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******************************************************************************* Star Trek: Play by E-Mail The Forbidden Years Campaign Write-up =============================================================================== Adventure #1 Flight of the Phobos ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prologue #1 Boarding Maneuvers =============================================================================== Copyright 1993 Jim Vassilakos & Tony Hayes / All Rights Reserved ******************************************************************************* Cast & Crew ST-PBeM GameMaster Tony Hayes Capt. LeBonk Joe Leitsch Cmdr. Elineva Jim Vassilakos Lt. Cmdr. Hawkins Michael McAleese Lt. Cmdr. tr'Remas Jeremy Lakatos Dr. O'Neil Mark Hammel Lt. Bellasario Alan Ward Stardate 6002.15 at 1100 hours: USS Condor, Bridge ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "It's time to begin, Captain." Artius leans back in his seat, a mixture of annoyance and dread filtering between his ears. "Doctor, is this really necess..." "Yes! Now stop wasting time, and get down here." Artius sighs, pulling himself out of the command chair. "Commander LeBonk, you have the conn." "Aye sir." Jenifer hears the turbolift doors slide shut as she settles into the warmth of the center seat, for a scarce moment wondering what it would feel like to really be Captain, to have a ship of her own. "Sir, I'm picking up a subspace communique from Starbase 81. We are advised to modify our heading so as to fly by the Omegaon relay station at 238 plus 41 mark 4." An omegaon relay station? Jenifer smirks, wondering who wants to talk to them so badly in real-time mode. Telling a starship to deviate from its flight-plan is generally ill-advised unless the occasion is one or particular merit. "Modify course as advised. Warp 6." "Aye sir. ETA in 27 minutes." She crosses her legs, hoping the Captain will finish with his annual physical by then, even though she knows the odds are very much against it. Dr. Hendriks likes to push people to their absolute limits. She remembers her physical from a few months back. It was sheer hell. Even though she got out in time for dinner, she couldn't stomach any food. Instead she went straight to her quarters and felt sore all night. Of course, she didn't prepare for it either, which may have been a factor, but at 34 years, she didn't think that she had to. When they finally arrive, Jenifer has the helmsman bring the vessel to a full stop. "Open hailing frequencies." A picture of Admiral Rogers, one of the few female directors at Star Fleet Command, takes shape on the forward viewer. Though Jenifer has seen RT- transmissions at least a hundred times, it never ceases to amaze her how a signal all the way from Earth can reach out through the omegaon relay network and carry a zero-delay transmission. "Admiral, Captain Artius is currently having his physical exam, however, I'm sure he won't mind being interrupted." Rogers smiles, "Unfortunately for Artius, that won't be necessary. I want to speak to _you_." "Oh?" "I have some news which may interest you, Jenifer. The shake down cruise of the first of the Beta-Excelsior Class Battleships has just been completed. I'm sure you've been keeping abreast of news coverage on the Excalibur." "Absolutely, sir." Her and just about every other Star Fleet officer in Federation space. Jenifer gulps, wondering vaguely what this has to do with her. "I am currently hand assembling a top-notch crew for the Excalibur, and I want you to be the Captain." Jenifer freezes, for a moment unable to breathe much less speak, and as Admiral Rogers continues, she seems either mildly amused or simply unaware of Jenifer's sudden case of lockjaw. "The Excalibur is the most advanced ship in the fleet. It incorporates advanced design features and prototype technologies. As you may have heard, it is already a candidate for becoming the next Flagship of the Fleet. Now, you're probably wondering to yourself, 'Why me?'. After all, with all the applicants... commanders, captains, even a few choice commodores... why should I pick you, someone who has expressed entirely no interest in this post whatsoever. The answer, Commander LeBonk, is that I want someone in the center seat who has flare and style as well as being a well-respected and capable officer. You more than qualify. I want you to keep in mind that this is a very high profile assignment, a golden opportunity to bring attention to yourself. You will be one of the youngest Captains in Star Fleet history and you will be THE youngest female Captain to ever command a capital starship. And if the Excalibur does become the Federation Flagship... I suppose that I do not need to spell out what it would mean for your career. So, Jenifer, will you accept the post? I hate to press you, but I need an answer now!" Several of the bridge crew turn around in their seats, their faces pale with disbelief. Still stunned, it takes Jenifer all her willpower just to look the Admiral in