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Here it is Melting Pot, Season Three It's a joy to write, hooray for me! I hope that all of you Enjoy reading this, too If not, well at least it is free! Copyright 2006. "Breaking Up is Hard to do!" by Paul Cloutier We had broken up for good just an hour before Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh Now I'm staring at the bodies as they're dancing 'cross the floor Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh And then the band slowed the tempo when the music took you down Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh It was the same old song with the melancholy sound Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh - The Breakup Song - Greg Kihn band "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!" Stunned silence filled the Bridge until Captain Seetamyn answered, "Understood, Admiral. Menagerie - out." And the comm channel was severed. Turning towards Mantron, Seetamyn said simply, "Set course for Foreena Four, Lieutenant." Mantron's hands caressed the Helm Console, seemingly of their own volition, his mind was certainly lightyears away from the Bridge at this moment. He heard, as if from a vast distance, his own voice saying, "Course laid in, Sir." Seetamyn's "Engage." sounded even further away. Seetamyn next turned to Banjo, the ship's Changeling First officer, "I turn the ship over to you, Commander. Please make sure that my access codes are locked out and that the log reflects the change in command. As I am no longer a member of the crew, I will remove my personal belongings from my current quarters and the Ready Room immediately so that the new captain will not be inconvenienced. If you would please assign me appropriate quest quarters during the return to Earth, I will move my belongings there." "Sir," Banjo responded, "that won't be necessary. You cannot be removed from Starfleet without a proper hearing..." "Actually, Commander, if the head of an officer's department finds him unfit for duty, he may be immediately de-frocked and removed from Starfleet. An appeal may be filed, but after such extreme sanctions, that officer is unlikely to ever be re-instated. Admiral Grayson is fully within his rights and abilities as the head of Strategic Deployment in removing me after my negligence in allowing the assassination of the Multek Ambassador." "Very well, Sir," Banjo replied, still shaken by what had just occurred, "I am assigning Guest Suite One to you for the remainder of this trip. I will have someone from Ship's Services assist you in moving." "Thank you, Commander. And, by the way, there is no longer any need to address me as 'Sir'." "Sir, I was under the impression that 'Sir' was a form of address directed towards those whom one respected and admired. That being the case, I could never address you as anything but, 'Sir'." "As you wish, Commander," Seetamyn said as he headed to the Ready Room to clean out the few personal effects that he had placed there. The polyiridichromnium sword that he had fought the Black Queen with, the PADD with his dissertation on the value of multiple points of view, a few holographs of him and the crew, an autographed picture of Redken, the Most Mane-ificent of Bouffant, thanking him for saving the Planet of Hair-Style Models, a bottle of Saurian Brandy, from Aceed Sperr's family vineyards, the memories and trivialities that he had accumulated over the past year while he had been in command of the Menagerie. Funny how things that one moment were barely remembered or considered could suddenly become so important. Important, like the well-being of his crew. These people that he had come to think of as friends - no he corrected himself - as family If only they would understand his last orders and act accordingly. The usual nightly gathering at the Pirate's Cove that evening was somber and subdued. With the loss of Cerulean and Todd in such a short time, the drinks were being served by a staff of Emergency Holographic Waiters. The thin, balding men skittered from table to table serving the regular crowd, but no one spoke above a guarded whisper. Finally, Banjo broke the funereal silence; "When I first came aboard, I thought all of you, and the Captain in particular were useless solids. Then came that mission with the Bracktian symbionts. Remember how the Captain had his arm burned off taking the Orion Bridge? Well, when I saw how everyone closed ranks and took out that ship, I began to believe that maybe all solids weren't so useless, afterall. It wasn't too long after that the Captain came to me and apologized for not accepting me from the start. He didn't need to do that. He was the Captain for pity's sake! He didn't have to admit to being wrong. But he did. He went out of his way to do it. For the first time, in a long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. I felt that I belonged here. I had left the Great Link for some excitement and adventure. And, true enough, I found it. But along the way I found that not all solids were the pathetic weaklings that I had thought. In fact, I found that they could be good friends. The Captain was one of the solids most responsible for that revelation." Jantoo reached over to hug the Changeling as he stopped speaking. "Made you feel like you belonged? How about me?" Dil asked. "I had been in Starfleet for seven years before being assigned to the Menagerie. And I was still only an ensign! I was a Helmsman, by the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and no one had ever even considered promoting me! Not only did he promote me, but it was the Captain who figured out that I was a Luck Eater!" "An Ensign for seven years? Phffft! I was an ensign for fifteen years! Remember?" Hirthnole responded. "Freaking sixty-two year old ensign! What a joke! Seetamyn brought me in to all the Briefings! He made me a lieutenant! First captain I ever met who