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Welcome to the Second Season of Melting Pot - who'da thunkit? Copyright 2005. Star Traks: Melting Pot "Return to 'Normalcy'" by Paul Cloutier Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. Albert Camus Captain's Log; Stardate 57928.9 - We are on our way to the Omega Configuration to rescue the 14 ships left stranded in the radiation field when we were transported to Earth to deal with the threat of the Black Queen and her Thralls. We have been underway for one week, now, and news from Earth is not good. First of all, it appears that three ships carrying Black Princesses, or possibly even Queens, escaped from Trill. The USS Aikido has been temporarily tasked to Project 'Open Arms' with the job of tracking down and destroying those ships. Admiral Sontak is under considerable pressure from Starfleet Command to reveal the secrets of the Omega Configuration, but has steadfastly refused to do so. It is beginning to look like Command will initiate court martial proceedures against him. I have been released from Sickbay with my new ocular implant. It is truly amazing how limited 'normal' sight actually is. Several members of the crew are about to disembark for various reasons, so I have called a briefing to make sure everyone is up to date. The crew stared with barely contained unease at the ocular implant protruding from their captain's face. Since the venom which had covered Seetamyn had actually dissolved his ocular tissue, there had been no question of simply repairing the damage, surgically. A cybernetic implant was the only viable solution. Everyone understood that, but it didn't make actually seeing the implant any less icky. Seetamyn, choosing to misinterpert their morbid fascination, decided that a demonstration was in order. "Please, let's get this out of the way. Everyone take note of the new implant." What they saw was a shaped cylinder sticking out of the eyesocket. A shiny, flat end provided a sensor grid, which tapered down to a slim post, which then flared back wider to fit snugly in its receptacle. "You will not be able to see this, from your end, but the implant provides me with full spectrum visibility. I can see into the infrared and ultraviolet ranges as well as the 'normal' visual range. Furthermore..." At this, Seetamyn reached up and pressed in on the implant. As the suddenly queasy crew watched, he pressed in on the implant until it locked in with an audible 'click'. After a few seconds there was a loud 'pop' and the implant ejected into Seetamyn's hand, leaving a red, glowing outlet in his head. "As you see, this model also comes with a neural/optical interface so that I can interface directly with any Federation computer system via its neural relay. Seetamyn then replaced the implant in his head with a 'plink' and blinked his normal eye several times as the two visual systems resynced. "Now I realize that this new and improved implant is highly desirable, but I must absolutely forbid any self-mutilation in order to get one of these for yourselves!" The Briefing Room buzzed with a series of vehement agreements. "Good. Now that that is out of the way, I think that everyone should be brought up to date on current events. I will turn this over to Commander Banjo." "Thank you, Sir," acknowledged Banjo, rising from his seat. "Let me start with the Black Queen situation. As many of you know, Starfleet Security has completely swept Earth and declared it clean of infestation. Teams are on their way to every Federation member world to set up monitoring equipment to prevent another takeover. What credit we may be getting for this whole episode is still undetermined and probably will remain so until the Federation Council decides on the final fate of Admiral Sontak. Our last communication with him, suggested that we might be better off removing the new polyiridichromnium plasma conduit and replacing it with normal conduit. Ustrano and I have held off doing so until we could consult with the entire Command Staff. I will table that discussion for the time being while we clear up the rest of the old business. "First of all, we will be bidding farewell, for a time, to Commander Thog and Lieutenant Sperr. The Lieutenant has graciously offered to have Commander Thog spend her recovery time at his family's vineyards on Alpha Sauria IV. Considering that the Sperr estates are considered to be among the most beautiful in the Quadrant, I'm sure her recovery will be a speedy one. The pair will be leaving on the Runabout David Attenborough as soon as the Briefing is over. "Next on the agenda is a little delivery service that we have to perform. In just over four hours Lieutenant Mantron and Linnea will take the Runabout Maurice Sendak to the Venturas system to hand over Admiral Windgarde to Linnea's family. They, apparently have a few questions to ask him about the little situation on Bouffant. I'm sure we'll all miss the good Admiral. "Um, should we be putting something like that in the official briefing log?" asked Mantron. "Don't worry, the Killer Bs will be editing the log for content after we're done," Banjo answered. And never fear, I will help them out No need to fret and no need to shout I know I've been quiet For quite some bit of time, But now I'm back, everyone leap about! "I see the computer is back to talking in limericks," Seetamyn observed. "Yes, Sir," came the stereo answer from the Bynars, "the damage caused by Dr. Fidth has finally been reversed and the computer is back on its way to normal development." "Good job," Seetamyn complimented the Bynars. He knew that they had spent countless hours in logic space with the computer, helping it overcome the trauma that it had suffered when the insane astrophysicist had savagely cut off several of its subsystems. "Continuing on with the briefing," Banjo interjected, wondering when he, of all people, had become so concerned with protocol. "As many of us have already heard, during the battle to contain the Black Queens on Trill, the USS Wing Chun was destroyed. Three Saber class ships escaped. Apparently at least one of those ships, the USS Sarracenia sustained some damage during the escape and it was later destroyed by the USS Nepentes, which had been en route to help with the containment. The USS Aikido has been charged with hunting down the final two ships and the sensor profile of the Queens has been distributed to all ships in the Quadrant and their aid in tracking down the USS