ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/stories/startrek/adv2/turn28

Text File | 1994-09-10 | 30KB | 744 lines

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                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #28
                              Box-office Briefing
===============================================================================
              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]
  Lt. Soroc                Jeff Ellis          [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.27 at 2005 hours: USS Excalibur, Brig
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ah, Lt. Soroc. I just received word from the Phobos that you were on your way.
The Chief is already in there interrogating one of them now."

Soroc enters the main cellblock, not precisely sure what to expect. Old
friends, however, were not on the list of possibilities.

"T'lar?"

"Soroc. Meet Lt. Theodore 'Gunner' Bellasario," she points toward the dozing
body on the deck.

"What the? T'lar... you didn't..."

She sighs.

"You did." Soroc shakes his head, "T'lar, you can't go around nerve-pinching
your fellow officers. It's against regulations."

"Actually, they never wrote a regulation against nerve pinching fellow
officers."

"They didn't? Well, the ought to. C'mon, Lieutenant. Wake up."

"This might help."

She injects Gunner with a stimulant, gritting her teeth in abject worry as he
begins to stir.

"Huh? What, when, where?" He squints at the two vulcans in front of him, eyes
crossing and uncrossing with wild abandon. "Oh no! Two T'lars!"

"Negative... I am Lt. Soroc."

"Kris sent him over to aid in the interrogation," T'lar explains.

"Aid? Help?!" Gunner rubs his shoulder where it still hurts, depressants and
stimulants continuing to vie for control of his metabolism. "Let me get this
straight. You pinch my neck, and then keep me conked out until your vulcan...
eeek... vulcan friend here can arrive to take my place!? Is that what's going
on here, T'lar?!"

"In a nutshell."

"Well! It's not going to happen! Not on my ship! I'm chief of security, and no
traitorous, back-biting, shoulder-pinching pair of vulcan hooligans are gonna
deter me from my righteous indignation!" He finally uncrosses his eyes. "Er...
from my duty that is. Who did you say you were?"

"Lt. Soroc. Security officer just assigned to the USS Phobos."

"Aha! The Phobos! You're on the wrong ship, buddy!"

Gunner grabs his communicator, trying just about every security-laden channel
known to exist. "Kris, what the hell do you think you're doing!? First you come
aboard my ship and act like you own the place, and then you start sending your
underlings to act like they own the place for you!"

"Gunner, I'm busy. I've got a meeting with..."

"I don't care if you have a meeting with the Almighty himself."

"Herself."

"Whatever. Kris, I've got a great idea. Since you're sending over someone to
interrogate the prisoner, why stop there? While your at it, you might as well
send over a replacement for me! You find anybody to take over my job? What am
I, nowadays, a replicated plant??!!"

"That would certainly be an improvement."

"Oh... ho-ho, very funny. I seem to be the last to know about everything around
here, and all you can do is crack side-jokes..."

"It's just that Commodore Ash thought..."

"What did he think, Kris??"

"Well, he thought that Soroc might have better luck at getting some answers."

"I have just spent close to," he consults a wall chronometer, "...my God... an
HOUR with our newest guest, most it catching up on my Z's thanks to T'lar here.
She has not divulged very much at all and I doubt she will. Both of them seem
to be protecting someone or something... however, if this, Soroc, can do
something, he is by all means welcome. I would've thought Commodore Ash would
at least inform me. I am supposed to be security chief of this boat. Last I
knew that privies me to info on these matters."

"Have you checked your mail, lately?"

"My mail, oh yes, every hour on the hour. I've had so little to occupy my time
lately."

"Well, you might want to. I imagine he would have tried to contact you somehow.
Star Fleet protocol probably requires it."

"Oh, that's a relief, Kris. Let me just go and brush up on the first four
volumes. I'm sure it's simply enthralling."

"I liked it," T'lar remarks.

"You would." Gunner turns back to his communicator. "Now let's see... check
mail and read Star Fleet protocol, the unabridged version, of course. Is there
anything else you forgot to order me to do, Kris?"

"No, I think that about covers it."

"You're loving this aren't you?"

"Well, how often does a girl like me get to order around a hot-shot admiral's
son?"

Gunner scowls, "Kris... I've put up with a hell of a lot. I've lost my best
friend, and now I'm losing my sanity. But I sure as hell don't have to listen
to your cra..."

