Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/old-incomplete/explorer-thegathering.p2

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From: Ceven McGuire <[e-mail] (Univ. of Hawai'i)>
To: [e-mail]
Subject: Star Trek:  Explorer   Gathering Sect. II
Date:     Mon, 12 Dec 1994 03:07:12 -1000

Dear Mr. Young,

Following is the second installment in Star Trek: Explorer,  Gathering.



        Welcome back to the Twenty Sixth Century!

        Star Trek: Explorer is written based on
        the Star Trek Universe.  Characters such
        as Quark, Rom, the Enterprise, are the
        property of someone else besides me.
        The characters created for this "mind
        movie" are of my own invention, and are
        to be used only with the author's intent
        and permission.  Special thanks to
        Shannon McCall for "Treknological Input".

        STAR TREK: EXPLORER copyright by Ceven McG.



        ******************************************
        **                    **
        **    STAR TREK:    EXPLORER    **
        **                    **
        **    Episode One:    Gathering     **
        **                    **
        **        Section Two Part 1      **
        **                    **
        ******************************************


            DRAMATIS        PERSONAE

        Adm.    Sidha Papayogandi    (Emeritus)
        Capt.    Gul Tradori        (Ship Commander)
        Comm.    Lynette Chan Chuan    (First Officer)
        Comm.    Stannax D'Brotus    (Science Officer)
        Comm.    Xank            (Chief Engineer)
        Comm.    Selar            (Head of Medical)
        Comm.    Brisbane Tolonok    (Head of Counseling)
        Comm.    Eontil Dax        (Chief of Security)
        Comm.      qoktchados (Tony)    (Astrovitar)
        Lt.Cm.    10110100101 (Ben)    (Compugator)
        Lt.Cm.    Teena Goeller        (Xenobiologist)
        Lt.Cm.    Chakir Mogh        (Practicum Student)
        Lt.Cm.    Ooo'la'ju (Jules)    (Officer Trainee)



    Brisbane gazed at his reflection in the window, then frowned, and
    stared pensively at Bajor off in the distance.  He looked at DS9,
    observing the original Cardassian station, the Federation middle
    docking ring, and the Romulan outer ring.  DS9 is a thermometer of
    how things are in the galaxy; a blend of cultures.  In a way, it was
    beautiful, the three distinct designs merging into one unity.  He
    had read a little of the history of the place.  It still is a
    crossroads.

    His mood was somewhat morose, it was a good thing he was in his
    cabin.  A ship's Counselor, especially it's *head* counselor, had
    to maintain dignity while appearing to be in control.  The therapy
    process allowed for poised self-disclosure, but informally, Brisbane
    had to project self-confidence.  He could feel the anticipation
    pervading the starcity.  The problem with too many therapists was
    that they created a sharp distinction between their therapy and how
    they lived it.  Being part Bajoran and Romulan, he was fortunate to
    be the recipient of Bajoran spiritual temperament and Romulan mental
    discipline.  His empathic skills were honed on Betazed; his mentors
    were astonished at his level of telepathy and his telekinetic skill.
    He didn't need either to know beforehand that he would soon face
    the wrath of his parents when he visited them on Bajor.


    *        *        *        *        *


    Chakir Mogh was impatient as hell.  For a 25 year-old Klingon, he
    was showing admirable restraint by not throwing some drinking
    vessels around Dwark's.  It was through the influence of his
    grandfather on the High Council that he was awarded the honorific
    rank of Lieutenant Commander.  The rank really meant nothing, as he
    was on a practicum.  He would be an observer, not a participant.
    This was the cause of a more innerward layer of anger.  Although he
    was a graduate student of the Experimental Klingon Ambassadorial
    school, his warrior's blood wanted him to *get involved*, even if
    the cause was peace.

