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From: [e-mail] (james vassilakos)
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Subject: STORY: ST-PBeM Turn #22: Tani's Story
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Date: 6 Dec 1994 09:04:21 -0500
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*******************************************************************************
                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #22
                                 Tani's Story
===============================================================================
              Copyright 1994 Jim Vassilakos / All Rights Reserved
*******************************************************************************


  Cast & Crew
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
  ST-PBeM GameMaster       Jim Vassilakos      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Duran          Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Hawkins        Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. tr'Remas       Jeremy Lakatos      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. de la Sangre   Carlos Jensen       [e-mail]
  Lt. Bellasario           Alan Ward           [e-mail]
  Lt. St. James            John Brengman       [e-mail]
  Lt. T'lar                Ronnie Simonds      [e-mail]
  2nd Lt. Morchainte       Brian Chrisman      [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.27 at 1340 hours: USS Excalibur, Images from a Frightened Mind
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tanara... I understand that you do not want this assignment."

"You've never asked me to assassinate anyone before."

"Yes, well, our usual employee is no longer available." The Romulan pivots in
his chair. "And you've always done such magnificent work."

"I won't do it."

"Of course you will." He slides the viewer around to show her a recent picture
of her son, then watches with glimmering eyes as it has it's desired effect.
"Your little one is doing very well, or so I've been told. You know, there's a
great many opportunities for Chameleons these days. Why, our theater is simply
abound with them. And I understand that those of significant intellect have
even been recruited into the science academy. No end to the possibilities for
one so young and bright as your little... what is his name... Athen?"

Tani scowls. Theater indeed. Most of her kind in the 'entertainment' profession
serve as concubines for those of more exotic sexual tastes. The rest are spies,
many private, others, like herself, serving the state. And the leftovers, those
deemed unfit to enter Romulan society, are neutered and then sold on the
auction block.

"Of course," he continues, "it is entirely possible that he could find himself
skewered over an open flame. After all, the Klingons have acquired many an odd
delicacy. One wonders what they wouldn't eat." He smiles, "Oh yes, Tanara, the
choice is yours."

T'lar blinks, and the scene shifts. They're in a pub. Her and two friends. One
of them is sweet-talking some guy.

"You mean you're from the Excalibur?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"We have a special for guys from the Excalibur."

"Really?" The lowly fodderous crewman seems genuinely intrigued. A few minutes
later, they're stuffing his body down a garbage chute.

"Won't they find him?"

"By the time they do, it'll be too late. C'mon, we need two more."

The scene shifts again. T'lar watches this time, purely a spectator, as she
feels her arm rise and her finger twitch over and over. Pop pop pop. But they
sound is muffled, and the simulacrum's blood is dirty grey. The transporter
beam is upon her before she can decide what to do. Then she's on the inside of
the brig. Trapped.

T'lar's soul shivers as a thousand foreign memories encircle her mind. She
tries to focus. Who are the other assassins? What is their plan?

<*> When? Tell me! <*>

In her mind's eye, T'lar sees images of what Tani's accomplices look like, as
well as images of them in the bar when they're posing as human females, and
later on the Excalibur when they're posing as crewmembers. In each situation,
they look different. One of the names is Histlin. The other is Karameth. As for
when they intend to strike... Tanara was supposed to deliver the first and
final blow. Now that she has failed, even she is unsure as to what will happen
next.

'We need to talk,' T'lar realizes, not entirely sure her message got through.
She makes an image of herself appear before Tanara.

<*> Tani <*>

She extends her hand.

<*> Tani... I want to help Athen. I... don't want to take anymore. Please tell
    me what I need to know. What's going on here? Why does everyone want to
    kill Sarin? Who else is going to kill Sarin? <*>

All T'lar's emotion flows through her voice. Nothing can be hidden in the mind
as easily as it's hidden in the physical world, and T'lar was never very good
at hiding her emotions to begin with.