Drosera and the USS Utricularia requested. Currenty all anyone can do is wait for a lead. "And that pretty much brings us up to date," Banjo concluded. "I will now turn over the briefing to Commander Ustrano." Banjo flowed back into his seat as Ustrano, well didn't move much. It wasn't as though he was seated. Can a creature without legs /ever/ be seated? Anyway, the Velvattian Engineer began speaking, "As Banjo previously mentioned, Admiral Sontak has suggested, that's suggested - not ordered, that we downgrade all of our updated plasma conduit back to Starfleet specs. I can see the reasoning behind his suggestion. If we reveal to Starfleet the secrets of polyiridichromnium, every ship in the fleet will be upgraded to it. Now, on the surface, this seemes like a good idea, but when one considers how many times in the past more than a few members of Starfleet have gone renegade; the orginal Exeter incident at Omega IV, the recent Ba'ku mess, not to mention the Black Queen fiasco all show a disturbing pattern - Humans have a distressing habit of making high-sounding, righteous rules to govern themselves and then breaking those rules when they are no longer convenient. And I will grant you that Humans are not he only ones who behave in this manner. Therefore, introducing polyiridichromnium into such a potentially abusive situation is problematical, at best." "I can only imagine what would have happened if the T.W.I.T.S. had had the secret, too," Thog mused. "Exactly," agreed Ustrano. "On the other hand, I really hate to give up the advantage that it gives us." "How about a compromise?" Seetamyn suggested. "I'm all ears, well tentacles anyway," Ustrano prompted. "Replace all of the new conduit with normal conduit which we give a molecular coating of polyiridichrmnium on the inside, only. That way, we get the benefit of the new metal without letting on that we are actually using it." "Hmmmm," Ustrano considered. "We wouldn't get the full benefit from such a thin coating, but it would certainly give us a substantial boost. I believe that may be the best solution, Sir." "Excellent. Have your engineers and ship's services personnel start with the retrograde. Is there any more business? Very well, meeting dismissed." The crew members filtered out from the Briefing Room, all except for Dil Mantron. "Sir, if I could just speak to you in private for a few moments..." Ustrano, Banjo, Pish, Linnea and M'Dral headed down to Shuttlebay Two to see Thog and Sperr off. On their way down in the turbolift, Banjo and Ustrano held a quiet conversation; "How much of the conduit have you already replaced?" Banjo asked. "Over two thirds," Ustrano replied. "Coating the inside was the most logical compromise, afterall." "Of course, but this lets the captain feel like he's getting back into the flow of things, you know." "Of course," agreed Ustrano When the turbolift reached its destination, the quintet found Thog reclining in the common area in the back of the runabout while Sperr finished up the pre-flight check. The pair had had Ensign Zamtra beam them down directly from the Briefing Room so that Thog wouldn't have to walk in her weakened condition. There were many hugs and well-wishes as the happy couple were sent on their way. Hospitality Officer's Log; Stardate 57929.5 - Ooooooooooh! Who knew I got my own log! This is exciting! Anyway, Dil and I are on our way to my father's nightclub on Terthot, the largest of the moons orbiting Venturas 6. Daddy is very interested in recieving the 'package' that we are carrying. Dil has been very quiet so far. I wonder if the nature of our 'package' and its probable final disposition are getting to him. "Honey, you haven't said a word since we left the Menagerie. Is what we are doing bothering you?" Linnea approached Dil, taking the co-pilot's seat in the cockpit of the Maurice Sendak. "No, not really. I mean, its definatly not Starfleet SOP, but if anyone deserves this fate its Admiral Windgarde. I'm just glad Jantoo gave him that sedative so we don't have to listen to him along the way." Windgarde had repeatedly demanded a Federation appointed attorney and transfer to a correction facility since he had regained consciousness on board the Menagerie. Members of the crew had delighted in taking turns listening to his rantings and then promising to bring the matter to the attention of the authorities immediately. In fact, there had developed a sort of contest as to who could keep a straight face the longest while listening to the deranged Admiral. The whole crew would gather together daily in the holotheater to watch the tapes of the performances and vote on their favorite crew person's act. The all-time favorite had been Lieutenant M'Dral who had managed to fake real pathos and concern before turning around at the end and kicking Windgarde in a place that wasn't covered by his FederCare insurance. When the time had come to finally turn over the Admiral to the Orions there had been great disappointment that their favorite form of entertainment had been removed. Linnea had had to promise that tapes would be made of the Admiral's torture to mollify the crew. Ensign Hirthnole and the Ship's Services Video Team were hard at work making a 'Best Of' compilation tape that would go along with the torture video. "Well, then what's bothering you? Are you worried about finding out about any skeletons in my closet?" Linnea probed. "Why, how many do you have?" Dil asked playfully. "Absolutely none!" declared Linnea proudly. "Really?" Dil asked in surprise, "I just always assumed..." "Not a single one - I moved them all into the Chesterfield!" Linnea admitted, laughing as she jumped from her seat to take up what was quickly becoming her customary position - sitting on Dil's lap. The two shared in the laughter, followed by a quick kiss. Dil's face soon lost its look of mirth as a dark cloud seemed to come over him. "Dil, really, what's wrong?" Linnea asked, now deeply concerned. "I keep thinking back to a conversation I had with the captain, earlier." "Well, tell me about it. It might make you feel better," Linnea urged. Dil seemed to make up his mind, although his next question caught Linnea completely by surprise, "Lin, have ever heard of something called a Luck Eater?" "No, should I have?" "Probably not. Its sort of a Betazoid thing..." <> "Sir, if I could just speak to you in private for a few moments..." "Of course, Lieutenant. What is on your mind?" Seetamyn relpied. "Sir, when the Black