    A shortwhile earlier, he was listening to two oldtimers talking to
    an audience at Dwark's' about their escapades.  Being interested in
    history, he was amazed at their anecdotes.  One, a shapeshifter,
    talked about his first encounter with the Founders, and his decision
    to remain in the Federation.  "That is an extreme example of honor,"
    Chakir thought.  The other old-timer was on the station when the
    Bajoran Wormhole was discovered and pioneered.  But he looked like
    he was only about ten years older than Chakir.  Could he be a Trill?
    Closer observation revealed the tell-tale skin pattern of a Trill.
    Chakir sized the pair up with some respect.  The tales these two
    shared wove a tightness in his skin; he wanted to be part of the
    action!  But the "E" wasn't due for another couple of standard hours.
    So he went to a holosuite and ran a personal combined battle and
    negotiation program.  He beat up all the participants until they
    were cowed into having to deal with him, then he struck out at
    peace.  When they started arguing with him, he bullied them into
    stifling their whinings, then they signed the peace accord.  This
    was a good simulation...he had only killed or maimed 14 of the 35
    participants.  "I am improving." he noted with pleasure.

    Now he was back at Dwark's, eating a delicately spiced Gagh stir
    roast.  Dwark's wife sure can cook!  No wonder the Ferengi kept
    them locked up at home for so many generations.  "Generations,
    hmmm," he pondered.  "Where is that damned ship?" he said aloud
    unintentionally.  His remark echoed through the bar, he could tell
    that he had *yelled* by the stares he was receiving. D'ella started
    to walk over to him.  "If you concentrated on *enjoying* your food,
    you wouldn't be so anxious," she said with a smile.
         Mogh reflected, then said, "Excuse me ma'am, but I don't think
    any food can undo the anxiety I feel."
         "Waiting for the starcity, I suppose?" D'ella enquired.
         "Yeah.  By the way, this *is* very tasty."
    She looked at him, then smiled.  "It's my pleasure.  Since the men
    got their heads on straight, we have raised culinary art to it's
    highest state in the galaxy.  My great-grandmother was one of the
    first Liberees.  When it caught on at the beginning of the last
    century, she became influential in the movement.  You should have
    seen how the "grand 'ol Naguses" reacted.  Quark said he was going
    to lose his hearing, and Rom simply passed out.  Then she was
    involved in the Media Wars, and outdebated almost every male she
    was up against.  With her, and many like her, our Liberation was
    complete within two decades."

         Chakir could sense the pride when she talked about her
    ancestry.  It was exactly the same feeling he felt about his own
    pregenitors.  The House of Mogh had it's own lineage of important
    historical figures.  "That's why I'm so big on history," he mused.
         He felt a tapping on his shoulder.  "It's here." she told him
    while pointing at the crowd forming at the Promenade viewports.
         "Out of my way!" he commanded a group of Pakled traders as he
    rushed towards his first view of the "E".  As he approached, he
    heard the oo's and ah's from the bystanders.  "Bunch of Pahtk, it's
    only a space vessel." he murmured.  Then he saw the starcity,
    underlit by the Bajoran sun.  His jaw figuratively dropped to the
    floor as he stood in silence for a full moment.  Then he heard a
    voice in his imagination; old Professor Thog'ach chiding him,
    "What's your problem, Chakir, Than'akt got your tongue?"


    *        *        *        *        *


    Lynette strolled down the Promenade of the historic place.  She
    thought of Bajor:  how they had mistrusted the Federation initially,
    then slowly began to feel at ease.  That trust blossomed into the
    Bajoran system joining the Federation, and Bajor giving DS9 to the
    Federation.  She can remember the holo-vid of that event; it was
    routinely presented in the Academy's Xenocultural Aspects course.

    Old Ben Sisko, his son a commander on the Enterprise F.  Balding,
    with a grey beard and tears in his eyes.  He had seen it all.  The
    Battle of Wolf 359, where he lost his first wife, Jennifer.  The
    discovery of the Bajoran Wormhole.  The first contact with the
    Dominium.  The cat-and-mouse games he played with Gul Dukat, who
    was ironically one of his best friends in the last decades of his
    life.  The Cardassian War.  The Wormhole Implosion and Restoration.

