Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/story/tng/magnus_huckvale/whoistheenemy

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From: [e-mail] (Tim Huckvale)
Subject: NEW STORY: Who is the Enemy? Part 1
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.
Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 17:17:34 GMT
Lines: 495

Here is a new story.  It is TNG, but introduces a whole
new set of characters from a slightly different area of
Starfleet, that to my knowledge has never been the focus of
a story - Starfleet Intelligence.  Comments and criticisms
are welcomed, you may even get a reply.


     STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - WHO IS THE ENEMY?
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
                                          by Magnus Huckvale

Part 1


   "Captain's  log, Stardate 47262.2  The  Enterprise
   is now three hours from the Angeles system to pick
   up   Ambassador  Sartre  from  Starbase  19.   The
   Ambassador had been a key figure in talks with the
   Tsakkian people until  they broke off negotiations
   ten  years  ago.   Due to its  position  near  the
   Neutral Zone, Tsakkia is  of high strategic value,
   not   to  mention  the  possibility  of  preserver
   technology still remaining on the planet."

BRIEFING ROOM, USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701D

   Picard leaned back in his chair and looked towards the
wall chronometer.
   06:59.56
   'Any second now.' he thought.
   The door swished open and his senior officers started
filing in.  When they were all seated, he turned to his
android second officer.
   "Data, what do we know about Tsakkia?"
   Data tapped a sequence into the table console, and a
blue-green planet appeared on the viewer.
   "The Tsakkian system consists of four planets, the
outermost of which is class 'M'.  First contact was made
thirteen years ago, when Tsakkia achieved warp capability,
but the planet's government was unkeen on joining the
Federation at that time.  They did allow a few visitors, who
returned with reports of high living conditions, and very
low unemployment.   The inhabitants are humans, which led to
the suspicion that the planet was a preserver colony.  The
USS Hathaway conducted scans of the planet, and remains of
at least one preserver ship were found.  Before the Hathaway
could investigate further however, the Tsakkians decided to
end their relationship with the Federation."
   "So why are they trying to re-open negotiations now?"
asked Riker.
   "The planet trades freely with other races, although
little information leaves the system.  We have learned
however, that a new High Chancellor was recently elected."
   Picard nodded.
   "This new Chancellor could view foreign affairs in a
different way to his predecessor." he said.  "We will arrive
at Tsakkia in forty-one hours, and I expect every crew
member at the reception to be in full dress uniform.  Mr
Worf, I understand the Ambassador has his own escort, who
will be responsible for his security, and you will be in
charge of the safety of the civilian advisors and Enterprise
crew while they are on the planet."
   The Klingon nodded.  Looking after civilians was hardly
work worthy of a warrior.
   "Counsellor Troi, the Ambassador has requested your
assistance, he has not worked with an empath before, but
feels it may be worthwhile."
   Troi inclined her head to indicate approval, and smiled
slightly.
   "Commander Data, you will be in command of the
Enterprise.  Any androids the Tsakkians wiil have
encountered will doubtless be much less sophisticated than
yourself, and I am unsure as to whether they will accept
you."
   Data noted the apologetic tone of Picard's voice, and
felt it necessary to reassure the captain that he was not
offended.
   "Of course sir.  I understand."
   "On the other hand," continued Picard. "Exposure to such
advanced technology may encourage them to join the
Federation.  I will consult Ambassador Sartre at the
earliest opportunity."  He looked from face to face.
   "Dismissed."


WEAPONS PRODUCTION COMPLEX, DEVIRON 5

   "Shiiiii...."
   Spencer ran at full tilt along the walkway, he saw the
factory floor, hundreds of metres below.  The feline workers
staring upwards, the noisy machinery barely audible under a
thousand angry hisses.  "..iiit!"  He ducked behind a
support pylon, and caught his breath.  He felt his cheek,
blood dripped from the fresh claw marks.  Spencer crouched,
flicking his head from side to side, checking for danger.
Three guards were filing on to the walkway ahead of him,
disruptors poised.  Spencer took careful aim and fired.  The
heavy stun knocked the first one down but aggravated the
other two further.  The pylon didn't afford him much cover,
and the yellow beams scored along the titanium struts.  He
stuck his head out, expecting it to be vaporised, but the
two felines had set about retreiving their colleague.  One
of them noticed Spencers gaze and waved a claw at him.
   Spencer was puzzled by their sudden retreat, but not for
long.  A massive fiery beam slammed into the ultradense
ceiling, less than a metre from him.
   Looking down, he saw several seven-foot tall furballs
fumbling around a - Spencer identified the weapon
immediately - Class 8 Cardassian Disruptor Cannon.  Guards
were now appearing at each end of the walkway.
   He stumbled along the walkway just as the pylon was hit,
blobs of white-hot metal cascading to the floor.  The
walkway start to sag under its own weight.  He notched his
phaser up seven times, and fired at the eight foot tall
balls of fur.  The guards dived away from the beam -
straight over the handrail - and it turned a large part of
the magno-shielded wall into dust.  Spencer estimated that
the hole was fifty metres away, and fired up his Jetshoes
(TM).  He dived forward and hurtled along the rapidly
descending walkway, staring straight forwards at the hole in
the wall.  His hands were stretched out in front of him, and
he felt his legs take the full force of the tiny but
powerful engines strapped to his feet.  Out of the building,
he tilted his feet backwards, sending him spiralling up into
the deep red sky.
   He tapped his watch.
   "Reaper, beam me up!"