Queen had us tied up. Just after she ordered those Thralls to fire at me, what, exactly happened there?" "It is really quite simple, Lieutenant. Commander Ustrano had concealed an energy distortion field generator in my artificial arm. As the Thralls fired their weapons, I triggered the field, overloading their phaser rifles and causing the resultant feedback that resulted in the rifles exploding." "But the Queen had seemed to expect something like that. She said that she 'just knew it' or something like that and then she said something like 'he doesn't know'. What don't I know, Sir?" "Lieutenant, I had my suspicions about this since I first reviewed your personnel folder. I was almost sure after first talking to you, after I had taken command of the ship, nearly 200 days ago. As we have served together, I have become more and more convinced that my initial assessment was, in fact, accurate. Lieutenant, Dil, have you ever heard of a Betazoid legend known as the 'Luck Eater'?" "No, Sir. I don't think so. What is it?" "Well, as you know, probably better than most, Betazoid society is composed of people with telepathic and/or empathic abilities. A person's rank is very closely tied to their Telepathic Rating. In fact, that name is something of a misnomer, since it ranks Empathic ability, as well as Telepathic ability." "Yes, Sir. Believe me, I am more than familiar with all of that. Since I was the only known Betazoid born in decades who ranked absolutely zero on the scale. Hell, nearly all Vulcans and many Humans rank higher than I do!" "Yes," agreed Seetamyn, "but did you know that there used to be THREE abilities judged on for that Rating?" "Three... no, Sir. I have no idea what you are talking about." "Over 1200 years ago, there were three distinct schools of psychic discipline on Betazed. The Telepaths were the most numerous and considered the most powerful, much like today. The Empaths were also quite plentiful and, while not considered as powerful as the Telepaths, were respected in their own right. There were, at that time, many arranged marriages trying to produce offspring with both Telepathic and Empathic abilities. However, there was also a third school. This school trained what were called the Luck Eaters. You see, at that time, there were people who could, at least partially, manipulate the laws of causality, itself. They could, for example, win a lottery or find a latinum deposit in the ground. Perhaps they would be shooting at some food, only to hit a petroleum field. Remember, back in those ancient times, petrochemicals were the lifeblood of Betazed, much as they were on primitive Earth. In any event, the schools of the Luck Eater discipline believed that they could train and enhance their students' abilities to favorably influence the outcome of nearly everything." "I appreciate the history lesson, Sir, but what does this have to do with me? If anything, I would think that my past history has been decidedly UNlucky!" "Oh? How many ships were lost just after you left them? You were shot at point-blank range with a phaser and survived. Six phaser rifles couldn't touch you because a friend of yours is a paranoid, brilliant engineer. You see, the first indication that a person might be a Luck Eater was that they escaped certain death by extremely unlikely means. You seem to have done that on any number of occassions." "But, but, why have I never heard of these Luck Eaters?" "Simply put, because they died off. You see, twelve centuries ago, Betazed was a superstitious planet. People believed that the Luck Eaters actually stole good luck from other people. That is how they got their name, incidentally. Luck Eaters were shunned as outcasts. No one wanted their luck stolen, you see. Eventually, those born with the ability were fewer and fewer. The Luck Eater schools were shut down and the discipline deliberately forgotten. There hasn't been a documented case of a Luck Eater in over 800 years - until now." "But how can you be sure, Sir. I mean it could all just be coincidence, couldn't it?" "It could be," confirmed Seetamyn, "except for two things. First of all, somehow, the Black Queen recognized what you were. Apparently Luck Eaters must have existed on Betazed for many thousands of years. Which actually makes sense if you think about it. A person with Telepathic or Empathic abilities would have to learn to cope with strange voices or feelings in their heads which they would have no way of knowing where they came from. A Luck Eater would just be very lucky. I wouldn not be a bit surprised if, at one point in Betazed's history, MOST of its population had been comprised of Luck Eaters. It makes sense when you think about it. So, at some point in the distant past, the Black Queens had come into contact with primitive Betazoids and recognized the talent. They passed that knowledge down through genetic racial memory and the Black Queen we fought probably recognized you for what you were, when we all were first scanned while waiting for the debriefing back on Earth before Commander Ustrano's court martial trial. In fact, that may have been one of the main reasons that we were targetted by the Black Queen. She may have believed that your luck ability would win the day. And who is to say it did not?" Seetamyn finished, wistfully (well, as wistful as a Vulcan could be, anyway). Mantron sat, stunned in his seat as the captain finished, "You mean /I'm/ the reason the ship was in danger?" he asked aghast. "No, Lieutenant. I am convinced that the main reason was the possibility that we had contacted the Foreenans. Of course, now that you mention it, was it not YOU who came up with the idea that the Foreenan message was hidden in the power fluctuations? More evidence, not that any was needed, that you are, in fact, a Luck Eater, Lieutenant." Mantron was, if possible, even more stunned. All that time he had been shunned on Betazed. Then shunned at Starfleet Academy. Then shunned on all those ships. When all the time he had been some sort of good luck charm? Man, it sucked when irony jumped up and bit you on the ass! <> "Whoa! So you're some sort of hotshot now, huh? Probably don't want anything to do with plain old me!" Linnea hopped off of Dil's lap and marched to the common area in the back of the runabout. Mantron didn't have a lot of experience with women (that whole 'shunned' thing) but he knew Linnea well enough to realize that she wasn't really upset. Fortunately, for him, he DID have enough