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                STAR TREK:  THE THIRD GENERATION
                       on Shadowlands BBS
              Created and Edited by Rebecca J. Anderson
                      Ver. 2.0  (93/01/01)

EPISODE #6:  "The Cat's Eye"
--------------------------------------------------------------------
CHARACTERS:                                WRITTEN BY:
Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard...........Rebecca J. Anderson
Commander (Dr.) James N'Dok................Tim Ingram
Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies................Rebecca J. Anderson
Lt. Commander Barnabas Cole................Warren Postma
Lt. Commander Nikctalos D'pyrann...........Geza A. R. Reilly
Lt. Commander Mac Scott....................Dan McMillan
Counsellor T'Pryn..........................Rebecca J. Anderson
Centurion Salek............................Adam Gilchrist
Lt. Maverint Slike.........................Steve Mahler
Lt. (JG) Konnu.............................Russ Foubert
Moriarty...................................Rebecca J. Anderson
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From:  Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard

     Jack walked into Admiral Hethor's office at 1300 hours feeling
as though she had a brick wedged halfway up her diaphragm.  As she
took the seat the Admiral offered her she glanced briefly around
the room, trying to calm her nerves by familiarizing herself with
the setting of this preliminary trial.
     Hethor's office was richly but not extravagantly appointed,
with elegant mahogany furnishings, brass fixtures, and draperies of
red velvet bound back with golden cord.  The overall mood was
refreshingly archaic, and certainly dignified enough to suit one of
Starfleet's most respected Admirals.  A Caitian claw-painting,
delicately drawn and faintly reminiscent of Japanese art, hung on
the opposite wall in a frame too heavy for its ethereal beauty. The
aesthetic error gave her an obscure sense of comfort.
     Hethor gave a discreet cough; Jack turned instantly to face
him.  "I am at your service, Admiral," she said.
     "Indeed," said Hethor.  "As well you know, instructed you were
to bring immediately to this Starbase the _Enterprise_ upon departure
of Captain Lestat.  Informed you were that another Captain would
for you be waiting here."
     "Yes."  She felt numb.  Was it really going to be this simple?
Everything going ahead just as planned?  Hadn't the Borg conflict
meant anything to them?  She should have known better than to hope
they'd give her the _Enterprise_.  She wasn't even experienced enough
as a First Officer to really deserve her post; how could she expect
to be Captain of the flagship of the Federation?  It had been a
crazy dream from the beginning.
     "All you have to say is that?" said Hethor, interrupting her
thoughts.  He seemed surprised.
     "I don't know what else I can say," she replied quietly.
"Your decision is law in this matter, and I have no wish to be
insubordinate."
     Hethor waved that aside.  "Insubordinate--pah.  What think
you, Jacqueline Picard?"
     "You're giving me liberty to speak freely?"
     "Yes."
     Jack frowned.  Why was he doing this?  Was he playing with
her, like a cat with a mouse?  Or did she really have a chance?
     "Frown not.  Talk."  Hethor was insistent.  She had no choice
but to believe him.  She took a deep breath.
     "Admiral, I love the _Enterprise_.  The crew and I work well
together--have done so since the beginning.  They respond well to
me, and I believe I have managed to earn their respect, especially
after the Borg conflict."
     "Have you."
     "I cannot ultimately speak for them, and it is possible that
they harbor reservations I have not been able to detect.  But I
have confidence that were you to interview them personally, they
would support me."
     "Arrogance," rumbled Hethor.
     "No," said Jack.  "Confidence that my crew are honest and
loyal members of Starfleet, and that if they had qualms about my
leadership they would already have expressed it to me--or to
you."
     "How do you know they have not?"
     He was bluffing.  At least she hoped he was.  "I don't believe
that they have, sir."
     Hethor's yellow eyes held hers for a long moment.  Then he
said, "They have not.  But," and he held up a hand, "they may do so
yet.  To interview them personally I do intend, and to insist that
they freely speak I intend also."
     "Admiral," said Jack.  "Are you telling me there's a chance I
might be promoted to full Captain?  Because if there's not, you
don't need to do this.  I will obey your orders."
     "Telling you I am not anything," said Hethor sharply.  "Obey
my orders, will you?  Begin now."
     Jack was silent.
     "Full examination of your profile in every area will tomorrow
begin," Hethor told her.  "The services of your Counsellor I will
require for the psychological analysis."
     "T'Pryn?"  Jack was surprised.  "But she is also under
review."
     "Yes.  But with you has had opportunity to work, and will
better know you than Counsellor of this Starbase."
     "And she's Vulcan," said Jack.
     "And will not be swayed by emotion."
     "She is undertaking an experiment--"
     "Aware of that I am.  Nevertheless when commanded she will be
capable of Vulcan discipline.  If she is not, review you will
_both_ fail."  Hethor turned away dismissively.  "Report to me you
will at 0900 hours tomorrow."
     "Yes, Admiral," said Jack.