"Gunner, wait. Look. I'm sorry about Parker."

"Your being sorry doesn't help him one bit."

"I know. But maybe Lt. Soroc can help. He's had _success_ interrogating this
species in the past. According to the Commodore, he knows his way around. I
want him brought up to date and given a go at these two. If they can help us
find out exactly what the Romulans are up to... well, that's what Tom Parker
would have wanted, isn't it?"

Gunner scowls, "I... I suppose."

"Look, it's your bailiwick. If you don't want the help, send them back. I won't
make a fuss. But T'lar told me all about what was going on down there. No
offense, but I think this interrogation would be best handled by somebody
else."

Gunner makes a fist, "I'll give him one hour. Then they're out of here. You got
that, Kris?"

"That's all we're asking for."

Gunner nods, "Good. Because that's all you're getting." He holsters the
communicator and makes for the exit, turning back toward T'lar just at the last
moment. "If you ever pull that stunt again, T'lar..." he shakes his head, then
leaves.

T'lar watches him go, her face a mask again. "Remind me to study this human
custom of 'nepotism' more thoroughly in the future, Soroc, so I may discover
just how much of the Fleet it is destroying." She sighs and returns to the main
cell area. "Histlin?"

"How did you know my name?"

"Tani, your accomplice, told me. Pardon me for not acting sooner, but you
seemed quite capable of taking care of yourself. You may pardon our overly
hostile 'interrogator', if you wish. Personally I don't intend to. Humans, at
times, seem more ruled by emotion than any other race... it is a wonder they
survived this long." She deactivates the field. "I have no intention of trying
to batter you into submission if you try to escape, I suspect it would be
futile anyway, but this ship is crawling with extremely paranoid crew who are
currently scanning everything visible for chameleon life signs, so I warn you,
you're not likely to go far."

Histlin takes a step out of the cell, stealing a quick glance toward the entry
way. From the looks of things, she could just walk out, but she knows better.
Without doubt, there is a forcefield activated at the far end, probably
surrounding the entire cellblock, and would, no doubt, be active whenever a
prisoner's cell-field was deactivated. Standard Star Fleet procedures, at least
according to her briefing. She decides to test the theory, and throws Parker's
comm-badge toward the cellblock entrance. Sure enough, it falls to the deck
after a brief flash of light and crackle of protonic static.

"You're right, Vulcan. I'm not likely to get very far at all."

T'lar beckons Soroc closer. "Now. If we may start again? I am T'lar, and this
is Soroc, and hopefully you will find us a bit more pleasant to talk to, if
nothing else. I, frankly, am not terribly interested in the third chameleon at
any rate, though Soroc may disagree... he, or she, can easily change their
identity again. The Romulans concern me more." She frowns. "Have you any idea
what interest they have in Sarin?"

"They're interested in killing him."

T'lar nods, "It must be a great interested, indeed, for them to send no less
than three of their finest assassins on such a mission... and two cloaked
ships. What could frighten them so about him?"

"It is not fright, so much as opportunity."

"An opportunity?" Soroc steps forward. "To spark a war between the Klingons and
the Federation?"

"I will say no more."

"Why not? What, at this point, do you have to lose?"

"I will not betray Karameth."

"Karameth. The third chameleon?"

She nods, "Knowing her name will do you no good. As T'lar said, she can change
her face at will."

"Finding her is of lesser value than understanding this Romulan-Chameleon
connection. From a chameleon caught at Starbase 75, we already know about your
plan of killing the Ambassador... and trying to take his place. Why did the
Romulans or you think you could get away with this? You could never fake his
knowledge or the power of his mind."

"You fool. Sarin is well known for sitting in his room all day, meditating
without a clue. Faking him is easy."

"Not so easy were one to read his mind."

"No one would dare even try. His powers of telepathy are too well known for
that."

"I might try," T'lar states. "In fact, I did, and his defenses were not so
great as to withstand my probe."

Soroc regards her with as much surprise as he can successfully mask. Before he
can make further inquiries, however, a security officer appears on the other
side of the entry-field.

"Get her in the cell."

"It is not necessary," T'lar states, somewhat aggravated.

"Yes it is. Get her in and switch it on."

Soroc shrugs, switching it on after the chameleon reluctantly steps back into
her cell.