<*> Please, Tani. Enough people have died today. You know they'll never release
    Athen as long as you live... not as long as you keep succeeding. You're too
    valuable to them... and if you fail, it'll be even worse. <*>

'I have failed.'

<*> Let me help you. Let me help Athen. Tell me what's going on. If not... this
    will end here, I promise. I don't want to hurt you any more. <*>

'Who are you?'

<*> My name is T'lar. <*>

'How did you catch me? How could you have known?'

<*> It doesn't matter. You are among friends now. Tell me the cover names of
    your friends. Who are they disguised as? <*>

Suddenly T'lar feels a tidal wave rushing through the psychic space between
them. The nerve pinch has worn off, and the only thing keeping her under is the
telepathic intrusion. T'lar feels her struggling toward consciousness like a
diver swimming back to the surface of a great ocean, and feeling more than a
twinge of pity, she allows Tani to attain it.

A moment later, Tanara blinks at her. Bellasario is there, phaser in hand ready
to blast her if she so much as sneezes. T'lar holds her hand gently. The look
of concern she had mentally is replaced almost entirely by the typical Vulcan
mask.

"Hello again, Tani. Are you feeling alright? I am T'lar." She glances over at
Gunner. "I wish you'd put that away." She looks back, and says softly, "If I
get out of this alive, I swear I'm going to get Athen to where he's safe."
T'lar squeezes her hand lightly. "And Vulcans, of course, never lie." T'lar
rises and looks impassively at Gunner. "We've learned all we can. Let us
leave."

"Wait a sec, what exactly have *we* learned?"

"When you have been cleared with the proper authorities, I will let you know."

"Proper authorities? As Chief of Security, I *AM* the proper authority on this
ship."

"You don't understand. There's more than one assassin."

"What does that matter now that Sarin's already been shot?"

T'lar sighs, "Come now. I don't have the time to explain."

Gunner blocks her passage, "Look, we have assassins, potential assassins, SFIC
agents, and god know what else. You HAVE time. Now talk."

Before T'lar can open her mouth to respond, however, Tanara regains her feet
and manages to zap herself on the forcefield.

T'lar turns about, "You'll have to stay here for a while."

"Did you mean what you said... about Athen?"

Gunner makes a miffed expression, "Who's Athen?"

T'lar simply ignores him and nods, "As I said, Vulcans never lie."

"Like hell you don't," Gunner interjects, pressing his hand to his cheek and
making scratchy noises with the back of his throat, "zzzt... grrrk..."

"Ahem... that was merely an exaggeration." She turns back to Tanara, "Yes, I
meant it. But we have to stop your friends. Why do the Romulans want Sarin
dead?"

The chameleon takes a deep breath, now back to her natural form, that of a
tan-skinned humanoid with sharp yellow eyes.

"I wasn't merely supposed to kill Sarin. I was to take his place."

"Take his place? Why?"

She sighs again, inwardly debating whether or not to say anything more.

T'lar studies her for a few moments. "You don't have to tell us any more,
if you don't want to. I understand. I promise we will help Athen regardless."

Her eyes narrow, and she turns her back, "I thank you for your sentiments,
T'lar, but you shouldn't make promises you can't keep. My child is lost."

"Not necessarily," T'lar brandishes. "Do not give up hope. This game is not yet
over."

"Game?" Gunner looks perplexed.

"I must leave now." T'lar begins heading for the door, Bellasario fast on her
heals.

"Wait a minute, Vulcan. You haven't told me jack."

"Who is Jack?"

"No, I mean..."

"Come. Everything will soon be explained."

Bellasario grits his teeth in anger, but has learned long ago never to argue
with a Vulcan. It is generally an exercise in extreme futility. When they
finally reach the holodeck, T'lar hits the comm unit on the outside.

"Sir? I have Bellasario here," she glances over. "I think he should be cleared
for that special project of yours. There's two more of them. We can't do
everything by ourselves anymore. Permission to enter with Gunner?"