From:  Lt. (JG) Konnu

     1800 hours, KDF vessel _Pach'Iw_ Docked at Federation Starbase
643.
     "More scars brother? Maybe you aren't cut out for this line of
work!" rumbled Captain Krador.  Konnu chuckled and eased himself
into a seat behind a battered table.  Krador took two mugs of Greg-
th from his room's replicator, and offered one to his brother.
Konnu took the mug and drank deeply.
     "I do not think Federation ships are very safe, Krador.  As
you have noticed, I haven't been there for a week and I've already
been wounded."  Konnu offers a metal cane to Krador.  "The doctor
tells me that I must walk with this device for a week."
     "HAHAHAHAAH! A toothpick! You must walk with a toothpick!"
Krador bites the cane in half and throws the pieces to the floor.
"If you need something to walk with..."  Krador walked over to a
trunk and opened its heavy lid.  He pulled out an ornate cane, or
walking stick, and tossed it to Konnu.  The stick was made from a
leg bone of some rather large carnivore, and it was topped by the
ornate skull of some other dangerous creature.  By Klingon
standards, it was a work of art.
     "Where did you get this?" asked Konnu.
     "It belonged to our father.  I do not know where he got it
from.  It supposedly once belonged to Chancellor Gorkin.  Our
great-grandfather knew Gorkin..."
     "Why would I want anything from Kurn?  `Father' would have
disowned me in another week, if he hadn't been killed!" spat Konnu.
    "You do not know how Kurn felt about your decision to serve
Starfleet!" growled Krador.  "He was honoured to have a son serve
with such distinction.  And I always hated him for that..."
    "Bah... you were just jealous Krador!" roared Konnu.
    "Jealous!  I have my own ship!  Where is your mighty fleet
Konnu?"
     "Someday...  Someday I will have my own ship you reeking bag
of J'ithlP!"
      "HAH!  The Federation garbage scow _Wimp_."  The two Klingons
polished off their mugs, and stared at one another for a few
minutes.  Then they suddenly started to laugh with each other.
Krador and Konnu were the best of brothers, as far as Klingons
went.  Their arguments lasted as long as a Romulan in a Klingon
Tavern.
      "I will see that your belongings are transferred to your ship
Konnu.  By the way, has Starfleet commended your Captain yet?  She
is a fine warrior!" asked Krador.
     "Commended!  Hah!  It is as if she had betrayed the Great
Alliance itself!  She and half of the senior officers have been put
on review!"
     "If the _Enterprise_ was a Klingon ship, your Captain would now
be a commodore!  I will speak with this Admiral Hethor... and then
if speaking does not work, breaking an arm might."
     Suddenly a beeping noise emanated from the door.  Krador
barked at the noise and the doors opened.  A Klingon warrior stood
with Maverint and Kate.
     "How did you like your tour of the ship?" asked Krador.
     Maverint and Kate looked at each other and then looked at
Krador.
     "Umm..." started Maverint
     "...Great!  Just a lovely ship, don't you think Mav?" added
Kate.
     "Nice ship you have here...." lied Maverint.


