ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/stories/startrek/adv2/turn23

Text File | 1994-09-10 | 36KB | 895 lines

*******************************************************************************
                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #23
                                   Two Down
===============================================================================
              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 1425 hours: USS Excalibur, Outside Dixie's Bay
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkins slaps a comm-port, "Hawkins to Engineering."

"Lt. Carlile here sir."

"Lieutenant, as you know we are at general quarters. I want every system on-
line in ten minutes, I want all leaves revoked and all duty personnel to their
posts."

"Aye Sir!"

Hawkins thinks, 'GQ while docked? Can only mean INTERNAL security problems.
That explains the beefed up security but not WHY!' "And Lieutenant, I want ALL
the Borg equipment secured. No one is to access it without my direct approval.
Is that clear?"

"Er, sir... Lt. Morchainte has taken another test-run with the belt?"

"She's outside right now?"

"Yes sir."

'Just perfect. That damn belt reflects all communication.' Hawkins grimaces,
"Try waiving her back in or something."

"Aye Sir!"

"Also, I'm assumin' we have some kind of internal security condition. Keep a
close watch on the equipment for possible sabotage, and keep an eye on the
crew. If you see anyone you don't know or see anyone actin' odd, call security
and have them checked out. I'm goin' to talk to the boss. As soon as I know
what the hell's goin' on I'll get back to ya."

Hawkins closes the comm channel and pats the wall next to the comm-port. "Don't
worry, girl. Anybody tries anything, they're gonna have to answer to ME!"

A minute later, he's on the bridge, getting frisked by a pack of security
guards.

"Hey, watch that son. That's a family heirloom yer poking."

"Sorry sir. Just doing my job."

"Yeah, that's exactly what Sherman's men said, I s'pose."

After extricating himself from the guards, he makes his way to the center seat.
"'Scuse me, Captain, a word?"

"What's on your mind, Chief."

Noticing that Elineva is not in her seat, he plops down, "I have this odd
feeling that somethin's up."

"Let me guess. The General Quarters alert?"

He looks over his shoulder, "Oh, is that what's going on? And here I thought it
was mardi-gras. Well, that clears up a few things."

"Glad to be of assistance. Now if you don't mind, my hands are a bit full."

Hawkins gives her an odd look, 'Cagey, aren't we my dear sweet capt'n,' he
thinks to himself, but says nothing, instead focusing his remaining attention
on Nien and Lt. Kaylan, sitting together at the navigation console. My, but
they do make a lovely pair. They appear to be busily running some scans. Or who
knows? Maybe they're playing 3D-Pacman. 'Well well, maybe there are other
information sources that can be exploited.' He gets up and heads over to the
nav-console.

"Ladies."

"Chief," Nien looks up.

Hawkins looks over the console to see what they are doing. Sure enough,
intensive scans galore. Shields are up. Weapons are armed. The ship is sitting
at starbase, at GQ4, and as fully prepped for combat as it's ever going to get.
That is assuming that his people are on the ball.

"Commander, I was wonderin' if you would be so kind as to enlighten my why
we're sittin' at GQ4 in dock. How am I supposed to provide proper resource
support if nobody ever tells me anything?"

"Ambassador Sarin has been shot. We have reason to think that the assassin may
still be on board. We are currently scanning for cloaked ships."

"Scanning for *cloaked* ships? Ain't that a bit on the optimistic side?"

"Think of it as a test for our sensor arrays."

"How sure are we that there's actually something out there for them to lock on
to?"

Nien shrugs, "No guarantees, but we won't know unless we look. Are weapon
systems online?"

"Raring to blaze," he brags, hoping that Carlile is taking care of business
downstairs. "But that won't do you much good unless you find what you're
looking for, and unless they're sloppy, even THESE scanners won't pick 'em up."

"So what will?"

"Subspace pulses."

Thin Deltan eyebrows knit in confusion. "Our sensors operate on subspace
pulses."