the eye and croak out her acceptance. "Excellent, I'll have a warp shuttle rendezvous with the Condor and pick you up in two days. Rogers out." The screen goes blank, Jenifer's mind reeling as she looks about the bridge. Some time later, Captain Artius steps in, a wet rag draped over his head. "So, anything mildly interesting happen while I was gone?" Stardate 6002.18 at 1300 hours: USS Defiant, Recreation Deck ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Captain Dyson assaults 2nd Lt. Theodore "Gunner" Bellasario with a rapid series of chops, thrusts, and kicks. Despite being nearly fifteen years Gunner's senior, it is only the young lieutenant's exceptional skill in martial arts that permits him to defend against the onslaught. Suddenly an opening appears in Dyson's defense, and Gunner lands the decisive blow, scoring the tie- breaking point and winning the match. Dyson catches his breath and picks himself off the mat, "Lieutenant, I have enjoyed our matches. It's a shame that this must be our last." He smiles at Gunner's look of puzzlement, "Orders came in this morning from Star Fleet Command. You've been re-assigned." "Re-assigned, sir?" Gunner wonders if he's being punished for that incident regarding him and the two yeomans. Dyson chuckles at the young man's expression, "Your performance on board the Defiant has been flawless. It's no wonder that they've decided to promote you to full Lieutenant and give you the Chief of Security post on the first of the Beta-Excelsiors! Congratulations!" He offers his hand, which Gunner shakes, rather unsteadily. Gunner knew he was up for promotion but had no idea it had gone through and certainly had no inkling of the Chief of Security post aboard the already-famed Excalibur. Gunner mumbles his thanks as he gathers his wits, "When am I scheduled to depart, sir?" "As you know, we have a two week layover at Starbase 49. You will be picked up by transport and taken to rendezvous with your new ship at Starbase 75." Gunner's next few days are filled with preparations and goodbyes, his grand farewell party following the Fleet tradition of restraint and dignity. "Goo-bye ever'bothy!" *Hic* Stardate 6002.21 at 1700 hours: USS Valley Forge, First Officer's Quarters ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chief Gardner quaffs down the last of the blue syrupy liquid, a devilish glint snaking from somewhere within the murky depths of his eyes as the alien potion begins to dull his senses. She's seen the look before; had written it off as a male-thing, though not so much out of distaste as due to a certain oath. He re-focuses and turns away, blinking twice and shaking his head. They'd known each other too long to play that game. "Sorry." "Uh-huh," Nien takes another sip, the magical liquor sliding down her throat and forming a warm sensation all the way down to her toes. When he turns back, his eyes drop to his empty glass. "For some reason... I just don't feel like celebrating." "Hmm...." "I'm gonna... well, the Forge isn't gonna be the same... y'know?" "Don't get sentimental on me, Gardner." "Who... me?" He conjures a smile, the sort that used to make her laugh, but the glint is still there like a branding iron ready to make its mark. He grins devilishly as only he can. "Stop it." "What?" "That look." "Hey," he tries to sound offended, "I'm just gettin' to thinkin' is all." "Then stop thinking. You're reminding me of some of the guys I used to see in the border taverns when I was a kid." "What's wrong with that?" "They'd get looking at some prostitute displaying her muscle control with a stack of poker chips," she responds somewhat sedately, looking into her glass trying to guage the potency of the fluid, "and then they'd get to thinking. We're friends, so either you show more respect or I kick you're sorry butt- cheeks out the door." He stares back at her, his face a mask of complete and utter disbelief. Then she smiles and tweaks his nose, "Gotcha." "Aww... Excalibur's gonna love you. Heh... not." She frowns, "Well, I'm there to do a job, right? The rest is peripheral." "Nah... you'll do fine." "I'm always nervous at the onset of new things. You know that." "Yeah." She swirls the blue fluid around in her glass. "Take that nervousness to about the tenth power, and that's where I'm at right now." Gardner laughs, "No wonder I'm getting these vibes. Hell, I thought it was the brandy." "Ahem.... I'm just saying that what you see as an ending is a big, big beginning for me." "Could be a big, big beginning for the both of us." His eyes grow wide as they flip-flop back and forth. "Gardner... shut-up." She lets an inadvertent smile escape, knowing it's all he'll need to give her a hard time. "What makes you think I'm not serious?" "I don't even know what you're talking about." "Well allow me to elucidate." "You're drunk, you know that?" "No I'm not..." He has that ring in his voice. "Yes you are..." "I applied, Commander." "Huh?" "Excalibur had an opening for an AMC-3. Me." That's Gardner, alright. An anti-matter containment specialist