Alright," he nodded. "I'll get the personnel files on Der'lop and Cl-cl- cl-cl-a-op-a-link, Linnea can you get yours on Todd?" "I don't have one," she announced. "I thought he was one of the people you brought on board with you?" Banjo asked. "No. I was a few waiters short so I hired him from Starbase 17." "Alright, Gisech, get on the comm to Starbase 17, talk to Captain Mantose if you have to, but get that dossier here ASAP! Ustrano - is there any way to configure the sensors to specifically look for cabrodine even through any masking coatings?" "I'll see what I can do," Ustrano murmured, already deep in thought, considering various ways to try to do what had been requested. "If there is nothing else?" Seetamyn looked around the room and, seeing every other head looking, too, "Then, briefing adjourned." <> First Officer's Log; Stardate 58385.1 - I have examined the personnel dossiers for Crewman Der'lop and Yeoman Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link. Their files show the 'normal' negative notations that nearly every one of the crew dossiers has. I love this note: 'Crewman Der'lop's severe dandruff problem is causing health concerns throughout the rest of the crew. I have had to reprimand him about his personal hygene again.' Idiot didn't realize that Der'lop is a Drizzlian, a species that eveolved in deep, rain-forest-like jungles where the average humidity is over 90%. His 'dandruff' was caused by severely dry skin. I remember Jantoo telling me about his case, right after we came on board the Menagerie. After she had prescribed some special hydrating shampoo and skin moisturizers, Der'lop's 'problems' just went away. I really cannot understand the arrogance of simply thinking that the environment that works best for Humans should, automatically, be the best one for everyone else! Other than that, there is nothing to indicate any deficiencies with Der'lop's performance and no evidence that he could be our saboteur. Yeoman Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link seems to have gotten an even worse deal from his previous posting. His species, the H'tels, are known for their attention to what most of us would call, irrevelant details. A case in point was his thought to provide the Maurice Sendak with extra barf-bags on its final trip. Who else would have ever thought of something so trivial? That attention to detail was, apparently, what got him in trouble on his last posting. He had been assigned to pick up some laundry and deliver it to the Executive Washrooms on Starbase 34. Why they didn't just replicate fresh towels is beyond me - something about some sort of fresh, dryer scent or some such nonsense. In any event, he came up one towel short. So he reported it to the the Laudry and they accused him of stealing it. Since he was a H'tel and everyone else involved was Human, he got a reprimand in his dossier. I mean, who ever heard of a H'tel stealing a towel? No, I do not think that these two are involved with this mess in any way. Now, if I could just get a look at Todd's file, I could start doing some real investigation. I doubt that he is any more involved with this than Der'lop or Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link. "What?" Gisech asked, incredulously to the image on the main viewscreen. "I do not understand. Regulations clearly state that complete records must be kept on any person ever employed at a Federation facility. Why can you not provide us with the file on the one waiter?" "Simply because he wasn't employed by Starfleet," explained Lieutenant Commander Preston, Starbase 17's Personnel Director. "The person in question, was employed by one of the civilian contractors on the 'Base. Their personnel department is on Bolarus. As you might know, being crewed exclusively by aliens and all, this week is the Bolarus Cheddar festival. The entire planet takes the week off. We can't get any information from them. Here's their comm address, in case you want to try them, yourself." "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. That information is appreciated. Menagerie - out." Banjo had overheard the entire conversation. Considering that he was in charge at the time, it would have been hard for him to have missed it. "Well, that's certainly annoying," he observed. "It may be more than that," Gisech countered. "How do you mean?" Banjo asked. "Doesn't it strike you as suspicious that there is no information available concerning one of our main suspects?" "Its just a coincidence," Banjo protested. "No one could have set things up so that the Ambassador's trip could have coincided with a festival on the one planet where the employment