Ash looks up from where Kris is laying. "Oh, perfect timing." He reaches down
and snatches her phaser. "Don't you budge an inch or I'll fry you like a frog
on a grill."

Kris blinks, maintaining her awkward posture. "Whatever you say, sir."

When the holodeck doors finally open, Ash is pointing his phaser at Gunner. "No
offense, Lieutenant. And please, don't do anything jerky. I've never shot an
Admiral's son before."

"What's this all about?" He glances over and sees Kris on the floor. Then sees
the two Sarins. Then he blinks once or twice. "And here I thought you were just
playing poker all this time, Commodore."

Ash grins, then lowers his phaser, realizing that this is, in fact, the real
Bellasario, or at least the same one who caught him on the previous day.

"For a moment there, I wasn't sure that you were you."

Bellasario nods, "We talked to the assassin. I thought that Sarin was..." he
cuts himself short, glancing at T'lar, "Oh yes. But Vulcan's never lie, do
they?"

"What do you have to report?"

"Your 'assassin' was a chameleon." Gunner recalls a briefing on the topic.
Apparently a few had been captured along the Romulan and Klingon frontiers
whilst engaged in spy missions, but precious little information was available,
at least at his security level.

T'lar holds up the tricorder containing the scans. Ash nods, motioning toward
Kris. "See if she's one." Kris remains perfectly still, suddenly understanding
why the Commodore pulled a phaser on her.

"No, she's no chameleon."

"Can I get up now?" Kris tries to look hopeful, catching her phaser single-
handed a moment later.

"Sorry about the confusion, Lieutenant, but I couldn't afford to take chances."
Ash doesn't look particularly sorry. "Now, where were we? Ah yes. Your report."
He looks expectantly at T'lar.

She takes a deep breath. "I performed a mind meld on the prisoner. She and two
other chameleons were sent by the Romulans to board and kill Sarin. I did not
learn why, and she either does not know or won't tell. She was the main
assassin. If there is a secondary plan to kill him, it is unknown to her and
will presumably be improvised when or if they learn of her failure."

Ash paces back and forth during the sermon. "Without knowing the ultimate
objective of all this, it's rather difficult to guess what they'll do next.
What else did you learn?"

"Tani, that is her name, is being blackmailed by the Romulans to perform this
assassination. They are holding her son hostage. The other two I do not know,
but they may be similarly unwilling in their tasks. They obtained access by
killing three regular crew and replacing them, dumping the bodies down disposal
chutes. If we can find what's left, we may be able to identify who they are...
and hence trace the two remaining chameleons via their badges."

Ash shakes his head, "Lieutenant... they don't call it 'chop suey' for nothing.
There isn't much to go on. At least, not enough to get an ID right away.
Anything else?"

"That is all I have learned, sir. I believe Sarin still owes me an explanation
of why everyone wants him dead, but I suspect it will not be forthcoming."

Ash blinks once or twice, as though somebody just whapped him upside the head
with a large lead brick. He then looks at Sarin, the one who is standing
unscathed, that is.

"An excellent question. Any thoughts you might have on the subject,
Ambassador?"

Sarin bows slightly, "As I told you before, Commodore, I have good reason to
take precautions. Not so much for my life as for the information I am carrying.
And that information cannot be made known until I meet with the Klingons."

"Ambassador, unless we know exactly what they are after, we can't very well
predict what they will do next. At least educate us to the level of the enemy."

Sarin folds his hands, "How much they know about my mission is still uncertain.
But this agreement with the Klingons which I intend to forge is predicated upon
complete secrecy. Only myself and certain members of the high council are even
aware of it."

"And the Romulans," Ash adds. "Not to mention the Gothmogs. And one lonely SFI
agent who hasn't enough cover to keep dry in a sonic shower."

"Okay," Kris says. "If I can, I'd like to suggest that the following security
steps be taken to isolate the ambassador until the chameleons are found. First,
he should be taken to the ambassadorial suite. I can't protect him if he's not
where I think he is."