From:  Maverint Slike

     "Wasn't that fun?" Maverint said as he and Kate walked out of
the transporter room aboard the _Enterprise_.
     "Are you being sarcastic?" she replied smiling.
     "Maybe a little.  Still, the technology aboard the Picard is
really something though, isn't it?"
     "If you say so... I was more interested in the reaction we got
from a lot of the crew.  You'd think they'd never seen a married
couple before."
     "They probably haven't... at least not one as young as us.  At
our age, most Klingons are still making a name for themselves.  A
life mate is one of the last things on their minds."
     "True."
     The conversation died instantly as Mav and Kate continued to
walk down the corridors.  Maverint found it rather odd that his
wife had nothing to say.  At most times, it proved to take a lot of
patience waiting for Kate to stop talking.  This silence put
Maverint on edge a little, not knowing what to expect.  So he
started to talk about the first thing that came into his mind...
     "You know, I've never thought much about the name "mess hall"
until I visited a Klingon ship.  How could we have known that a
human colloquialism would suit another race better than it suits
our own?"
     "Really..." Kate replied, now not even a hint of feeling in
her voice.  Maverint turned his head to look at her.  Her face was
impassive.  Her eyes stared down at the floor.  From the way she
was acting, it was like she was a walking zombie.
     "All right." Maverint said, stopping in the middle of the hall
and grabbing Kate by the arm.  He had to know what was bothering
her before he started to worry about what was worrying her and
creating an even bigger problem.  She turned to face him but kept
her eyes down.  "What's going on? You've been really close-mouthed
lately and its really starting to give me the creeps..."
     Kate smiled lightly at Mav's quip, but kept her eyes from
meeting his.  "I'm worried." she said.
     "Why?"
     She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, then just threw
reasoning to the wind.  "You're taking too many chances Mav!" she
said, darting her eyes up to meet his with a sharp glare.  "When I
married you, I knew you were headstrong and adventurous, but
things have really been spiraling since we came aboard the
_Enterprise_.  You jumped at the chance to rush out and face the
Borg, then watched as the shuttle that was with you got cut to
ribbons just a short distance away!  Then you go running around the
ship with Konnu and nearly get disentigrated by a madman shot up
with UTE!  Are you trying to give me a heart attack, you big jerk?!
What's next?!" she said, giving him a light shot in the gut.
     Maverint chuckled just a little to himself as he straightened
up.  Ferocity was one of her most alluring traits.  "I'm supposed
to know? This is a starship! We both knew the kind of things that
have happened aboard deep space starships but we chose to accept
positions on the _Enterprise_ because it kept us together and let us
both be near the stars.  What more could we have asked for?"
     "I don't know...  I just worry about something happening to
you.  Life with the stars would be nothing without you."
     "Eeuuhhh! Don't go get all soppy on me now!" Mav said,
feigning a boyish repugnance.  Kate didn't smile but just looked at
him.  "Come on...  Risk taking comes with the uniform.  It's what
gives this existence purpose for me..."
     "What about me?" she said.
     Maverint pondered that phrase.  What about Kate? What
consideration had she been when the call to duty had come to rescue
comrades on the borg ship? Facing off against a madman armed with
a weapon which could instantaneously wipe all trace of his
existence out in a nanosecond? None, he thought solemnly.  None at
all.  Boyish exuberance and the thrill of the game had blinded him
to the one thing that should have meant the most to him.
     "What would you have me do? Resign my post? Become a cabin
husband?"
     At this she smiled.  "No! Neither of us could stand that! I
just want you to think more before you act.  Consider what you're
getting into more..."
     "I will...  but you know, life is short enough without
worrying yourself over what tomorrow will bring..." Mav said,
putting his arm around Kate and began walking down the corridor
again.
     "Don't you mean LONG enough?"
     "Sure.  Whatever you say..."