and the friendliest warrant officer in the fleet (at least by his own estimation). Her eyes fill with sudden dread. "I don't believe this. I let you into my cabin as a going-away gesture, and now I have to put up with you for another couple years?" "I never turn down Orion brandy," he explains. "Besides, don't you see what this means? The Groovers are saved!" Stardate 6003.05 at 2200 hours: Starbase 75, NCO Club ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "She's a fine ship, JJ. The finest in the fleet." Jimmy-Joe Hawkins smiles, looking back toward Reginald Watson, a master chief petty officer and the finest enlisted man he's ever worked with. Both men knew the Excalibur inside out. They figured they ought to. They'd practically built the thing with their bare hands. And they both got picked for the four-month shake-down so Star Fleet could have them right there to bitch at in case something went wrong. Of course, nothing did. About all Hawkins got to do was run more diagnostics, tweaking this and tuning that, pushing the ship right over the spec-sheet and into that amorphous area they called 'The Edge'. "I mean it, JJ. The engineer who gets this ship will *know* she's been well built." Watson takes another sip of his stale, replicated beer. "You finished re-calibrating the warp field generators on the port side?" "S'pose that depends on what you call 'finished'." The generators had been giving some fluctuations in performance during the cruise, all of it well within specs, but they both had a passion for tuning the hell out of their engines. Hawkins was never satisfied until performance was perfect. No bumps. No grinds. Just one smooth ride from beginning to end. In such a land of make-believe, there was never such a thing as 'finished'. "...Commander Hawkins to SBCO. Please report immediately..." Hawkins looks up, shooting a glance toward Watson. "Uh-oh." "You don't think..." "Only one way to find out." He gets up and starts making his way toward the Base Commander's office, memories of his "little" spat kicking about in his skull. They were a couple of security types. The concourse lounge always seemed to be full of them. Just before leaving on the shake down cruise, he decided he'd shake them down but good. There was hell to pay for that one, but he was out of reach -- until now. "If she's *still* mad about that..." Hawkins mutters to himself, cutting his mouth short as he enters Commodore Srikanna's office. Andorians are known to have quite a temper, but four months?!? She glares at Hawkins with antennae twitching -- not a good sign. "Have a seat." "Aye sir." She takes a deep breath, either on the verge of a momentous speech or fighting to regain her temper. Perhaps both. "Lt. Commander Hawkins, your work on the Excalibur has been exceptional. As an engineer, you have few equals. Star Fleet knows this, and so do I. It is for this reason that I recommended you for the position of Chief Engineer aboard the Excalibur. It is for this reason that Star Fleet has approved the transfer. This does two things. It puts you in a position for which you have demonstrated extraordinary talents and, more importantly, it gets you off my Starbase!" The antennae continue twitching, and Hawkins decides that she's not joking. Not in the least. "Thank you, Sir. I will do my best not to let Star Fleet down." Then he stands and makes for the door, not wanting to remain under her scrutiny a moment longer. "And one more thing, I do not, under any conditions, want to hear of any *disturbances* the night before you ship out!" Hawkins about faces and snaps to attention. "Yes sir!" Then, for the first time in the year he's been stationed at Starbase 75, he sees the Commodore smile. It isn't a pretty smile. It isn't even very blatant. But at least it isn't a frown, which is her usual expression. "Congratulations, Mr. Hawkins. It's a good ship you've got there." "That she is, Sir. A good ship, indeed." The frown returns, ever so easily. "Dismissed." Stardate 6003.09 at 2000 hours: Starbase 75 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The first thing Gunner does when reaching the starbase is to find a window and catch a glimpse of the ship he'll be serving aboard. She hangs in the space dock, brand spanking new. The titan of the litter, sparkling in the blue and saffron lights, the Excalibur is a wonder to behold. The Duty Officer processes Gunner through, and as he boards the vessel, he sees a familiar face waiting for him in the shuttle bay. "You will not believe this ship, Theo." "Tom... Christ why didn't you tell me? I've been trying to get a hold of you all week." "I know. My transfer orders were late. Thanks man. You must of done some arm twisting to get me on board." Gunner smiles, "Don't mention it. Hey, show me around. And tell me how the heck you beat me here." Parker laughs, telling Gunner about his stay aboard a small merchant transport, and making Gunner's slow cruise seem like paradise by comparison. "Time is money to them people. They were pushing the envelope every step