Ash shakes his head, "If he were in the ambassadorial suite just a few minutes
past, he'd now be in a coffin... fit to be shipped back home to the Eridani
Sector."

"But sir, we could post an entire squad of guards in front of the suite. No one
would be allowed to enter unless a scan proves that they are not a chameleon.
We might also try restricting communications and transporter activity. Finally,
since we have chameleons aboard who can pass for authorized crewmen, I
recommend going to General Quarters, Condition 4."

Gunner nods, for once in agreement with Kris. "We could go from cabin to cabin
with a team of tricorder specialists. We'd eventually find the chameleons.
They'd have nowhere to hide."

"Assuming they're even on board," Ash speculates.

"Well, what does it matter? We don't need to catch them in order to protect the
Ambassador. We could depart for Rigel at once. Sarin will be safely aboard the
Excalibur, and if there are chameleons on board, we will find them."

Ash considers, then looks toward the downed simulacrum. "Is it repairable?"

The techie looks up, "We'll need a foreign matter ejector, but I think I can
get it shipshape in under an hour."

"We may not need it after this, but go ahead. Oh." He picks the locator badge
off the simulacrum, tossing it to the Ambassador. "You might as well be you, at
least for the time being. Computer, suspend program swap."

"........Program execution suspended."

Very shortly, both the techie and Sarin's simulacrum disappear in a misty blue
haze of transporter waves. Thereafter, Ash opens a comm-channel, contacts
LeBonk, and briefly explains the situation as well as the proposal of the two
security officers. Her response is as succinct as it is decisive.

"Sarin is safest if he's presumed dead."

"The intended assassin knows that he's not," Ash warns. "But as for the
others... I suppose we could... fake something."

Bellasario clears his throat, "Sir. You want us to fake his death?"

Her voice sounds contemplative over the speaker. "If both gothmogs and romulans
are involved in some plot to kill him... I dare wonder who else might be, or to
what lengths they might go to achieve their objective. We can find these
assassins, but we can't protect him over the long term. Not so long as they
know he's alive."

"Sir, do you understand what you're asking us to do?"

"It's a risk we have to take."

"Where are we gonna put Sarin?" He glances toward the Ambassador
apologetically.

T'lar considers thoughtfully. "Sir? May I make a suggestion? You and Sarin
obviously have rather fine control over this simulacrum. Could it be sent to
contact the other agents once it's repaired? Being a chameleon is not exactly
an easy thing to 'pretend'... it seems we have a unique opportunity here."

Ash nods, "I'll show you how it works as soon as it's repaired. Assuming that
it gets repaired."

"The only problem," Jenifer cuts in, "is that you need the holodeck to use it."

"To use it properly... yes," Ash nods, "a luxury which is difficult to
disguise." He looks toward the comm unit. "In the meantime we need a place to
stow the good Ambassador." Suddenly he looks back at T'lar, as though an odd
thought just struck him on the noggin'. "How about the Phobos? Do you think you
can find some place for him, Lieutenant?"

T'lar considers the query with a tilt of her head. "We may have a closet of the
appropriate size... and I could set up a sensor-suppression field. However, I
can't guarantee that *they* won't find the field."

Ash leans against the wall, "*They* won't be suspecting the Phobos."

"Precisely. I think it is also safe to assume that with an obvious and
verifiably Sarinish dead body, they won't be randomly sweeping for his sensor
trace either. It's your decision, sir. Do we have anyone already in the know
who can do it? I'd prefer to keep the number of people who know about this as
it now is."

Ash nods, not quite sure what he's getting into, and from the comm-unit, T'lar
can almost see the Captain's eyebrow arching just a tad.

"Unfortunately, we do have to tell at least one other person. Lt. Bellasario.
Please go to sickbay and inform Dr. O'Neil that we will be needing a death
certificate prepared for the Ambassador. Then issue the General Quarters alert.
I will have Sarin's badge deactivated momentarily. And Lt. T'lar, I will have
you beamed directly to the Phobos with Sarin."