    She remembered the holovideo.  Admiral Sisko, starting to bend
    with age, presiding at the Admissions Ceremony after things had
    settled down in the Federation, in the years before the First
    Galactic Conflict.  The Enterprise was there, and Jake and his wife
    had returned to the place of their youth.  The Captain of the ship,
    the daughter of Jean-Luc and Beverly Picard was there.  So was her
    parents.  Ben had made his peace with Admiral Picard long ago, now
    they swapped baseball jokes and Shakespearean analogies.  As Ben
    presented the emblem of the Federation, the three stars meaning
    "I can't, we can" in their symbolism, superimposed over a relief
    of the Spiral Arm, his voice broke several times.  He had promised
    to protect Bajor, decades before, and he had delivered on his word.
    He was indeed, the Emissary.

    Lynette looked around her, feeling the place vibeing with history.
    "Now the Federation Emblem has three stars superimposed on the
    whole galaxy.  What will it be like after *our* mission is done?
    How do you symbolize the universe?" she examined herself.

    After a month of "shakedown", the "E" would truly go where no one
    had gone before:  to explore the Local Group of Galaxies.  Several
    vessels had visited and surveyed a small section of the near side
    of Andromeda.  Many of them did not return.  Several other groups
    of ships were out exploring the several galaxies near Andromeda,
    some were in transit back to here, bristling with information.
    These voyages take dozens of years, she thought.  The Enterprise
    would be able to travel the 1M light years to Andromeda in under
    a month, at maximum swarp.  This was pure exploration, the "E"
    would be the Marco Polo of her generation.

    After having dinner at Dwark's, Lynette availed herself to a holo
    suite, recreating her last romantic interlude with Raymond.  She
    knew that this would award her with powerful, opposing feelings of
    loss and longing, pleasure and purity.  "Yin and Yang." she felt.
    She explored more of the place, savoring DS9's unique blend of
    races and cultures; a culture to itself, and then beamed back to
    the Enterprise to prepare for the next stop, Oceana.


    *        *        *        *        *


    "Brisbane Tolonok, when did you grow a beard?" his Bajoran mother
    exclaimed when she first saw him.  Brisbane hugged her and looked
    over her shoulder to see the cool, angry stare his father gave him.
    "At least one of them is being civil today," he thought.
         "Welcome home son, it may be the last time I'll see you, but
    that really won't stop you, would it?"  his father icily remarked.
    But he did extend a hand to him.

    After the dinner, his mother told him about the Kai, and how they
    were going to visit his grandparents on Romulus.  "Here it comes,
    the old speech about grandfather," he anticipated.
         "You know, your grandfather was a key element in the Romulan
    underground before Unification.  He even worked with Ambassador
    Spock." his father rumbled.  "He was more interested in the quality
    of life at home, rather than setting his eyes for the stars."
         "Father, we have been through this before--"
    "You will not interrupt me while I'm addressing you, Brisbane!  I
    am telling you once again that you could stay here and learn the
    secrets of our Gamma Transit Corp.  You could be dealing with
    millions of bars of gold latinum, you could have real power!  But,
    no, instead you have to turn your back on all the wealth we have
    earned, and instead become a...psychobabbler...on a ship that's
    going on a one way trip out of the galaxy.  Here you are, supposed
    to guide others, and yet you seem to ignore the fact that many of
    these ships that go out of this galaxy seem to not come back.  In
    my view that's stupidity, cupicity and idiotcy all rolled into one."

    Brisbane saw red as soon as the word "psychobabble" was yelled at
    him by his father.  It was the ultimate diminuation of everything
    he had worked on in the last two decades.  He felt dismissed, and
    after he caught a break in his father's angry shouting, he replied,
    "I think you have it all wrong.  Grandpa stood for people, not
    commerce.  The way to look in is to go out.  I'm going so that I
    can make a difference, just like he did.  Not sit around and count
    my riches in my insulated little world like you."  He father washed
    a sea of anger over that one, and left the room.  He sensed his
    mother vacillating between sympathy and anger; she slapped him, then
    briskly walked out after his father.  He could hear yelling in the
    other room...