information regarding someone who just happened to be a suspect was kept." "Perhaps you are correct, Sir" Gisech replied, in a voice that made it clear that he didn't think that this was the case. "Well, in any event, I think that its time to let the Ambassador know about our suspicions. Gisech, have a Security Detail escort the Ambassador to Briefing Room One." Of the regulars, only Ustrano was was absent. The Velvattian was still trying to come up with a way to detect hidden cabrodine. Ambassador Kuttle was given the seat at the head of the table, as befitted his rank, and Seetamyn explained the crew's concerns. When the Vulcan had finished, the Multek's face was pale. Of course, Multeks were /always/ pale so that didn't indicate anything in particular. His relpy to the Captain's story, however, caught him off guard, "You mean this is one of those 'Mystery Spy Party Games?'" he asked excitedly. The blank stares from around the table were his only reply. Fortunately, Ustrano chose that moment to rush into the briefing, "I've finished the cabrodine detector!" it announced, as it made its way to the table and the small device in one of its tentacles started to beep wildly! Checking the readings on its new detector, Ustrano quickly shouted out, "The Ambassador's chair! Its full of cabrodine!" Banjo gushed out of his chair on the Ambassador's left and enveloped the Multek, before whisking him to the deck on the far end of the table. Ustrano ripped the table from its moorings and flipped it up as a barricade between the abandonned chair and the rest of the room. Just in time! The chair exploded, shredding Briefing Room One's carpet and faux wood panelling and propelling bits of itself right into the duranium table! The shaken crew got to their feet, everyone checking to make sure that they were all still in one piece, then they all turned to see what part of Seetamyn might have been removed, this time. Much to their surprise, the Captain was all in one piece. Banjo released the Ambassador from his gelatinous embrace as the Multek pratically danced with glee. "Oh boy! The 'assassin' <> has made his next move! I can't wait to see what happens next!" he gushed, as happy as anyone had ever seen him since he had come on board. "Will I get a squad of bodyguards or something?" Gisech only nodded and indicated that the Security Detail, that had escorted the Ambassador to the briefing and who had rushed inside after the explosion, should escort Kuttle back to his quarters. Ensign H'uee and the Security Detail hurried along, trying to keep up with the merrily skipping Multek. Several crewmembers were mentally scarred for life, seeing the skipping Klingon. "Well, it looks like that detector works, anyway," Dil observed. "Gisech, get the security recordings for this corridor. I want to know who's been in this room, besides us," Banjo ordered. Since the computer console and the viewscreen in Briefing Room One had been destroyed in the explosion, Banjo and Gisech made their way to the Security Office. Here they replayed the recordings. Here they saw the only person who had been in the Room, other than themselves. A person who was already on their list of suspects! Yeoman Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link whistled to himself as he walked down the corridor. Life aboard the Menagerie was so much nicer than it had been on any of his previous postings. Here everbody accepted him for what he was instead of finding fault with him for his not being Human enough. Well of course he wasn't Human enough! He was a H'tel for goodness' sake! He laughed at this deep, philosophical observation as he rounded the last corner before his quarters. Then a phaser set on heavy stun really ruined his day. His last semi-conscious thought was that at least it was stun and not kill! That would have not only ruined his day but also burned a hole in his new shirt! Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link remained knocked out for an indeterminate amount of time and slowly floundered his way back to consciousness to the sound of voices arguing. "I didn't say to fire! We only wanted to talk to him!" "Sorry, he was acting suspiciously!" "'Suspiciously'? He was whistling!" "Was that what that was? I thought that he was relaying some sort of coded signal!" The next sound was a sort of muffled thumping. Very much like someone was pounding their head against a wall. Hmmmm, now that he thought about it, it was more like someone pounding someone else's head against a wall! Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link decided that he better open his eyes and find out what was going on. After he opened them, he decided that he had been better off with them closed! Ensign L'uee was pounding Ensign D'uee's head against the wall. He, himself, was in Sickbay on one of the biobeds. Doctor Pish was over to the side talking quietly with Commander Banjo. Banjo noticed the two Klingons and stepped over to seperate them. "You two cut that out! Wait outside! And behave!" he called after them as they left. Seeing Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link awake, the Changeling moved over next to his biobed. "Yeoman, are you alright?" "Yes, Sir," Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link answered. "Although I am a bit confused." "That's understandable," Banjo nodded. "Let me bring you up to date..." Banjo related the news about the assassination attempts to the young Yeoman. Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link's face grew paler and paler as the news got worse and worse, and H'tels are normally a deep pink in color, so pale on him was really noticeable! "So, so, so you suspect me, Sir?" the frightened H'tel stammered. "Not really, no," Banjo assured the Yeoman. "I had sent D'uee and L'uee to discreetly escort you to my office so that we could straighten this all out. It looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to set you up. But I do need to ask - what /were/ you doing in Briefing Room One?" "I was putting out more mints, Sir!" Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link explained. "Whenever we have dignitaries visit, all the mints get eaten up, so I was making sure that there were enough for you meeting." "I figured it must be something like that," Banjo nodded. "Tell me, Yeoman, How would you like to help us catch this guy?" "Certainly, Sir. What can I do to help?" "Well, Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link, this is what I thought we might do..." Banjo exited Sickbay to find D'uee and L'uee engaged in a furious game of rock-paper-scissor. Ever since they had been stranded on the Utricularia when the Menagerie had been accidentally transported to the Happy Universe, the two had been unable to get enough of the madly addictive game. "Looks like the case is closed," Banjo informed them. "What do you mean, Sir?' L'uee asked. "Well, Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link was the only person to go into that room, and he just died," Banjo explained. "Died?" D'uee exclaimed, "but I only stunned him!" "Didn't you know?" Banjo asked. "H'tels are overly sensitive to phaser blasts. What would be just a stun to you or me is fatal to them!" "No, Sir!" D'uee and L'uee both announced. "We had no idea!" "Oh well," Banjo brushed it off, "no sense in worying about it. You took care of the assassin and that's what counts!" Banjo clapped both of them on the shoulders and walked back towards the Bridge. In the past there had been many communications advances that were named with a 'tele' prefix. Television, telegraph, telephone were just a few examples from old Earth. On board the Menagerie, the fastest method of information dispersal was the old, reliable 'tell-a-Klingon'! <> "So, do you think this scam with Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link will reveal our assassin?" Dil asked Banjo as the two walked towards the Ambassador's suite. In order to try and keep the Ambassador's illusion that this was some sort of 'Mystery Spy Game' Dil, Banjo, Linnea, Jantoo, M'Dral and Hirtnole were going to visit the Multek for some sort of card game. According to the Ambassador, there was always some sort of gambling involved with these spy capers. Besides, hadn't the crew of the Enterprise always played this 'Poker' that Kuttle was expecting? Even so, none of the personnel of the Menagerie had played the game before, much less this 'Strip Poker' variation that the Ambassador seemed to be so interested in! "I don't know," Banjo admitted, "but it is the only trick we've got." "Oh I don't know about that..." Dil described what he was thinking of to Banjo's widening grin. Dil and Banjo were the last of the Ambassador's victims, errrr, errrr friends to arrive and they found the others already seated around a table in the suite's main room. Banjo quickly scanned for any cabrodine using one of Commander Ustrano's new detectors. Finding the room clean, he nodded to everyone else and the newcomers took their seats. Kuttle quickly explained the rules, bringing looks of surprise to the faces of the Starfleeters. This was certainly an odd-sounding game! Shrugging their shoulders, the group took on a 'what the heck' attitude and anted up. If this was what the Ambassador wanted, then this would be what he'd get! Kuttle, a