The security guard shuts down the entry field and comes inside, his
communicator beeping. "Dr. O'Neil for you, sir."

T'lar opens the flap. "Yes, what is it?"

"T'lar, I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

"What?"

"You'd better come down here and see for yourself."

T'lar hands the communicator back to the guard and turns toward Histlin, "I
will see what I can do about getting you less ludicrous accommodations,
although you can see the distrust the others have of you. You may continue to
speak to Soroc, if you wish." She turns to the guard. "Gunner is NOT to see any
of the prisoners without supervision. He attempted to assault her, threaten
her, and possibly torture her, all clear violations of our laws, and a
complaint will be filed."

"Now you listen here, sir..."

"While I cannot *order* you to forbid the head of security entrance, you will
doubtless be asked questions at Gunner's hearing about any actions you might
take henceforth. As you were saying?"

The guard closes his mouth.

"Good." She heads toward the Excalibur's sickbay, deep in thought.


Stardate 6003.27 at 2005 hours: USS Phobos, Main Engineering
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Jakob Bannister finds himself taking a stroll about his new post and is
somehow ushered towards the Engineering section by a mysterious yet powerful
force, namely, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. As he rounds a corner near
the matter/antimatter mixing chamber, however, he blunders directly into a
large mass of muscle in motion. Jake looks up at the Klingon, "Lt. K'tar, we
must stop running into each other this way."

"Agreed, as next time, I might accidentally have to crush you, human."

*Gulp*

K'tar heads off in a rush, "No time for idle chatter."

"Whoa, hold up. Uh... would you like some help?"

"And how could *you* help me? I am not in need of a physician, nor do I plan
to be."

"Oh... I know a bit about engines. What do you need to get done?"

The Klingon glares, "There is a problem with the starboard shield emitters,
and the phaser crystals are a misaligned and..."

"Say no more, K'tar," Jake heads off down the corridor. "I will look into the
shield problem so you can get on with other things."

'Now let's see if I still haven't lost the touch,' Jake thinks to himself as
he walks into the shield emission control chamber. Two techs are already there,
a blond guy, and a dark-haired fellow with a thin beard and strangely cheerful
eyes.

"Uh... hi. I'm Dr. Bannister."

They both laugh.

"Er... I'm sorry, did I miss a joke?"

"No... no, come on in, doc. What can we do for ya?"

"Well, I thought I'd see if I can help out. K'tar was telling me how busy he
is."

"Ahh... so you've met our new boss."

Jake nods, "Is that what you guys were laughing about?"

"Well, its either laugh or cry."

"I much prefer laughter, don't you?"

"It's good for healing," Jake comments, inspecting one of the control panels.

"Yeah, we may need some of that as well if we don't get this thing working on
time."

*Beep*

Jake suddenly realizes that his beeper is kicking in. He quickly steps to a
comm-port and calls sickbay. Conner answers on the other end.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but your presence is requested on the bridge."

He nods, "Okay, thanks." He closes the channel. "Well, sorry I wasn't much
help."

"That's okay, doc. If we get sick, we'll call you."


Stardate 6003.27 at 2010 hours: USS Phobos, Computer Core
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The place is near-deserted as Hawkins enters, glancing around from side to
side. Only Ensign Arloch and Lt. Xelha are still there, running 2nd stage
memory diagnostics.

"Well well... if it isn't the little hero."

Tyran looks up, "What're you doin' here, JJ?"

"Lookin' for a certain Klingon."

"You missed him by about twenty minutes. He cleared out of here with the
entire staff... save us, that is."

"Yeah," Pacal chimes in, "he was probably saving us for dessert."

Hawkins grins, "I don't think we met. I'm J.J. Hawkins, Chief Engineer."

"Lt. Pacal Xelha, Chief Navigator."

Tyran bumps his head as he gets up, "Chief Engineer? Don't tell me you got
transferred."

"Okay."

"Ohmigod, who's toe did you step on?"

Hawkins smiles, "It's not a punishment, Tyran. I volunteered. By the way, what
are you boys doin' to my computer?"

Pacal is taken with this southerner and laughs. "Oh, please excuse me mister
Chief Engineer, I didn't know that I was working on the J.J. Hawkins model II!
While you're here, how is the work coming on *MY* warp engines?"