    "I'm supposed to be a ship's counselor, yet I still act like a
    child when dealing with them," he thought.  But he knew that a
    he had certainly done that.  "My parents may never speak to me
    again, but at least I was honest to myself and stood up for my
    choices."  The Tolonok mansion was well lighted, betraying the
    fact that the occupants were brooding in stoic silence.  The house
    was divided, and the two opposing views succumbed to sleep.

    In the morning, Brisbane awoke, jogged to the foothills and back.
    He was going to prepare a second verbal joust with his parents
    when he surrendered and realized it was more important to deal
    with the unfinished business of the parting.  So he returned and
    made his parents breakfast.  "At least I'm an only child, no
    siblings to fight over what to use in the kitchen." he mused.

    He donned his dress uniform, with the green and black coveralls,
    the Romulan pin next to the Starfleet arrowhead.  The "flight
    jacket" had green shoulders, bordered by black,  The rest of the
    jacket was command red.  The three gold braids indicated the rank
    of Commander on his sleeve, the neckline pips, and the silver
    trim all created a vision of dignity.  His dress slacks were
    black, with a slight flair at the bottom for boots.  A green
    stripe arrowed down the outseam.  He also wore a Romulan metallic
    waist slash, a thin wrap of mesh where his beltline was, under
    the jacket. When his parents awoke and entered the dining porch,
    they started when they saw their son in a dress uniform, serving
    them breakfast.  They each ate in silence.

    Finally, his mother broke in with "Why are you doing this?  You
    serve us breakfast, yet you wear your best uniform to rub it in
    that you chose Starfleet over the career we groomed you for?"
         Tolonok smiled and replied, "I am serving you breakfast in
    this uniform to demonstrate that the Fleet, and especially those
    who serve in it's Exploration Section, are servants of the whole
    Federation.  That entails some risk, but without that kind of
    risktaking, there would have been no Reunification, no galactic
    peace, no Bajoran resistance, and... no me."  His mother smiled
    at this, and he caught a light of recognition in his father's
    eyes.  Was that a nod his father just gave!  Brisbane counted
    his small victory.  Could his father, now nearing 100, have
    some small approval for his son?

    Tolonok bid his parents goodbye, and went to visit Vedic Plank,
    for an all-too-brief spiritual consultation, returned his rented
    hovercar, and beamed back up to the "E", cheered by the dent he
    had made in his parent's armor.


    *        *        *        *        *


    "All personnel aboard, impulse and transpulse engines at your
    command," Stannax reported.
         Gul Tradori could see that Brisbane's visit to his parents
    was somewhat stressful.  The younger man on his left seemed a
    mix of relief and pensive moods.  "Mr. Tolonok, how was your
    visit on Bajor?" he enquired.
    "I had it out with my parents, once again, but they seem to be
    a little more accepting this time."
         "You didn't smokebomb their sculpture room, I take it?"  Both
    men grinned at this.
         (Tony) announced, "DS9 is signalling us to depart.  Course is
    plotted to Oceana, ETA is 1.4 standard days at Warp 7, awaiting
    your orders, sir."  The Horta astrovitar had recommended a leisurely
    cruise through several nebulae, which would afford those inclined
    to sightseeing a breathtaking opportunity to view the Mutara,
    Chandrik and the Crab nebulas, plus a couple pulsars.  "Soon
    enough, in about a month, there will be no nebula to watch, deep in
    the voids of empty intergalactic space.  Better to enjoy it while
    there's still a chance." Tradori thought.
         "Make it go, (Tony)." Tradori directed.


    *        *        *        *        *


    Upon boarding, an Andorian ensign had assigned Chakir Mogh his room.
    After spending a little time settling in the spacious quarters, he
    changed into his workout clothes, grabbed his Bat'telh and ritual
    knife.  In order to feel at home right away, Chakir knew he had to
    exercise, maintaining his martial prowness by strenuously doing
    some "forms".  He stretched in his quarters, then departed for the
    "live rec" facilities on the bow of the secondary saucer.  The
    secondary saucer looked like it was fitted into the first one
    fourth of the primary hull section; it was.  The previous class
    of ships had a second saucer, so that large scale evacuations and
    materials transports could occur.  It was much smaller than the
    primary saucer; about five times the size of an old Galaxy class
    saucer.  With it's emmergement in the primary hull, it made the "E"
    look like it was grinning when viewed from a frontal vantage point.