"You're thinking small, kid. We send out microbursts of subspace static. We
listen. If we hear something return, we know we've got a ping."

She nods, "But cloaks absorb the static. They absorb everything and return it,
but in the opposite direction... like an inverted mirror.

"Not quite everything. Do they absorb phasers?"

"Well, no but..."

"Do they absorb wormquakes." He's talking about subspace ripples caused by
nearby micro-wormholes. A phenomenon studied in depth, but not with cloaking
devices.

"Ask Oein."

Hawkins smiles, "I doubt he could tell me. No, I think there's a limit to what
cloaks can absorb. And what's more, we can generate those ripples. We can
overcharge our warp field and generate pulses in the subspace continuum.

Nien thinks about it for a moment, "You do that, and we'll have so much
incidental distortion that we'll be lucky if we can get a phaser lock."

Hawkins shrugs, "I guarantee that you won't get a lock, but you will see them,
and you will know their general direction and distance. It's a lot better than
nothing."

She nods, "If it works. I'm sure you're not the first person to come up with
this idea."

"No, I can't take the credit. The idea originally came out of the Edoan
Institute of SubSpace Geometry. The reason it isn't taught in the Academy is
because it entails some rather annoying prerequisites."

"Such as?"

"Well, you have to be at subluminal velocities for starters. Plus, it takes a
couple minutes to set up each pulse, and that's assuming a large array of
transwarp capacitors. I mean, where are you gonna store the power otherwise?"

Nien nods, "That alone kills the tactic for most of the fleet. But not for us."

"No, not while we're in port. But sittin' still is not usually an option in
space, at least not if you think hostiles are about. And we also have to drop
our shields or we'll interfere with the wave patterns. See, it's only a viable
option when one is sitting in port, stationary and with a big titan of a
starbase covering our backside. But the thing is... once you see the enemy, you
can focus your scans on that volume of space. Maybe get a lock."

Nien nods, "How soon can you be ready?"

"Five minutes. Tops."

She nods, "Okay. Go ahead. If this actually works," she stares at him
incredulously, "...if this works, I owe you a brewski."

"Trust me, it'll work," Hawkins turns and heads toward the back of the bridge
and the remote engineering console, adding "I hope" with a whisper.

He brings up engineering control displays and gets Lt. Carlile on the comm.
"Lieutenant, were goin' fishin'."

More than a year of working with Hawkins on the Excalibur project has
desensitized Carlile to Hawkins bizarre analogies, "Sounds good, Chief. What
are we trying to catch?"

"Romulans, or rather cloaked ships."

After a brief, silent pause, "How are we going to do that?"

Hawkins grins, "It ain't gonna be easy. Get a PADD and get ready to take notes.
And remember. No mistakes on this one. We have to do it right the first time or
we'll blow the opportunity."

"I understand. I'm ready, sir."

"Good. Now for starters, we're going to bring the transwarp capacitors online
and sweep them with an initialization pattern."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1425 hours: USS Jaquinto, Shuttle Craft
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shuttle Jaquinto, requesting clearance to land on USS Phobos."

"Cleared to land, Jaquinto."

Kris replies, "Inform the captain that I have a matter of urgency to discuss
and ask him to meet me at the shuttle bay."

"Uh... right, Jaquinto. We've been waiting for those sub-molecular drive
components for two days already. Don't worry. We won't attempt installation
until we've received instructions."

Kris blinks, about the respond as Sarin reaches over and switches off the
radio. "Ash must have already contacted them. They obviously don't trust the
privacy of our subspace transmissions."

The doors to the Phobos' shuttle bay appear to have been entirely removed, and
as the Jaquinto slides in, two engineers in vacc-suits begin stringing up a
boarding-tube. "No pressure field," T'lar notes, before there are three taps on
the shuttle wall. The standard "all's well" signal for when radios are
malfunctioning.