of the way. No down time. No maintenance. Just refuel and go." "So what about this ship?" "USS Excalibur, NCC-2200, Beta-Excelsior." "I know what it is. Tell me about it." "It's nice." "I understand they went a little overboard on the refurbishment." "Pretty much the whole thing is brand new. You should've seen what remained of her poor namesake. They tractored off the scrapped parts like she was some pile of junk." "No ceremony, eh? That's rather unlike Star Fleet. So tell me more. What does it have?" "In a word? Comfort. It's like being on some pleasure cruise liner or something. Quarters are spacious... and not just for you officers. The rec facilities are fantastic. There's a lounge complete with wet-bar." "Do tell." "There's even something they call a holodeck. Scuttlebutt is that you make your own fantasy come true in there. We already got one guy in the department that won't leave the damn thing alone." "What about security?" "Big improvements. We got internal, controllable force fields that allow parts of the ship to be sealed off without the need for pressure doors. The other big change is the bridge." "What about it?" "Security station right smack dab in the middle of the port side. It's on this balcony overhanging the command chair. Handles all security functions plus ties in to all ship sensors, weapons, and communications. You now control everything, my man. Too much power, if you ask me." "Heh... too much is never enough." But with a little investigation, Gunner finds that his friend was telling no lies. The ship and his personal quarters even "smell" new. He takes a moment to reflect on that thought, wondering how many people have ever smelled a new ship. It must be pretty rare, he imagines. Gunner notices that there are several messages left for the Chief of Security on the computer. Obviously, the senders didn't know who would be receiving them. The first summarizes his new duties as sensor, communications, and weapons officer and directs him to several manuals explaining proper procedures and use of his rather complex bridge station. The second is a list of security personnel that have been assigned to the Excalibur. The final message looks to be a mass-posting which describes some of the features unique to the ship. Gunner moves to familiarize himself as thoroughly as he is able with the files he has been presented with, but the technical details are such that he expects it will take several weeks to get a handle on his new job. The intricacies could take months. Even years. He proceeds to look about the vessel some more to acquaint himself with the lay of the land. It has been Gunner's experience that a computer file is great, but there is just no substitute for good ol' exploration. Files tend to leave out lots of petty details, and Gunner wants to know this ship like the back of his hand. Stardate 6003.09 at 2300 hours: Shuttle Craft ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nien can't believe the sheer size of the Excalibur. Even though she's already reviewed the deck plans about a dozen times, it in no way prepares her for the experience of a shuttle fly-by. Compared to the Forge, this ship is HUGE! A ripple of excitement courses through her during the flight, much to the dismay of every male in the general vicinity. When she gets excited, *everybody* gets excited! This obvious reaction reminds her that she forgot to take her pheromone suppressants, something she hasn't overlooked in years! Boarding the Excalibur, she is reminded how few Deltans are in Star Fleet. She knows that she's attractive, even for a Deltan, and even the pips of a full Commander can't keep some of the crew from openly staring. They'd adapt. All crews do, and this behavior is expected in the beginning. She's learned, over the years, to just ignore it. Nien finds her quarters to be incredibly spacious. A quick check with the computer indicates that only about 65% of the crew are aboard but that the ship is expected to be fully crewed by late tomorrow. Crew members are arriving continuously. Of the ranking officers, only the Chief Engineer, Lt. Cmdr. Jimmy-Joe Hawkins, and the Chief of Security, Lt. Theodore Bellasario, are currently on board. As it is late night (ship time) she decides to get some sleep and start her first day fresh in the morning. Stardate 6003.10 at 0800 hours: USS Excalibur ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After a wonderful night (even the bunks are nice on this ship) Nien awakes energetic and anxious to get to work. She cleans up and applies her pheromone suppressants, dresses, and starts to review the dossiers on the Excalibur's command team. The computer reports the following: Captain Captain Jenifer LeBonk Human, Female First Officer Commander Nienna Elineva Deltan, Female Helms/Sciences Lt. Commander Oein tr'Remas (*) Romulan, Male Flags: Security Note Appended Chief Engineer Lt. Commander Jimmy-Joe Hawkins Human, Male Security Chief Lt. Theodore Bellasario Human, Male Chief Surgeon Lt. Commander Jacob C. O'Neil Human, Male Navigator