From:  Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard

     When Jack arrived at Admiral Hethor's office at precisely 0900
hours the next day, she found a note on his desk directing her to
room 4076-B for a full psychological evaluation.  She was beginning
to feel insulted.  Hethor was treating her like some errant
schoolgirl, not a fully commissioned Starfleet officer.  Was it her
youth he despised?  Or the fact that she was a woman?  Was he being
extra hard on her just because Jean-Luc Picard was her father?
     Maybe Jack was just getting thin-skinned.  She picked up the
note with a sigh and headed out the door.
     The evaluation room turned out to be on the other side of the
Starbase, down the end of a narrow hallway that looked more like a
service chute than an access corridor.  No, she was not being
paranoid; Hethor had it in for her.  The door opened, and she found
herself looking in at a small round space, devoid of any furniture
save for two chairs and a psych testing console.  It was not in the
least welcoming; certainly not designed, as any sensible evaluation
room would be, to put its occupants at ease.  She looked over to
the far side of the room and saw T'Pryn standing there.
     "Welcome," said T'Pryn.  She motioned to a chair with one
slender hand.  Jack sat down, and the Vulcan woman seated herself
in the chair opposite.
     "We are both being evaluated, you and I," said T'Pryn.  "In a
sense, that makes us opponnents."
     "No," said Jack, "it doesn't."
     "Why do you say that?"
     Apparently the evaluation had already begun.  She replied
cautiously, "We are responsible to fulfill our duties as Starfleet
officers.  In order to be a good Counsellor, you must search out
and reveal to the Admiral any dangerous psychological weaknesses
you might find in me.  To conceal such a weakness, even for the
sake of friendship, would not be either kind or...logical."
     T'Pryn smiled.  "Do you then believe that it is best for you
to know the truth about yourself, even if it is painful for you to
hear it?"
     "Yes."
     "Even if there should be serious consequences?"
     "Yes."
     "Why?"
     "Because if I know what is wrong with me, then I know where I
must change, where I must grow."
     T'Pryn nodded.  "What if Starfleet should deem a weakness
something which you consider to a strength?"
     "Are you asking me whether I think it is possible for
Starfleet to be wrong?"
     "Perhaps I am asking you whether you think it is possible for
_you_ to be wrong."
     "If," said Jack carefully, "the point on which we disagree is
simply a matter of my personal opinion, then I cannot afford to be
dogmatic.  Unless I have empirical evidence, of course, in which
case it wouldn't be just my opinion."
     "And if you feel that you do have empirical evidence to
support your case, but Starfleet disagrees?"
     "I would make a formal appeal."
     "And if the appeal is rejected?"
     "It would depend on what I'm appealing.  I might have to leave
Starfleet."
     "What would be so important to you that you would be willing
to risk your career?"
     Jack took a deep breath.  "Most likely a moral issue.  I do
believe in objective moral standards.  I cannot violate those
standards, even for Starfleet."
     "Cannot?"
     "Will not."
     T'Pryn turned to the computer console.  "I have been reviewing
your records."
     "Counsellor," said Jack.
     T'Pryn looked back at her and raised one black eyebrow in
inquiry.
     "Do you think," Jack went on, "that my religious beliefs
really have any bearing whatsoever on my performance as a Starfleet
officer?  Does this not strike you as a sort of ultra-modern witch
hunt?"
     In her position T'Pryn couldn't possibly answer that, of
course.  She took the professional way out:  "Do you feel yourself
persecuted, then?"
     "I'm beginning to feel that way, yes."  Jack folded her arms.
"I am certainly willing to comply with Starfleet in any way
necessary, and I have nothing to hide, but I really do wonder
whether my personal convictions are any of Starfleet's business.
If Starfleet is disposed to consider my faith--or anyone else's--a
psychological weakness, then perhaps I'd better not be in
Starfleet."  It was probably the hardest thing she had ever said:
her stomach was methodically tying itself in knots as she spoke.
     T'Pryn gazed steadily at her.  "Then I take it this interview
is over?"
     "It's over," said Jack.  "You're a good Counsellor, T'Pryn.
Any fool can see that.  But if Admiral Hethor wants to know what I
believe, he can ask me himself.  I'm tired of being treated like a
rat in a cage."  She got to her feet and headed for the door,
tasting frustration like dust in her throat.  She wasn't angry--
there was no point.  But she had definitely had enough of this, and
it was high time that she made it known.
     "Goodbye, Captain," said T'Pryn quietly.


From:  Counsellor T'Pryn

     "So left the interview she did," mused Hethor.  "Unusual."
     "Not out of keeping with her character," said T'Pryn, sipping
lightly at her green tea.  "She has a deep-rooted dislike of
psychological evaluation.  In her entire Starfleet career she has
only voluntarily gone to see one Counsellor, and the interview was
abortive and inconclusive."
     "Proud she is."
     "That is a possibility, though given my present knowledge of
her character, not a likely one.  Her reserve is not unjustified.
She is capable of quite satisfactory performance under stress
levels which others find unacceptable, and her mental parameters
are well-defined."
     "Stable."
     "Yes.  She demonstrates a high capacity for objective
appraisal and logical evaluation.  Nor does she often act hastily."
     "Concerns have you any?"
     "She has a tendency to over-rationalize:  'thinking too
precisely on the event', as Shakespeare described it.  It will not
be likely, however, to prevent her from acting swiftly in a crisis
situation.  Her response to the Borg crisis would seem to
demonstrate that hypothesis."
     "And religious is she."  Hethor's whiskers twitched.  "Find I
that disconcerting."
     "I do not believe she would call it _religious_," said T'Pryn.
"If you will permit me, Admiral, under the same criteria, Vulcan
mysticism is a form of religion.  Those beliefs have not prevented
Vulcans from distinguished service in Starfleet.  However, Acting
Captain Picard's beliefs are not mystical in nature, and conflicts
may arise between her ideology and the aims of Starfleet which I
cannot foresee."
     "Indeed," murmured Hethor.
     "There is a precedent, however," T'Pryn added.
     "More like her there are in Starfleet?"
     "A few.  However, none are in high-ranking positions--with
the exception of your own Chief Cyberneticist on this Starbase,
Commander Gwyn Davies.  I took the liberty of examining his record
in the hope of anticipating any conflicts which might arise in the
line of duty."
     "Conflicts were there?"
     "No significant difficulties as yet.  However, I cannot be
definite as to whether that trend will continue."
     "Knew I did not that Davies was one of those," muttered Hethor
darkly, his yellow eyes gazing past her to the claw-painting on the
office's far wall.
     T'Pryn remained silent, waiting him out.  She felt that there
were two layers to this conversation:  one, the petty and
superficial criticisms Hethor chose to voice; two, the true
feelings and judgments he kept to himself.  Given the sterling
record of the half-Catian Admiral, it was exceedingly unlikely that
his real personality bore any resemblance to the one he had so
carefully presented to Jack and herself thus far.  He appeared to
be using a bluff of some sort, to see how they would respond to it.
It was not, T'Pryn felt, the most logical approach to the situation
at hand, but it would perhaps be effective just the same.  She
found herself curious as to his motives in the matter, but would
not presume to guess at them without further information.
     "Dismissed you are," said Hethor, focusing on her.  "Have you
my thanks for your input."
     T'Pryn inclined her head in graceful acknowledgement, gathered
up her long blue skirts, and glided out of the office.  As the door
hissed shut behind her she turned the corner and nearly collided
with Jacqueline Picard, who was approaching Hethor's office with an
expression of unusual determination on her fine-boned face.
     "I would not disturb him at the moment, were I you," said
T'Pryn quietly.  "I believe he is taking time to assimilate the
information which I have provided him.  To interrupt would perhaps
be unwise, and a defeat of your purpose."
     Jack's blue eyes searched T'Pryn's face intently a moment,
then the taut lines of her body relaxed.  "Understood," she said.
"Thank you, Counsellor."
     "I come to serve," said T'Pryn, slipped past her, and
continued down the corridor.  She allowed herself to be impressed
by Jack's ready acquiescence.  A Captain who would take her advice
in small matters could be counted upon to take her advice in other,
more important things as well.  In light of that fact, she found
herself hoping that Jacqueline Picard would indeed be her Captain
for some time to come.  After all, it was important for a
Counsellor, even a Vulcan one, to feel useful.