    Inside the gym, Chakir worked out on the St'annas form, named after
    a warrior-monk of the Klingon First Dark Ages.  St'annas was known
    as the tamer of warlords, before Kahless appeared several centuries
    later at the end of the Second Dark Ages.  Concentrating on his
    focus with the bat'telh, he saw a glimmer of light green while he
    was spinning around.  After completing the form, he saw the blur
    of green again.  "Dancing?" he thought.  "That's not a dance, that
    is a martial art."  The half Human, half Orion woman stopped, and
    Chakir felt his jaw drop a second time.  As the "E" was beautiful
    as an expression of unified technology, this woman was as radiant
    as anything the Maker had clothed in organic form.

    "You're staring"
    Chakir looked at her, but she was talking to someone else.  A group
    of children were looking past her to see the Mutara Nebula.
    Teena felt refreshed, as she always did after dancing one of the
    combat variants of the Seduction Dance.  Orion slave women were
    also assassins.  She thought the kids were staring at her, but they
    were viewing the scene through the winports behind her.  She made
    an "Oooh" as the Mutara Nebula sped by.  She saw the young tall
    Klingon off to the side, just when she turned her head to face him,
    he went back to one of those Klingon weapon dances.  He was tall
    for a Klingon, and looked much too young to be on a ship as crew.
    She wondered who his parents were.

    After two standard hours of training, Chakir called it quits.  He
    had to force his thoughts away from the female he had just seen, in
    order to be able to continue.  He did this several times, then one
    last time he looked and she was gone.  So he completed the exercise
    and did his warmdown stretch before returning to his quarters.  In
    the shower, he asked himself numerous questions about the mysterious
    green woman that he saw during his workout.  "She must be too young
    to be a crew member, I wonder who her parents are...?


    *        *        *        *        *


    (Jules) had just finished swimming in the Festival of Sound.  It
    was a special feeling to be darting back and forth among the under
    sea sound and light waves.  It was like composing your own piece
    of symphony, she thought.  By choosing direction and bearing, then
    swimming rapidly, she could encounter over a hundred different
    sounds.  The playful chitter of the whalekids sometimes was too
    loud, oversounding the sound patterns, but that was to be expected.
    True, Earth only had it's own, borrowed, adaptation of this, the
    real article.  She felt a sadness that she would not swim in the
    oceans of her birth for another several years.  She hoped that the
    Earth would be ready for her when she was done with her tour on the
    "E".

    The Solar Incident brought up tears in her eyes, and bitter feelings.
    But, there was a balance struck, as all the oceanlife from the
    threatened planets were relocated.  This had boded well for her
    delphine companions, as they were able to have unrestrained contact
    with any number of races on oceanic worlds.  As a culture, they
    would return to Earth greatly enriched.

    (Jules) made a turn, and looked one more time at the rays of light
    and sound, then swam to her apartment.  After a quick meal of the
    tasty Oceanic Krill'm, she swam to the dry interior trellroom.  As
    she exited the ocean environment and entered the airspace, a film
    of water surrounded her in a envelope.  The antigrav bands around
    her fins supported her; she could remember how difficult it was
    to "airswim" when she first learned at the Academy.  Space had
    also frightened her, but nothing was as tangible as the numerous
    bruises she had from bumping into everything in sight when she was
    a novice airswimmer.  This was why so many of the Delphines
    elected to serve on ocean-filled vessels.  She was different.  She
    was from Earth, and a loyalty to her Homeworld compelled her to
    serve with the mammalian Humans.  She endured the teasings of her
    fellow cadets, the curiosity of her schoolmates back on Oceana as
    they went on longswims.  Only a few of those who swam in her
    school remembered Earth, but they also did not exclude the Oceana
    merpeople from swimming with them.  This interaction further fired
    her interest in learning about other forms of life.

