ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/stories/startrek/adv2/turn26

Text File | 1994-09-10 | 35KB | 843 lines

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                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #26
                           Morals of Self-Restraint
===============================================================================
              Copyright 1994 Jim Vassilakos / All Rights Reserved
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  Cast & Crew
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
  ST-PBeM GameMaster       Jim Vassilakos      [e-mail]
  Lt. Bellasario           Alan Ward           [e-mail]
  Lt. T'lar                Ronnie Simonds      [e-mail]
  2nd Lt. Morchainte       Brian Chrisman      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Duran          Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. St. James            John Brengman       [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. de la Sangre   Carlos Jensen       [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Hawkins        Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  2nd Lt. Xelha            Dave Shue           [e-mail]
  Dr. Bannister            Jason Stripinis     [e-mail]
  Lt. K'tar                Steve Mays          [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.27 at 1900 hours: USS Excalibur, Random Corridor
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Make up an excuse? How am I supposed to just make up an excuse?' Hawkins
wanders around for a bit, mulling over what little he knows about the Phobos,
and more importantly, what little he knows about Albuquerque's repair
facilities. 'Albuquerque specializes in the Loknar Class. Whatever excuse we
use, it has to be a rare case, something they can't fix. And it has to be
something that can't wait. But not immediately debilitating. It has to be
something that will deteriorate over time if something isn't done now.
Gravitics? No, too damn easy. Warp drives. Maybe. Wait a second. A/M
containment. Yeah... just maybe.'

"Chief, what can I do for you?"

"Blake, I want ya ta beam me to the Phobos."

"Their transporters are offline."

"Hmm, okay. Put me in the transporter room but use our transporters. Oh, an'
call 'em first an' let 'em know I'm comin'."

"Aye sir."

The Excalibur transporter room slowly fades and is replaced by the transporter
room on the Phobos. A crewman scans Hawkins immediately.

"Satisfied, Son?"

"Yes sir. Welcome aboard the Phobos."

"Good. Who's in charge here?"

"Lt. T'Lar is Acting Captain but she's on the Excalibur. Next highest officer
on board would be Lt. K'tar."

"Where is he?"

"Bridge."

"Oh, you have one now?" Hawkins grins and heads for the nearest turbolift. In a
matter of seconds he is there, and as the doors swoosh open, Hawkins finds
himself impressed by how far along the work has gotten. He scans the bridge
looking for Lt. K'tar. Suddenly he spots a Klingon in Star Fleet uniform.
'First Romulans, now Klingons? What is Star Fleet coming to anyway?'

Hawkins walks up to the towering figure in a lieutenant's uniform, "Are YOU Lt.
K'tar?"

The Klingon growls until he notices the engineer's rank insignia. "I assume
that you have been sent to relieve me of command. On a klingon ship, however,
you would not have it so easily."

Hawkins laughs, "No, you have it all wrong. I'm Lt. Cmdr. James Hawkins, Chief
Engineer for the Excalibur, er... just recently transferred to the Phobos. I'm
here to look things over and offer y'all a hand." Before K'tar can comment,
Hawkins continues, "I see they decided to use the dynamic console design for
the replacement systems. Very similar to what we have on the Excalibur."

He walks swiftly around the bridge and conjures up a number of schematics and
status displays for a number of the primary engineering systems. "Good, nice
work," he mumbles to himself.

He finally returns his attention to K'tar, his stare lingering a bit too long
for it to be considered polite. He looks around the bridge at the other crew
and officers then back to the Klingon. "Y'all have to bear with me, but I've
never seen a Klingon up close let alone in one of OUR uniforms, even if it
don't fit too good. Don't take this wrong, but do you have papers with you?"

The Klingon scowls, "Papers!? I am not a pet poodle."

"Yes, but..."

"My proof of being a Star Fleet officer is in my conduct, that is, in choosing
_not_ to remove various appendages of your anatomy. I refuse to submit to any
more blatant hostility towards me because I am a Klingon, unless, of course,
you wish to step outside."

"Outside the bridge?"

"Outside the ship!"

Hawkins gulps.

"I will also remind you, sir, that although you outrank me, you have not taken
command of this vessel, and as such, I am still its captain. If you wish to
verify my status, I will refer you to the ship's computer. My transfer orders
are online and available for your inspection."