"No," comes a sharp Vulcan voice from the back of the room. "If you please,
Captain, I would prefer to take a shuttle."

"You must be joking."

"I do not joke... Captain."

'Yeah, right,' T'lar thinks to herself.

Kris looks up. "Ambassador, I must tell you that in the interests of your
safety, we should get you to a transporter. If this charade of your death is to
work, you must not be seen by *anyone*. Now, we can order the halls to be
cleared en route to the transporter room or shuttle bay, but we'd be taking far
less risk if we simply beamed you directly from this location."

Sarin nods, "Your logic is sound, Lieutenant, however... I assure you that
there are other considerations of which even you are unaware. Please heed my
wishes. I must not be transported. A shuttle... a vacc suit... any other method
is vastly preferable."

"Fine," the Captain sounds miffed, "T'lar, St. James... find some way to get
Sarin to a shuttle... undetected. I'll monitor your progress and give your
turbolift top priority. But I don't know how we're gonna keep the shuttle from
being scanned."

"It is rather obvious," Ash notes. "And then there are the engineers already
aboard the Phobos to consider."

Kris huffs, "We could also call a GQ4 on the Phobos until the chameleons are
captured."

Ash shakes his head. "I don't want anyone suspecting that the Phobos is
anything more than a ship in need of repairs. No, you'll have to deal with the
engineers when you arrive. If nothing else, I can recall them to the station."

"Hmmmm. Good idea, Commodore," Kris muses. "Please have someone prepare some
repair supplies and load them into a shuttle. I will then fly it and the
ambassador to the Phobos. Using the supplies as a disguise, we should be able
to mask the ambassador's presence."

"I sincerely hope so." Ash heads out of the holodeck, leaving T'lar and Kris to
deal with the transportation of Sarin. Once on the turbolift, however, Kris
can't help but have second thoughts.

"You know," she says, looking at the Ambassador, "if it had just been you and
me discussing the matter, I'd have physically hauled ya by your pointy ears and
thrown you into a transporter beam."

Sarin makes no intimation of offense, but replies, "I would expect no less from
an officer of your calibre."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1415 hours: USS Excalibur, Duran's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gunner finally reaches sickbay, out of breath. 'Every minute is precious,' he
thinks to himself. "Doctor! Doctor O'Neil!"

He finds the good doctor furiously typing on a medical terminal. Computers are
chirping away in the background.

"The drug dispensary is closed, Lieutenant."

"I am afraid I'll be needing more than drugs this time, doctor."

"Well, that's peachy. Could you be a little more vague?? I suppose I'll just
drop everything and attend to your personal needs."

"Doctor..."

"If you only knew what trials the doctors at Albuquerque are putting me
through. They want detailed DNA records on every crewmem..."

"Doctor!" Gunner slams his fists on the desk.

For a moment, there's pure silence as O'Neil recognizes something in the chief
security officer's tone that suggests that he is not in the mood for an
extended verbal parley.

"What is it?"

"I need a death certificate."

"What?"

"For Ambassador Sarin."

"What!?"

"It is a very long and very complicated story, and I do not wish to bore you
with it. Suffice it to say that the real Sarin is not dead but that it is
vitally important the crew believe that he is."

"How the hell am I supposed to fake a dead body that doesn't even exist?"

"I trust you'll think of something. If you'll excuse me, I have a pressing
matter to attend to." He hits an IC.


Stardate 6003.27 at 1415 hours: USS Excalibur, Shuttle Bay
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eager footsteps echo along the deck of the shuttle bay as a lone figure
scurries about, taking instrument readings and whistling off-key. Suddenly an
access valve opens, and the shuttle mechanic pokes his head inside.

"Chief?"

Hawkins turns around, sterling wrench in hand, with a guilty grin on his face.
"Hi Twang. What are you doing here?"

The Caitian shuttle mechanic grins, "What are *you* doing here. Don't you have
a ship to run?"