Not Assigned At This Date Security Note on Oein tr'Remas: Lt. Commander tr'Remas is a Romulan defector. He has no special security restrictions and is not to be considered a security risk under any conditions. His loyalty to Star Fleet and the Federation are well documented by his Military Career Record and his contributions to date. --//-- Admiral Johanes Sebastian Hathaway Obviously, the ship's database has not been updated to include the name of the person assigned to Department Head of Navigation. Nien assumes the information will become available fairly soon but can't help wondering about the delay. While she is wondering, however, she takes the opportunity to access the ship's computer, downloading the command interface and aliases she has grown used to while on her last assignment. This basically consists of configurations for the helm, creating a familiar setup and defining a number of "macros" for common commands and queries. Remembering that this is a new grade of machine, she tries to figure out how to successfully phrase her queries and to what extent the computer understands her Fed-Standard as well as her native Deltan tongue. The computer has the latest in AI modules and programming and comes equipped with a complete "Natural Language" interface that allows the user to give commands and write programs in normal spoken language. The interface includes a large slang and jargon dictionary and has the ability to add user-defined words as well. Just as impressive, Nien finds that the computer is fluent in ALL spoken languages within Federation boundaries and quite a few "foreign" languages as well. As for Deltan, it handles it with ease. "Computer, when is Captain LeBonk scheduled to arrive?" "Captain LeBonk will be arriving at 1430 hours." Nien gulps. From what she's heard about Jenifer LeBonk, she's a tough-as-nails pilot with more daring and creativity in her little pinky than Nien fancies she has in her whole body. She heard about LeBonk's exploits some years ago, back when the last name had been the butt of not a few sexist jokes. Nobody makes those jokes anymore, however. Not after Jenifer had saved the USS Fearless from a fleet of hostile alien destroyers, aliens which later became known as the Ferengi. Nien remembers her own encounter with them. It's not something she'll ever forget. To be serving with her Jenifer LeBonk, however, as her second in command no less, and on LeBonk's very first term as a Captain... it's like a dream. And a nightmare. What will LeBonk think of her? Will she meet her expectations? Nien realizes that if she doesn't get a report together by the time LeBonk arrives, she'll be out the airlock without a spacesuit. She begins making trails, heading toward main engineering with a quick and determined step, hoping and praying that everything's in perfect order. Nien's mouth drops halfway open when the turbolift doors finally swoosh open. Engineering is in perfect chaos! Crewmen are running here and there, diagnostic equipment is setup everywhere, panels are disassembled, and in the middle of the storm is an island of stillness wearing a Lt. Commander's uniform. Nien gulps a lump a air, feeling her blood pressure rise. How can the Chief Engineer be sitting with his feet up on a computer console while the ship is obviously falling apart around him?! There's a sudden noise as one of the younger crewman catches a glimpse of her and manages to drop everything he's holding all at once. A wretched quiet falls over the chamber as all eyes turn to see what's going on. Then Hawkins spins around at the noise and catches sight of Nien. He blinks once or twice, scans the uniform for rank insignia, and then smiles, casually getting to his feet and strolling over, barking orders and generally restoring activity almost to its former level. "Howdy, Commander, what can I do for you today?" he inquires with a slight southern accent, smoothly guiding her into his office and away from the other engineers. "Well, I was just in the neighborhood." "Having a look-see, eh?" "That's what it says in the job description." She allows the door to slide shut behind her. "What's wrong with the ship?" A strange expression crosses Hawkins' face, "There is nothing wrong with my ship!" "Oh really?" She turns as if to motion toward the chaos incarnate just on the other side of the window. "Then what's going on back there?" "I'm just tuning it." "Tuning it?" "Yes sir... tuning it. You can't get beautiful melodies from a harp without tuning the strings, and you can't get a transwarp 12.5 out of my drives without tuning the systems." "But these engines only produce a transwarp of 12." "Yes sir, according to the boys who built her, she'll only do transwarp 12." He lets what he's saying sink in. "Commander Hawkins, are you trying to tell me that you have tuned these engines to the point that you can generate a warp of 12.5?" "No sir. I'm telling you that I have only had four months to work with these engines since they've become operational, and so far I can only generate a maximum