even had a word to say to a Ship's Services ensign." "Remember when I came on board?" Jantoo asked, quietly. "I was afraid of my own shadow! The Captain started calling me by my last name, made me feel like part of a family, even though it went against his Vulcan formality and reserve." "Yeah, but did any of you try to sabotage the ship?" Linnea spoke up. "That had been my job, remember? Seetamyn looked past that and made me a full member of the crew, in spite of my background - not to mention the fact that I am an Orion! Remember how uncomfortable he was coming into the Pirate's Cove at first? I think he thought that it sent the wrong message to everyone to have the Captain joining us in our off-hours." "Remember him and Sontak with their carrot juice?" M'Dral puffed. Suddenly they all had the same thought. Signalling the waiters they quickly placed a new order. The waiters scurried about deliving new glasses to everyone in the lounge. Banjo climbed up on the table, his glass entended; "To the best damn Captain to ever wear the pips!" he toasted. As one, the entire room downed their carrot juice. Unfortunately, so caught up in the moment was everyone that two Hytellians quaffed their drinks too, forgetting for the moment, that carrot juice was poisonous to their species. As the two went into spasms, Jantoo rushed to their aid and Banjo quicked commed for a poison team to come to the 'Cove. First Officer's Log; Stardate 58392.6 - Captain Seetamyn has been removed from command of the Menagerie and we are on course for the Omega Configuration. The Captain's last orders put us on this course as it was the quickest way back to Earth. Well, quickest if you take the OverMind's Transport Portal into account. I cannot help but believe that the Captain must have had some other, additional, reason for having us take this route, however. In other news, the ship's built-in calendar function reports to me that this is the one-year anniversary of the launch of the Menagerie. I somehow do not feel like celebrating. "ETA to Foreena Four?" Banjo asked, from the First Officer's seat on the Bridge. He refused to take the Captain's seat. "3.6 days," Mantron answered. "Any idea why the Captain had us go this way?" "Well, assuming we get immediately re-directed by the Portal, it /is/ nearly 17 hours quicker, going this way. His orders did say 'as quickly as possible'," Dil reminded his friend. "Granted," Banjo agreed, "but I got the impression that there was more to it than simple expediency and order following." "Well, we shouldn't have anything to worry about with the Tribunal, should we?" M'Dral puffed. "After all, we had nothing to do with the death of the Ambassador!" "Yeah!" Dil agreed. "We may have dozens of other things that we are guilty of, but that's not one of them!" "Wait! Say that again!" Banjo interjected. "Ummm - 'that again'?" Dil offered, confused. "No! I mean repeat what you just said!" Banjo clarified. "You mean that we aren't guilty of being involved with the Ambassador's death, or that we were guilty of other things?" "That's it!" Banjo shouted. "What's it?" Dil and M'Dral asked. "We /are/ guilty of various violations. The polyiridichromnium. The Utricularia. Foreena Four and the OverMind. Even if we can beat the rap for the assassination, they can still hang us out to dry for any number of violations." The ramifications of what Banjo was saying slowly sank in as the Bridge crew exchanged uneasy looks. Each and every officer on the Bridge (with the exception of Banjo) had been exposed to Starfleet's particular brand of bigotry over the course of their careers. Now that an all-alien crew had proven themselves just as capable as any Human crew, it was time for them to be taken down a notch, lest the Humans be forced to finally admit that aliens were every bit as competent as they were. It was not beyond the imaginations of any of them to think that Starfleet might prefer, instead, to use this assassination as an excuse to marginalize their contributions, once again. "B1 & B2, see what you can dig up about Admiral Grayson and Strategic Deployment. Let's see if we can get some idea of what we're headed for." "Aye, Sir!" the distinctive Bynar singsong answered. The data search didn't take long. No one at Starfleet had made much of an effort to conceal what was going on. A tribunal had been set up to try the Senior Crew of the Menagerie. No one on board was particularly surprised to find out who had been selected to 'impartially' hear the case: Admirals McCarthy, McGovern and Byrd. These three had been among Starfleet's most outspoken opponents of aliens' rights for decades. Even worse, it appeared that contingency plans were being put into place to be activated in the unlikely event that the crew somehow managed to exonerate themselves - reassignment to new ships for nearly everybody of ensign rank or above and decomissioning of the Menagerie, herself! As more and more details of what was waiting for all of them back on Earth were revealed, everyone on the Bridge swallowed heavily. Dil Mantron, summed up all of their feelings, "Morituri te salutamus!" Bee-eep! The doorchime to the Menagerie's Guest Suite Number One sounded. From within an order was given and the doors swooshed open, revealing Seetamyn sitting on the Suite's couch, a PADD in his hand. He rose to greet his visitor, Lieutenant Gisech, the ship's Chief of Security. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" Seetamyn asked. His voice not betraying whether he felt grateful to have someone visiting or annoyed at being interrupted. Without a word, the Graaken handed over a PADD to his former captain. "Your resignation from Starfleet?" You must understand that I can longer longer accept this. You must..." "Sorry, Sir," Gisech interrupted. "Wrong PADD!" "Before I view your other PADD, I'd like an explanation for what I have read on this, first one." "It is quite simple, Sir," Gisech explained. "While it is quite true that neither I, nor anybody else, could have done anthing more than what we did do to prevent the Ambassador's death, I have actively participated in activities that were, shall we say, not entirely in keeping with Starfleet regulations. Falsifying the loss of the Utricularia alone would be enough to have me court martialled." "Lieutenant, the logs from that meeting will show that you tried to disuade us from that action and were outvoted by the more senior officers on board. I am quite sure that a suitable defense could be easily arranged for you." "Outvoted or not, I should have at least reported the incident to Command." "Then why did you not?" Seetamyn asked. "It seemed that we were acting with the noblest of intentions, Sir. And, in fact, the outcome of that incident was helpful to Starfleet and to the Sushians." "In other words, Lieutenant, sometimes orders and rules are wrong, and men and women of honor and integrity must disobey those rules in order to serve the greater good?" "Yes, Sir. That argument is pursuasive and logical, but whether or not it will sway a Tribunal, especially a Tribunal that could very likely be composed of people, shall we say, not necessrily predisposed to look favorably on the actions of a team of non-Humans, is very much in doubt." "You have researched the make-up of the Tribunal, I assume," Seetamyn guessed. "Yes, Sir. Three of Starfleet's most outspoken foes of aliens' rights. It appears as though someone is deliberately stacking the deck against us." "So you'd rather resign than take your chances." "Actually, I'd rather resign than continue to be associated with such a blatantly hypocritical organization!" "Very well then, what was that other PADD you wanted to show me?" Exchanging PADDs with the lieutenant, Seetamyn quickly scanned the new information. When he had finished, he set it down on the table and said, "Now that is something that I /can/ help with. Please sit down and let us discuss your plans." The two talked until deep into ship's night. "Sir, we must speak with you," the sing-song duet of B1 & B2 implored Commander Ustrano as it worked in Main Engineering, coordinating the removal of the 'Instant Armor' polyiridichromnium deployment mechanisms. Since they would be back at Earth for an unknown length of time and there was no telling who might examine the ship while it was there, all obvious evidence of the ship's enhancements was being removed. "What can I do for you two?" the Velvattian asked, after ushering them into the specially enlarged Chief Engineer's Office. The Bynars nervously twittered to themselves in their unique, high-speed binary language for several minutes before slowing back down to what most would consider 'normal' speed. "Sir, we have just concluded an in-depth data search of Starfleet Command's pending deployment and assignment database. We have discovered something quite disturbing." "What is it?" Ustrano asked, its curiousity piqued. "There are orders pending that would remove each of us from the Menagerie and spread us across the Quadrant!" "How can that be when the Court Martial hasn't even been held, yet?" "Apparently these orders would take effect in the event that we sucessfully defended ourselves in front of the Tribunal," B1 & B2 explained. "If we are found guilty, we'll all be thrown out of Starfleet and into a rehabilitation camp, someplace! In either event, all of the personnel assigned to the Menagerie will be scattered. The ship, herself would be decomissioned and scrapped!" "What about the Computer? Ustrano gasped, still trying to come to terms with what it had just heard. "It would either be junked along with the ship, or disassembled to determine if the experimental core and neural gel packs could be purged and reused without fear of its sentience being carried over to any new system!" "That would either destroy it or drive it insane!" Ustrano realized. "Yes! That is why we have come to you for help!" the Bynars agreed. "What do you want me to do?" Ustrano asked. "This is what we had in mind..." "They're doing what?" the words, and a good deal of Maloxian fruit punch shot out of Dil Mantron's mouth after the announcement by Commander Ustrano. Ustrano, Dil, Banjo, Jantoo, Linnea, Dario, M'Dral, Hirthnole and Zamtra were seated at their customary table in The Pirate's Cove, later that evening. Ustrano had just been brought up to speed on all of the details that B1 & B2 had discovered. A second time around hadn't served to improve anyone's outlook. Ustrano used a tentacle to squeegee the spewed fruit punch off of it's slug-like body and into its mouth. Making noises of approval, the Velvattian decided that the drink was pretty good. There was also the possibilty that it would taste even better if it hadn't been in someone else's mouth, first! "They'd split us all up," Linnea whispered, hearing the news for first time. "That's a best-case scenario," Ustrano reminded her. "Remember, when we show up with the Utricularia, there will be clear-cut evidence that we falsified records. Then we'll have Dario to explain!" Everyone turned to look at the young Sushian. He had been removed from his homeworld after associating with several members of the crew on two, separate adventures, his knowledge of futuristic technologies deemed to be potentially detrimental to the Sushians' normal development. "So, what are we going to do about it?" Banjo asked. "Do? There's nothing we can do. We're Starfleet Officers. We go where we're ordered," M'Dral voiced what nearly everyone was thinking. "Yeah, its not like we have any options, really," Mantron said, sadly. "Oh, I don't know about that..." Ustrano outlined a quick plan that had begun forming in its mind. Excited chatter broke out around the table as various options were discussed. "What it comes down to is this: we are likely all guilty in one way or another of