Once inside the Phobos, T'lar and Kris breathe a sigh of relief. Vince Trozena
is there, a grin on his lips as he sees T'lar. "Welcome aboard, sir. Acting-
captain Trozena, at your service."

She takes one glance at his badge. "Acting-captain, Ensign?"

"It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it. I hereby relinquish command of
this vessel."

T'lar nods, familiar with the ritual. "Command accepted." Then she hears a
knocking sound behind her. She turns and looks. Sure enough, outside the
airlock is one Calainian Princess, no vacc suit required. Tsandzia smiles and
waves through the thick plastic, as though to say, "Let me in. It's deathly
cold in space."

T'lar stares, blinks, and stares some more. "Either I'm overlooking something
painfully obvious or I'm past due for a psychological evaluation."

"It's okay," Kris comforts. "She's wearing a borg belt. It's essentially a
transparent vacc suit. Though I'm surprised that Hawkins let her wear it again
after practically throwing us out of Engineering."

T'lar is about to open the airlock for her friend when she suddenly pauses. She
looks at the others.  "How did Tsandzia get all the way over here with that
belt under GQ4? If they wouldn't let her use it unsupervised *before* the alert
status..." she sighs, completely aware of the weight of her responsibilities.
"Better safe than sorry... Ensign Trozena, are we intact enough to transport an
individual outside the airlock to a secure location inside the ship?"

He shakes his head, "No sir. The main computer's been acting strange, and we've
had to take non-critical systems offline. I wouldn't trust it for transporting
a live person."

T'lar nods. "I'm starting to feel like a security officer. Kris, if you would
be so kind as to escort Sarin to his new quarters... wait, what are his new
quarters? Damn... Sarin, you have my quarters until further notice, deck 4.
I'll be with you as soon as I check this out."

T'lar makes a pained face and turns toward Trozena. "Ensign, contact whoever is
in charge of the belts on the Excalibur. Ask them how Tsandzia got over here.
Then send two large burly individuals with phasers to join me in the airlock.
Tsandzia's coming in."

"Aye sir," Trozena takes off down the corridor at a sprinter's pace.


Stardate 6003.27 at 1435 hours: USS Phobos, Turbolift
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Destination, Deck 4." The turbolift starts to move.

"Sarin," Kris begins, trying to maintain as even a voice as she can manage, "I
need to know exactly why you are so determined not to use the transporter. In
an emergency, I may need to have you out of the area in the quickest amount of
time, and I won't have time to argue with you about it."

He regards her impassively for a moment, as though debating whether or not to
answer the query. Meanwhile the lift stops at the fourth deck and they exit.

"I trust you recall your brief imprisonment, Lieutenant."

"Which one?" she smiles.

"With the gothmogs. When last our paths had crossed."

"I remember. You saved my life."

"That was my purpose. As you know, however, It became necessary to risk my own
life to achieve that purpose. How easy would it have been for the gothmogs to
take us both prisoner."

"So what's your point?" they come to a halt in front of T'lar's quarters.

"My point is that purpose supersedes safety."

She fiddles with the door a bit, realizing that it's locked and that she
doesn't have the combination. She opens a line to the bridge and has them
override the lock with a minimum of fuss and bother.

"Don't worry. She said it was okay. Just do it."

*sigh* "Okay, Lieutenant."

As the door shuts behind them, Sarin finds a seat on the corner of T'lar's bed.
Kris, however, maintains a standing posture, perhaps pumped too full of
adrenalin and confusion to relax.

"Your purpose is to meet with the Klingons. I don't see how transporters
can..."

"Precisely. You don't understand. But know this. Transporters and my purpose
are incompatible. Mutually exclusive. Never must the two meet. It is far better
to take a risk than to destroy one's purpose."

"Can you explain to me why?"

"It is possible. However," he folds his hands, "it is best for now that you
merely accept my will in this."