ORBIT G-090E, DEVIRON 5

   Anyone in geostationary orbit directly above Spencer's
position would have been surprised to see a small Starfleet
runabout suddenly appear, and then shimmer into nothing as
if it had never been there.  Whoever was watching would then
have been dragged halfway across the solar system by the
continuum ripples created when a spaceship goes to warp.
   Spencer stepped off the transporter pad to be greeted by
a short guy in a black jumpsuit.
   "Hello Spencer." he said.  "Did you get them?"
   "Yup, it's all in here."  Spencer tossed a small
tricorder onto a console.  He beckoned to the dwarf.
"Enoit," he whispered.  "You're not letting Lucy fly, are
you?"
   Enoit frowned.
   "You said it was alright." he whispered back.
   "Um, well it is, but... keep an eye."
   Enoit slowly nodded, ernestly.  "Right."
   "You go up there, I'll take my ears off." he tugged at
the pointed prosthetics.
   "Right." said Enoit.  "By the way - new orders.  When we
get back to Starbase we have an hour before leaving.  It's
all on the computer.  This one sounds fun, the Enterprise is
involved."
   The shadow that was the Reaper hurtled on.


STARBASE 51, ANGELES COLONY

   The Enterprise approached the enormous Starbase 51.
People gazed out the starbase viewing ports in wonder, as
they did whenever a Galaxy class came to visit.  Aboard the
Enterprise, the crew admired the Starbase.
   Nelf S'Olap dematerialised in transporter room 1.
   "Commander S'Olap, it's a pleasure to meet you sir."
Nelf looked up to see a dark-skinned young man wearing a
VISOR.  "I'm Lieutenant LaForge, Chief Engineer on the
Enterprise."
   "Hello Lieutenant.  Thank you for accommodating me at
such short notice."
   "Don't mention it."  Geordi led the way to the turbolift.
"I'm always ready to help with research into warp drives."
   The two entered the turbolift in silence.
   "Main Engineering." said Geordi.  "Er.. what exactly
*are* you researching?"
   "Sorry." said Nelf.  "It's classified.  All I can tell
you is that I'm taking efficiency readings of your warp
core, and relating them to field patterns."
   Geordi nodded.  A moment later the doors opened and they
were in engineering.
   "You can use the terminal in my office."  Geordi said.
   "Good, I believe I have forty minutes before you leave."
   Geordi checked the wall chronometer.
   "A little over, sir."
   "Thank you."
   The office doors closed behind Nelf.  Geordi stood there
for a minute, wondering, and then went about his own work.
   Nelf laid a tricorder on to the console.
   "Computer.  Establish link with tricorder S T B 5 1 slash
2 1 1."
   "Link established."
   "Run program W F A."
   "Running program.  Warp field pattern re-calibration
requires level 5 security clearence."
   "Recognise S'Olap, Commander, Nelf.  Code Gamma 8 6 2 4 7
1."
   "Warp field pattern set.  Continuing program."
   "Sever tricorder link."
   Nelf tapped a few parts of the console, causing the
transcript of the conversation to disappear.  He snatched up
the tricorder and wandered around engineering, pretending to
take readings.


TURBOLIFT CAR 26, DECK 4, USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701D

   "I hear you're an admirer of Ambassador Sartre's work,
counsellor."  Captain Picard said to his ship's counsellor,
as the two left the turbolift.
   "His work with the Orions was most impressive." she
replied.  "Up to the Sellaris 4 incident."
   "Indeed."  Picard nodded.  "That was very unfortunate.
Perhaps having an empath could have helped in that
situation."
   "Maybe, captain.  Some people would say the presence of
an empath would have simply increased the Orions distrust of
the Federation."
   They entered the transporter room, to find Riker and Worf
already there.
   He turned to the transporter chief.
   "Signal Starbase we are ready for the Ambassador's
party."
   The chief tapped the console, and four figures sparkled
on the pad.
   The Ambassador was of average height, dark haired, with
streaks of grey, and wore a thick grey robe.  Behind him
were two security guards, and - Worf noted with surprise - a
fleet intelligence agent.  Did Starfleet not trust him to
look after an elderly human?
   Deanna could sense Worf's confusion, and laid a hand on
his arm.
   Picard immediately stepped forward.
   "Welcome to the Enterprise, Ambassador."
   "Thankyou captain, I only hope working with the flagship
of the fleet will be as interesting as I have heard."
   The captain nodded.
   "This is Lieutenant Nickson of the SIA," the Ambassador
continued.  He leaned forward conspiratorially and
whispered.  "My bodyguard."
   Nickson spoke up.  "Actually I'm in charge of the
Ambassadors security.  The young ensigns here are his
bodyguards."
   Sartre looked round and glared at the Lieutenant.
   Picard took it all in his stride.
   "Ambassador, this is my first officer, commander Riker...
My security Chief, Lieutenant Worf.. an..."
   "Aaaaaah!" Sartre interrupted.  "Q'EST!" he shouted, in
his best Klingon accent.
   Picard did a double take.  Riker tried to suppress a
smile.  Deanna giggled behind a hand.  Nickson looked up at
the ceiling.
   Worf glared at the old man for a moment, but took the
comment as it was meant.
   "Thankyou Ambassador.  You speak Klingonee... very well."
   "I had a good teacher..." the Ambassador said.  "Admiral
Lawton at the starbase, in fact.  Although he only taught me
'hello'."
   Picard hastily ushered the Ambassador on to Deanna.
   "This is my ship's counsellor, Deanna Troi."
   "Enchanted, Ms Troi." the Ambassador gently lifted and
kissed Deanna's hand.
   "As am I, Ambassador.  I hope I can be of use in the
negotiations."
   The Ambassador nodded, and then apparently lost interest.
   "Captain, when are we meeting with the boffins?"
   "We're rendezvouing with the Riviera in Epsilon sector."
said Picard.  "They already have the science team aboard."
   "Good."
   Picard forced a smile.  "This way."
   The Ambassador waved his hand to say 'after you' to
Deanna.  Worf stomped out behind her, eyeing the Starbase
technician waiting outside the room.
   Nickson jumped in front of the Ambassador and glanced
each way down the corridor.  He nodded at the technician,
who nodded back.
   "All clear, Ambassador." Nickson smiled.
   The Ambassador whirled past, muttering.
   "Don't push it, Spencer."
   Spencer grinned, and fell into step behind the Ambassador
and the Captain.
   "Actually, Ambassador, I wanted to ask you about our Mr
Data..." said Picard.
   Spencer looked behind to catch Commander Riker's eye.
   "Commander." he said.  "I wonder if you would help me
fulfill an ambition."
   "Go on." said Riker.
   "I'm a member of Starbase 51's display team.  I'm a grade
AAA1 pilot you see, and I like to say that I've flown nearly
everything from skimmers to Klingon Birds of Prey.  But I've
never actually taken the helm of a starship as large as the
Enterprise, and I always say there's nothing to lose from
asking."
   "And you'd like to take the helm of the Enterprise." said
Riker.
   Spencer nodded.  "I'd like to engage the warp drive if
possible."
   Riker scratched at his beard.  "It *would* be highly
irregular."
   Spencer felt like he was walking a tightrope.
   Riker finally reached a decision.
   "On one condition." he said.
   "Anything." said Spencer.
   "You tell me how you got to fly a Bird of Prey."
   Spencer grinned.