From:  Commander (Dr.) Gwyn Davies

     The moment he entered the laboratory, Tijo Sterling pounced on
him and shoved a padd into his hands.  "I've got the neuro-network
down.  Do you want to check it?"
     "Which unit is this for?  The spider?"
     "You bet."
     He nodded and began to scrutinize the data on the padd, but
Sterling kept hanging about and grinning.  "Tijo, do you mind?"
     "Sorry."  She backed off, but not far enough.  He sighed and
tried to pretend she wasn't there.
     The schematics looked all right.  It wasn't easy coordinating
the movements of a robot with eight legs, especially a
sophisticated External Repair unit like this one, but she'd done a
fair job.  "Looks good," he said, handing the padd back to her.
"Go ahead with the next phase.  You can get Erhinn to help you."
     "Great.  Thanks.  Oh, hey, did you hear there's a Borg on the
Starbase?"
     "A what?"
     "A Borg.  You know, the oddball, the one that graduated from
the Academy a few years back.  Thought you might be interested."
     "Very much, but I doubt he'd be any more willing to let me
take him apart than Admiral Data is."
     "Yeah, I know.  But you could talk to the CMO on the
_Enterprise_.  He might have some juicy information for you."
     He raised a dubious eyebrow.  "Perhaps.  Well, go on with your
work.  I'll be in my office; I have some positrons to argue with."
     "Gotcha."  She scampered off, clutching her precious
schematics to her chest.  He smiled at her youthful exuberance and
headed into his office.
     He spent the next few hours trying variations on the
positronic coding he'd developed for the Z-9000 security unit.  It
had inexplicably failed beta-testing last week and attacked a
Starfleet officer.  The woman had managed to shut off the unit, but
not before it had knocked her down and broken a couple of her ribs.
He didn't like that at all, but for the life of him he couldn't
figure out how it had happened.  And if he didn't know, nobody else
in the Federation would either.  He had a feeling even the famed
Dr. Soong would have found this one a stumper.
     He stared at the computer screen until he could almost feel
his brain drying up.  This was crazy.  He ought to have found the
problem by now.  Why couldn't he see it?
     "Gwyn."
     He looked up, to see Counsellor Sithril standing in the
doorway.  "Hello," he said. "What are you doing here?"  Ordinarily
he wouldn't have been so blunt, but the Counsellor would know what
he was thinking anyway.  Irdolians were even worse than Betazoids
for that.
     "You need a holiday," she said.  "Your mind is so tired I
could feel it halfway across the station.  I'd even go so far as to
say you need a change, but a holiday will do to begin with.  When
was the last time you--oh.  That long ago.  Yes, well, with the
Admiral's permission, I'm _ordering_ you to take a two-week leave
of absence.  No, don't even think about arguing with me.  The
security unit can wait."
     "For a Counsellor," observed Gwyn drily, "you can be one of
the least merciful people I know.  And the Admiral's in on this
too?  I give up.  When, and where?"
     "It doesn't matter to you where, does it?"
     "Since I don't want to go at all, not really."
     "I'll make the arrangements."  She turned, green silk
billowing, and headed purposefully out the door.  Then she stopped
and turned back.  "Yes, I know I'm infuriatingly meddlesome.  But
you'll thank me for it when this is over."
     "Irdolians are not endowed with the gift of prophecy," said
Gwyn.  "That much I _do_ know."
     She gave a half-annoyed, half-amused snort and left.
     "She's going to send me to Rhysa," Gwyn murmured as he touched
the computer off.  "Just to spite me."
     And the very next morning he found out he'd guessed right.