Kris stares at him angrily. "Well, at least tell me why it is that someone
wants you dead. And who might be behind it? Tell me the whole story. Leave
nothing out. If I'm to protect you, I need to know who I'm up against."

He nods, "When we are on our way, under a cloak of subspace silence, then I
will be in a better position to explain myself. Until then, I fear that I can
only tell you to trust no one."

"No one? Not even you?"


Stardate 6003.27 at 1430 hours: USS Excalibur, Bridge
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkins looks up from his console. "Commander, we're all set, just give the
word and we can begin."

Nien looks to the Captain, who nods once with an air of unimpressed
acquiescence.

"Do it."

In an unrehearsed string of moves, power to the shields is dropped, followed
immediately by the warp pulse.

"Got two! 241 mark 12 and 27 mark 9! No bearing on either."

LeBonk sits up in her command chair, "Raise shields. Focus scanners on those
coordinates and try to get a phaser lock."

"We got 'em! We got 'em!"

"Fire!"

White streaks of phaser energy streak through space, cutting jagged gashes into
the two cloaked warbirds. They hover in and out of invisibility, desperately
trying to raise shields and run.

"Focus on their cloak field generators. Continue fire."

A moment later the USS Typhoon aids in the onslaught. Then the USS Graz.
Meanwhile, Oein just shakes his head in sympathy. Caught unaware, the warbirds
had no time to switch their power from cloaks to shields. In a matter of
seconds, they are completely visible, and for the moment, immobile.

"Sir. We are being hailed."

Jenifer sits back triumphantly, "On viewer."

The image of an angry Romulan appears before the bridge crew, black smoke and
confused screams in the background.

"What is the meaning of this unprovoked attack?!"

Jenifer stares at him, a feign of astonishment on her face. "Attack?"

"Yes, ATTACK!! Are you deaf?!"

"We were simply undertaking a... shooting exercise. My apologies. I didn't know
your ships were in the way. We couldn't see you."

"You expect me to believe that you hit us by accident?!"

She nods, "Just as you will expect me to believe that you crossed the border by
accident."

The Romulan Captain makes an embarrassed expression. "We are going to repair
our engines, and then we are going to leave. I expect that you will not fire
upon us again."

"As I expect that you will not enter Federation space again. Though if you do,
you should definitely do so uncloaked. Less chance of getting hurt, you see."

His increasingly angry face is soon replaced by two Romulan warbirds slowly
limping out of tactical range. Jenifer turns toward Hawkins and nods. "An
acceptable job, Commander."

'Well, kiss my ass, it worked!' Hawkins thinks to himself, before churning up
the requisite restraint to belch out a "Thank you, Cap'n."

"Sir," a communications officer turns around. "The Typhoon is hailing us."

"On screen."

Captain Jacobson appears, stern jaw and sharp brown eyes, but even this officer
can't hide the slight rudiments of a smile playing across his lips.

"An entertaining performance, Jen," his eyes sweep over to glance at tr'Remas.
"I can only guess as to how you rigged..."

"Is there something you want, Captain?" LeBonk's voice is ice cold (even more-
so than usual).

"I'm just calling to let you know that I intend to make sure your friends get
back across the border A-S-A-P. I've also received word that there's a level-4
alert on your vessel. Are you in need of assistance?"

"No."

He pauses a moment, perhaps waiting for an explanation, then finally shakes his
head and continues. "In that case I'll be needing my weapons control officer
back as soon as you can spare her." His image vanishes as well, leaving a stale
air on the bridge.

"What was that all about?" Hawkins queries of Nien.

"I don't know," she gets up from the navigation console and begins making for
the doors.

"Where you going?"

"Sickbay."

"Well, hold your horses. I'm coming with."

Hawkins stops by his bridge station to open a channel on the engineering PA,
"This is JJ, y'all did real good down there. We caught us two big ole fish but
we threw 'em back with a slap on the fanny. Shoulda seen the look on their
Commander's face. Kudos to everyone. I think y'all scored a couple brownies
with the boss lady. Don't get cocky though. Remember, we're still at GQ4.
Hawkins out."