Hawkins nods, "That's alright, Lieutenant. I'm sold. Better sold than dead, I
guess."

The Klingon grins, seeing that he's gotten his point across. "Do you now wish
to take command of this vessel? As a combat systems engineer, I have other
duties to attend to. Namely, turning this so-called starship into a craft fit
for warriors."

"If you are a combat systems engineer, I guess you sorta work for me then.
Ironic, ain't it?"

The Klingon's eyes bulge out a half-inch, realizing that he won't even be the
chief of his own department but will instead be taking orders from another
human. A shit-kicking southerner, no less!

Hawkins grins, "Well, I guess I'd better take the conn about now. Lieutenant,
you are hereby relieved. Run along and go about your duties."

"Run along?"

"You know what I mean." Hawkins looks around the bridge crew and grins some
more. "And I'd advise y'all to get to work and get this ship in shape, pronto.
Otherwise I 'spect you'll be gettin' a visit from our large friend here." He
claps K'tar on the shoulder, or at least the upper back. "Okay then, I'm going
to do a damage survey. If anyone needs to reach me, I'll have my communicator."
He looks around for somebody to hand the conn to when the turbolift doors open
and Tsandzia comes walking in, looking semi-pleased with herself. Then she sees
the Klingon, and her jaw just about bounces off the deck.

"Tsandzia!" Hawkins yelps, taking full advantage of her confusion. "Long time
no see! Staying long? Good! You have the bridge, call me if anything happens,
bye." Hawkins breezes past her through the still open turbolift doors, a wide
grin on his face as he leaves the troublesome Calainian to her fate.

Tsandzia, as much as possible, strolls nonchalantly around the Klingon and up
to a computer console, hoping that he hadn't noticed her rather obvious stare.
Once there, she promptly and discretely erases her copy of 'Kill the Klingons'
from her account. No sense provoking animosities, particularly with somebody
that large and mean-looking. When she turns around, K'tar is still there,
apparently as intrigued by her as she was by him (he's never seen a Calainian
before).

K'tar recovers slightly, "I am Lt. K'tar. With your permission," he grits his
teeth, "I will attend to my duties in engineering."

"I'm Lt. Morchainte.. er... second Lieutenant, even though I'm thinking that
it's about time for either a promotion or demotion." With a nervous sigh, she
continues. "You're the ranking officer, I think. Most likely Hawkins just
didn't notice, I would think, but in any case, you have the conn, okay?"

"I think not."

"Sorry?"

"I have better things to do with my time than baby-sit this bridge. And, as I
recall, the Lt. Commander left the conn with _you_, not me." He makes an
appropriately malicious grin.

Tsandzia's, though no longer afraid of him, is slightly taken aback. "But,
your rank..."

K'tar nods furiously, "Yes, my rank... it allows me to _command_ you to stay in
command." He grins.

Tsandzia grins also, thinking that Klingons must have a warped sense of humor.
"I've never met a Klingon before.. at least, not in real life. This is really
neat."

"Just imagine how _neat_ it would be if you could _survive_ to tell your
friends about it."

Tsandzia grins, "I already have," and points to the mini-blobby nestled on her
shoulder.

At that auspicious moment, the turbolift doors slide open revealing a large,
white-bearded gent by the name of Vincent de la Sangre. He's wearing his
granpa-grin, something which seems strangely comforting and oddly demonic all
at the same time. Then, as he steps in, his eyes focus on the Klingon in the
center of the room, and sweat almost starts dripping from his earlobes.

"Good evening, may I ask what _you_ are doing on _my_ bridge?"

"Leaving," K'tar snarls, and he does just that.

Tsandzia smiles as the turbolift doors swish shut, leaving de la Sangre looking
around at the rest of the bridge crew with a confused expression on his face.

"A remarkable show of self-restraint," she observes.

"Thanks," Vince nods, glad that somebody noticed.

"No, I meant the Klingon."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1900 hours: USS Excalibur, Duran's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once at his quarters, Duran starts packing his bags. He doesn't have very many,
not being the sort of person to collect a long list of personal effects. Those
he does have, however, he holds dear, and it isn't long before he realizes that
he hasn't gotten his Tur'shin back from Nien. He then makes a final inspection
of the room, just to be sure he has everything. "Oh, one final piece of
business." He makes a stealth login and downloads all his files to an isolinear
chip, making sure to delete them from the Excalibur's computer as well as
deactivating his secret account.