From:  Acting Captain Jacqueline Picard

     Jack walked into her stateroom on the _Enterprise_ and flung
herself down on the bed, pushing her face into the pillow.  She was
mentally and physically exhausted, stressed out like she'd never
been before.
     And she wasn't the only one.  After Admiral Hethor's gruelling
week-long review, even the eternally composed T'Pryn had looked a
little wild around the eyes.  Nikctalos--well, with a Borg it was
impossible to tell.  Perhaps he didn't feel anything.  But they'd
been just as hard on him as they had been on Jack herself.  Salek,
on the other hand, had gotten away with nothing more than a polite
interview, which made sense; there was no point in cross-examining
a Romulan exchange officer, it was just bad protocol.  Hethor had
already ruled him fit to continue on as Tactical Officer.  But as
for the Admiral's view on Jack, Nikctalos and T'Pryn--nobody could
even dare to guess.
     Jack's only hope was something T'Pryn had said a couple of
days ago:  that neither of them had seen the real Hethor yet, that
this heavy-handed authority bit was just an act.  Jack fervently
prayed that might be so.  She couldn't take this much longer.
     Too tired even to take off her uniform, she pulled the pillow
over her head and sank into the merciful oblivion of sleep.

     Bong.
     Bong.
     Bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong--
     Jack sat upright with a start as the sound of the doorbell
finally registered.  She still felt half-asleep, even though the
readout by the bed said it was her usual waking time, and she'd had
a good eight hours.  Automatically she passed a hand over her hair
and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes before dredging her
voice up from the bottom of her throat and saying, "Come."
     The door opened, revealing an unfamiliar Ensign.  "Acting
Captain Picard," he said respectfully, "Admiral Hethor requests
your presence at the Main Conference Room in half an hour."
     Half an hour!  That was hardly enough time to get herself
looking presentable, let alone get mentally prepared for an
important meeting.  But there was no point in arguing.  "Thank you,
Ensign," she said.  "Advise the Admiral I will be there at the
appointed time."
     The young man nodded and stepped back; the door shut silently
in front of him, leaving Jack alone in the half-darkness.  "Lights
on," she said, and dragged herself out of bed.
     "Half an hour," she muttered as she ran water in the basin and
stared at her own white, stress-lined face in the mirror.
"Heavenly Father--"
     She bent her head and splashed water into her eyes, trying to
take the redness away.
     "--I have no idea what to do or say any more where Admiral
Hethor is concerned--"
     She rubbed her face with the towel.
     "--but I know that You know what You're doing in all this--"
     Her hair was an unbelievable mess.  She began to brush it
methodically, trying to work out the tangles.
     "--even if I don't--"
     She pinned her hair back.  It still looked awful, but it was
the best she could manage with so little time.
     "--so please just show me what You want me to do--"
     Her uniform was all wrinkled.  She'd have to put on a new one.
She moved to the closet and began fingering through her clothes.
     "--and give me the strength to do it.  Because," she finished
as she pulled her other uniform out of the closet, "I don't have
much strength left right now."
     She began unfastening her collar, then stopped, a weary grin
spreading over her face.  "'And He said to me,'" she quoted, "'"My
grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in
weakness."'  I guess Admiral Hethor is _my_ 'thorn in the flesh'?"
     The silence yielded no answer, but she didn't need one.  Her
heart already felt lighter.  Quickly she changed uniforms, ordered
breakfast from the replicator, ate in haste and hurried out the
door.  If she set a smart pace, she'd make it to the conference
room just in time.