COCKPIT, RUNABOUT CLASS USS CHAMELEON NCC-45031

   Lucy Cashdime irritably strummed her fingers on the
console.
   The words "Establishing Link" hovered on the screen for a
second, and were then replaced by Admiral Lawton.
   "We're just about ready, Admiral."
   "Good." said Lawton.  "The Enterprise leaves in ten
minutes, so you'd better hurry."
   Ludovic Jarmin and Gary Caplin came forward to the
cockpit of the runabout.
   "Ah, Commander Jarmin, Ensign Caplin." said Lawton, as
Gary sat in the pilot's seat.
   "Admiral.  Are we secure?" asked Jarmin.
   A few beeps could be heard from Lawton's end.
   "You are now." he said.  "Good luck."
   Jarmin nodded and left the cockpit.
   "Right.  Chameleon out."  Gary leaned forward to cut the
channel.
   "Starbase out.  Oh, Gary?"
   "Sir?" Gary's hand hovered over the console.
   "Don't let Lucy fly." Lawton said, and disappeared.
   Gary chuckled to himself and energised the cloaking
device.  Lucy folded her arms and put her feet up on the
console.
   "And tell her to keep her feet off the console." came
Lawton's voice.
   Gary clicked off the radio himself this time, and gently
guided the runabout out of the bay.


STARBASE 51, ANGELES COLONY

   Two tiny doors opened near the bottom of the Starbase
cone.  Inside was a copious shuttle bay.  Four runabouts
could be seen within, a fifth conspicuous by its abscence.
A few seconds later the doors slid shut, and the chameleon
took up position between the enormous nacelles of the
Enterprise.


BRIDGE, USS ENTERPRISE

   "Lieutenant Nickson, set course for Tsakkia, warp 6."
said Riker.
   Spencer already had the course entered, and tapped a key
to have it passed to the navigational computers.
   "Course laid in sir."
   "Take us onto that heading on Manual, Lieutenant.  Full
impulse."
   "Aye sir." said Spencer.
   The Starbase flew across the screen as Spencer executed a
three-point turn in the largest ship of the Starfleet.  He
edged the  engines up to full impulse, and ran his hands
over the inert parts of the console.
   "Warp 6, engage." said Riker.
   Spencer powered up the warp engines, and checked his
watch.  The display turned from red to green, and Spencer
released the enormous build-up of energy in the nacelles to
push the Enterprise into warp.
   "Mr Cermegghed, replace Lieutenant Nickson at the helm."
   Spencer turned to Riker.
   "Thankyouverymuch commander," he said smoothly.  "That
was a very worthwhile experience."
   Riker nodded.
   "Dismissed."
   Spencer entered the turbolift.  After a second the doors
closed, and the computer prompted in a silky voice.
   "Please state destination."
   "I don't suppose you have a bar on this ship." Spencer
said.
   "The Ten Forward lounge can provide a range of.."
   "Yeah, that'll do."


CORRIDOR, DECK 10, USS ENTERPRISE

   Spencer found a pair of doors with a large Starfleet
insignia plastered across them.  They hissed open as he
approached.
   "Cool." he wandered over to the bar, and casually leaned
on it.  No bartender, he thought, gazing across the room.
   "Don't I know you from somewhere?" spoke a soft, warm
voice.
   Spencer snapped his head round, it seemed like she had
appeared from nowhere, but as Spencer saw who it was he
wasn't surprised.
   "Guinan?"
   "Spencer!  I thought it was you.  It's been two h.."
   "Too long, yes." said Spencer hurriedly, eyeing the
crewmen further down the bar.
   "You haven't changed a bit." he continued.  "Still
wearing stupid hats."
   Guinan smiled.  "Rude as ever."  She leaned forward.  "I
assume this means you er.. succeeded."
   Spencer nodded.  He was about to say it was classified,
and that she could be shot for even knowing, but having
spent nearly a week with Guinan, he knew it wouldn't do any
good.
   "Of course.  Thanks to you.  Of course, it was only a
year ago for me."
   "So, what're you up to now?"
   "Boring - guarding the old man.  Still, it's work."  he
shrugged, he was sure  Guinan didn't believe it, but she
didn't question him further.  "Tell me, why this?" he waved
his hand around at Ten Forward.
   She shrugged.  "It's work."