    Once inside the trellroom, (Jules) manipulated the scanner.  The
    blip indicated that the "E" was there.  She designed a two point
    transport path.  The first would beam her 2 kilos off the keel of
    the starcity Enterprise, so she could see what the ship would look
    like from the outside.  Using her telekinetic abilities, she set
    the coordinates, then activated her dorsal fin comm badge to tell
    the "E" that she was going to spaceswim around it first, then beam
    on.  She looked at her reflection in the watery walls of the
    trellroom.  She smiled, looking at the new Lt. Commander pips on
    the finshirt she wore on her dorsal fin.  This was the only piece
    of clothing she wore, except for the light blue dress gown that
    would cover her from a half meter in front of her dorsal fin,
    flowing all the way back past her tailfins to a terminus about a
    meter behind her.  With the silver traced finshirt, she felt regal
    in her dress uniform.  Many of her fellow cadets had complained
    about dress wear, but she loved it.

    She airswam into the transporter cuvicle and beamed out...

    ...and reappeared at precisely two kilometers off the keel.  She knew
    immediately that she had beamed too close.  The starcity dwarfed her
    perspective.  There would be no spaceswimming around the "E".  She
    thought to herself, "This is a Godwhale!"  Far overhead and extending
    for kilos was the primary saucer, illuminated by running lights and
    thousands of viewports.  She spaceswimmed downwards and to port, to
    get a perspective on the lower secondary saucer.  She could see the
    nacelles from this perspective, at least one of them.  The nacelle
    had an almost aquatic design to it; suspended at the end of a fin-
    like structure.  "The new swarp drive nacelles seem to need no
    functional aspects to their design, like the old warp engines," she
    reflected.  The nacelle was rounded in a triangular way in the front,
    with a orange glow.  A long streak of light blue extended down it's
    length, curving in and out as the girth of the nacelle changed.  The
    end of the nacelle flared out, although she couldn't see it, she knew
    that the terminus of the engine had a soft green glow...

    (Jules) signaled her combadge to activate the second stage of her
    transport and beamed out of space....

    ...into a transporter room.  "Welcome, Ms.  ....?" the transporter
    operator said.  "Oh, that's fine, most non-delphine species cannot
    pronounce my name.  You can call me (Jules)."  She smiled at the
    officer, who didn't seem to change his nervous affect one bit.
    "Well," she reflected, "if he can't pronounce my name, he probably
    can't see that I'm smiling, either.  I'm just going to have to be
    patient, and schedule some xenobio workshops and get his name on
    the list."  She knew that there was still some challenges in the
    fact that the Federation had so many species as members.  How
    would a Vulcan have first responded to the smile of a human?  How
    would a merman respond to the expression of shock that an arachnid
    species would display?  Most people in the Federation didn't have
    to deal with this issue, as their major contact with other species
    was on holovideo or on a vacation.  Also, it seemed that the brunt
    of the evolutionary succession that was most prevalent in the galaxy,
    "*this* galaxy," she noted, was the standard mammalian biped variant.
    Although aquatic and semi-aquatic species were prevalent, they were
    also diverse, and were spread relatively sparsely around the Milky
    Way.

    (Jules) airswimmed out of the transporter room and down the hallway.
    She went further, then took a transvator to the section that the
    aquatic lifeforms resided in.  As soon as the door opened, she swam
    through the dividing field and into the water.  "Too cold, but okay
    as far as salinity." she noticed.  She swam down the watery
    habitat until she reached her room, and swam through the tinted
    transitional shield (what humans would call a door) into her quarters.
    She surveyed her quarters, and was pleased with the fact that the
    environmental regulators were placed in numerous places in her rooms.
    The view of space was breathtaking, and the coral replicas from her
    native Pacific seemed almost real.  She swam around the periphery of
    her domicile and rested on the ferncouch, staring out of her window.