He heads out with her, the smile quickly melting from his face. "How bad is the
Ambassador?"

"No word yet. But if he's been alive this long, I have to think there's some
hope for him. By the way, I guess I owe you a drink."

Hawkins nods, "I just knew that reading all of those theoretical papers would
eventually pay-off somehow." He pauses, "What led y'all from assassins to
cloaked ships anyway? The two don't seem associated necessarily."

"An old friend of mine stumbled across what he thought was a cloaked ship," the
door opens, "the scans of one, I mean." As they head out, security people are
there, checking for IDs. "We figured that if Romulans were in the vicinity this
morning, they might have stayed for lunch."

Hawkins grins, "Little did they know they were to be the main course."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1430 hours: USS Jaquinto, Shuttle Craft
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

T'lar sees Turak and Ekstrom round the corner. Tsandzia, meanwhile, looks like
she's no longer quite so interested in coming in and is practicing zero-gee
somersaults with a slightly reduced version of blobby clinging to her shoulder.

"What's the problem?" Turak oinks in her general direction. From the looks of
things, he seems to be completely healed from his near-death experience aboard
the Borg vessel.

T'lar motions toward the airlock window, and he takes a peek, finally pulling
back his snout in apparent disgust. "I saved her for this?"

Suddenly the starscape lights up, as if Tsandzia decided to toss some lightning
to enhance the show.

"Wait a minute. Lightning in space?!" T'lar presses her face to the airlock
window. Outside, she can see the Excalibur opening fire on something outside
her field of vision. She quickly opens the outer hatch and motions Tsandzia
inside, who, still spinning, eyes-closed in glee, is completely unaware of the
spectacle.

In a moment, it's all over, and Tsandzia finally opens her eyes, stops
suddenly, and looks around. Then she points and mouths something which is
totally lost in the vacuum. Finally she climbs into the airlock, hatch closing
behind her, and waits for it to repressurize.

T'lar looks toward Turak. "We have some reason to believe that this is not the
real Tsandzia. Keep an eye on her. Once she comes in, we may have to escort her
to the brig; I'll let you know." T'lar turns around again, to look in the
airlock. Tsandzia is on the floor, rubbing her head. Apparently the gravity
must have come on somewhat suddenly. T'lar shakes her head, unable to suppress
a brief sigh.

"You still think it's not Tsandzia?" Turak queries.

The door opens, Tsandzia scrambling to her feet. "There's a warbird out there!
I saw it!"

"I believe you," T'lar murmurs, aware that she's not in much of a position to
do anything about it. "Lieutenant, were you aware that we're on General
Quarters, that belt is classified property, and that there are assassins aboard
the Excalibur?"

Tsandzia's smile droops, "The Phobos is on General Quarters? Jeez, is there no
place in the universe where people can just relax?"

"I strongly recommend you calm down, or we'll see how you like the brig for a
while."

Tsandzia spies the red shirted guys, "Oh no. I wasn't referring to the brig.
Sheesh, maybe I should just move my quarters there." Tsandzia briefly wonders
if they could assign her a cell, and just save everybody the trouble.

T'lar relaxes. "It's her. You are dismissed, gentlemen."  She sighs. "Tsandzia,
you are making my long-lived Vulcan hair turn prematurely grey. PLEASE try to
keep those stunts down, at least until assassins are no longer wandering
around, alright?"

Tsandzia looks calmly at T'lar, "I think grey hair might look good on you."

T'lar opens her mouth, then closes it again. "I'm going to the bridge to find
out what is going on. Then I'm going to check up on Sarin. If you wish to make
yourself useful, I'd appreciate it."

Tsandzia grins, "Okay."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1430 hours: USS Excalibur, Sickbay
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. O'Neil floats out of the operating room to an expectant crowd.