USS ENTERPRISE

   The Enterprise thundered on.  Presently another, slightly
squashed ship drew alongside and matched warp velocity.
   Worf looked up from his station.
   "Sir.  We are being hailed by the Riviera."
   "On screen." said Riker.
   The bridge of the Riviera appeared on the screen, as a
Nebula class starship, the bridge looked almost identical to
that of the Enterprise.  Riker recognised the captain, Frank
Wellard.  Wellard and his twin Ryan had been in Riker's year
at the academy.
   "Will.  Good to see you again." said Wellard.
   "Hello Captain." said Riker.  Taking care to pronounce
the capital 'C'.
   Frank smirked.  "Well you're the one who keeps turning
down commissions."
   'Waiting for Picard to pop his cork, most likely' he
thought to himself.
   "I've got a load of scientists aboard," he said out loud.
"They're yours if you want them."
   Riker nodded.  "Mr Worf, signal the transporter chief to
begin transportation."
   There was silence for a few seconds, except for the
gentle hum of the ship's engines.
   "I missed you at the class of '57 reunion." said Frank,
brightly.
   "I couldn't make it." said Riker.
   "Shame" said Frank.  His own tactical officer told him
that the scientists were all transported.
   "Say hi to Geordi.  Riviera out."
   The Riviera pulled ahead of the Enterprise and passed in
front of the larger ship, before warping away.


ENGINEERING, USS ENTERPRISE

   A few hours later, Geordi was sitting in his office.  He
was puzzled.
   "Reg, come and look at this." he called.
   A weasel-faced man entered.
   "What is it?" he asked.
   "These warp patterns have been altered to provide a large
area of stability between the nacelles."
   Barclay sat down and called up a copy of what Geordi was
looking at.
   "Elliptical.  Measures 25 by 12 by 6 field units."  he
said.
   Geordi nodded.
   "The strange thing is, I can't reset the pattern.  The
sensors aren't picking anything up, and it's not affecting
our speed or... efficiency.  I wonder if this is anything to
do with that Starbase technician."
   "I could try to recalibrate the patterns manually."
   "I already did," said Geordi.  "It didn't work."
   "Oh."
   Just then the patterns stopped flowing over the computer
model of the Enterprise and lost all their uniformity.
Random lines of spacetime could be seen on the display.  The
ship had left warp.
   "Dammit." said Geordi.  "Computer, display warp pattern
setting."
   The pattern reappeared on the screen.  Without the area
of stability.
   "What the hell?..." whispered Geordi.

                     TO BE CONTINUED

--
Magnus Huckvale
--posted by
Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK
The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants
Tel: [phone]   Fax: [phone]   Email: [e-mail]
                      Any opinions expressed are mine
--
Tim H
"Praxis, meaning turning-point, culmination, action; orgasm."
Fay Weldon, in her novel "Praxis".  (#2 in a series of quotes)


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!uknet!root44!praxis!tjh
From: [e-mail] (Tim Huckvale)
Subject: NEW STORY: Who is the Enemy? Part 2
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.
Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 17:22:57 GMT
Lines: 325


     STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - WHO IS THE ENEMY?
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
                                          by Magnus Huckvale

Part 2

HIGH ORBIT AROUND TSAKKIA PRESERVER COLONY

   The Enterprise gracefully slid into orbit around Tsakkia.
   A smaller craft invisibly slid out from between the two
Enterprise nacelles, took up its own orbit, and waited.


IMPERIAL PALACE, TSAKKIA

   Spencer Nickson looked out over the lush green grounds of
the Tsakkian palace, at the Tsakkian parliament a few
hundred metres away.  Tsakkia was very similar to Earth,
either through design or by chance.  He couldn't help
congratulating the Preservers on their choice.  He watched a
ripple of wind travel towards him across the grass, brushing
over the bushes that lined the twisting paths through the
gardens.  He tilted his head back to feel the gentle breeze
ruffle his dark hair.
   He sensed a presence to his left.
   "Wonderful isn't it?" he turned to face the newcomer.
   She smiled.  "Yes.  Deanna Troi, Enterprise counsellor."
   "Spencer Nickson.  Intelligence." he shook her hand,
mentally rattling through the list of Enterprise personnell
he thought he'd memorised.
   She leaned on the fake marble wall, staring absently at
the short, dark grey-haired gardener going about his duties.
   "Sorry."  Spencer apoligised.  "That always puts people
off."
   "Not at all.  I prefer to rely on my senses to judge
character.  Believe it or not I've had first-hand experience
of prejudice against intelligence officers."  She shuddered
at the memory.  "Anyway, I can see that you appreciate
beauty, that's always a good start."
   Spencer hoped she was referring to the landscape.
   "All the other minds round here are concentrating on
impressing the Tsakkians." she glanced round at the
political chit-chat in the terrace behind them.  "And the
Tsakkians, I'm not quite sure *what* they're thinking.  They
seem to be frightened, expectant, and I can't help feeling
they're hiding something."
   "I'd noticed the same thing." said Spencer.
   Deanna looked slightly surprised.
   "Are you part Betazoid?"
   "No." he laughed.  "I rely on the other senses to judge
people."
   "Is Intelligence work interesting?"
   "You could say that.  Apart from the odd boring
assignment." he indicated Ambassador Sartre talking to a
group of Tsakkian's who were looming over the shriveled old
man.  "It has it's moments." he finished.
   "It sounds alot like the Enterprise."
   "Yes," Spencer paused to nod thanks to the slim waitress
offering them drinks.  Deanna instinctively tried not to
read Spencer's emotions as the young ginger-haired girl
retreated.  "I served on the Excalibur for a year, and then
two years on DSK7 in charge of security before Intelligence
made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
   Deanna turned to face the crispy white pillars of the
entrance.  People were starting to move towards the wide
open doors.
   "We'd better go in.." she said.
   Spencer looked up, not at the sky Deanna thought, but at
space.
   "I think we have a few minutes yet, from what I've heard
we're not the only ones interested in Tsakkia."