experience to understand that when when a woman put on a big show of feeling rejected, the best thing to do was to play along and do what he could to 'reassure' her. Trying to figure out the best tack to take, he set the autopilot and headed to the back, himself. "How could anyone ever think that you were plain," he asked, kneeling in front of Linnea and taking her hands in his. "I mean, with this little neck," as he nibbled, lightly on her neck, "or these smooth arms," as he ran his fingers over her shoulders and down her arms, or these ticklish ribs!" he shouted as he darted his hands to her sides and started tickling her ribs. Linnea squealled with delight and started tickling him back. Soon the tickles turned a bit more serious as Dil desperately tried to figure out how to convert the couch into a bed. In a brightly lit room, somewhere in Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Sontak was being interogated for what seemed the twentieth time since he and Mrs. Rosenthal had returned to Earth after the defeat of the Black Queen. Over and over various different Admirals and Commodores asked the same questions, and over and over he gave the same responses: <> How did the Menagerie get to Earth from the Omega Configuration so quickly? <> The ship had encountered an alien race in the Configuration who had requested that they remain hidden until they were ready to reveal themselves. In return for keeping them hidden, these aliens, called the Foreenans, had agreed to assist the Menagerie in her battle against the Black Queens. <> Were these aliens any threat to the Federation? <> No, in fact they had, centuries before, served in very much the same capacity as the current Federation - uniting many peaceful races to serve as an galactic force for Good. <> Why hadn't Sontak revealed the presence of these aliens, sooner? <> Again, they had asked for their existence to not be revealed. <> But didn't his Starfleet Oath require that he share information with the rest of Starfleet? <> Actually, his Oath was to the Federation and he believed that he was acting in the Federation's best interests by keeping the existence of the Foreenans secret, not to mention following the Prime Directive. <> How was the Prime Directive involved? <> Have you ever read the Prime Directive? Does it not state: As the right of each sentient species to live in accordance with its normal cultural evolution is considered sacred, no Star Fleet personnel may interfere with the healthy development of alien life and culture. Since the Foreenans believed that contact with the outside universe would affect their as well as our development, we chose to respect their wishes and not reveal their presence. <> That's ridiculous! <> And that is not a question. <> Mind your tongue, Admiral! Now how was it that the Menagerie managed to take out four other ships with barely any damage? <> The Foreenans provided us with a special metal which allowed the ship to process more power through its phasers. This allowed the ship to overwhelm the other ships' defenses. <> You will immediately surrender the manufacturing methodology for this new metal! <> I'm afraid, I do not have that information. It was installed by the Foreenans and was to be used for this one mission, only. I'm sure that it will be removed as soon as the Menagerie reaches the Omega Configuration. <> You will immediately recall the Menagerie so that we might examine that metal! <> No, I will not. <> You are disobeying a direct order? <> The Foreenans were gracious enough to provide us with technology sufficient to counter the threat that we were facing. It is because of them that the Federation was saved from the Black Queens. I will not abrogate the agreement with them that allowed us that victory, after the fact. <> You didn't answer the question. <> I do not believe that you, or anyone else has the authority to issue such an order. Since the order could not possibly have been issued, there is nothing to disobey. <> Now you're just arguing semantics! <> And? What is your point? Every day, at least twice a day, the routine had been the same. Sontak was fully convinced that he had acted correctly and, moreover, convinced that those questioning him were little concerned with the ethics of the situation. They simply wanted that technology that would allow them to propel ships halfway across known space in the blink of an eye. They were, it seemed, more than willing to sacrifice Sontak's career on the altar of their own desires. They, apparently, thought that the threat of loosing his position would be enough to loosen his lips, forgetting that Vulcans generally felt no ambition. And so, on it went, day after day. Mrs. Rosenthal, for her part, felt a slowly burning fire of contempt at what was being done to someone who she considered to be above reproach. But what could she do? Well, sitting around had never really been her style. She would make a few calls. There wasn't anyone around Headquarters who didn't owe her at least a few favors. She would need to get in touch with the Menagerie, too... <> Banjo thought to himself as the Menagerie retreived the ninth of the fourteen ships that had been trapped in the Omega Configuration for the past week. They had come up with a method of extraction that didn't endanger the Menagerie. They would enter the Configuration's radiation field with their shields and barion emitters active, allowing them to move about freely, find a ship and tractor it to the edge of the field so that just its communications array was out of the radiation. They would then revert their shields to their normal operating frequencies and contact the retrieved ship. Now able to send and recieve outside messages, the ship would be ordered to stand down against the Menagerie and to report back to earth for Debriefing. After the ship had acknowledged the message, the Menagerie would tow them the rest of the way out and send them on their way. It was, possibly, the most boring duty Banjo had ever experienced. "Sir, incoming message from Starfleet Command. It's... Mrs. Rosenthal?" M'Dral reported as the ship cleared the radiation field, again. "On screen," Banjo ordered. The main viewscreen sprang to life showing Mrs. Rosenthal seated at her desk outside of Admiral Sontak's office. The woman certainly looked agitated about something, Banjo thought. "Commander Banjo, I have commed to ask for your help. Starfleet Command has been grilling Admiral Sontak since you left. It