violations of Starfleet rules. However, have we not acted in the interests of the greater good? And can we continue to so act if we are all sent to rehabilitation camps?" Ustrano asked. "I don't much care about being a force for 'good'," M'Dral argued. "Well, what did you have in mind?" Mantron asked her. "I've actually been giving that some thought," the Benzite puffed. "I think that the meditative techniques that Captain Seetamyn has been teaching me could help many other Benzites become more accepted into mixed society. I've been thinking about forming some sort of therapy group on Benzar to teach them how to control their breathing, better." "Well, that's certainly an act for 'good'!" decided Ustrano. M'Dral seemed to consider this before replying, thoughtfully, "I suppose so." "So you'd return to Benzar, if you could?" Jantoo asked. "Oh, yes!" M'Dral puffed, happily. "Actually, I wouldn't mind heading there, myself," Hirthnole added. "Really? Banjo chuckled, sharing a grin with Mantron and Ustrano. There had long been rumors of a romance between M'Dral and Hirthnole. "Oh, yeah!" Hirthnole affirmed. "There's a Breen Circus visiting there right now that's reknown throughout the Sector. And they're looking for a new act! I bet my Karaoke unicycling would be right up their alley!" So much for rumors! "Well, what about the rest of us?" Mantron asked. "Well, we /do/ have the Utricularia," Ustrano began. "We made a pretty good team that time on Sushi. Maybe the Sensational Six should just slip off into the night and keep working on helping people and let Starfleet be damned!" This idea was met with a great deal of enthusiasm. "So let's get this straight - we're talking about going renegade, here. Severing all ties with Starfleet and becoming some sort of freelance heroes?" Mantron asked. "Pretty much," Banjo agreed. "It certainly is something to think about..." Jantoo mused. "And, most importantly, I'd get to be The Tinkerer again!" Ustrano reminded everyone. "Well, what about Zamtra?" Linnea spoke up. Everyone turned to the young Tamarian. He hadn't offered much to the discussion this evening, and everyone realized that the grinning Ensign had his own plan in mind. "Someone is going to have to bring the ship, home," he announced. "With all of the Senior Officers mutinying, I'll be a hero, myself!" "Quite likely!" Banjo agreed, laughing at the enthusiastic Transporter Chief. "Just one thing..." the Tamarian added. "What's that?" Ustrano asked. "If they /do/ go ahead and send me to a rehab camp, you'd better come and rescue me!" Everyone laughed and discussed more of their plans for a while. Jantoo had a serious look on her face and she excused herself, early. Dil and Ustrano sent questioning looks at Banjo, but the Changeling merely shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what was bothering her, either. He jumped up to follow her out of the Lounge, but, after a brief conversation between the two at the doorway, he returned to the table. "She says she's fine with everything, but she has something that she has to take care of," he reported. Jantoo hurried to Sickbay. She had been trying for some time to come up with a more suitable way to gather the automonous nervous sytem data that the OverMind required to be able to re-incorporate into individual Foreenans. She had hit upon a possible solution about six weeks ago, but she had kept her projects secret, hoping to have some real progress to share with the OverMind on their next visit to Foreena Four. Now it looked like that next visit was going to be happening within a few days! She was sure that this solution would work as she made her way into the Cytology Lab and pulled out a drawer in the wall. The drawer slid out, very much like a morgue drawer. Behind the wall, various radiation fields and nutrient-carrying mists bathed the figure on the drawer. A figure that looked disturbingly like Doctor Pish! Well, like her if she were much taller, bald and blue! Taking some readings, Jantoo adjusted some of the controls and slid the drawer back into place. <> she thought to herself, <> B1 & B2 worked closely with Ensign Diftur, reconfiguring the Runabout David Attenborough to meet their needs. They were trying to make sure that the one special passenger who would be riding in the runabout would be comfortable. Physical comfort was something that few people would consider when planning to transport a computer core, but this wasn't just any core. The experimental core which was housed in the Menagerie was so powerful that it had developed sentience. In order to move it safely, special power conduits had to be installed along with additional cooling systems and communications consoles. In fact, much of the furniture in the main cabin and the sleeping cabin had been removed to make way for their oversized companion. The Bynars and their special friend would be travelling back to Bynarus in a custom-outfitted Runabout! The ShuttlePod Marlin Perkins needed no such elaborate preparations. It would only be carrying two humanoids and a unicycle for a (hopefully) very short time. Just long enough to be Transported from Foreena Four to Benzar! Of course, most of that distance would be covered by the Foreenan's Transport Portal, so the amount of time would really be more like from the Menagerie, through the Portal, then down to the surface of Benzar. Banjo and Ustrano were working on the Utricularia. Technically the ship wasn't the USS Utricularia anymore, since that ship had been reported lost two weeks ago. They would have to get around to re-christening the ship one of these days. Meanwhile, the two were reinforcing the interior and exterior structural supports and armor with polyiridichromnium. Fortunately, they wouldn't need to make room for the 'Instant Armor' deployment systems. The ship would be flying with external polyiridichromnium armor at all times. Combined with the ship's