BRIDGE, USS ENTERPRISE

   Data surveyed the bridge from the captain's chair.  He
noticed a sigh of confusion from behind him.  He stood up to
analyse the problem.
   The flustered Ensign noticed him, and stiffened up.
   "Sir.  I'm detecting a minor gravitational anomaly at
about 3000km on bearing 010.  It would appear to be in the
same orbit as ourselves, but it wasn't there a minute ago."
   "Interesting." said Data.  "Scan the area with a.."
   "SIR!" the Ensign interrupted with fear in his voice.
"Romulan Warbird decloaking.  Her shields are up and weapons
energised."
   Data spun round to face the main viewer.
   "Red alert." he said.
   "Sir, we are being hailed."
   "On screen."
   A dark-skinned Romulan appeared.  Data noted that the
personnel of the Romulan bridge seemed just as confused as
those on his own.
   "This is Sub-Commander Cretineck of the Emperial Warbird
Garnigar.  What is the Federation's business with this
planet?"
   Data cocked his head.
   "That is exactly what I was about to ask you,
Sub-Commander.  The Federation was invited here by the
Tsakkians themselves."
   The Romulan leaned forward.
   "As were we." he turned to his helm.  "Lower shields,
stand-down weapons."
   "Stand down red alert." said Data.
   "I have no quarrel with you, Enterprise.  We had not
expected to compete for this planet."
   "Neither had we, Sub-Commander." said Data smoothly.  "I
will inform my superiors who will no doubt take the matter
up with the Tsakkian leadership."
   The Romulan nodded.
   "We too, will take the matter up with the Tsakkians."
   He disappeared from view, pushing the image of the sleek
D'Deridex back on to the screen.


PALACE, TSAKKIA

   Deanna frowned.
   "Romulans?  I'd better inform the captain."
   She started towards Picard, but sensed a sudden feeling
of surprise, fear, and general annoyance from his direction.
   "Never mind," she said, brushing her hair out of her
face.  "I think he knows anyway."
   She looked at Spencer.  "You really should have informed
him."
   "No, I couldn't be sure.  I was only guessing really -
Tsakkia is very close to the Neutral Zone, and they might
have wanted to introduce a bit of competition to ensure the
best deal."
   He smirked.  "Anyway, I didn't want to spoil the
surprise."
   A few minutes later, the Romulans began to beam down.
Spencer entered the hall behind the Ambassador and listened
to the Tsakkians make up excuses as to why neither
organisation was informed of the presence of the other.
   The Romulans seemed to accept the reasons given, Spencer
had noticed that they'd tended towards diplomatic means of
making allies recently, at least on the Federations side of
the Empire.
   When the proceedings were in full swing, Spencer sidled
out of the hall into a side passage.  After checking no-one
was looking, he removed his combadge and placed it under a
statue stand.
   He stood up straight, looked about, and dematerialised.
   Riker noticed Spencer leave, this confused him.  He was
confused even more when one of the Romulans sneaked out the
same way.

USS CHAMELEON

   Spencer stepped off the transporter pad, and was
immediately greeted by Lucy's smiling face.
   "Everything OK?" he asked.
   Lucy nodded.  "Why wouldn't it be?"
   "You never know." he walked over to the rear of the
runabout, where Lude was fussing around another transporter.
   "Nelf says it'll work this time." said Lude, without
looking up from the controls.
   "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" asked Spencer.
   "Don't worry.  Phasing's come a long way since Pegasus.
We have a much better understanding now."  Lude looked up.
"I've selected a frequency with harmonics that should let
you interact with very dense objects.  You still can't be
seen but you won't be able to walk through some walls."
   "Yeah, yeah."  Spencer snatched up a tricorder from the
console and stepped onto the pad.
   "This is serious, Spencer." said Lude.  "Don't forget
that gravity has only about 25% the usual effect, and you
won't be able to hear much."
   "Energise." said Spencer.
   Lude irritably started the beam-down sequence.
   Spencer watched the runabout slowly dissolve.  The
sequence took longer than normal, but he tried not to worry.
After a second or two the Tsakkian control centre appeared.
Spencer looked around.  No shouts, no screams, no sirens, so
he assumed the phasing had worked.
   He walked over to a Tsakkian seated at a computer and
waved his hand in front of the Tsakkian's head.  That seemed
to go alright, so he waved his hand inside the Tsakkian's
head.
   The Tsakkian rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through
his short blond hair.  Then he called up the comms menu on
the terminal and accessed 'Supplies - Medical'.  Spencer
watched as the Tsakkian ordered something for pain relief.
   Interesting.  He could give people headaches!  He
wondered whether there were any long-term effects of having
a phased hand stir up your brains.
   He moved on to the computer systems and waved the
tricorder around.  Nothing unusual there, they were all
consistant with the supposed level of technology for the
planet.  He stuck his head inside one of the grey casings,
and looked at the components inside.  He brushed his hand
through a processor core, and felt the tingling of the
subspace field.
   He wandered down to the large tactical viewer, showing
the Enterprise, the Garnigar, and several smaller space
stations and satellites.
   Spencer checked over the weapons control terminals, and
the pollution monitoring stations.  Interestingly, there
were several stations dedicated to riot control.  Perhaps
they had a lot of riots, he mused.
   He was startled when a tea trolley trundled through him.
The young boy pushing it was quite tall for his age, but
walked with a stoop that made him look nearly two feet
smaller.  The trolley stopped by two Tsakkians monitoring
the displays.
   One of the Tsakkians said something, Spencer quickly set
the tricorder to relay the sound.  The boy nodded and filled
a cup with a light brown liquid.  The Tsakkian simply
pointed to the top of the console, without speaking.
   Spencer watched the boy scuttle through him to serve the
other Tsakkian.
   "Gitcha hair cut." the Tsakkian's voice crackled through
the tricorder.
   "Yes master!  Of course master."  The boy brushed a
strand of black hair from his eyes.
   "Vik."  The Tsakkian barked his request.  Not a request,
thought Spencer.  An order.
   The boy placed another cup on the console, and started
away.  The Tsakkian spun round on his chair and caught the
boy's ankle with his foot, causing the youth to fall flat on
his face.
   Spencer flicked off the tricorder, choosing not to listen
to the sadistic laughter filtering through.
   "You bastard." he said, in disbelief.  He noticed the
metal cup of steaming liquid sitting on the console, and
wondered how dense it was.  Waiting until the boy had left
the room, he swiped his hand through the cup.  The sensation
was strange, he could feel a slight pressure from the metal,
and a tiny amount of heat from the liquid inside it, but the
cup didn't move.  He didn't give up, however, and swiped the
tricorder through the cup.  The denser components had the
required effect, knocking the cup onto the Tsakkian's lap.
   Spencer tapped his combadge three times, and
dematerialised.