appears that they intend to court martial him!" Well, that would certainly explain the agitation, Banjo mused, "If we can be of any help, you just need to ask, Mrs. Rosenthal. You certainly helped us out in a pinch. But what can we do?" "I have something in mind," Mrs. Rosenthal admitted. "What I need is..." Mantron brought the runabout Maurice Sendak out of warp above Venturas 6. The moon, Terthot, was just to their right, while the planet's other occupied moon, which Linnea had informed Mantron was named Dirmas, was on the far side of the planet. This meant that the runabout could approach relatively safely, using the planet to shield discovery of their approach from the Human bandits who operated out of the Dirmas base. Upon comming for landing permission, the runabout immediately recieved a message from Linnea's father, Lusiphen, "You look well, daughter. Have you brought my little package?" "Of course, daddy. Have I ever failed in a mission?" Linnea asked. "No, but I wanted to make sure that those Starfleeters that you're hanging around with now haven't corrupted you, yet." "I think its more likely to be the other way around. But the Menagerie isn't crewed by your average Starfleet dolts." "Yes, some of my sources have reported that the Menagerie is a ship to keep an eye on," Lusiphen announced, somewhat ominously to Dil's ear. "Daddy, we can talk about all this, later. Are you going to let us land or not?" Linnea asked, sensing Dil's apprehension. "Certainly, my dear. I assume you remember the way down?" "Yes, daddy," Linnea sighed in that long-suffering way that daughters use when their fathers act like they are still six years old. "We'll be waiting for you, then. Terthot out." Linnea had taken the pilot's seat for the Maurice Sendak's final approach to the Orion Base on Terthot. Giving the correct clearance codes, she guided the runabout down towards the moon's surface and into a deep canyon. Skittering along the bottom of the canyon, she suddenly banked sharply and dove down into a cave that opened in the canyon wall. After flying down the dark tunnel that the cave turned out to be for nearly a kilometer, the tunnel opened up into a massive hanger bay. Orion ships of all shapes and sizes sat scattered about the hanger deck as pilots, mechanics and other personnel wandered about. It was definately less orderly than an equivalent Starfleet operation, but it did seem to be getting the job done. Linnea brought the runabout down into a what appeared to be a reserved berth where three rather bulky Orions stood waiting. Dil administered the antidote to the sedative that had kept the admiral quiet during the trip and Windgarde's eyes quickly fluttered open. "Admiral," Mantron said, cheerily, "your request has been granted! We have brought you before the authorities for processing!" "About damn time! Damn aliens flaunting the rules of due pocess! I'll see each and every damn one of you up on charges!" Mantron and Windgarde marched out the runabout's door and Windgarde rushed over to the three men talking to Linnea. "I demand that you take these two into custody!" Windgarde shouted, indicating Mantron and Linnea. "I want them arrested on charges of kidnapping, assaulting a superior officer and general insubordination!" The five others started laughing at this outburst and Windgarde realized that something wasn't quite right. Turning back towards the supposed 'authorities' he quickly recognized the fact that they were green! Now it was /just/ possible that they were all a little nauseous from some bad food or something, but it finally sank in to Windgarde that these men were green for quite a different reason - they were Orions! He wondered if they were upset about that little switcheroo on Bouffant? "Admiral Windgarde! What a great pleasure to finally meet you, face to face!" the largest of the three said, happily slapping the admiral on the shoulders like a long lost friend. "I am Boss Lusiphen, head of the Guild of Character Assassins. These two men are my sons, Lucius and Lumon. Boys take the good admiral for a visit to Sukey. I'd like a few answers about what happened on Bouffant." "I'll tell you anything I know!" Windgarde realized that the jig was up and he cracked like a papershell pecan. "Oh, I know you will, admiral. You see, Sukey is my chief, shall we say, 'information procurer'. He specializes in a 'hands on' approach," Lusiphen said this last with a huge grin on his face. A grin, Windgarde couldn't help but notice as he was dragged away, that was entirely devoid of any humor. "So," Lusiphen said, turning to get a good look at Lieutenant Mantron for the first time, "this is the man who has stolen my daughter's heart." Lusiphen stuck out his hand and he and Dil shook hands, as they sized each other up. Dil didn't flinch away from either the firm handshake or the practically predatory look that the elder Orion gave him. Seemingly satisfied with this, Lusiphen turned and gave his daughter another hug, "Dinner will be served in just over an hour. You two get settled in. We've readied your old room, Linny, and given Mr. Mantron the room across the hall. Go ahead and get unpacked. We'll talk more at dinner." Lusiphen walked away, into the chaos of the Orion hanger bay. Linnea gave Dil a tug and steered him out of the hanger and towards the living quarters. Lusiphen, being the head of the Terthot Base had very elaborate quarters taking up over 650 square meters which including many bedrooms, sitting rooms, dinning halls and a swimming pool. The only other Orions having quarters on the same level as Lusiphen were the man in charge of refueling the ships and the man who dealt in redistributing the goods procured by the Pirates. The fuel manager and Lusiphen had long had a running feud over who was more important to the Base, while Linnea had nothing but good things to say about their other resident. Mantron took this as proof of the old Earth axiom, "Fences make good neighbors". The focus of the entire Base, however, was the huge bar/dance club/restuarant which took up the entire upper level of the Base and which was a huge source of income for the Orions. Obstensibly a cover for Lusiphen's shadier activities, the nightclub was considered, more-or-less, neutral ground for all of the beings inhabitting the Venturas 'no man's land' and, because of this, a highly desired location for conducting 'business'. Even without Lusiphen's Character Assassination business, he could have been extremely