illegal Cloaking device, they should be pretty safe. Ustrano had even applied another external coating - this one consisting of black enamel - so that the ship would be more difficult to detect, visually. Ustrano had previously enhanced most of the internal power systems and plasma conduit with the Foreenan super-metal. The ship formerly known as the Utricularia, being a much smaller ship than one of Starfleet's newer designs, would be seriously out-matched in a firefight. It was hoped that the upgraded systems would help even the odds. If not, Ustrano had one more ace it could pull out. The Velvattian had come up with a new phaser emitter. This one was constructed of cheap, easily assembled materials. It had originally been designed as a one-shot, ultra-powerful, last-ditch, emergency weapon. There was nothing subtle or pretty about it. It would channel ridiculous amounts of energy into one, vastly over-powered beam. This was completely against Starfleet's unwritten rule that only changes which incorporated higher level technologies could ever be considered for implementation. Holodeck simulations had shown that the beam was powerful enough to even be a threat to the Borg, but the emitter could only be run by a ship using polyiridichromnium-reinforced plasma conduit. Of course, the emitter also burned itself out after one shot, so, efficient it was not! However, effective, it definately was. The Menagerie had never had the opportunity to test the weapon, and Ustrano, never one to be satisfied with an engineering solution that required compromises, had come up with an even newer idea. A Gatling Phaser! The Gatling Phaser consisted of a large disk to which twelve of its ultra-phasers had been attached. Once a shot was fired, the disk would spin so that the next emitter was in position, so that it could fire. This gave the former Utricularia unprecedented firepower! Well, twelve shots worth, anyway. Ustrano was still working on an automated replacement system to swap out burned-out phasers for fresh ones. The problem there was space. There just wasn't that much available for storage of replacement phasers. Even with only the handful of people who would be on the ship, Saber class ships just didn't have that much room. After Ustrano's 'upgrades', there was even less room than usual on board /this/ ship. Not that quarters would be tight, there was still room for at least twenty people on board, and, even though one of the crew was a Velvattian, the half-dozen personnel (and one pet terful) who would be crewing the ship would have plenty of room. They were all good friends, anyway, so the closer than normal quarters should present few problems. Ensign Diftur was on the Bridge, sitting next to Lieutenant Mantron at the Helm Console. Although Diftur was passingly familiar with the Helm controls, the ship that he would be piloting would have limited computer control. Once the main Computer core was removed for transport to Bynarus, the backup computer would be linked to the ship's life support and other essential systems. The backup wasn't anywhere near powerful enough to run all of the ship, however, so Mantron was giving Diftur a quick course in maneuvering by thrusters, alone! The young Andorian would be the second highest ranking officer on board, shortly and he and Ensign Zamtra would be taking the ship back to Earth, pretty much on their own. Ensign H'uee would help out as much as he could, but he was a Security Officer (technically, Security Chief, now!) and such delicate manipulations were not really his forté, in any event. While it was true that Seetamyn and Gisech would be returning to Earth with the ship and the junior officers, Seetamyn had been relieved of command and thrown out of Starfleet and Lieutenant Gisech's resignation had been accepted with barely contained glee by Admiral Grayson. Mantron was sure that Grayson would be feeling something other than glee when news of the departure of the rest of the Senior Staff reached his ears. For himself, Diftur felt no worries. He was too junior an officer to recieve too harsh a punishment for the assassination of the Ambassador and for the desertion of the Senior Staff. At worst he and Zamtra might lose their commissions. Of course if that happened, Zamtra would simply return home to Tamaria and integrate his experiences since leaving his homeworld into his people's oral tradition and allegorical history. Pretty soon, the phrase 'The Menagerie and Starfleet!' might very well become part of colloquial Tamarian! Not, necessarily, a polite part, mind you, but a part nonetheless! Diftur was slightly more worried what he might do if he lost his commission. There were not too many places where a pacifistic Andorian could go, really. Oh well, he'd jump off that bridge when he got to it. Linnea, Dil, Jantoo and Banjo were in the brig. 'Todd' was behind the security forcefield holding him prisoner, as he had been since his arrest after he had killed the Multek Ambassador. Since that time, he had sat, seemingly completely relaxed and not uttered a sound. There had been some discussion between the 'Sensational Six' as to whether or not it would be better for them to take 'Todd' with them. It was quite possible that Sukey, Linnea's father's chief interrogator, could extract the information they wanted out of the recalcitrant Bolian. In the end, however, it had been decided that removing 'Todd' would only cast further suspicion on them all. The four were visiting the assassin one final time in the hope of finding some reason for his actions. And, perhaps, find out his real name so that they could stop putting those silly quotes around his pseudonym. 