".......Stealth access terminated."

Duran looks around again, placing the datachip in his case. 'Hmm... looks like
that's it.'

*Beep*

'Hmm... maybe Nien decided to come back and have a nice quiet dinner here after
all.' He grins as he steps toward the door, trying not to look too suspicious.

"Enter."

When it swishes open, however, it isn't Nien on the other side. It's Eris. Eris
Khemsa. "I came looking for you, but the computer said you were in a big
meeting.'

Duran stands motionless, stunned and taken aback, 'Damn, I forgot about you and
was hoping you had done the same.'

"You okay?"

"Big meeting," he finally manages. "Oh, yeah, meeting, indeed."

She sits down, worry lines slowly embedding themselves into every crevice of
her face. "What happened?"

"I was reassigned. The captain is a real twerp too. Made me cancel my game
tonight. Wants me to report to him right away. I had to all but mutiny to get
enough time to pick up my stuff! I wish we could visit, but I really need to
go. I'm sorry the timing is just..."

Duran stops mid-sentence. Eris looks so disappointed. Either disappointed or
confused. He thinks about Shyla, his own sister. 'You're going to blow
everything!' Duran puts his stuff down, "I really need to go... but the captain
can wait a few extra minutes. Can I replicate anything for you?"

"Uh... sprica juice?"

"No problem." Duran has the computer make two glasses of the Andorian fruit
juice and hands one to Eris. He sits. The silence is awkward, "Ahh, how are mom
and dad. Heard from them lately?"

"Are you okay?"

He takes a slow gulp, "What do you mean?"

"You just," she shakes her head, "I dunno. You sound... like you're nervous or
something."

Duran tries to fake a laugh, "I haven't really been myself lately. Things are
changing pretty fast around here. I dunno, maybe I'm changing too. It's been so
long since I've heard from mom and dad."

"The repressive regime." She finally smiles.

"Right," he takes another sip, hoping it's the correct response.

"I think they were worried when you didn't come home after the accident."

"The accident."

"You know, aboard the Grok."

"Oh... well, I'd been reassigned pretty quickly. There was no time for sick
leave. Besides, I wasn't really that sick." He bites his lip.

She makes a slow sigh. "Look, Seth. I talked to Rieylu."

"What about?"

"You know damn well what about." She glances toward the ceiling. "He said that
pressure door just came at you for no reason..."

"It was a malfunction, Eris." Duran thinks back to the logs.

"Are you just saying that? Or did you ask for reassignment just to get the hell
away from Sacrindor."

"What?"

"Look, Seth. Rieylu told me all about it."

Duran gets up, head spinning and legs wobbly. He'd meant to get into a
harmless conversation with somebody's kid sister, not be interrogated about
something he knows absolutely nothing about.

"Did he? Exactly what was it that he told you?"

She scowls, "I'm your sister for godsake! What the hell do you think he told
me?!"

"Eris..."

"Apparently a lot more than you ever intended. What's the matter with you? We
used to tell each other everything. Now, it's like you're trying to bury your
head in the snow and pretend that nothing happened!"

Duran opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Yeah, well, I guess things
change," he finally manages, making a show of looking at the chronometer. "Two
of those things are my job and my captain. This one wants me on board,
yesterday. I need to go."

"Seth..."

Duran picks up his stuff, 'Idiot, why did you stay? Stupid stupid.' He looks
back at Eris, "I'm sorry... really sorry."

"No, it's my fault. I should've realized after you left. I just can't believe
you don't care what happens back there."

He opens the door, then stops and looks back, "I do care. I'm just... Just
don't believe everything you see and hear."

"Like my brother just about getting killed? For doing his job? Seth, I'm your
sister. You can't just walk out on blood."

Duran sighs and lets the door close again, dropping his bags to the floor.
"Okay, what exactly were you told?"

Her eyes narrow as she studies the man in front of her. "Rieylu told me about
how you'd accidentally found out about the triceraphon shipment, and that you
made sure to spot it in your inspection even though you knew that Sacrindor
would have hell to pay from his bosses in the WA."

WA? She could only mean the Warriors of Andor, a xenophobic terrorist
organization dedicated to cleansing Andorian Society of its cultural pollution.
Duran remembers his own father's involvement and the price they paid for it.