comfortable with the income from just the nightclub. As the pair made their way into the spacious living quarters, Linnea introduced Dil to the many servants that they encountered along the way. It seemed that every domestic in the residence came out to get a glimpse of Linnea's beau. Dil had begun to feel decidedly uncomfortable from all the attention when they reached their rooms. Linnea gave Dil a quick kiss before entering her room and the Helmsman turned and entered his. The room was a little bit larger than his quarters on the Menagerie and the layout was similar - sitting area, bathroom, bedroom. Comfortable but nothing out of the ordinary. Feeling relieved that there wasn't anyone there to help him get dressed or anything like that, Dil quickly put away his few personal toiletries and pulled out his clothing replicator chip. Finding the closet alcove he dropped in his chip and produced a fashionable Betazoid tunic and pants. He considered replicating a katana to wear as well, but finally decided against it. Since he had plenty of time to kill before dinner, he decided to clean his pistol to calm his nerves. He took the gleaming semi-automatic from his small travel case and set about disassembling and cleaning it. Not that it actually needed cleaning, the polyiridichromnium couldn't score or fracture and the cabrodine that Ustrano was using for propellent for the bullets was smokeless and residue-free. The cleaning was more of a calmative exercise than an actual necessity. Mantron finished the cleaning and reassembled the weapon. Deciding that the reassuring weight of the pistol might comfort him during the upcoming trial that a meal with his girlfriend's family was likely to be, he slipped the gun under his tunic and behind his belt. Giving one last tug on his clothing, he headed across the hall to see how Linnea was getting on. Knocking on Linnea's door, Dil called out, "Are you decent?" "I never was before, so I doubt I am now," Linnea called back, laughing. "Come on in." Dil opened the door to find Linnea dressed in a somewhat conservative blue dress. Well, OK, 'conservative' in this case meant that nearly 50% of her body was covered. Her legs, midriff, arms and much of her cleavage was left uncovered by the sparkling, blue fabric. The combination of glittering, blue cloth and the healthy green glow from Linnea's own skin made the girl shine like some exquisite gem. Mantron was quite nearly stunned by her appearance. "I guess I don't need to ask how I look," Linnea impishly twirled around causing her short skirt to lift even higher, displaying even more of her beautiful legs. Fortunately, Lusiphen's living quarters were carpetted in a thick, purple rug so Dil didn't bruise his chin as his jaw hit the floor. "Come on," she coaxed. "It will probably be bad, but, hopefully, not too bad." Dil gulped and, somewhat reluctantly, followed her down the hall towards the formal dinning hall. Whay couldn't this be something easy, like another Black Queen? Admiral Sontak was looking tired, Mrs Rosenthal decided. Very few would have been able to pick up the subtle, telltale signs of the Admiral's fatigue, but Mrs. Rosenthal knew the elderly Vulcan far too well to be deceived by his outwardly stoic facade. "How did today's interogation go?" she asked as he came into the office suite to clean up some paperwork after his second interview of the day. "Now, Mrs. Rosenthal. I have told you several times, they are interviews, not interogations," the Vulcan rebuffed his secretary, mildly. "You say tomato..." was her response. "Actually, I didn't, but that sounds like a good idea. I think that I will have tomato soup for supper this evening. It will likely be my last chance to use the Headquarters dining hall." "What do you mean, Sir?" "It appears that tomorrow the inquiry council will be proceeding with my court martial. You will most probably have another boss by the end of the day, tomorrow." "But they haven't actually done anything, yet, have they?" Mrs. Rosenthal asked with sudden concern in her voice. "Not to my knowledge, no. But I beleive that their minds are made up. Tomorrow will be my last day as a Starfleet Admiral." Many would have said that with a certain disappointment in their voice, but Sontak's voice was steady and firm. Nodding to Mrs. Rosenthal he retired to his office to finish up that paperwork, a professional to the end. <> Mrs. Rosenthal, thought to herself. <> Mrs. Rosenthal then smiled a smile that would have put a Black Queen to shame. Alien invasions? Pah! Romulan intrigues? Phffft! Borg incursions? Don't make me laugh! The most dangerous creature in the entire Federation was an annoyed Mrs. Rosenthal! Banjo and Ustrano sat back in the holotheater with much of the rest of the crew. The ship had finished its rescue mission and all of the T.W.I.T.S. ships had returned to Earth for re-assignment. The Menangerie had taken up a position outside of the Omega Configuration in case Mrs. Rosenthal needed to contact any of them for more information to support Admiral Sontak. She had recorded statements from many of the crew, individually, but no one was particularly confident that these would actually be of any help. An admiral who couldn't get good references from his subordinates wouldn't last long enough to come up for a court martial. Then a final message had come trough on a coded channel with the terse, cryptic message: "Krinocom 2100" Not knowing what it was all about, Ustrano had configured the holotheater to show Krinocom and over 150 crewmembers were currently jammed in, leaving just a skeleton crew to command the ship. It was currently 20:38 and the crew was watching the latest episode of "Survivor: Rura Penthe". Speculation among the crew ran high over who would be the next contestant "voted off". Since being "voted off" on this "reality show" meant being vaporized, competition was incredibly stiff. Banjo and Ustrano, who really didn't care for this sort of entertainment talked quietly between themselves, debating what reason Mrs. Rosenthal could possibly have for making them watch a holovision program. The two finally decided that debate was pointless and that patience would soon reveal all. Not particularly satisfied with this conclusion, they settled back to wait. Dil sat back in his chair. The dinner had gone amazingly well. The beautiful formal dining room was dominated by a huge window which looked out over the surface of Terthot, whose stark landscape provided an