'Todd', for his part, didn't even seem to take note of their presence, merely sitting on his bunk, as he had been since his capture. Finally, the four left. They still had a lot of things to take care of before they could leave the ship. As they walked out of the brig, they could have sworn that they heard laughter coming from back behind them. Ustrano, Dil and Banjo cautiously walked into the Menagerie's Arboretum. Their caution was due, in large part, to the Arboretum's caretaker. Several months ago, an accidental overdose of radiation had mutated a simple rose bush into a monstrous, ambulatory, vegetable sentience known as a Biollante. The Biollante was very protective of its domain. Although the trio had no intentions of causing any harm to the plants in the Arboretum, it was always best to watch one's step in the Arboretum. They found the Biollante tending to a bed of Rigellian sand spurs. The beautiful flowers that these plants poduced were rarely seen anymore, since the spurs, themselves exuded a deadly neurotoxin that was fatal to nearly all humanoids. The Biollante, of course, had no fear of such minor details, and concerned itself only with creating a landscape that it felt at home in. Ustrano was the most uncomfortable of the trio. The Biollante had a thing about slugs in the garden and the Velvattian's ancestery was decidedly gastropodical. Their mission today was to help the monstrous gardener get prepared for what was to come. With the Bynars taking the Computer core with them back to Bynarus, the Menagerie would, most likely be scrapped. Ustrano had installed fusion generators in the Jefferies tubes around the Arboretum to maintain the correct temperature and light levels required by the plants. Now they only had to instruct the Biollante in their usage. After explaining the situation and showing the plant-monster how to adjust its environment, the three quietly left the Arboretum. As they walked out of the door, Dil looked back at the unique paradise. Was it just the artificial wind or was the Biollante sadly waving a tentacle at them? Lounge Manager's Log; Stardate 58398.8 - It figures, I just recently found out that I get a Log and now we're all leaving and I won't have a Log anymore. That's it! I resolve to keep a personal journal to record what happens to all of us after we leave the ship. Maybe, someday, it will serve as a blueprint for all freedom-seeking individuals, everywhere. Or, maybe I can at least sell it as my memoirs! In any event, I've set up the Pirate's Cove for what will probabbly be the last party ever held on board the Menagerie. Although, with the somber mood over everything, it really doesn't feel much like a party. "I haven't seen the Captain, yet," Dil observed to Banjo as they, Ustrano and Hirthnole stepped up to the bar to get another round of drinks. "I seriously doubt that you will," Ustrano rumbled. "Coming to an official event like this would violate his Vulcan sense of propriety," Ustrano elaborated. "It would what?" Dil shook his head as if trying to rearrange the syllables into something that would make sense. "His sense of propriety," Hirthnole answered. "The belief that there is a 'proper' way to do things. This is an official Starfleet party, being organized by what is still a Starfleet crew. Since he is no longer a member of Starfleet, it is, at least in his viewpoint, improper for him to attend." "Oh!" Dil nodded. "But that's crazy!" "No, merely logical," Hirthnole grinned, pedalling back to the group's table with his and M'Dral's drinks held in his hands. "I probably should have sent him a special invitation," Banjo mused, as he headed back with his and Jantoo's drinks. "He could have been some sort of guest speaker or something." "Well, too late now," Dil said, philisophically as he headed back with his and Linnea's drinks. Ustrano oozed along with them, a drink for Dario and several for itself clutched in waving tentacles. In point of fact, Ustrano could have collected the drinks for the entire table, but this arrangement, along with group bathroom trips, allowed time for the girls to chat amongst themselves, an opportunity which they obviously all cherished. In point of fact the conversation at the main table was considerably lighter than anyone had expected. Even at the surrounding tables, laughter and good spirits were very much on display. There seemed to be some sort of tacit, non-spoken agreement among everyone that no mention would be made of the events which would be playing out, tomorrow. Perhaps the light atmosphere had something to do with the decorations and entertainment that Linnea had set up for this party. Adorning the walls were Starfleet logos, while special tables held paint-ball guns, eggs, and tomatoes. It didn't take very long for the party-goers to connect the logos with the other items. Additionally, holograms of the Tribunal Admirals circulated amongst the crew where they were subject to a surprising number of kicks to the groin, dumped drinks and general abuse. Several of the Engineering staff had managed to pin one to a wall and were practicing their paint-ball skills on the reluctant target. Linnea had thoughtfully programmed the holograms to quote particularly biased passages from the admirals' own past speeches and written records. The admiral holograms had superceded the Emergency Waiters, which was why everyone had to get their own drinks in the first place. Off to one side, a small Karaoke stage had been set up and Hirthnole and M'Dral were encouraging everyone to take a turn. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Linnea was glad that the last function her lounge would probably ever host was such a success. Her own thoughts were bittersweet. She knew what life as an outlaw was like and she hoped that her friends knew what they were getting into. At least they wouldn't be going it alone. Individually, they were each unique and special. Working together they made a nearly unstoppable team. Well except, for the assasination of Kuttle. Something went 'click' in her mind. <> Shaking her head to try to banish these un-party-like thoughts, she gabbed Dil's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Joining the other celebrants the pairs enfolded each other in their arms and swayed slowly, in and (mostly) out of tune with the music. Banjo and Jantoo soon moved out, too and the couples tried to lose track of everything else as they focussed only on each other. Eventually, the dancers were drawn out of ther private worlds by an announcement by Lieutenant Hirthnole, "We'd like everyone to join in a rendition of what has become our theme song," the Tellarite called out. The dancing stopped and everyone joined hands as a familiar guitar strain echoed over the sound system. With one voice they began to sing, Through these fields of destruction Baptisms of fire I’ve watched all your suffering As the battles raged higher And though they did hurt me so bad In the fear and alarm You did not desert me My brothers in arms Unseen and unknown by any of the party-goers, a viewscreen in Guest Suite One had been active throughout the going away party, tied into the Lounge's sensors. The thin, patrician face that had observed the celebration was completely expressionless, but a measure of the mood it concealed could be determined as it raised a glass of orange liquid to its lips, then held it high in a toast and echoed, "My brothers in arms." First Officer's Log; Stardate 58400.2 - We have reached Foreena Four and contacted the OverMind. After explaining the situation to the disembodied collective consciousness and downloading the most recent humanoid telemetry, actually that's probably the /last/ telemetry, we are now just about ready to begin sending our various crewmates through the transport portal. "David Attenborough - Away!" Dil announced from the Helm console. This was likely the last time that he would ever sit here, he mused to himself as he and Diftur directed traffic around and through the portal. Banjo and Zamtra were going over some last-minute instructions on the command platform while H'uee stood idly by at the Security Console. Linnea, Jantoo, Dario and Ustrano were already aboard the Utricularia. Seetamyn and Gisech were in Guest Suite One undoubtedly arguing some esoteric trivia to death. "Marlin Perkins - Away!" Diftur announced from the Ops console. "The Menagerie is in position and ready to travel," Dil called out after making a few minor adjustments on his console. He stood and moved with Banjo to the deserted Security console. "All of the logs have been sanitized and transferred to the backup computer," Banjo reminded the two ensigns. "If there's any trouble, remember that you can contact us at The Asteroid club on Terthot. Good luck, you guys," the Changeling called to the three junior officers as, with barely another look at the ship that had been their home for the past year, the pair were beamed away by the Utricularia. At a nod from Zamtra, Diftur activated the atmospheric thrusters that Dil had already programmed and the graceful starship slipped away, back to Earth. "Well, are we all ready to go?" Banjo asked after he and Dil had materialized on the Bridge of the Utricularia. "Not quite," Jantoo announced, to the surprise of everyone else. "Linnea, please open a comm channel to the OverMind." Linnea did so and the Bridge was almost immediately filled with the nearly overwhelming presence of the collected consciousnesses of the Foreenans. "What is it you wish?" the mind-voice of the OverMind boomed. "OverMind," Jantoo asked, "you'ved said before that it is impossible for you to re-incarnate a single body...?" "That is correct," the OverMind boomed. "I/We can recreate all of my/our bodies or none of them. Next time I/we'll wait for the production version of the software instead of relying on a Beta!" "We understand, OverMind," Banjo agreed, although by the expression of the Bridge crews' faces it was clear that they didn't. "But that's not important, right now," Jantoo jumped back in. "Is it possible to release just one /consciousness/ without a body?" "Well, technically, yes. In fact, the Spheres are really free consciousnesses held in a crystaline matrix. But I/we don't have any more matrices available and, to be honest, your technology isn't capable of producing them, yet." "What about a physical, humanoid body?" Jantoo asked stunning everyone. "It is impossible," the OverMind disagreed sadly. "The Foreenan mind would destroy and displace the original host mind. I/We cannot prosper at such a cost to another." "What if the host body didn't have a mind?" Jantoo prompted. "What? Have you got somebody from Starfleet Command in mind?" Dil joked. Linnea shushed Dil as Jantoo continued, "OverMind, please meet us down in Sickbay. I have an idea that just might work!" The Sickbay on board the Utricularia was small by starship standards. The area was divided into four main compartments which could each be isolated from each other and from the rest of the ship in the case of a quarantine situation. One section was a critical care unit with two complete biobeds and emergency holographic systems. These had been installed by Ustrano as part of its upgrades to the Saber-class ship. The other three sections were used as a diagnostic center, a small biolab and a recovery room. It was to this last section that Jantoo led her friends, where, to their great surprise, they found a figure reclining on one of the recovery beds. "She, she looks like you!" Dario exclaimed. "Except that she's blue!" Dil added. "And much taller,too" Banjo chimed in. "What have you been up to?" "Why are we rhyming?" Dil asked. "I don't have a clue!" Dario responded, getting into the swing of the thing. At a glare from Banjo the young Sushian cringed and mumbled a quiet, "Sorry!" "I combined some of my DNA with the samples of Foreenan DNA that we had gathered when the OverMind last tried to incorporate. My Bajoran physiology is keeping the automonous systems going. I'm hoping that there will be enough compatability for a Foreenan