"He said that Sacrindor was pulling all your files, like he was looking for
something. Then, when the accident happened, well... he just knew that it
wasn't a malfunction. He assumed you'd tell the authorities, and that there'd
be an investigation. But nothing ever happened. You were just reassigned. No
goodbyes. No explanations. Rieylu said he went poking around, but he's no
specialist with pressure doors. And he couldn't make any accusations. What, his
word against a superior officer? Is that why you left? Because you couldn't
prove anything?"

"No. That's not exactly why I left. I have to handle this my own way and right
now that means doing what I'm doing. Everything will work out... trust me."

"Tell me. What are you doing?"

"Leaving for my ship before I get thrown in the brig." For the third time,
Duran picks up his stuff to leave, "Don't go spreading what you know around.
That wouldn't be safe for you."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, no one can hurt Sethon Khemsa ever again."

She stops him in the doorway and gives him a hug, "If they do, I swear by the
Elders of Gorometh, I'll..."

Duran drops his bags and hugs her back, "Ssshhh... this isn't a time for
oaths."

"Seth, I love you."

'Damn this job! Damn SFIC!' It takes all his will just to smile, "Me too. I
have to go. Goodbye, Eris."

Then he grabs his bags and leaves before she can so much as sneeze, arriving on
the Phobos a few minutes later in a decidedly awful mood. As he goes about his
business of getting quarters arranged and stowing his things, he thinks about
Eris Khemsa and hopes she doesn't hate him too much for pretending to be her
dead brother. He silently wishes her a good and happy life and prays he never
meets her again, for both their sakes, though he knows that he can't ignore
their little chat. Khemsa, his own cover, didn't look that much like an
accidental death after all, and somebody somewhere would have to pay.


Stardate 6003.27 at 1900 hours: USS Phobos, Computer Core
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pacal finds the computers aboard the Phobos to be somewhat of a hodgepodge of
out-of-date processors coupled with a variety of newer peripherals. Apparently,
the administrators had done some mix-n-matching in order to keep things running
on a minimal budget. Unfortunately, their documentation seems to have been
somewhat less than exceptional.

"Who's been around here the longest?"

"Chief Gavuzzi. He and Sirith basically run the machines along with Tyran."
Katsuko points down the hall, where the main body of people are working.

"You guys had any computer problems before the Borg?"

"All the time. Why?"

"Just wondering," Pacal tries to reply with some delicacy. "I'm forgetting my
manners, my name is Lt. Pacal Xelha."

"Crewman Katsuko Shiomi, Robotics Specialist. What do you do?"

"Oh, I'm with navigation. What is the highest priority for repairs?"

"Just about everything, sir."

"That's what I thought, well no time like the present." Pacal walks down the
hall and enters the scene of battle, searching in a couple boxes for the
dreaded 2nd stage memory chip. "Oh, here's a 256-9-Iso. But have you considered
the new Vulcan-tormeatric devices? With those you can cut your two-wait down
considerably."

Pacal holds his breath as Gavuzzi and Sirith look back and forth to one
another.

"It would mean having to re-sync the swap buffer on 'Charity'."

"Assuming that we don't have a packet crash on the optics," the Vulcan adds.

"Re-initialize the adaptors, and that shouldn't be a problem," a young ensign
counters from the back of the room.

"Maybe we should concentrate on just getting this thing working and then worry
about upgrades."

"No, the tormeatrics could take some pressure off the SB, if they work the way
I think they do."

Gavuzzi finally nods his assent. "Okay, Arloch. If you want to attend to the
paperwork, go ahead and get us some. But if they come down on us, you and your
friend here get to do the clean-up."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1930 hours: USS Phobos, Kristin's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trozena walks ahead of her, finally stopping and pointing out the room.

Kris frowns, "I'm the chief of security. Why did you put mine furthest from the
turbolift?"

"We figured you could use the exercise." He smiles and hands her the key. "Oh,
the computer's been giving us some trouble. We'll be using standard door keys
until things get ship-shape."

Kris sighs, sliding the card through its slot. "I'll try not to lose it."

Once inside, she sets Pesty gently on the bed. The feline instantly hops off to
investigate its new surroundings.

"Don't worry. It's only for a little while."

Pesty ignores her, however, seemingly more interested in whatever might be
lurking in the corners.