long-time card sharp, mentally rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the Menagerie's lovely distaff crew members. What he failed to take into account was that he was about to play cards against an Orion and a man with extraordinary luck! Several hours later, the Senior Staff left the Ambassador's quarters carrying armloads of clothes. The Ambassador stood in the doorway to bid them farewell, his 'Ambassador's credentials' covered up by a couple of pillows from the sofa. "Next time we play Pow Gai!" he called as his guests walked down the corridor, out of sight! The security guards outside his room just gave the Multek a strange look as he tried to look dignified and competent. He might have pulled it off, too, if one of the pillows hadn't picked that moment to fall off. Kuttle quickly scurried back into his suite, leaving one of the bemused guards to pick up the fallen pillow. As he lifted it, he noticed a strange sort of vibration coming from the cushion. Holding it to his ear, he could barely make out a faint ticking sound! Thinking quickly, the guard tossed the pillow to the deck and erected a security forcefield around it. Punching the emergency override on the Ambassador's door, the guards quickly ran inside, jumping on the Multek to shield him with their own bodies. A small 'boom' vibrated through the ship. Getting off of the bewildered Ambassador the two guards quickly apologized and ran back out to the corridor. Picking himself up, the Ambassador nodded in satisfaction. Just the sight of his gorgeous, naked body had completely overwhelmed the guards and driven them into a sexual frenzy! He still had that sexual magnetism of his. It even worked on alien men! He wondered why they had left so quickly? Captain's Log; Stardate 58387.1 - We are no closer to determining the identity of our saboteur/assassin. Commander Banjo's ruse to flush him out of hiding has, proven unproductive. Fortunately, we have come up with a new plan. In keeping with Ambassador Kuttle's delusion that this is all some sort of game, we have decided to hold an elegant reception. According to the Ambassador, this would be the perfect time and place to wrap up such an 'immersive experience'. Ustrano, Banjo, Gisech Mantron and Hirthnole have done everything possible to prepare for this evening's activities, secreting Commander Ustrano's new detectors along with extensive regular surveillance equipment in The Pirate's Cove. With nearly five hours until the affair is to take place, I am confident that every precaution will be taken to protect the Multek Ambassador. "This is all useless!" the outburst from Commander Ustrano was uncharacteristic, to say the least. Banjo, Dil, Hirthnole and Gisech each stopped what they were doing to stare at the Velvattian, prompting it to continue. "I've said it before, but I'll say it again - if someone /really/ wants to take out the Ambassador, they can do it! Short of confining everyone but essential personnel to their quarters and posting armed guards at every intersection and jefferies tube access point, everything else we do is, at best, only going to make things a little bit more difficult for him. Its obvious that our killer already has everything he needs to do the job on board. Nothing that we can legally do can stop him!" "Gee!" Dil exclaimed, "you're a gloomy Gus this morning!" "Its just the futility of sitting here doing what amounts to busy work! That fake rumor about Cl-cl-cl-cl-a-op-a-link didn't even slow the killer down!" "True," admitted Banjo, "but at least now we know that he has more than one weapon at his disposal. Remember, that pillow had been stuffed with gelignite, not cabrodine." "Right so we know of two different tools at our killer's disposal. How many more do you think he might have?" "I really have no idea," Banjo admitted. "How many high explosives are available that can pass through standard security checks?" "I can think of at least a dozen!" Ustrano declared. "And that's just if he wants to use explosives. What if he tries a knife? Or a garrote? Or poison? There must be a bunch of undetectable organic poisons that he might use!" "What you say is absolutely correct, Commander," Gisech affirmed. "But what of it? We can but do our best." "Against a single foe I would put our best against anyone, but I believe that there is more to it than that," Ustrano admitted. "The timing of this tour, the way the killer has remained hidden. I think something big is happening. I think we're being setup to take the fall for some hidden reason." "There you go, being paranoid, again," Dil admonished the Velvattian. "And, at the risk of repeating myself, yet again, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone /isn't/ after you!" "It matters not," Gisech spoke up. "We will try our best and that is all that we can do! Have I ever told you of the Legend of the 47 Ronin?" "No," Banjo replied. "What's a Ronin?" Gisech smiled and began to speak; "The story begins at the dawn of the 18th century. Asano, a samurai lord, was summoned to the Shogun’s palace in the great city of Edo. Under the watchful eye of his tutor, Lord Kira, master of palace protocol, Asano was given court responsibilities. Friction between the two men, however, was constant. Asano refused to pay the bribes that Kira demanded for his services. Kira used every opportunity to publicly humiliate Asano. After months of abuse, Asano’s tolerance was gone. He drew his sword against Kira within the palace walls - a grievous offense - and attempted but failed to kill him. The punishment for this was inflexible. Asano was sentenced to commit seppuku, a ritual act of suicide. Upon his death, Asano’s estates were confiscated, his family was disinherited, and his 300 samurai retainers were ordered to disband, thus becoming ronin or masterless warriors. Scores of them, however, in a secret blood oath, swore to avenge their Lord’s disgrace and restore his rightful honor. Headed by their general, Oishi, they undertook nearly two years of great self-denial and carefully conceived ruses to disguise their real purpose. Oishi himself moved to Kyoto, where he became an infamous drunk and gambler, all to deceive the Shogun’s police and Kira’s many spies. The ruses worked. Kira and his allies finally relaxed their suspicions of Oishi and his men. On a winter night, January 31, 1703, the 47 Ronin reconvened in Edo. They marched to Kira’s mansion, announcing themselves to those inside with the beating of a war drum. In the great battle that followed, the 47 stormed the grounds, killing all of Kira’s guards without a single loss of their own. Finding Kira, they brought him to a courtyard and offered him the chance to honorably commit seppuku. When he refused, Oishi swiftly beheaded him with the same sword that Asano had used to end his own life. Then, to symbolize the completion of their mission, the 47 returned to Asano’s grave and set the head of Kira before it, declaring their Lord’s honor redeemed. Prepared to die for this deed, the ronin proclaimed what they had done to the Shogun’s court authorities. The Shogun himself, though sympathetic to their heroic act, was nonetheless on the horns of a dilemma. To pardon them would be to condone a vendetta. After months of controversy the decision was made that each of the 47 would execute himself, not as a criminal but as an honored warrior. One at a time they dignified themselves in carrying out the sentence and were buried alongside their Lord. Their resting place at Sengaku-ji Temple located in the heart of Tokyo, remains today a shrine to the sacred values of samurai virtue." "Whoa! Whoa! Stop right there!" Dil shouted. "They all killed themselves?" "Well, yes, but that's not the point," Gisech argued. "Sure seems to be an important point to me!" Dil continued. "No! The point is that they did what they had to do to avenge their master even knowing they would themselves be put to death!" "I really don't see what that has to do with this," Ustrano said. "Isn't it obvious?" Gisech asked. "Put Ambassador Kuttle in the part of Lord Asano. We are all of the samurai. Even if we fail and the killer gets Kuttle, even though we will be disgraced and ostracized for our failure, we will carry on and expose the conspiracy that caused his death!" "Well, lets just see about preventing that death, if you don't mind," Banjo decided. "Of course," Gisech agreed. "I simply point out that, as Ustrano has already indicated, we have to be lucky at every opportunity. The killer only has to get lucky, once." "Thattaway to keep up that old positive attitude!" Hirthnole grinned, as he hopped down from where he had been installing one of the new sensors. "Besides, we've got our own little good-luck-charm!" he continued as he came over and patted Dil on the shoulder. "Ummmm, I don't think my Luck Eater talents can be extended to cover another person," Dil explained. "No problem!" Hirthnole said, enthusiastically. "I'll just go get a hot glue gun and stick you to the Ambassador!" he said, pedalling out of the Lounge. "Ummm, he's kidding right?" Dil asked as he looked around at the others, who merely grinned back at the Helmsman and got back to work. "Right?" Dil asked again, weakly. Todd was dressed in his finest finery for the reception. He graciously welcomed each new arrival to