   "Interesting." said Lude.  "But even with a slave trade
Tsakkia is still eligible to join the UFP.  It depends on
how the slaves are treated officiaily.  Food, housing, pay,
that sort of thing."
   "That's exactly what I was thinking." Spencer said.
"Lucy, you're the geographer.  How can we find out?"
   "Well, you can look at living standards over a
cross-section of the population.  But they've usually evened
out by a time a planet reaches this level of technology."
   "So if they haven't, we'll have evidence that the
Tsakkian slave trade is illegal."
   "Yeah, *if* they haven't." said Lude.
   "So what, I go down and look around at a cross-section of
people's houses?" asked Spencer.  "Computer, display plan of
the capital city."
   The computer did as it was asked.
   "Actually, I can probably save you the leg-work." said
Lucy.  "Computer, take a population density scan of the city
and superimpose."
   "Working."
   "Lower living conditions are usually cramped." Lucy
explained.  "They'll be in the inner city, while more
comfortable houses are in the suburbs."
   The scan appeared on the screen.
   "So not like that then," said Spencer.  "There are more
people in the outskirts than in the centre."
   "No, I think this is different." said Lucy.  "The inner
city, here, is more crowded than the rest of the city, but
they're both fairly thinly populated.  But the outskirts of
the city account for over 80% of the total population."
   "What are you getting at?" asked Lude.
   "It's obvious." said Spencer.  "The central part of the
city is where all the rich live in their big houses, near
the palace, while the workers live around the outskirts in
tiny apartments."
   Lucy nodded.  "It depends on how different the living
standards are."
   Spencer looked at the chronometer.  "I have to go back to
the conference.  Find me a beam-down site in the most
densely populated area." he looked at that area on the map,
and realised that he'd seen an enlargement of that area on
the riot-control console in the Tsakkian command centre.
   "Oh, by the way." he said, stepping on to the
transporter.  "When you check in with Lawton, tell him he
needs to revise his Klingonee."

PALACE, TSAKKIA

   "...tomorrow morning." finished the diplomat.  No sooner
had he stepped off the podium than a wave of excited
conversation swept through the hall.
   Riker leaned forward and tapped Deanna on the shoulder.
   "What do you think?" he asked her.
   She turned to face him.
   "We presented our case well." she said.  "Considering we
weren't expecting competition."
   "Can you sense which way the Tsakkian's are leaning?"
   "They seem to be deliberately staying in-between."
   "That's what I thought." Riker mused.  "The question is..
Why?"
   He leaned back in his chair, and noticed Lieutenant
Nickson re-entering the hall.  Riker watched him making his
way back to his seat behind the Ambassador, and touched his
arm when he passed.
   "Anything to report, Lieutenant?"
   "No sir." Spencer replied abruptly.  "I checked the whole
complex."
   Riker nodded.  "Are you intelligence agents always so
suspicious?"
   "I guess it goes with the job." smiled Spencer.  "I've
always had a suspicious nature."
   Riker nodded towards a Romulan entering the hall.
   "Looks like you weren't the only one."