Hawkins just turns around and laughs. The Excalibur may be his ship, but the
Dixie Queen is his baby.

Twang sidles up, admiring Hawkins creation. The Dixie is probably the fastest
warp shuttle in the fleet. One big fat tuna with four barrels of warp fusion
and enough tartar sauce to make it all the way to Rigel.

"Chief, I haven't seen you here since... well, since we left SB75."

"I know. I hope Dixie isn't feeling neglected." Besides, he pats the shuttle
with the palm of his hand, "I still want to finish that re-alignment of the
port engine injectors. I think we might be able to squeeze a bit more juice
from the reactor."

"Need a hand?"

"Well...if you're not busy..."

"Chief, we're in port!"

"Well, okay then. You grab the grub, while I get these access plates off."

"You got it, Chief."

Hawkins pats Dixie again, "If I'm not mistaken, I feel a new speed record for
shuttles comin' on!"

"Yeah, I'll bet you do. Hey, look. The Jaquinto's getting an early start."

"Huh?"

Twang points out the window. Sure enough, one of the Excalibur's shuttles is
making trails.

Hawkins shrugs. The Jaquinto is a supply shuttle. They're probably heading to
the Phobos with something it's aged replicators couldn't manage to fabricate.

"You think they're really going to gut that sucker?" Twang must have been
thinking the same thing.

"Not until the omegaon relays are reliable. And that could take years. Until
then, they need a tugboat more than another defense boat."

"I hope you're right. I hate to see a ship torn apart."

Hawkins nods, "Same here. Those old boats are a lot of fun to work on. A pain
in the ass sometimes," he grins as he opens up the injection compartment,
"...but a damn lot of fun."

"Not more fun than the Excalibur, though."

"Less bureaucracy. I walked out of Engineering, and you know what I see? The
security people rigged-up some kind of solid-objects detector. They've
practically frisked my entire staff."

"That's going a bit far."

"Well, I guess things can't get much more secure than they already are."

Suddenly red lights start flashing. Hawkins looks up, wondering what's going
on.

*** General Quarters 4. This is not a drill. ***

"What the..."

*** All off-duty personal are hereby confined to quarters ***

Hawkins groans from beneath the Dixie. "Spoke too soon." He gets to his feet
and starts heading for the door.

"Where you going, Chief?"

"Gonna find out what the heck's going on."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1415 hours: USS Excalibur, Duran's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Computer, coffee, hot, black." Duran grabs the cup and takes a swallow,
savoring the burning sensation all the way to the pit of his stomach. The
caffeine hits like a pop to the nose. He glances at the clock. "Computer,
access the visitor logs. Assign each visitor a different color. Then overlay a
ship map with their travel paths. Note any locations where two visitors were in
close proximity."

Duran notes that the paths of Sarin, Commodore Ash, T'lar, and Lt. St. James
all intersect at the holodeck.

"What the hell are they doing, having an orgy? Computer, stealth login: Lt.
Commander Andron Tarkine Duran."

"........login complete."

"Access project Blackblade. Now access the program currently running on the
holodeck."

"........Warning: performance of this command at level six status will result
in negation of stealth environment."

"Access from Lt. Khemsa's account."

"........Insufficient security rating."

"I'm the assistant security chief for..."

"........Command unknown. Please respecify."

Duran shakes his head, wondering what's going on. He consults the chart again.
According to it, they've been there for several minutes. "Computer, who is
currently on the holodeck?"

"........Error. "Location" function has been disabled."

"Logout." He blinks his eyes once or twice, now certain that something
incredibly funky is going on. "Only one way to settle this mess." He grabs his
knife and phaser and heads out the door, wishing he'd never been assigned this
particular mission. Targeting internals is difficult, dangerous, and not very
pleasant. The fact that Sarin and T'lar may be amassing a team against him
doesn't lighten his mood.

'Damn Vulcans.' But then an odd thought hits him. What if Sarin really is
innocent? What if...