She turns on the desk console and spends about five minutes trying to access
her department's files. She finally re-routes her request to a secondary system
and finds the information she needs, including a letter from Commodore Ash
assigning a Lt. Soroc to her department. She types off a quick response, and
then continues to scan the records.

"Damn, there's nowhere near enough people to guard the ambassador. Wait, what's
this? Mail from the Captain?"

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
   From: Lt. Cmdr. de la Sangre
   To: Lt. St. James

   I have temporarily assigned Khemsa to your department. It is of
   the utmost urgency that you keep him on the ship and busy until I
   give you further instructions. He is not to have a second of
   spare time, and under no circumstances is he to leave the ship. I
   don't care what you assign him to do, guard duty or even
   scrubbing the halls. He is to report for duty as of this instant.

   Under no circumstances are these orders to be revealed to him.

   - Your Captain
   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hmm... he must have figured out that Khemsa isn't really Khemsa. What do you
think of that, Pesty?"

"Meow."

"Tsandzia was right. People who pretend to be people they aren't can't be
trusted. Unless they're roleplaying, of course, in which case they're doubly
dangerous." Kris grins, hitting a comm-port. "Communications, this is Lt. St.
James. All security personnel assigned to the Phobos are to report on board
immediately."

*Beep*

She glances toward the door, then pulls her phaser out of her holster, sliding
over to release the door lock.

Oein takes a half step in when it opens, just far enough to see her pointing a
tricorder at him. "I am to understand that all the personnel on this vessel
have already been scanned, and that all newcomers are being scanned as well."

She re-holsters her phaser, "One never can be too careful, particularly with
the package we're carrying. Why are you on board?"

"I wish to speak with Sarin. I am here on the Captain's authority."

"Which captain?"

"The one that made you security chief. Apparently, I am not allowed to see the
Ambassador unless you are present." He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her
response.

"Very well," Kris says. "Let's go." As she is walking down the corridor, Kris
goes over the security plans in her head, at the same time keeping an eye on
the Romulan she's escorting. 'My motto,' she thinks, 'never trust anyone.'

When they finally get to T'lar's quarters, currently Sarin's place of
residence, they find Turak and Ekstrom standing guard. They stiffen-up a bit
when they see the Romulan at her side, and Turak breaks out with a tricorder,
giving her and Oein the twice-over, while Ekstrom keeps his phaser at
half-mast.

"Would you like us to remain outside, sir?"

Oein glances toward Kris, "Captain de la Sangre said he wanted another guard
present as well as yourself."

"Prudent of him," Kris replies. She walks over to a nearby intercom and punches
the button. "Is Lt. Khemsa aboard yet?"

"Sure is, Chief."

"Patch me through to his quarters." She smiles slightly, aiming to kill two
birds with one stone. "Security Chief St. James to Lt. Khemsa, please report
immediately to Deck 4, Section 13."

"This is Khemsa. What do you need, Kris?" Duran sounds tired and a little
cranky. He just left Eris and has been "on-duty" since about 0400 this morning.
He managed a short nap but it was of no value given the dreams which prevented
any usable sleep.

"I need you to report to this location for guard duty."

"With all due respect, I'm off-duty and I haven't eaten. Can't you use on-duty
personnel?"

"Unfortunately, no. The department is strapped for personnel."

Duran sighs, thinking of any way he can worm out of it, particularly
considering that Nien is on her way. "Lieutenant, the last I heard there were
already two guards posted at that location."

"That's correct."

"Unless you've hired a few extra, if you count you and me there are only six on
the ship. Total. If all of us stand around down there in a big group, who is
going to be able to stand second or third watch? Would it not be more logical
to let me have my dinner and rest a bit so that I can take a later watch than
to have four of our six security officers on one watch leaving only two to
cover the remaining two watches?" Duran struggles against his growing anger,
starting to wonder if there's something going on behind his back.

"Lt. Khemsa, I'm too damn busy to argue with you right now. I suggest you make
things easy on yourself and just get down here as ordered."

"And if I'm too tired?"

"I don't care how tired you are. I want you down here now."

There's a short pause while Duran considers his options. Then, with a decidedly
evil grin, he comes to a decision. "All right, Kris, I'm on my way." His voice
is strangely calm, "I assume I should leave immediately... without any delay?"

"Yes, now!"