                     TO BE CONTINUED

--
Magnus Huckvale
--posted by
Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK
The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants
Tel: [phone]   Fax: [phone]   Email: [e-mail]
                      Any opinions expressed are mine
--
Tim H
"Praxis, meaning turning-point, culmination, action; orgasm."
Fay Weldon, in her novel "Praxis".  (#2 in a series of quotes)


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!uknet!root44!praxis!tjh
From: [e-mail] (Tim Huckvale)
Subject: NEW STORY: Who is the Enemy? Part 3
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.
Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 17:24:22 GMT
Lines: 448



     STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - WHO IS THE ENEMY?
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
                                          by Magnus Huckvale

Part 3

TEN FORWARD LOUNGE, USS ENTERPRISE

   "So I walked straight up to this Romulan, who was at
least a head taller than me, and I looked him in the eye,
ok, and he looked straight back at me, and I stood up on my
toes, and said.." - the others round the table leaned
forwards.. - "Just who does your hair anyway?"  Spencer
finished.
   Everyone laughed but the android, he looked puzzled.
   "A reference to what is commonly called 'The Romulan crap
haircut'." he said.
   Spencer stopped laughing, rather abruptly.  "Yes." he
said.
   "I bet you never went near a waste disposal again." said
Geordi, hastily moving the conversation on.
   Spencer chuckled and sipped his drink.
   "I always thought working on starbase would be boring,"
said Lieutenant Logan.  "Compared to a starship."
   "It has its ups and downs." said Spencer.  "I get out a
lot of course, with Intelligence, but a lot happens on a
starbase.  We have a quarantine breach about twice a year,
and everyone contracts some Pakled space-virus."
   "We get enough of those ourselves." said Geordi.
   "Then there's the odd political nutter, smugglers, bomb
scares, assassinations."
   "Excellent!" breathed Lieutenant Preston.  "When can I
transfer?"
   "Does the unstability of the Angeles joint colony
interfere with the starbase?" asked Data.
   "No, we get on well with the Klingons.  They keep pretty
much to their own side of the planet and we keep to ours.
The neutral area has a high crime level but nothing we can't
handle."
   "What exactly do you do, Spencer?" asked Logan.
   "Security, mostly." said Spencer.  "Anyone know any more
jokes?"
   No-one did.
   "I have studied humor in the past," said Data.  "But I
have never fully understood it."
   "Ah, well you're not meant to study it, just enjoy it."
said Spencer.  "If you analyse it, it's no longer funny."
   "Interesting."  Data said.  "I will access my memory
banks for a joke that I have not studied in depth."  He
looked to the side for a second.
   Spencer looked round at the others, they all waited
politely for the android.
   "I have one."  Data said.  He checked everyone was
listening.
   "How do you stop a Klingon from drowning?"
   Spencer glanced across at Worf at the other end of the
room.  He didn't appear to have heard.
   "Dunno." he said.
   "Good." said Data, almost evilly.  He studied the
reactions round the table.  "Did I use the correct
inflection?"
   "Perfect Data, perfect.  Perhaps you should tell Worf
that one." said Spencer.
   Data started to get up.
   "I don't think he'd appreciate it." said Geordi.
   "Commander Riker tells me that you've flown a
Bird-of-Prey, Spencer."
   "Yes, while I was stationed on D S... K.... 7...."
Spencer's voice trailed off.  Data, Geordi, Preston and
Logan turned to follow his gaze.
   Just entering Ten Forward was Captain Picard, Ambassador
Sartre, the Tsakkian Ambassador, and a woman.  A very
beautiful woman.
   Spencer noticed Guinan staring at him as she spoke to the
Captain, and he looked back to the table.
   "More drinks?" he said, and without waiting for an answer
scooped the five glasses into his hands and made towards the
bar.
   "Ah, my young bodyguard, here to check up on me, no
doubt." said Sartre.
   Spencer shook his head.
   "I'm just getting more drinks." he said.  "Same again,
please Guinan."
   He turned back to the Ambassador and raised his eyebrows.
   "Oh, I'm sorry Spencer, this is Ambassador Tequill and
his daughter."
   "Pleased to meet you, Ambassador, Miss Tequill."
   She nodded pleasantly.
   Spencer waved towards Data and Geordi and looked at
Sartre.
   "Won't you join us?" he said.
   "No, myself and the Ambassador have some matters to
discuss."
   "My daughter will though," Tequill nudged her.  "Won't
you dear?"
   She looked up at him with a stare that could have frozen
supernovas.
   "Yes father." she said sweetly.