burst-speed of warp 12.5, but the boys and I are working on the problem and expect to have it fixed real soon." He flashes a broad grin. Nien looks at him, somewhat in a state of awe, "How soon can we launch?" "We're ready now," he smiles. Nien nods, though not quite believing her ears. However, as she makes her way back into the main chamber, watching Hawkins assume his seat beside the master control table, she can't help but liken the seeming chaos to a ballet, Hawkins it's low-key conductor, the swarm of activity circling around him in perfect though impromptu harmony. She makes her way out of Engineering, feeling slightly dazed by the spectacle, and soon absent-mindedly finds herself scouting for good jogging corridors. She decides to take a major concourse along the spine of the vessel, taking note of the small passages which branch out to either side. It is not a route which is often travelled fully from stem to stern, mostly due to the availability of turbolifts, but she decides it would make an excellent home-stretch. When she finally reaches the bridge, she finds the duty officer is there alone, snapping to attention even as his eyes bulge out at the sight of a female deltan. "Sir, we are in space dock at Starbase 75. Our current status: All's well. There are no alerts and no waiting messages." "Thank you Ensign, carry on." Nien sits down at the helm station and begins installing and testing her customized helm interface, just in case the need should ever arise that she'd have to pilot the ship at a moment's notice. As she goes about her business, however, she can't help but sense the duty officer's eyes boring into her as he steps away from his station to get a better view. "Ensign, have you ever piloted a starship?" "No sir." "The first rule is to keep your eyes on the forward viewer. I suggest you practice that." "Uh... yes sir," he stammers, stepping back to his station. Nien gets up and heads for the turbolift. "Sickbay." When the doors swoosh open, she finds herself in what looks more like a full scale lounge than a reception area. A few minutes later, one of the nurses is pulling up her charts and records without so much as the press of a single button. "Commander," he says, "we have your records from Star Fleet Medical and you are up to date. We won't need to bother you for about seven more months. You're in luck, too. Dr. O'Neil has actually done work with Deltans before. You'll be in good hands." "That's reassuring. My last doctor had trouble finding my livers." "Livers? Oh yes, I've heard that in some ways you Deltans are more similar to Vulcans in internal anatomy." "Well... we Deltans prefer to think of Vulcans as being similar to us. By the way, I was hoping I might be able to acquire some anti-intoxicants." "Hangover pills?" "No... anti-intoxicants. Stuff that will keep me from getting drunk, not that I'm planning on it, but it helps to be prepared." The nurse winces apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir. That will require a prescription from Dr. O'Neil. I am not authorized to dispense those medications." That's the correct response, of course. Being First Officer and new to the ship, she figures she should've known better. Getting slapped in the face with some regs was practically pre-destined. Anti-intoxicants are harmless and commonly dispensed under the table (it's better to have a sober crew using ill- gotten drugs than the obvious alternative), but being an Ensign just out of the Academy, the nurse is taking no chances with a high ranking officer who may or may not be testing him. "I guess I'll have to take it up with O'Neil. Thanks anyway." She makes for the door, scratching her plan of drinking Gardner under the table just for kicks. Stardate 6003.10 at 1430 hours: Starbase 75 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jenifer boards the shuttle alone, preferring to do her own flying rather than getting chauffeured like some high and mighty dignitary. It also gives her a chance to check out the ship from all angles, up close and personal. As she sweeps within meters of the windows, she sees various members of her crew going about their duties, the engineering section a particular hive of activity. She's already heard about Hawkins, the man and the legend, and wonders offhand if he's finally bit off more than he can chew. Or her for that matter. After the shuttle finally sets down and she climbs out, she sees a woman who looks like she ought to be on the three-vee strolling down the aisle of some fashion show. "Captain LeBonk, I presume. I am First Officer Nienna Elineva." Jenifer blinks. First Officer? "Greetings, Commander," she manages with a smile. "I've been wondering who they were going to assign to your post." "I assure you, it came as a complete surprise to me." "Oh, I'm sure. Star Fleet is just full of surprises." "Let me show you to your quarters, Captain." "Lead on." As they walk the corridors, LeBonk cannot help but note the stares her first officer is getting. Usually it's the Captain who would be getting