"How's the Ambassador?" somebody asks.

He shakes his head, "DOA." Then floats toward his office.

"DOA?"

"Oh my god."

"Dead on arrival."

"Were the orders I issued not clear enough for you all?? Do you not understand
what GQ4 means??" Gunner looks around with a peeved expression. "I suggest you
all clear the hallway now or face the consequences. Do I make myself clear??"

Vince and Parker enter, only to see a thinning crowd, heads shaking in despair.
Gunner is there, an angry scowl on his face.

"Go on! Step to!"

"Crewman Parker reporting for duty, sir!"

"Lighten up, Tom. The Ambassador's dead as a doornail."

"Sir?"

He puts a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll explain everything
later." Then he glances at Vince and in particular at the first-mate insignia.
"Who's this?"

"Lt. Commander de la Sangre," Vince introduces himself. "USS Graz."

"What do you mean you will *explain* everything later?"

"Tom, trust me on this." He turns again to Vince. "What are you doing aboard
the Excalibur?"

Before he can answer, however, the distinct oscillating shriek of phaser bursts
is heard reverberating through the decks.

"What the hell?"

Gunner darts over to a comm-unit. "Bridge... bridge, come in!"

By the time he gets an answer, Duran is there. "What's going on?"

"They found some Romulans. Apparently shot the hell out of 'em."

"What about the Ambassador?"

"Dead. We already caught the assassin. But there may be two others still aboard
the ship. Chameleons."

"How did they get past security?"

"They stole some badges," Vince says. "Albuquerque Security found some chop-
suey in their recycling system. And some scraps of some uniforms. Looks like
somebody needed some badges in a real bad way."

"Has anyone done a DNA analysis on the remains. Even a little blood will yield
enough DNA to run a match with the on board computer, assuming that they were
Excalibur crewmen, which seems a reasonable assumption given recent events."

Vince nods, "I talked with a doctor there before beaming aboard. Apparently the
recycler that they were thrown into was pretty heavily into bio-degradability.
They were essentially dissolved or something. But they do have some bone
fragments. Possibly some marrow. I guess they're trying to do a DNA trace."

"That's good. If we can find out who they're posing as, we can find them
through their badges."

"Exactly. My only fear is the analysis will take more time than we have. If
there are two chameleons running loose on the ship... they could do some
serious damage before we catch them."

"Not in a GQ4," Gunner states. "Not if we do it right. Nurse, do you have those
tricorders ready yet?"

"Right here, Lieutenant."

Gunner passes them out, "Unfortunately, internal sensors aren't sensitive
enough to tell us where the chameleons are. However, strangely enough, these
hand held tricorders will do the job. They've already been programmed with the
essentials of what we're looking for. Point and shoot, and if it's a chameleon
in your sights, the tricorder will report a positive. Takes all of about five
seconds to do."

"Excellent," Vince grabs one, shortly followed by Duran.

"Count me in too," Parker slings one over his shoulder.

"We'll sweep through engineering first. Then we'll check out the bridge. Then
life-support. Then the computer core."

Nien comes in with Hawkins at her side. "How's the Ambass..."

"Dead," Gunner hands her a tricorder. "Are you ready for another bug-hunt,
Commander? This time it's chameleons. To be considered armed, ruthless, and
worst of all... sneaky."

"Not a good combination." She takes a tricorder.

"Okay, people. Let's do it."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1445 hours: USS Excalibur, Turbolift toward Engineering
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The six of them stand expressionless, tricorders ready, phasers set on stun.

"Remember, we want them alive," Gunner warns.

"How could I forget?" Vince grumbles.

Duran, however, seems lost in thought. "Chameleons. Romulans. It fits together.
The Romulans use them as assassins and spies. They hold the entire race
hostage. Slaves, in effect."

"But how did they get on the Albuquerque?" Gunner shakes his head.