     As she walked into the huge hall--usually reserved for the
most important diplomatic meetings--with its white marble floor and
high-vaulted ceiling, she was startled to find so many eyes fixed
upon her.  Not only was her entire senior staff present, but the
tiers on either side were filled with ranking officers.  She even
recognized some of them:  Admiral Solok, from Nikctalos's old
posting; Dr. Ajo, who'd taught her biology in the Academy; and one
attractive dark-haired woman who looked strangely familiar--Good
heavens!  _Gabriele Lestat_?
     As the women's eyes met, Lestat acknowledged her former First
Officer with a nod, but her expression remained dispassionate.
Whatever had happened to Gabriele in the last few weeks, Jack
realized, could not have been pleasant.  The pips on her collar
indicated a Commander's rank, for one thing, and she no longer wore
the red of command, but a lab coat over medical blue.
     Jack was insanely curious to know what had happened to the ex-
Captain of the _Enterprise_, but right now she had to worry about the
fact that she was very likely to be ex-Captain herself.  She forced
herself to look forward, to approach the dais on which Admiral
Hethor sat, his yellow eyes gazing into hers with an unfamiliar
warmth.
     "Admiral," she said.
     "Commander Jacqueline Marie Picard of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_,"
he acknowledged formally--and with perfect grammar.  "Please turn
and face the assembly."
     Obediently, Jack turned, wondering if she were going mad.  She
stared down the length of the hall, while at least seventy pairs of
eyes gazed back at her inquiringly.
     "Over the past week," said Hethor, "I have subjected Commander
Picard and a select portion of her senior staff to numerous tests.
Those who have witnessed my examination of the Starfleet officers
involved have expressed concern that I was being unduly harsh,
unreasonable, and unfair in my treatment of them.  Those who know
me well have in fact been exceedingly surprised by my behaviour
over the past week, but I swore them to secrecy.  I deemed it
necessary to carry out my plan in order that it should be fully
proved to the satisfaction of every Admiral in Starfleet that these
officers have not only distinguished themselves in battle, but in
every way fully earned the right to serve aboard the flagship of
the Federation."
     "That's it," whispered Jack to herself.  "I'm cracking up."
     She hadn't realized her voice would carry so well in the
vaulted room; the words sounded clearly in the stillness that
followed Hethor's speech, and laughter rippled through the
audience.
     "Her dismay is well founded," said Hethor, and she could hear
the amusement in his trilling voice.  "I have been exceedingly hard
on her.  But it was necessary.  The Captain of the _Enterprise_ must
be no ordinary Captain.  She must be capable not only of
withstanding extreme stress, but of continuing to perform her
duties at optimal level even while that stress remains.  She must
be rational, clear-headed, able both to give and receive orders,
and loyal both to Starfleet and to her personal convictions.  She
must have the trust and respect of her senior officers.  No human
being is perfect, but a true Captain must strive for excellence in
all that she does, while at the same time recognizing her own
weaknesses and limitations.
     "It is my considered opinion, based upon the examination I
have carried out over this past week--and may I mention that the
full documentation of that review is available to anyone who wishes
to see it--that Jacqueline Marie Picard is that Captain."
     Jack closed her eyes.  This was insane.  There was no way this
could be happening.
     "With the authorization of Starfleet Headquarters," said the
Admiral, "I hereby promote Jacqueline Picard to full Captain of the
_Enterprise_.  Jacqueline, please turn and face me."
     She turned numbly, automatically, and gazed up at Hethor as he
rose from his chair, took a small box from the Lieutenant on his
left, and walked down to meet her.  He opened the box
ceremoniously, and there, lying on a cushion of red velvet, was a
golden pip.  His long graceful fingers fastened it to her collar.
     "You may face the assembly, _Captain_ Picard," he said.
     Half-blind with tears of consummate relief, Jack turned and
faced the crowd again, while applause echoed through the chamber.
     "In recognition of their performance under review," continued
Hethor when the noise had subsided, "I would at this time also like
to confirm Nikctalos D'pyrann, previously designated Borg Unit 889
349 246 345 001, in the rank of Lieutenant Commander and Operations
Officer of the _Enterprise_, and Lieutenant Commander T'Pryn as
Counsellor of the same.  And, in recognition of valiant service in
the battle against the Borg, I will also announce the promotion of
Barnabas Cole to the rank of Commander, First Officer of the
_Enterprise_, and of Lieutenant Junior Grade Konnu to full Lieutenant
and Security Officer of the _Enterprise_."
     Jack watched smiles spread across the faces of her crew--
except for Barnabas, she noted with some concern--and replied with
a shaky smile of her own.  Even now that it was all over, she still
felt like she'd been whipped.  The last few weeks had taken more
out of her than she thought she had to give.
     "This session," said Admiral Hethor, "is now at an end.  I
have somewhat more to say to Captain Picard before the _Enterprise_
leaves the Starbase, but I will contact her later.  For now, I
thank all present for their attendance and support.  You are
dismissed."
     To the sounds of renewed applause, the newly commended crew of
the _Enterprise_ rose from their seats, inclined their heads to
Hethor, and headed for the door.  Jack brought up the rear, walking
with carefully measured steps in case she fell over--she sure felt
as though she might.
     But it was all right now.  Everything was all right.