amazing backdrop for the room. Linnea and her family had spent a good deal of time catching up on what each other had been doing for the last seven months. Dil had hovered around the outskirts of the conversation. He had gotten to hear about the confusion and consternation that his rescue of Linnea had caused amongst the other bandit bases in the Venturas system. His flying skills had taken on legendary status during the telling and retelling of the tale and Dil had been content to bask in the implied praise and let Linnea and Lusiphen carry most of the conversation. Linnea's mother, a noted dealer in 'merchandise redistribution', who specialized in antiquities, had been quiet through most of the meal, just enjoying having her family back together, if only for one evening. Things were certainly going better than he had had any reason to hope that they would. Now that the dishes were being cleared, Dil relaxed even more as Lusiphen brought out an elaborately carved box. He opened it to reveal a stash of exquisite (and probably illegal) synthecigars. He passed the box down the table and his two sons each took one. Linnea and her mother declined but Dil took one before the box made its way back to Lusiphen, who removed one and then returned the box to the sideboard. A cigar cutter next made its way around the table and the four men relaxed with their aro- matic smokes. Finally, sighing in satisfaction after the fine meal and with enjoyment of his cigar, Lusiphen turned to Dil, "Lieutenant, may I ask you a question?" he asked mildly. "Of course, sir," Dil replied, eager to make a good impression. "What possible reason could you have for thinking that you are good enough for my daughter?" <> Dil thought ruefully as he scrambled mentally for a suitable reply. As he was fumbling around, something went 'snap' in his head. <> he thought. <> "What, you mean 'good enough' to offer her a life where she isn't constantly on the run from the authorities or from other bandits?" Dil shot back. The only noise around the table was the sound of several sharp intakes of breath from Lucius and Lumon. Linnea hid a grin behind her napkin <> she thought. "So, a smart-ass, huh?" Lusiphen laughed, not unkindly. "OK, tough guy, here's where you stand. During the meal, we secretly gave you a poison. If you don't get the antidote within one hour, you will die. There are transporter inhibitors and communications scramblers throughout this base, so you can't call your runabout for help. The only way to get the antidote is to convince me that you are the right man for my daughter. So you better get talking. You have 15 minutes left!" Dil looked over at Linnea, who had gone pale at her father's announcment. <> Dil thought. Then, to everyone's amazement, he laughed! "You know, all my life I've been shunned and bullied and marginalized for having no psychic talents. I decided to develop my other abilities and, through good old fashioned hard work, I've become one of the best pilots in Starfleet. I've put my life on the line for Federation citizens and even for those who flaunted or lived outside of Federation law," he nodded towards Linnea at this point. "Recently, I've found out that I have the most rare of psychic talents of them all. I apparently have some sort of "super luck ability". I've survived the loss and destruction of a whole bunch of ships and, as if I needed any more evidence, I have found my soulmate in Linnea, the most bueatiful woman I've ever known. And now a petty little crook like /you/ wants to take that all away from me? Screw you!" Mantron pulled out his gun from under his tunic and pointed it at the giant window. "Linnea, please leave the room." "No, hon, I'm staying with you!" Lusiphen looked at Dil's gun and started laughing, "What do you plan to do with that little popgun? That window is one centimeter thick transparent aluminum! You won't even scratch it!" He restrained Lucius and Lumon who had made ready to jump up. "What is the ceiling made from?" Dil asked, calmly. "The ceiling? Its a thin layer of duranium over steel. Its even more impervious to that little toy than the window!" Lusiphen, Lucius and Lumon now were laughing at the stupidity of this arrogant Starfleeter. That laughter stopped when Dil fired three shots into the ceiling. Shots which opened large holes in that ceiling and scattered splinters of duranium across the dining room table. Dil lowered the gun and pointed it back at the window, the grin across his face asking, "who's the smart-ass, now?" "Bah! You Starfleeters have that whole code of honor thing. You won't endanger other lives just to save your own," Lusiphen snorted. "Daddy, I've told you that the Menagerie isn't like other Federation ships," Linnea cautioned. "Enough debate!" Dil suddenly announced. "Hand over the antidote or I'll blow out the window!" Lusiphen calmly puffed on his cigar, then blew out a smoke ring towards Dil, "I'm calling your bluff, boy!" "Big mistake!" Dil, just as calmly returned, then, wrapping an arm around Linnea, pulled the trigger. The bullet flew from the gun far faster than any of the present eyes could follow and hit the window near enough to dead center as to not make any difference. The bullet flew through the window, its speed seemingly unimpaired by the sudden change in media density. Spider-web cracks spread out from the hole as the atmosphere began to leak out of the hole with a cheery little whistle. Bits of food flew off the table as the flow of air escaping increased. Each new impact shook free more pieces of the loosened window. The air flow kept increasing, now pulling plates and glasses off the table. Linnea's mother (whose name was Nissa, BTW) just rolled her eyes at the boyish behavior, but Lucius and Lumon were truly panicked. They scrambled for hand- holds as Lusiphen considered things with narrowed eyes. Dil, for his part, calmly aimed his psitol at the floor and fired several shots. Judging the resultant damage to be adequate for a good handhold, he tucked the gun back under his tunic and, wrapping one arm tightly around Linnea, dove to the floor and grabbed the handhold with his free hand. The wind was really ripping around the room now as the table, first shuddered, and then flew up into the window. At first it appeared that the huge table would block the hole enough to at least reduce the windstorm, but that hope was quickly laid to rest as a horrible C-R-A-C-K echoed across the dining room and the window completely gave