"How does anybody get on the Albuquerque? They just walk on board. Might as
well put a big sign up. Criminals welcome."

Vince bites his lip, realizing that it was his ship they got past, in effect,
his responsibility. And Drake's. No wonder he's busy sloshing himself to hell.
"Look, we can point figures later. But right now we have to find these
intruders, if they're actually on board."

"Oh, they're on board alright," Gunner intones with utmost certainty. The
turbolift doors open onto engineering. Security people are already there,
checking everybody who comes in. "Nien, you're with me. Tom, you're with de la
Sangre. Make sure he doesn't get himself shot. Khemsa, you're with Hawkins.
Introduce yourselves, why don't you."

Hawkins looks up, "Actually, the lieutenant and I can cover main engineering
pretty quickly if you and the Commander want to proceed to other areas."

Gunner nods, "Okay. We'll check out the computer core. Tom, you and de la
Sangre proceed down to life support."

The turbolift doors close, leaving Hawkins and Duran heading toward a pile of
security officers at the front gates.

Hawkins offers a hand as they walk, "Lt. Khemsa, JJ Hawkins, Chief Engineer."
He pauses for a moment of uncomfortable silence as they grip hands. "No
offense, but all my interactions with Andorians have been...well... let's just
say they weren't that pleasant."

Duran smiles, "My people can be... difficult."

"My last commanding officer was Andorian. Commodore Srikanna. She was
difficult, very difficult."

Duran smiles politely as they pass through the guards, "Chief, perhaps we
should begin."

"Agreed."

Hawkins calls out, "I want everyone in a line here, now!"  He points to a spot
on the floor. His crew quickly forms an inspection line in two rows. To Duran,
"You scan the back and I'll scan the front."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1450 hours: USS Excalibur, Turbolift toward Life Support
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vince looks at Parker, then at the tricorder. "So how did you say you worked
these things again?" When seeing Parker's worried look, bordering on despair,
he smiles, "Just kidding."

The doors open on Life Support Services, where all the ship's food, water, and
air recycling equipment hums twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year, and 366
on leap-years.

There's already a guard at the turbolift entrance. "Hold. Identify."

"This is Star Trek, crewman. Not AD&D."

"Uh, sorry sir."

Parker rolls his eyes, "Thomas Parker. Security." He points his tricorder at
the crewman. "And you are... not a chameleon. Good. Get yourself a tricorder
and return here on the double."

The guard takes off running.

Vince looks over, appreciative. "Handled that very well. You see a bit of
action aboard this ship, don't you?"

"Yes sir."

Vince turns and starts humming a song with a smile on his face, oddly comforted
by the weight and feel of his weapon as he approaches and points his tricorder
at various people in the room.


Stardate 6003.27 at 1455 hours: USS Excalibur, Engineering
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"My side's clear."

Hawkins nods, "Good. Okay people. By now, you're probably wondering what's
going on. The gist of it is that we have an intruder on board who can appear as
anyone. Now that you are all cleared and the area has been searched for
stowaways, you may return to duty. You are not to leave Engineering nor allow
anyone in until you hear from me, the Captain, or Chief Bellasario. Clear?"

In unison, "Aye sir!"

"Good. Now back to work." To Duran, "Where now?"

Duran opens his mouth, about to suggest backing up Bellasario (and more
importantly, Nien), when suddenly he hears a beeping sound coming from his
communicator.

"Khemsa here."

"Lieutenant... this is Chief Walker, Forensics Section."

The team at the Ambassadorial Suite!

"Did you find anything?"

"Some grey substance was found on the floor. Contained organic compounds. We
sent it to the bio-division for analysis. Also, the sniffer caught a lot of
vaporized blood. I'd say that Sarin must have been entirely disintegrated."

"That's impossible. He was taken to sickbay."

"Well, somebody was disintegrated here not more than half an hour ago."