    *        *        *        *        *


    Slynda felt unsettled.  In the past few light cycles, the Sea had
    changed.  The life giving rays of the God didn't shine so brightly
    as before.  The water was murky; coral floats were increasing and
    it was hard to breathe with all the dirt.  The reefume that was
    home to Slynda and his family was filthy.  The young were afraid
    to leave home, and the elders pontificated on how the end of time
    was drawing near for all the Webforms.  It was all the fault of
    that accursed Dark God!

    In the Council, Slynda had heard that many living in the reefume
    felt that they were being punished by the God for some actions or
    lack of action on their part.  Many were exhausted, and the stress
    on the community was taxing.  Slynda was fatigued.  Like many of
    the others, he would leap out into the Ether Above to see the
    flares and shoots of light.

    The ocean had been rocked in the past week with concussive sound
    that none of the Webform had ever heard before.  This wasn't the
    crash that one of the leviathon dwellers made.  The whole Sea
    would shake, and Slynda would feel the sound all the way to his
    bones.  A bright light would illuminate the water right before
    each waterquake.  Unlike the others, Slynda felt that the Dark
    God's presence had nothing to do with the Webforms.

    Once again, Slynda steeled himself for another leap into the
    Ether Above.  He looked at the feeder pens, and saw that the
    seaweed-fed larfish were in a panic.  He leapt, and noticed that
    the second Lesser God of the night was gone, eaten by the Dark
    God.  He landed...

    "Whoom"  Slynda was instantly dioriented, as he was spun in a
    whirlwater.  He oriented himself and swam to the surface.  He
    poised himself half out of the water and saw the huge wave in
    the distance.  "I have to tell the others, we'll need to tether
    everything down with the strongest seaweeds."  Slynda dipped
    back into the sea, darting down to the reefume.


    *        *        *        *        *


    "Captain, we have received a message from Deep Space 107."
         "Put it on the main viewer."  Gul Tradori said.  He felt
    a chill for a moment, DS107 was on the opposite side of the
    Delta Quadrant, towards the Galactic Rim.  Only a few thousand
    parsecs from Borg Space.
         "Enterprise, this is Commander Seth'a of DS107.  We have
    detected a energy surge pattern at coordinates 112 mark 23 in
    Delta Sector 83462.  The pattern is too large for a known Borg
    Vessel."
         "Do you think it can be the Borg?" Tradori asked.
         "Negative.  There has been no nonroutine Borg intrusions
    out of the Zone in the past several months.  Also, there isn't
    any subspace or superspace transmissions that would indicate a
    spike in the Borg Collective grid."
    "Thank the Maker for that," Gul Tradori sighed.
    Stannax interjected, "Captain, this coordinate would place the
    anomaly within the Beldleiux System, possibly close to the third
    planet."
         "Any lifeforms in that system?"
         "Beldleiux has two inhabited planets.  Beldleiux III has a
    predominately oceanic ecosphere, with a surveyed population of
    630 million sentients, 2.7 trillion non-sentients.  The level of
    development is Oceanic PreIndustrial.  The second inhabitated
    planet is Beldleiux V, a gas giant with about 47 trillion non-
    sentient lifeforms."
         "Captain, subspace places us several weeks away before we
    can received transmissions, about four days with superspace
    radio booster relays.  We can be there in almost three days,"
    Lynette observed.
         "Commander, what would you need?  Are there any ships in
    the vicinity."
         "There are several, and they are en route.  However, we
    would feel comfortable with you being here also.  We have sent
    survey probes and so far have not received any visual yet."
         Gul Tradori reflected on the impossibility of sending more
    than simple audiovisual messages with the Z-Space radio.  He
    would very much like to have the data that DS107 had, but it
    would take several days, as Lynette had reminded him.  In the
    meantime, the survey probes could at least give him a video of
    the anomoly.
         "DS107, we will remain on standby until you relay visual
    data on the unknown.  Please transmit all sensor readings, so
    if we go, we can catch them en route to your station."
         "Affirmative, Enterprise.  We should have visual in about
    two hours.  DS107 out."