all the attention, but even with full rank insignia, it's like she doesn't even exist. "Have you been on board for long, Commander?" "I arrived just last night. Why?" "Oh... no reason. It just seems that everybody already knows you." "Knows me?" "Yes... as though you're a celebrity." They reach LeBonk's quarters. "Come inside, Commander. I think we should talk." As she enters behind the Captain, Nien feels her voice waver, uncertain how to begin. She finally decides to have out with it. "Sir, I should inform you that, as required by Fleet Regulations, I have taken the oath of celibacy. It's on file with my records. Additionally, I regularly use the optional pheromone suppressants for the convenience of the crew." LeBonk looks vaguely relieved. "I take it you've been reading my mind." "For certain things, sir... one does not have to be a telepath." "Very well. What is our status, Commander?" "I was assured by Chief Engineer Hawkins just this morning that our ship is fully functional and ready to launch at any time." Nien pauses in front of the Captain's personal computer access panel. "Computer, what is the number of personnel on board and the number assigned at this time?" "722 personnel are currently on board. 750 personnel are currently assigned." Nien turns back to the Captain, "The Duty Officer informs me that we have no alerts and no waiting messages as of 0930. The Chief Quartermaster says we are fully provisioned, and Space Dock Control says we are cleared to initiate launch procedures at our convenience." The Captain appears pleased by the brevity of the presentation, "Excellent, Commander." Nien smiles, "Well, Captain, I'll leave you to settle in and learn your way around, I'm still doing that myself." LeBonk chuckles, "Very well... you're dismissed." Nien make for ten forward, more than a bit relieved to be out of the Captain's quarters. It had gone about as well as she could have hoped, which is to say that she didn't get herself thrown out the airlock on the first day, though she's sure LeBonk will be watching her. Along with everyone else. "Commander Elineva. Fancy meeting you here." "Mr. Gardner. Pass me the blue saucy stuff in the decanter over there. That's a direct order, by the way." He grins, "So how goes the first day?" "Could be worse." "Oh?" "I met our illustrious engineer this morning." Gardner nods, knowingly. "I heard about that." "What did you hear?" "Well, let us just say that the staff was visibly impressed. You seem to have had quite an effect on them." "Wonderful," she sighs, downing half the glass. "Bit early to get drunk, darlin'." "Don't encourage me, Gardner." He smirks, "I take it, it's been one of _those_ days?" "No, not really. When I woke up this morning, I was thinking that today would be... a bit odd." "Hey, I've been there. Trying to figure out what works and what doesn't. Finding out how much equipment people managed to mangle just getting acquainted with it." "Right," Nien nods. "But most of the engineers have been on board for months already. On the day the Captain is arriving on board... I figured that engineering would be cleaner than pure vacuum." Gardner wags his head, "I don't think Hawkins believes in all that spic and span stuff. From what I've seen, he likes to let people explore, and he consistently demands the impossible, but he always seems to know exactly what's going on. He's pretty good in that respect." Nien dumps down the rest, "If he can deliver on his word, he's more than pretty good." "Here, have yerself another." "No thanks," Nien puts her hand over her glass. "What's the matter? You fearful for your sobriety?" "I was going to take care of that today." Gardner smiles, "I know. I had the same idea. The nurse told me you were there asking for the same formula. Looks like great minds work in the same directions." "Humph! He thought I was testing him. You can tell when they get that look of fear in their eyes." "Yeah... well, it's better than the alternative." "What's that?" "There was a joke going around in engineering today. How many Deltans does it take to screw in a light bulb?" "Ahem... simple but effective. Okay, how many?" "Only two, but it has to be a pretty good sized light bulb." "Thank you, Gardner. You make that up all by yourself?" "No. Wish I had at first, but then I was glad I had nothing to do with it. Somebody was stupid enough to tell it to Hawkins. I'd never even imagined that he could get so riled-up about a joke. He has half the department engaged in explosive decompression drills right now." Nien sighs, "The man is too good to be true." ***** ***** >>>----> *** ***** ***** *** ** * * ** * * * * Is this love or a mystical state? * *** *** **Find out in Prologue #2!!** ** ** ** ** ** ** <----<<< ** ** _ /| * * Jim Vassilakos \`o_O' * jimv@cs.ucr.edu ( ) jimv@wizards.com U Riverside, California ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- This Star Trek PBeM is archived on ftp.cs.pdx.edu in pub/frp/stories/startrek -----------------------------------------------------------------------------