"Damn, okay, try to analyze the blood and determine who it was. At least try to
determine the species if you can. I don't think it is gonna be Vulcan. Let me
know as soon as you have anything no matter how unimportant you think it might
be." Duran looks at Hawkins, "Chief, we have us an imposter, I think."

Bewildered, "What? Who?"

"Parker."

"But he was with you."

"Yeah, he was. I'll have to explain later. We've got to save Vince's ass right
now."

Hawkins reaches for his communicator but Duran stops him, "We can't call him,
'Parker' may react violently. Here, let me. Khemsa to Commander Elineva."

"Elineva here."

"Are you still with the chief?"

"Yep."

"I have reason to believe that Parker is a chameleon."

"What? How..."

"No time now, trust me. He doesn't know, and if we call, 'Parker' will hear and
may attack him. Meet us in life support, Khemsa out."

Hawkins and Duran run to life support, the chief engineer wishing he spent a
little more time in the gym, 'Damn, this Andorian is in good shape.'

"Chief, set your phaser on stun, I don't want 'Parker' to hurt anyone, and in
case I'm wrong I don't want Parker hurt."

They arrive outside life support but don't see Gunner or Nien yet. "No time to
wait, let's go."

As casually as possible, they enter life support services. Hawkins speaks
first, though out of breath, "Well, Engineerin' has checked out, how are things
down here?"

"So far so good," Vince says.

Duran wanders up to him. "Commander, I've got this one odd reading in
Engineering, I was wondering if you've seen anything like it before." Duran
pulls out the tricorder with his left hand and initiates a scan of Parker in
front of Vince. Sure enough, the tricorder registers a positive reading.

"Madre de Dios!!!"

"What is it?" Parker looks over nervously.

With effort, Vince reverts his face back to normal, pretending to examine the
scan further while setting his phaser to heavy stun. "Oh... It's nothing. I
think you are mistaken, Lieutenant. It looks more like a cat to me." He makes a
nervous laugh while giving Duran a short nod.

"Okay," Duran nods back. "Now." Both Duran and Vince grab their phasers and
unleash, leaving Parker like a sack of potatoes on the metal deck. Hawkins has
his own phaser out a moment later, but by then it's all over.

Bellasario and Nien come running in, Gunner holding his phaser on the
unconscious chameleon. Duran can't help but note that the gun is set on kill.

"What happened? Where's Tom?"

Duran shakes his head with some measure of pity, "He's dead, Chief. This thing
killed him. When Vince and I arrived at Sarin's Suite, we found Parker inside
and a large hole in the door. Parker said he had to blast his way in. In
retrospect, I should have questioned him further, but it seemed logical at the
time. In any case, forensics called me and said that someone had been vaporized
in the room."

"Vaporized?" Gunner looks like he's going to be sick.

"They found a large amount of vaporized blood. That's when it clicked. That's
why there was a hole blown in the door and why Parker was quick to break up the
party. He might have a chance against one of us if he was detected but not
against all of us. Moreover, he would, hopefully be able to perform the scans
on any other chameleons on board and declare them clean."

Hawkins nods, "Now I see how you made that leap from a vaporized person to a
chameleon posing as Parker." To Vince, "Did he perform any scans that you
didn't verify?"

"Only one."

"We should double-check it." To everyone, "And just to be safe, we should do a
quick scan of each of us so we all are sure that there are no more chameleons
among us."

"Agreed," says Duran as he begins scanning everyone.

"You going to be okay, Gunner?" Nien asks quietly, realizing that Parker and
Bellasario must have went back a ways.

"I'm fine," he says, voice reeking with uncertainty. He backs toward the wall
and hits a comm-port. "Transporter room, beam... beam Thomas Parker directly to
the brig. Cell #2. Tell them two down... one to go."


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

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 This Star Trek PBeM is archived on ftp.cs.pdx.edu in pub/frp/stories/startrek
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