"Khemsa out!" He punches the channel closed, consequently shattering the comm
unit. He then quickly removes his clothes and jumps in the shower, dowsing
himself with water. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he quickly grabs a
phaser and heads for the door, naked save the towel and the rainbow dagger
which, as always, is strapped to his arm.

"My, what a delightful surprise!"

He almost loses his towel, coming to a screaming halt just centimeters from
Nien. She seems rather amused by his mode of dress, until she spots the broken
comm unit on the wall, wires dangling out like loose weeds. "Uh-oh. Bad
wiring?"

"Not exactly. St. James is flexing her newfound authority, and if my suspicion
is correct, your ex-savior, de la Sangre, is behind it."

"So you decided to attack the comm-unit. Good thinking."

"I was pissed."

"Too pissed to dress?"

Duran flashes his evil grin, "I was ordered to report immediately and without
any delay."

"I see."

He steps back into the room and grabs a box from his luggage, handing it to
her, "Here, this is for you. We may not get to have our dinner after all,
unless you want to bring it down to me while I stand guard duty."

She pauses for a moment, holding the small box in her hand. Then curiosity
gets the better of her and she opens it, a radiant smile forming on her lips
so gently that Duran cannot help but hold his breath and take in the sight of
her.

"Tark, I..."

"Take it. To better remember me by. It is unlikely that we will see each other
again. Nature of my work."

"Of course we'll see each other again. Guard duty or no guard duty, we're still
on for dinner."

He grins, "Okay then. Let's go."

They head off down the corridor, Nien holding her present and Duran trying
desperately to not lose his towel as it swishes back and forth with every
determined step.


Stardate 6003.27 at 1930 hours: USS Phobos, Main Engineering
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well well, if it isn't just the piece of equipment I've been looking for."
Hawkins stares at the old, dilapidated, antimatter containment field.
Apparently the engineers had the good sense to route the system to a local
computer when the main started having problems. He steps forward with his
engineering tricorder, monitoring the wavelength and stability. Not so much as
a blip in the transfer. Somebody's been doing their job pretty well.

"Can I help you?"

Hawkins turns around, a wide grin on his face. "Hawkins. Friends call me J.J."

"I know. I'm Kate Woods." She extends her hand, her English accent making the
hospitality of the gesture seem all the more honest. "So, have you just stopped
by on a social visit, Lt. Commander?"

Hawkins smiles, admiring her long, curly brown hair. "Not exactly. I've just
been reassigned."

"Reassigned?"

He nods, "I'm your new boss."

She stares back, blinking in slight disbelief.

"What's the matter?" he laughs. "Heard some nasty stories about me?"

"No, quite the opposite, actually." She smiles, "I... Would you like some
coffee?"

"Would you make me some?"

"No," she shakes her head slowly, "I was hoping you'd make me some. Here, I'll
show you where we're holing-up the real stuff."

Hawkins follows her into the office, where a tungsten kettle it set on a small
smelting plate.

"I should apologize for the set-up. We'd only received our transfer
confirmations just today."

"Where is everyone?"

"Most of them are up in C-Core, fiddling with the biscuits. I'm not sure if
they're actually fixing anything or just making more of a mess."

"Ahh, haven't made it up there yet. I was touring the ship and the damage.
What's your job?"

She gestures toward the containment facility, "AMC-2". Antimatter containment
specialist, level 2, she means.

Hawkins eyes twinkle, "Tell me no lie! Your just the person I've been lookin'
for!"

"How's that?"

Hawkins dumps some beans into an blender, spilling a few on the deck. "Well,
I can't explain just now, I need to chat with the Capt'n before I elaborate.
Do you know anything about what our mission is?"

"Haven't heard a peep. I suppose with the new bay, we'll be wandering around
repairing subspace relays."

"Hmm... well, as I said, I need to chat with our Capt'n but don't hold your
breath on those relays... at least not just yet." Hawkins flashes one of his
good ole boy grins as he gets the water boiling.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs and smiles, and she just stares back, brown eyes sifting among the
implications. "Are we being sent on a mission?"

"Now how would I know something like that?"

"Well, I assume they put you on board for a reason. After all, don't you have
more important things to be doing on the Excalibur?"

"Oh," Hawkins works the grinder, thinking of an appropriate comeback. "The
Excalibur works fine. It's this ship that has all the monsters and demons
in 'er engines."