Tyran gets in on the act. "Mr. Chief Engineer sir, why don't you stop bitching
about the computer, roll up your sleeves, and help us find the bugs in this
processing module?"

Hawkins laughs and makes a big show of pointing out his rank insignia, "See
this, boys? THIS puts me in charge. *I* don't *have* to work, just order y'all
about an' bitch about the progress." He laughs some more. "Seriously though,
Pacal. You say yer a navigator. I'm surprised to see a navigator muckin' with
the computer system. What are you? Some sorta engineer wannabe."

"I get by when it comes to computers."

"Well, that's alright by me. We're gonna need all the help we can git to put
this ole girl back in service. Tyran, I'd luv ta help y'all but I got to finish
my damage survey an' report to the Capt'n in a bit. So, how long y'all figure
'till we get this baby back on-line?"

"Oh... gee. Good question."

"We've just started diagnostics on the 2nd stage memory," Pacal informs him.
"The main computer should be ready for minimal operations in... oh... half an
hour. We're still tracking down some problems in super processing, though, but
it seems to be linked to some strange error messages from the core-diagnostic
program. Frankly, I have serious doubts about taking this bird out of
spacedock."

"Oh... she's gonna get out of spacedock, boys. You can bet yer britches." He
heads toward the door, "I'll be heading toward the bridge. Channel 10 on the
communicator if you need anything."

"Just one thing. Where did you get that terrific smelling coffee?"

"Heh... if you get 'er up and running, I'll let you know. Consider it an
extra incentive."


Stardate 6003.27 at 2020 hours: USS Phobos, Captain's Office
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Hawkins finally finds the Captain's office, he can't help but be taken
aback. Crates of electronic components are stacked on the floor, on the desk,
and even on the Captain himself.

"Sir, are you okay?"

"I'm just trying to move these hydrospanners off the my chair... ooph." He
takes a seat, pooped and sweaty, and this right after taking a shower. "Do you
see what they did to my office?"

"Looks like you need to do some redecorating," Hawkins stares around at the
mess. "So, am I early, or is everyone else late?"

"I'm here," Kris steps out from behind some boxes. "Me too," Jake chimes in.
Hawkins has to step around a set of boxes before he can get a clear view of
the doctor. Oein is sitting there beside him. "Well... hi there. I'm Jimmy-Joe
Hawkins, Chief Engineer."

"Jakob Bannister, Chief Medical Officer."

The doors open and Tsandzia walks in, looking around at each of the various
officers. "Hey, there's no party for me in here."

'What gave you the idea that there was?' Hawkins thinks to himself. "So,
Capt'n, we're still missin' a few department heads. Do we start without 'em or
wait?"

"No, we have wasted enough time as it is! Gentlemen, and lady... what have you
got for me? You go first Cmdr. Hawkins, as yours is the most important
department at the moment." With a evil grin he mutters. "I will take care of
the other department heads when I see them..."

Hawkins locates a suitable crate and makes a seat of it. "Welp, I'll tell ya.
She's a lot better off then she might look. All key systems are operational or
close to it, at least at some level. I spoke with Crewmen Woods, our
containment specialist, an' brought her upta speed on the plan. We've already
set things movin'. I'd say we could pull up anchor an' set sail by mornin'. At
this point in time, I don't forsee any s'prises." Hawkins looks around and
grins, "Course ya never can be sure 'bout these ole girls."

"Good. We might just do that... Leave tomorrow I mean. I'm sorry this may not
make to much sense to you at the moment Dr. Bannister. I will explain when I
have the time. Cmdr. Hawkins, I assume that you will be able to hold her
together during the trip?"

"Barring any unforseen difficulties... a Romulan armada, T'lar steering us into
asteroids, etcetera."

"In what condition are the warp drives? They are, after all, the most important
component of the boat at the moment."

"They wont be settin' any speed records, but they'll git us there an' back sure
enough."

"Shields and combat systems? How are they?"

"On the whole, they are in respectable shape. We are havin' some minor problems
with some of the emitters but we got people on it. I got K'tar checkin' all the
shield an' weapon systems even as we speak. He hasn't had a chance to report in
yet though, so I can't give ya a more detailed report, but I don't foresee any
significant problems with the weapons, overall."