away! Lucius and Lumon were hurled screaming towards the opening until they slammed into the suddenly activated emergency forcefield that snapped into place. The two lay stunned on the dining room floor. Lusiphen and Nissa sat, seemingly unconcerned, in their chairs, as a group of house servants came rushing in to clean up the mess. Dil and Linnea picked themselves off of the floor, brushing away bits of detritus and food from their clothing. Lusiphen seemed to come to some sort of decision as he made his way over to a large cabinet that was in a corner of the room. The cabinet hadn't moved during the crisis. It was, apparently, bolted to the floor. Opening the cabinet, Lusiphen withdrew a decanter of golden liquid which Dil recognized as Saurian Brandy. Lusiphen poured four glasses and returned back to where Dil, Linnea and Nissa were standing. Handing each of them a glass of Brandy he then handed Dil a small vial filled with a blue liquid. "That's the antidote. Dissolve it in the Brandy and drink it down, son" "Thanks," Dil offered, still cautious at this sudden change of heart. "This one's got balls!" Lusiphen congratulated his daughter. "Oh, I know he does," Linnea purred lasciviously, causing her parents to laugh and Dil to blush uncomfortably. Dil quickly drank down his Brandy/antidote acting far calmer than he felt. "What changed your mind, sir, if I may ask?" "Those two idiots over there," Lusiphen answered, gesturing at Lucius and Lumon. "They panicked like little girls while you acted bravely and in control." "I don't understand," Dil admitted. "The chairs in this room are equipped with magnetic grapples on their feet. All the boys had to do was activate them and they would have been completely safe. Instead, they freaked out and behaved like cowards. When a Starfleeter acts more bravely than my own sons, then I know he's something special. Besides, blowing out a window in your girlfriend's parent's house takes some serious moxie," Lusiphen finished, holding out his hand to the startled Betazoid. Mantron quickly grasped the offered hand. "Welcome to the family!" In the darkened holotheater, "Survivor: Rura Penthe" had just finished, an Andorian contestant named P'B&J had been "voted off". As he had been led away from the encampment he had suddenly whirled around and kicked a guard in the stomach. Snatching the fallen guard's disrupter he had fired at one of the other contestants, a Klingon who was a fan favorite, with the unfortunate name of Fart. Fart was hit full in the chest with the disruptor blast and vaporized leaving only a thin brown cloud behind. Under the rules of the show, this was perfectly acceptable so P'B&J returned to encampment to await next weeks show. Conversation buzzed through the holotheater at this unexpected turn of events. Conversation that completely stopped as the next show appeared on the screen. Tonight on A Current Affair - the man who saved the Federation - President Bradley Dillon! A snappily dressed interviewer appeared on the screen seated across from the smiling face of Bradley Dillon. Dillon, in his favorite place - in the spotlight beamed out at the holovision audience, his broad face split by a huge smile. The interviewer began, "President Dillon, as I'm sure you are aware, one of your newest outreach programs, Project 'Open Arms' has just been involved in uncovering an alien menace in our midst. Your thoughts on this remarkable turn of events?" "Well, as you know, I was only responsible for sponsoring the program. It was the actual personnel involved with Project 'Open Arms' that did all of the work." Dillon responded with unusual modesty. "What can you tell us about those individuals?" prompted the interviewer. "Well, the program is headed by Admiral Sontak, a highly respected Vulcan who has been involved with Starfleet for decades. Currently, the only ship completely attached to the project is the USS Menagerie, which is captained, quite by coincidence, by another Vulcan, Captain Seetamyn. These two men discovered the plot against the Federation and acted, in the best Federation traditions, quickly and decisively, to avert disaster." "How glad we all are to have men of such caliber protecting us," the interviewer purred. "We now have some footage of members of the crew of the USS Menagerie and their thoughts on their commanders. The holoscreen switched to interviews with Ustrano, Banjo, M'Dral, Hirtnole the Killer B's and other Menagerie crew members, all describing Seetamyn and Sontak in glowing terms. Ustrano discussed how non-humanoid species were generally treated with disdain and their talents marginalized by nearly everyone in Starfleet. Sontak and Seetamyn, however, respected them as the valuable people that they were. Banjo opined how the new openess between the Delta Quadrant and the Federation was the result of men of vision, such as Admiral Sontak. M'Dral puffed away nervously as she described her respect and admiration for the two Vulcans who had given a Bridge post to someone nobody else wanted. Hirthnole discussed the tolerant attitude that was so lacking on other Starfleet ships but that he had found on his new home, the Menagerie. Fortunately, the cameras switched off before Hirthnole could show off his new skills at naked unicycling! These interviews went on for quite some time before the screen switched back to the interviewer and Bradley Dillon, who was, if it was possible, smiling an even bigger smile, having seen the interviews as they were being broadcast. "You see, this new program has gathered the very best of what Starfleet has to offer together, resulting in greater protection of Federation freedoms and ideals for all citizens, regardless of species, gender or religious affiliation. Project 'Open Arms' is a glowing example of what can be accomplished by a handful of dedicated, talented people working for the common good. The top two men, Admiral Sontak and Captain Seetamyn exemplify the foundations that the Federation was founded upon and all we civillians can do is look to their example and hope that we can do have as well as they have." As the program ended the audience in the holotheater rose to their feet in cheers for their fellow crewmembers who had been on Holovision. There was much back-slapping and good-natured joking as the crow dispersed. On Earth, Mrs. Rosenthal switched off her Holovision set with a self-satisfied "hrrmmph." <> she thought to herself as she made her way to bed, satisfied with a job well done.