the magnificent reception that evening. Several high ranking Federation Officials had even arrived to participate in the festivities. Of course, free food and drinks always brought out some officials, which was odd, since the Federation was a money-less society. One would have thought that that fact, alone, would have eliminated the sort of beaurocrat that entered civil service for the fancy dinners, but there were as many of them now as there had ever been in the past. Seetamyn and the Senior Staff were mingling with everyone as they tried to keep an eye on everything. Banjo was the only officer missing, rumor had it that the Changeling had taken on the shape of one of the tables and was simply waiting for anything to happen to spring into action. That would certainly make a mess, Tood mused. Especially if the dinner was on the table when he sprang! There seemed to be a lot of people from Security hovering around, Todd thought. But, of course, with the attempts on Ambassador Kuttle's life, that was only to be expected. Linnea, his boss, was talking with an Orion gentleman that Todd had never seen before. Must be some sort of Syndicate big-shot. And Kuttle, poor Ambassador Kuttle, was having a great time. For a species that had denied the very existence of aliens for decades, it was remarkable how quickly they had adapted to the 180 degree change in reality. Opening up their space as a tourist attraction and then this tour of alien worlds. Yes they had certainly come a long way. Todd noticed a sudden increase in activity in the Lounge and braced himself for trouble. Then he relaxed, it was just the servers bringing dinner to the tables. Within minutes, everyone would be seated, eating the delectable feast that had been prepared for them. Todd could relax, now. Everyone who was coming, was here. Todd melted into the background, prepared to offer assistance, if any were needed, as the diners made their way to their seats. Kuttle, as the being of honor, for the night, was seated at the center of the main table. As everyone got settled and got ready to eat, the Multek rose to his feet. He waited for the quiet murmur of conversations around him to die down. And waited. And waited. Finally Seetamyn leaned over and whispered to the Ambassador. A puzzled look seemed to steal over his face as he picked up a spoon and eyed it speculatively. After another quick look at the Captain, who gave him a slight nod, Kuttle picked up his water glass and his spoon and tapped the spoon against his glass to get everyone's attention. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams when the glass exploded in his hand! Jantoo, Dil and Ustrano quickly surrounded the downed Ambassador, Dil and Ustrano pushing back the morbidly curious crowd as Jantoo examined the Multek's injuries. A hush fell over the assembled crowd as the tiny doctor worked on her patient. A hush that became a gasp as the fallen Ambassador suddenly came to his feet. His tuxedo had been shredded in the blast and the Multek's orange flesh showed clearly through the torn fabric. Wait a minute! Multeks are white - their paleness is their most noticeable feature. If this man was orange then he could only be... and Banjo wiped off the makeup that he had been wearing and re-assumed his normal form. "It's OK, everyone. Our would-be killer has simply fallen for another of our tricks!" Nearly everyone clapped as the Changeling took a small bow. "Actually," a voice came across the room, chilling everyone, "I was just waiting to see which way you would play this scene." Everyone whirled to the source of the voice, only to see Todd emerge from the shadows. Firmly grasped in his left hand, was the Orion gentleman that Linnea had been speaking to, earlier. In his right hand was a small, personal phaser, pointed directly at the Orion's head! Rubbing his sleeve on the Orion's forehead, Todd removed the green makeup, revealing the pale visage of Ambassador Kuttle! "Nobody move!" Todd cautioned. "I'd hate to kill anyone by accident!" "But why? Why are you doing this?" Linnea, shaking with anger, asked through clenched teeth. "That's none of your concern, my dear," Todd's voice had lost its usual polite tone and now he sneered with contempt for those before him. A sudden yell from the shadows behind him alerted Todd to the sudden arrival of Dario, the ShadowWalker. Smiling faintly, Todd shifted slightly to his left and the serving platter that Dario was swinging at Todd's head, missed completely. Todd drove his elbow into the off-balance Sushian, knocking him to the deck, where a swift kick from Todd's left boot knocked Dario out. Kuttle, still under the impression