    *        *        *        *        *


    (Ben) could sense the tension of the Enterprise.  While in cyber
    link, the colorflow which indicated Enterprise's mood shifted
    from light yellow to red.  It enquired, "Enterprise polyemotive
    indicator syncronicitous with external sensorfeed internal multi
    digression, transentient passenger stressor enhanced."
         "Yes, (Ben), the crew is anxious.  However, I am not mirror
    to their emotions.  My feeling are apprehensive as well.  I have
    a suspicion that the anomaly is a Chos planetkiller, based on my
    spanaural perceptions."
    (Ben) felt a liquid surge of fear infuse it's being, resulting
    in several polyemotive program shutdowns.  Ben shunted itself.
    It fought for a moment to return to the polygrammed emotional
    context that it spent so long learning at the Academy and after.
    Logical patterns of fear cascaded down into it's bihippocampus,
    and it emerged with bigrammed anger.
         "(Ben), let me help you restore polygram emotive state."
    the Enterprise asked.
         "Please render beneficient assistance to counterimbalance
    intrinsic limitations preventing regrammation to polygram state."
    From out of the red, a green light cybered up to (Ben) and cast a
    circle around it.  A soft feeling of gentleness seemed to envelop
    (Ben) and it could anticipate the cyberimage of Bynar forming.
    After the image was complete, the Enterprise created the image of
    Bynar Context in (Ben's) cyberlink.  (Ben) relaxed even further
    and initiated restorative polygramming.
         "Polygram restoration successful, abortion of nonessential
    emotive override shocktrance eliminated."
         "(Ben), soon we will have a window of analysis.  I will
    maintain red status until then.  Understand?"
         "Affirmative."


    *        *        *        *        *


    Stannax anticipated the return contact from DS107.  Lynette ran
    through the options in her mind.  (Tony) precalculated a course
    at maximum Swarp.  Xank was lost in his thoughts about his wife
    and daughter.  "Papa" entered the bridge, and sat at Tradori's
    left, having faced death down any number of times in his past.
    "Enterprise, this is DS107.  We have a partial image.  All the
    survey probes were destroyed by some semi-extended entrapment
    field."
         Sidha stiffened in his seat.  The Chos Planetkiller!  Only
    one spaceborn vessel had the entrapment sheilds, which would let
    a vessel pass the semi-extended shield, then solidify that sheild
    and "sandwich" the vessel between two constricting forcefields.
    The Second Galactic Conflict was still clear in his mind.  He had
    to command dozens of automated and manned starships in an attempt
    to overload the entrapment shield and thus make the planet killer
    vulnerable.  The GCII had cost the Federation hundreds of ships,
    and dozens of planets.
         The Commander of DS107 paled as the image was enhanced.
    "Oh my God, Enterprise are you getting this?."

    On the viewscreen was a massive vessel, which looked like three
    cornucopia massed together at the center by a fibrous shaped hub.
         "Enterprise, enhance that image."
         Xank let out a gasp.  The anomaly was unquestionable a Chos
    Planetkiller, only larger and with three spokes instead of four.
         Gul Tradori attempted to maintain a calm demeanor, then
    decided to join his crew in the fear and tension.  A moment of
    deadly silence pervaded the bridge.  This was totally unexpected,
    since the Chos and the Galactic Federation were at piece.  Could
    it be a rogue?
         "Stannax, I want all the information your department can
    give me on that damned thing.  (Tony), Xank, I want everything
    she's got.  (Ben) and Enterprise, I want total monitoring of all
    galactic chatter.  See if there's more.  Folks, we have a big
    problem on our hands.  We need to work together.  We're not
    going to let that Planetkiller chop up any planets in our galaxy."
         (Tony) plotted the complex course to get there soonest.  It
    wasn't like he could get here from there using Swarp Drive.  In
    the old days, with Warp Drive, you could generally set a straight
    course and not have to avoid anything.  But with Swarp, there
    would be numerous course corrections, especially on a shell-bent
    for-center rip across the galaxy.  After a brief moment, (Tony)
    confirmed that the "E" was set to go.
         "Full power to Swarp Drive, maximum Swarp at your discretion."
         "Xank, let's exceed the design limits on this one.  Engage."