From:  Capt. Jacqueline Picard

     "You really had me fooled," said Jack.
     Admiral Hethor bared his sharp teeth in a smile.  "Indeed.
You do understand why I did it, though, do you not?"
     "Yes.  It's the little irritations, as well as the big issues,
that can push someone over the edge--and in a Captain you can't
afford that.  I know what you were doing, but to be quite honest,
Admiral, I can't say I like it."
     "No.  I did not expect you would."  Hethor leaned back in his
chair.  "However, it was necessary.  Had I been less harsh in this
review, other Admirals might have questioned my judgment in
promoting you.  It would not be good for you to go through your
career hearing whispers behind your back--that was what brought
down Gabriele Lestat."
     Jack was silent.
     "And that brings me to the purpose of this meeting," said
Hethor meaningfully.  He folded his long furry fingers and gazed
archly at her over the desk.  "I am adding two new members to your
crew.  Specialists.  One will work with the Medical department, the
other with engineering, but both are independent researchers and
will operate as such.  In a crisis you may command them, and I am
sure they will be willing to cooperate in any situation where you
require their services, but ultimately they are responsible only to
themselves."
     "Independent researchers."
     "Yes.  One is a Xenobiologist, the other a Cyberneticist.
Both are rather interested in your Borg officer, to begin with."
     Jack's jaw tightened.  "I can't speak for Nikctalos--"
     Hethor dismissed this with a wave of the hand.  "Don't worry,
Captain, they will not be dissecting him.  And they have other
projects they can work on during the term.  To be quite frank, I'm
assigning one to you because she'll be miserable anywhere else, and
the other just because I think he needs a change of scenery to keep
him from getting stale."
     "Who are they?"
     "The Xenobiologist is Gabriele Lestat."
     Jack let her breath out in a long whistle.  "Admiral--"
     "I know, it will be awkward.  But I think for the best.
Lestat has some... things to work out where the _Enterprise_ is
concerned."
     "Very well.  And the other?"
     "You don't know him, and he's gone on holiday, so I can't
properly introduce you.  I'll leave his file for you to review when
you get back."
     "Get back."  Jack looked at him blankly.  "Back from what?"
     "Holiday.  I am ordering you to take two weeks' leave.  After
the stress you've been under lately, it would be foolish to return
you to duty without some chance to relax.  Besides, when I reviewed
your file I saw it's been nearly two years since you took a
vacation.  Not wise, Captain Picard, not wise at all."
     "Holiday?  I--"
     "Don't argue with me; the thing is done.  The _Enterprise_
will drop you off on Rhysa, and--"
     "Rhysa!"
     "Why," asked Hethor wearily, "is Rhysa so objectionable to
everyone all of a sudden?  It's a wonderful place."
     Jack decided to let this pass.  "Yes, sir."
     "You are dismissed, Captain.  I wish you and your crew all the
best in future."
     "Thank you, Admiral."

     The _Enterprise_, with Gabriele Lestat once more on board, left
Starbase 643's docking bay at 1400 hours a freshly refitted vessel.
Sleek, deadly, gleaming blue in the pale starlight, it streaked
into the void, heading for Rhysa.
     "Captain," came Mac Scott's voice over the intercom.
     Jack settled into the Captain's chair and gazed out at the
stars streaking past the main viewer.  "Yes, Commander?"
     "Um, I didn't have time to tell you this, with all that was
going on, but did you know the Admiral's given us another present?"
     "Present?"  Jack glanced at Barnabas, who was sitting in the
First Officer's chair beside her.  "What do you mean, Mr. Scott?"
     "They've fitted us with the new G-Warp technology, Captain.
I wouldn't want to use it except in a crisis... but it does look
like a lot of fun."
     A smile curled at the corners of Barnabas's mouth.  "An
interesting way to put it, Commander.  We'll keep it in mind."  He
glanced at Jack; she nodded.  "Bridge out."
     "G-Warp, two new crew members, a forced holiday..." Jack shook
her head.  "This is the Admiral's plan to _relieve_ my stress?"
     "Cats are inscrutiable creatures, aren't they?" said Barnabas.