Tsandzia smiles, "Who needs weapons when we have Blobby!" She points to the
cute little cuddly green blob nestled at her shoulder.

Hawkins looks at the blob, "True enough. Throw 'im on their shields an' let him
work on 'em for a while."

"Great idea. Umm... I saw K'tar just before coming down here," Jake speaks up,
"and it looks to me like his hands are more than full."

"Well," Hawkins smiles, "your point?"

"Let me take care of the shields," Jake offers. Everyone in the room stares at
him for a moment. "Well, I used to be an engineer. That's what I graduated from
the academy as. Haven't worked on shields in a while, but with some technicians
helping me, it shouldn't be too much of a problem."

Hawkins grins, "If ya can fix 'em, I can use the help. Engineerin's a wee bit
understaffed to be fixin' and runnin' the ship at the same time." He glances
toward Vince.

"Yes, by all means. While there is no need for you in sickbay, Doctor, I would
appreciate it if you could help our engineers out to whatever extent you are
able. Have you got any more hidden talents?"

"Well, I play a mean third base."

"Hmmm... if the Romulans challenge us to a baseball game, that will be good to
know." Vince grins. "By the way, how are things down in sickbay?"

"I reported aboard at 1830, reviewed all personnel records and inspected
sickbay briefly. Everything seems to be in perfect order. I am having a
department meeting tomorrow at 0800. Need to pick an assistant CMO."

"Good. Is the infirmary fully equipped and ready for any emergency?"

"I haven't just had the time to do a full inventory count, yet, but let me get
back to you.

Suddenly Pacal bursts into the meeting room, out of breath and panting. "How
much did I miss!"

Vince looks up and strokes his chin. "That all depends. Who the hell are you?"

"Lt. Pacal Xelha, Navigation Officer."

"Ahh... have a seat... er... a box. Or whatever." Vince looks over the crew
roster.

"My apologizes for being late, sir. I just received word that there was a
department heads meeting. If I'd been informed earlier..."

Vince nods, "No, it's my fault. I hadn't officially named you as Chief
Navigator on the crew roster," he takes a quick swipe at the keyboard,
"...until now, that is. Do you have a report?"

"Uh... navigational controls are fully operational and prepared for immediate
departure if necessary. The computer, however, is a different story."

"Pacal has been offering his services as a computer technician," Hawkins
interjects.

"Excellent. Please continue, Mr. Xelha."

"The main computer will be available for minimal operations in 15 minutes.
There are still some problems in super-processing which seems to be linked to
core-diagnostics. The problems we are having are directly related to some of
the outdated computer hardware that was part of the system before the Borg
attack."

"I see. We'll have to get by on that till we get it fixed. I don't want any
delays, and we are leaving with, or without a computer! By the way, how come
you know so much about the computer. Your department is Navigation isn't it? Is
everyone on this ship an Engineer, or have you all just traded posts?"

Pacal blushes. "Well, sir, I did gain some experience with computers during my
tenure at the Academy, but that's a long story. Suffice it to say that
astrogation is impossible without them, so I've made it a point to become VERY
familiar with the systems that I have to work with. However, as far as my
department goes, all that is necessary for full operational capability is some
system optimization and minor diagnostics. She'll be ready to fly by morning."

"In that case you can get back to the computer core. Excellent work,
Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir." Pacal exits the same way he came in, out of breath.

"Lt. St. James, what have you got to tell me about your department?"

"Our cargo is stowed in a safe place, and we're ready for transport... with one
critical exception. I believe my section is critically understaffed, and I
think we should have about six more security people aboard ship."

Tsandzia wonders, "Six more security officers? Let's make sure we don't draw
attention. We want to avoid letting people know this mission is of importance.
Maybe we can sequester other people already assigned to the Phobos to help you
with guard duties and such?"

Kris nods, "That is an option, but I'd prefer trained security personnel. I'd
also request three force field generators to seal off the security area from
the rest of the ship. Once we are out of scanning range of Albuquerque, and
once we are sure we are not being followed by the Romulans, I would recommend
that we go to general quarters four for the purpose of clearing the corridors
of non-essential personnel. If I can get the men and equipment I need, we
should be ready to go by 0800."

"I'll talk to Ash and see what I can manage. Remember, we really only need the
heavy guard until tomorrow morning."