that this was a game, clapped at the performance. Todd, who had never even taken his eyes off of the rest of the room while he had dispatched Dario, noticed several of the Security forces, working phasers out of their pockets. "Tell everyone to drop their weapons," he ordered. "If I do, will you release the Ambassador?" Seetamyn responded. "No, I'll be killing him in just a moment. I just didn't want to see them wildly firing into the crowd and hurting anyone else." "In that case, I don't see any reason for them to be disarmed." "Suit yourself," Todd shrugged. "We seem to have a standoff, here," Banjo spoke up. "There is nowhere for you to go, no way to escape, unless you release the Ambassador." "That does seem to be the case," Todd agreed, as though he were laughing at some secret joke. "Very well, here's the deal," Banjo said, soothingly. "You release the Ambassador and we'll let you go. You can beam down to Tellar. We won't track you, we won't try to capture you, just let the Ambassador go." "Ooooh! Sounds tempting," Todd smirked. "Here's my counteroffer!" With that, he fired the phaser, point-blank into the Ambassador's head! "I surrender," Todd said, jovially, as he dropped the Ambassador and the phaser to the deck. Banjo rushed over and dropped Todd to the floor while Gisech and several of his men quickly restrained the killer. Jantoo rushed to Kuttle's side, knowing, even as she did so, that there was no hope. Even at a very low setting, a phaser blast to the head from that range was deadly. And Todd hadn't been using a low setting. The Ambassador had been dead before his body had hit the deck. Crying, unashamedly, the Bajoran knelt down next to the man whom they had all known for such a short time. The man that they had all failed. Captain's Log; Stardate 58389.1 - The man we knew as 'Todd' has been held in the Brig since last evening, but he has yet to utter a word since his surrender. Commander Banjo has had to be physically restrained from assaulting the prisoner. Ambassador Kuttle was declared dead at 20:12 hours, Thursday, October 9, 2380. Our deepest condolences go out to his family and to the entire Multek Enclave for their loss. The Ambassador's body has been transported to Tellar. From there, his remains will be taken, by high speed courier, back to Multos. Let this log show that I accept full responsibilty for the death of our honored guest and the consequenses that follow from my failure. We are remaining in orbit of Tellar while we await further orders. In what seems to be an ironic twist, we have just recieved word from Bolia. The real Todd has been dead for four years. Who we have in our Brig is anyone's guess. The Bridge was quiet. The quiet of self-doubt and quilt. Everyone blamed themsleves for what had happened to Kuttle, even though, when they were forced to examine the facts, they had to admit that there was nothing further that they could have done to prevent the tragedy. Sometimes, even if you did everything right, you still lost. "Sir," M'Dral suddenly announced from Ops, "We have an incoming comm from Starfleet Command!" "On main screen," Seetamyn ordered, rising to his feet. The main viewscreen, switched from a view of Tellar to the UFP logo. After seeing this for several seconds, the image switched over to show a tall, thin man seated behind a desk. He wore admiral's pips but no one had ever seen the grim-faced man before. "This is Captain Seetamyn of the USS Menagerie. How may we help you?" "Captain Seetamyn! I am Admiral Grayson of Starfleet Stategic Deployment. Project 'Open Arms' has been terminated and the disposition of the Menagerie and her crew left to the discretion of my department. You are hereby ordered to return the Menagerie to Earth as quickly as possible. Once you have given the orders to make this happen, you are immediately relieved of command and dismissed from Starfleet for your gross negligence in allowing the assassination of the Multek Ambassador! Once back at Earth, your senior staff will stand trial for their involvement with the assassination of the Multek Ambassador before a court martial tribunal!" ...to be continued? Season Three Starts at the end of July, but first, let me take you back to a simpler time. A time when Thog was still a part of the crew, a time when the crew delighted in the simple pleasures of tormenting Admiral Windgarde, a time when killer mutant plants called the Arboretuem their own! A time when what????? Check out Melting Pot Special #1 - available May 26th! I welcome Reader Feedback! Please let me know what you've thought of Melting Pot so far, and, in particular this story! Contact me at: meltingpot@khobrah.net