Duran's thoughts are interrupted by the General Quarters alarm. He shakes his
head to clear the fog, "What the hell?" he says out loud. Then breaks into a
full run toward the nearest comm port. "Khemsa to all security posts - we have
a GQ condition. Begin standard sweeps."

He looks up and hears Bellasario's voice coming from the speakers. "General
Quarters 4. This is not a drill. All off-duty personal are hereby confined to
quarters."

He runs a quick trace on the channel. "Originating at sickbay?" He patches a
channel, "Sickbay, this is Lt. Khemsa..."

"Looks like Sarin's premonition about you was wrong."

"Gunner! What the heck's going on?"

"Sarin's been shot."

Duran gulps, now completely confused. "But the computer said you were all on
the..."

"I want you to get over here immediately to help coordinate."

"Uh... aye sir."

He heads over there, watching people scurry through the halls, some in various
states of undress, as Bellasario's voice continues to sound over the PA.
"Visitors are to be confined to their quarters or to the observation lounge on
deck eight. If you are a visitor, you may not leave this vessel without
specific clearance."

Whatever else Gunner says, however, is rendered inaudible by the scream of a
nearby security alarm. Duran makes toward it, soon realizing that it leads
directly to Sarin's quarters. There he stops and gapes. There's a hole in the
door. Somebody actually carved it open with a phaser. And Parker's nowhere in
sight. Suddenly a team of guards comes hurtling down the corridor, and it's all
that Duran can do to get out of their way. Another officer is there also. A
Lt. Commander according to his badge. And another pin denotes him as a first
officer.

"de la Sangre," he says. "I caught wind that somebody's taken a shot at the
Ambassador. This is his quarters, isn't it?"

"Whoa there," Duran stops in his tracks. "What's going on? What are you doing
on my ship responding to our alarms?"

"I'm first officer aboard the Graz. I'm on board as a guest."

"Who's guest?"

"Look, I don't have time to explain." Vincent tries to push past Duran to get
to the door to the Ambassador's quarters.

"Easy there. Okay, we'll go over this together. Tell me what you know about
what's going on."

"Just who are you!? How do I know you weren't involved?" Vince draws his gun,
and aims it at Duran. "Freeze!"

Duran looks at the gun. Then laughs. "Put your that away before you get hurt.
I'm Lt. Khemsa, Assistant Security Chief. Computer, state my name, rank, and
position."

"........Bakahna Sethon Khemsa, 2nd Lieutenant, Assistant Chief of Security,
USS Excalibur, NCC-2200."

"Now, talk to me, I don't have a lot of time here."

"Nor I, Lieutenant." Vince pockets his phaser and steps around Duran, finding
his way through the hole in the door to Sarin's Quarters. Parker is there
looking a little foolish and a not a little peeved. He's already talking to one
of the security people as Duran follows Vince through the recently carved
entrance.

"...heard the alert, and when they didn't come out, I just started hitting on
the door. I didn't know what was going on."

"So you blew a hole in it?"

"What was I to do? Chief told me to protect the Ambassador. I thought the best
way to do that was to get inside."

"So where is he?" the voice is Vince's.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you."

"He's in sickbay," Duran says with all the honesty in the world. "He's been
shot."

"What?!" Parker's jaw drops, and he begins heading out the door, apparently
toward sickbay.

"Hold up a second. We need to do some scans."

"You do scans. I'm going to sickbay. If Sarin's there, then that's where my
post is."

Duran grabs a security tricorder from one of the guards as Vince follows Parker
out the door. The tricorder shows a high number of ambient leptons. No doubt
the result of Parker disintegrating half the door. It also picks up some odd
substance of the floor. A spot of grey ooze. "Odd."

Within a minute, the forensics team is in the corridor with all manner of
specialized equipment.

"See if you can find out exactly what happened. I'll be in sickbay."


                      _   /|        Jim Vassilakos
                      \`o_O'        [e-mail]
                        ( )         [e-mail]
                         U          Riverside, California

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