"Assuming there are no chameleons on board."

"Then make sure there are none on board. All dismissed." Vince leans back in
his chair, contemplating what he's going to say to the Commodore.

When he opens his eyes, however, he sees that both Oein and Tsandzia are still
there.

"Well... what do you two want?"

"About your offer," Oein prompts.

"Ah, yes. The science department is still in need of a chief," he glances
between them. "And I'm also in need of a first officer. I know that I offered
you the former... but I think it might make more sense, considering your rank,
for you to accept the later. That is, assuming you're interested."

"I am."

"Good. Then it's settled. And you, Lt. Morchainte," Vince folds his arms, "it
seems that you are a department head after all."

"Hear that, Blobby?"

"Uh... right. If that's all then, you're both dismissed."

Oein leaves, but Tsandzia stays her ground.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"I just wanted to let you know, I've been picking up some low frequency EM
pulses from one of the Romulan vessels."

"Pulses?"

"It may be related to their cloaking device. Or," Tsandzia stops herself.

"Or what?"

"It may be some form of communications signal."

"Communications?" Vince leans back, "Keep on it, and let me know if you
discover anything else."

"Aye sir... we will," Tsandzia pets her Blobby again. "One idea. Would you like
me to try scrambling their messages? I'm sure we could broadcast enough
interference to destroy their communications."

"No, we cannot. This ship, the Phobos, is to attract little or no attention
until the time of our departure. If the Excalibur were to scramble it, that
would be acceptable, but not us."

"Well, we could always attempt to interpret the message instead. The only
problem is that the Phobos's computers probably couldn't handle that type of
task, even on a good day, though I'm no encryption expert."

Vince nods, "See if you can interpret it then, and draw the Excalibur's
attention to it, but by no means are you to interrupt it. Is that clear?"

Tsandzia turns to leave, but half way to the door, she stops and turns back
for a moment, "A simple 'yes' would be good enough. I'm not your jerk horse,
and would hope you could treat other people here with some dignity too." With
that said, she lets the doors close behind her, leaving Vince somewhat
stunned. He gets up from his desk and steps around a few boxes, entering
the bridge after her.

In a low voice, "Have I offended you?"

Tsandzia sighs, "Just watch that authoritative tone, like 'is that clear', if
you would, please. I wasn't disagreeing with you."

"Authoritative tone? Tsandzia, I'm the Captain. We're supposed to have
authoritative tones. It's in the job description."

"Yeah," Crewman Johnson wanders up, "but not as authoritative as _your_
authoritative tone. Sound like a rabid dog the way you bark out them orders."

Vince grits his teeth, "Welcome aboard, Johnson."

"Oh, and thank you for getting me that transfer. Does that mean I get a
promotion, too?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. Tsandzia, I'd like you to meet Axel
Johnson, best damn sensor specialist in the fleet. Johnson, this is Lt.
Morchainte, science chief. Do me a favor and try to get along." Vince heads for
a turbolift, something about his unique sense of overbearance echoing in the
background as the doors slide shut, sealing him in a most welcome if fleeting
solitude. 'Damn Ash. And to think I was happy to get this post. He's probably
laughing himself silly.'

When the doors slide open again, Kris is standing there. "Heading for the
transporter room?" she surmises.

"I've got a brief meeting with the Commodore."

"Going to get me some more security people, I hope."

"Kris, I know you feel that your department is critically undermanned, but I'm
not sure I can do anything about it."

"You could at least try."

"I will mention the problem to Ash and try to get some reinforcements," he
acquiesces, stopping in front of the doors to the transporter room. "Whether or
not he decides to give us more people," Vince shrugs and heads through the
doors, "...right now it looks like we need engineers more than anything else.
And somebody to fix these damn transporters. Crewman, contact Albuquerque and
have them beam me aboard."

"I'll do it," Kris murmurs, stepping into place. "Before you go, Captain, you
should know that I'm scheduling a ship-wide security sweep for our third
chameleon at oh-seven-hundred."

Vince shakes his head, "I'd rather you didn't."

"Sir?"

"Postpone it until we've left the station. That way we'll attract less
attention, and there will be no possibility of an intruder sneaking aboard
after the sweep."

Kris nods, "As you wish." She hits a few keys, "Albuquerque, one to beam over.
Energize."


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

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