"Monsters? Demons? On the Phobos?" she grins. "Isn't the technical term...
gremlins?"

"They're too big to be gremlins."

At that particular moment, K'tar steps through the open portal, looking from
Hawkins to Woods and back again. "Combat Systems Engineer Lt. K'tar
tai-Umlarggt, reporting for duty, sir."

Hawkins looks up at K'tar, "Well if it ain't my large friend from the bridge.
Want some coffee or is there something else on your mind?"

"I do not drink coffee. I am reporting for duty." The Klingon looks deadly
serious.

"Well, since you're so eager, here ya go. I want you to check the control
interfaces from the new bridge module. Make sure it syncs up with the rest of
the ship, there may be a timin' difference given the age of half the equipment.
I also noticed that the starboard aft and starboard amidship shield emitters
were only producing three-quarters output. Try to find out why and see what we
need to fix it. Then ya can give a look-see to all the phaser emitter crystals
an' check for cracks or decrystalization. If they're okay, check their
alignment." Hawkins grins his good ole boy grin again, "Oh yeah, I need a full
report on combat systems readiness by 2000 for the Capt'n." Realizing that
K'tar will not complain about the load even though Hawkins knows it to be far
too much for one person, even a big person, he adds, "Also, I want you to round
up a couple a engineers to lend ya a hand. You'll find 'em up in the main
computer core. But don't take too many, I want that damn computer back on-line
and workin' soon."

At K'tar starts to leave, Hawkins calls out, "Oh, Lieutenant, unless the Capt'n
objects, you're Assistant Chief Engineer. You'll help with crew assignments an'
scheduling. Way I figure, just knowing you're watchin' will double their
productivity!"

K'tar salutes Hawkins, trying not to crack a smile at being promoted to Asst.
Chief Engineer; this is made easier when he remembers that he is now Asst.
Chief Engineer on what is essentially another garbage scow. The realization
hits him with enough force that he almost spits on the deck on his way out.

Woods lets out her breath after the Klingon leaves. "What the?"

"Klingon-Federation exchange program. What will they think up next, eh?"
Hawkins pours a cup for himself and hands one to Woods. She takes a tentative
sniff, not wanting to press her lips to the near-boiling liquid.

"He didn't look too happy about all that work you gave him."

"Oh, he looked happy when I was giving him the work. It was after I told him he
was my personal assistant that he got angry. Probably something in their
culture about having to treat one's supervisor with blatant disrespect until he
earns otherwise." J.J. grins, "When you think about it, they're not so
different from the rest of us. They just wear their feelings on their sleeves.
That's all."

"Hmm... who knows how the Klingon mind works. It will definitely be interesting
serving with one of them."

"I want there to be no discrimination." Hawkins leans back, blows on his
coffee, and takes a sip.

"He'll get none from me. Does he know about this supposedly secret mission that
you keep alluding to?"

The chief engineer grits his teeth. "Okay, I'll spill the beans twice in one
day, but you can't tell a soul. You understand?"

"Mum's the word."

"First of all," Hawkins puts his feet up on a console, "Have ya heard of
Ambassador Sarin?"

"I heard that he was assassinated... on the Excalibur."

Hawkins grins, "Sorta. They tried real hard but they failed. He's over here, on
the Phobos. We're gonna take him safely to Rigel. Anyways, we're gonna do it
covertly by claimin' that we need better repair facilities than the station
here can provide."

"But they specialize in Loknar frigates. They use them for defense boats."

"Yeah, so how do we make the excuse fly?" Hawk coaxes.

"The only thing they can't do here is major ship construction and warp
drives... ahhh." She grins back as she sees the crux of the plan. "But how are
we going to justify being able to move if it's a warp problem?"

"Part of the warp system, the A/M containment fields, are really in bad shape."

"No they're not."

Hawkins leans forward, "You know that, and I know that... but nobody else knows
that. So... as I will recall, when I arrived you reported to me how bad the
containment system was an' how it needed to be replaced or it'd eventually go
pop. You estimated you could keep it together for a couple of weeks but not
much more, not without some major repairs."

"What about the rest of the staff?"

"They're not AMC specialists. We can make it something erudite."

"They'll want to get in there. They're engineers."

"All we have to do is fast-talk them long enough to get our floating papers."
Hawkins grins, "Don't worry. I'll take care of the rest."


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

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