consciousness to activate the higher brain functions. With a little luck, a realtime telepathic linkage might even be created between the OverMind and this body to allow the OverMind to recieve instantaneous nervous system updates." "Wow!" Dil whistled, impressed. "You've been busy!" "I only hope that it works," Jantoo agreed, worriedly. "There is but one way to find out!" the voice of the OverMind boomed out. Ustrano activated the main viewscreen and tied in the ship's external sensors. The pulsing energy-mass that was the OverMind appeared on the screen. Suddenly, a pinprick of light seemed to leap from the overMind's central mass and zoom towards the ship. Completely ignoring the polyiridichromnium, the light passed through the ship's outer hull and zoomed towards the center of the ship - towards Sickbay. It passed through the walls of Sickbay and hovered over to the prostrate form on the recovery bed. Then it seemed to sink down, into the head of the blue woman. For several long seconds, nothing happened, then, with a chirp of electronic confirmation, several of the biobed's sensors fluttered. At first they seemed uncertain, then, seeming to gain more confidence, the indicators rose. Brain activity soon passed normal human levels and continued to climb. Just as Jantoo was beginning to become concerned, the figure on the bed suddenly sat up. <> she thought as the woman looked around curiously. "I/we am/are alive!" her patient abruptly announced. "It worked!" Dil shouted, hugging Linnea. "Yes," confirmed the blue woman. "I/we have achieved complete integration with this body. As you suspected, there is a weak telepathic link back to the OverMind, as well. Everything that I/we experience, it will experience. Everything that it knows, I/we know, too. Perhaps at last my/our eons-long imprisonment as a being of pure thought is finally at an end!" "That's wonderful," Jantoo and Linnea helped the woman down from the biobed, fashioning the sheet around her as sort of a toga. "What should we call you?" Linnea asked. "You may call me Foreenia," their new guest replied as the girls led her away to settle her into quarters and replicate some clothing for her. "This is my/our most satisfying moment since you completed the Quests!" the OverMind boomed. "Surely now I/we shall regain my/our corporeal form/forms quickly! Thank you again, my/our friends!" As the presence of the OverMind left the ship, Dil and Banjo headed back to the Bridge as Dario made his way back to the small conference room that he had converted into a kind of study area as he tried to familiarize himself with the technology of the Federation. Ustrano switched off the viewscreen and made its way down to the Engineering levels, quite happy with the way things had turned out. By a weird coincidence, seven was consided a lucky number by both Human and Velvattian cultures. The addition of Foreenia to the crew seemed to be a good omen. The pair arrived on the otherwise empty Bridge and Dil started them on their journey, into the future. Banjo, remembering some nearly forgotten Earth book he had read at some point stood to announce their course; "Second Star on the right, straight on 'till morning!" The majestically graceful bulk of the Menagerie glided back into existence in high Earth orbit. As had been expected, they were almost immediately hailed by McKinley Station; "USS Menagerie! Assume approach vector 125 078 mark 003!" "Okey-dokey," Zamtra replied, nodding to Diftur to trigger a sequence into the Helm console. "Okey-dokey? Who the Hell said that?" McKinley Station demanded. <> Zamtra muttered to himself before replying, "This is Ensign Zamtra, how may I help you?" "Ensign!? Where is your captain?" the voice seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. "Shaka, when the walls fell. I'm sorry but he was defrocked," Zamtra replied. He had thought long and hard about what to say when asked this question and had decided that 'defrocked' had the most ominous sound to it. "'Defrocked'? Well where is your First Officer?" Anger seemed to be giving way to incedulity over on the Station. "He seems to have abandonned ship," Zamtra offered. "Aban... Just set your computer for automatic docking, then," "Sorry again, our Science Officer has also left and took the Computer core with them." "'He' left and took the core with 'them'? Are you drunk over there, Ensign?" "Certainly not, Sir!" "Very well, have your Security Chief report to..." "Sorry Sir, he resigned!" "Menagerie! Switch to wide-angle Bridge camera!" "Surely! Ummm, which button does that? Is it this one?" Zamtra mused pushing down one of the controls on the arm of the captain's chair. A twinkling quantum torpedo shot out from the ship, narrowly missing the Station and several ships before a passing Galaxy class ship destroyed it with a quick phaser blast. "Oops! Sorry about that!" Zamtra replied. He had known exactly which button he had pressed, but he was getting kinda annoyed at the constant questions. There was a muffled thump as though someone was banging something heavy down on a console. H'uee's trained ears deduced that it was most likely a head. "Menagerie! Maintain station keeping! We are beaming a team over to take charge of the situation. Just hold tight! AND DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!" Zamtra smiled to himself. Things would be getting a little crazy for a while and there would be more questions to answer, but he knew that somewhere out there a group of special people would be doing their best to make the universe a better place for everyone. They had already made it a better place for him simply by being his friends. Next Time: And now, for something completely different. What do get when you have: Too much caffeine in your system Too little sleep Too many of your formative years spent in the 80s? Find out on 8/21/2006 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