   "Leave it five minutes, then we excuse ourselves." said
Geordi, as Spencer and the Ambassadors daughter started
towards him and Data.
   Data cocked his head.
   "I should see a doctor about that." said Spencer, sitting
down.
   "This is Espylacopa.  Her friends call her Espyla.
Espyla, this is Geordi LaForge, Will Preston, Edward Logan
and Data."
   Espyla smiled.
   "I was just thanking Spencer for rescuing me from dying
of boredom."
   She jerked a thumb towards the two Ambassadors.
   "I do not believe it is possible to die from boredom."
said Data.
   "No..." she replied.  "Do you always take everything so
literally?"
   "Not always." Data said.  "Sometimes it is difficult to
distinguish between honesty and sarcasm."
   "Nobody's perfect." said Spencer.
   "I dispute that." said Espyla, carefully.  She twirled
her flowing blond hair through her fingers.  "Eventually the
human race will evolve to such a level that we will be on a
par with the gods."
   "That is incorrect." said Data.  "Evolution of races as
developed as those in the Federation has halted, and in some
cases, slightly reversed."
   Espyla frowned at him.
   "Natural selection." said Spencer.  "It doesn't work
anymore.  The very nature of our society means that people
with genetic abnormalities get on, and more importantly
mate, just as successfully as those without."
   "There are other ways to improve a species." said Espyla.
   "Almost any problem can be rectified now," said Geordi.
He pointed to his Visor.  "Look at me."
   "I was about to ask," said Espyla.  "Does that device
enhance your vision?"
   "Not just enhance," said Geordi.  He carefully removed
the Visor, to show his plain white eyes.  "I was born
blind."
   The sight of Geordi's eyes startled Spencer, he had been
puzzling over what Espyla had meant by 'improve'.
   "And does it give you perfect vision?"
   "Sort of," said Geordi.  "It lets me see a wider range of
frequencies, but the normal visible spectrum is distorted.
There's also a certain amount of pain due to the way the
signals are thrown at my brain."
   "That's a shame." said Espyla.  "Although very few
Tsakkian's are blind, it is obvious that we need Federation
technology in general."
   "Why?" asked Spencer.
   Espyla looked confused.
   "I mean in what way does Tsakkia need Federation
technology?  The planet and solar system are stable, living
standards are among the highest in the quadrant.  You're not
at war with anyone, why is technology so prominant in the
negotiations?"
   "Well, if you put it like that, why is the Federation so
keen to have Tsakkia join?" she laughed, neatly evading the
question.
   "I've heard Tsakkia is very beautiful." said Geordi.
   Espyla nodded.  "I've heard the same thing about Earth.
I would love to go there.  Tsakkian legend tells of a mother
planet, where all life originated.  One day our people will
evolve to a higher plane of existence, and we will go down
to the caves of Allacoh beneath the palace and parliament.
The last time the Federation came to Tsakkia, you asked to
study the caves, but no mortal man may step inside, as the
secrets of the universe are kept inside."
   "Sounds awesome." said Preston.  "And you still have an
active religion?"
   "Oh yes." said Espyla.  "Our faith is very important to
us.  It teaches us how to act and how to treat others."
   "I'd love to hear more." said Preston, looking at Geordi.
"But I have to beat Edward at Stratagema."
   "No way.  I've won four games in row."
   Spencer shook his head.  "Terrible game.  Can't stand
it."
   The two left the table.  Spencer turned back to Espyla.
   "Religion began to die out about 400 years ago on Earth."
said Spencer.  "*We* do okay without."
   "I have read about Earth religion, it is much different
from our own.  There is only one religion on Tsakkia,
whereas Earth had many.  On Earth there was no hard proof
either for or against the existence of God.  We have the
caves, they are filled with God's treasures, and the inner
caves are protected by magic."  Espyla had raised her voice
slightly, and was gripping the glass so hard Spencer thought
it would snap.
   "Don't worry, just because we have no religion of our own
doesn't mean we don't respect others.  You have your
beliefs, I have mine."
   Espyla half smiled.
   "But that doesn't mean, that given half a chance I won't
try to convince you to my way of thinking."
   "Data." said Geordi.  "We must go and check on Lieutenant
Barclay.  We're doing level 1 diagnostics on the warp
engines." he explained.
   "A problem?" asked Spencer, innocently.
   "Possibly." Geordi replied.  "The field pattern seemed to
have been altered on the way here, but when we left warp it
reset itself."
   "I know the chief engineer on the Galaxy, he says they
had that all the time.  Something to do with a glitch in the
power couplings." said Spencer.
   "I think this is much more complicated than that.  The
pattern was re-aligned to expand the stable area of the
field, and I don't see how the power couplings could be
responsible." said Geordi.
   Spencer waved a hand dismissively.
   "I shouldn't worry about it.  You know the first rule of
engineering."
   Geordi smiled.  "Yeah - If it works, don't knock it."
   As Data and Geordi left the room, Spencer was sure he
heard Data say something like "Geordi, that was only 3
minutes, 49 seconds."
   Spencer turned to Espyla.
   "You said you wanted to see Earth?"

FRENCH ALPS, EARTH

   On one of the more popular ski-slopes in the Alps, amid
the faster, more experienced skiers wrapped up in many
layers of clothing, two figures slowly slide down the
mountain.  One is dressed in a black and red jumpsuit, he is
skiing backwards, leading the other, a tall female, dressed
in dark grey-blue material, contrasting against her long,
blond hair.
   Of the skiers hurtling past, none take time to wonder why
neither figure are freezing to death, or how such as novice
as the female was ever allowed on the more difficult slope.
   "That's it!  You're doing fine."
   "This is so amazing!  It's like we're really here."
   After a minute they reached the end of the slope.
   "We came here twice a year when I lived on Earth." said
Spencer.  "This is just the same as the real Alps, except
without the cold."
   "It's weird." said Espyla.  "My eyes are telling me I
should be freezing, but I feel warm." she picked up some
snow and let it trickle through her fingers.
   "You must be really good at skiing." she said.
   "I'm.. not bad." he said, and turned to the thin air.
"Computer, reset program and reconfigure Espyla as an N.I.
observer, targeted on myself."
   The scene around them seemed to turn inside out and
suddenly they were at the top of the mountain.
   Espyla seemed to be floating about a foot off the ground.
   "Ready?" he asked, and pushed himself forwards.  He
started off slowly, and then turned off-piste.  Seconds
later he was hurtling downhill, with Espyla floating nearby.
She screamed and held up her hands instinctively as Spencer
entered a small valley with steep, rocky sides.  Rather than
let her plough through the hologram, the computer swung
Espyla round behind Spencer, who was now crouched fully on
the skis.  Espyla could fell the wind rushing through her
hair, causing it to stream out behind her.
   Suddenly the valley came to an end, she couldn't see
anything beyond it.  Before she could shout a warning they
were both falling.  They fell faster and faster, until the
ground came up to meet them.  Spencer landed slightly off
balance, and swerved to regain stability.  The slope soon
levelled out, and Spencer came to a halt, sending up a spray
of snow.
   He dropped the ski poles and ran his fingers through his
hair.
   He looked at Espyla.
   "I haven't done that for *ages*." he said.
   'More like two hundred years,' he thought.

   A while later, the same two figures lay on a lush grassy
slope, basking in the sunlight.
   "I must get one of these holodecks."
   "Another example of Federation technology.  Of course,
you can also buy them from the Ferengi, for example."
   "We have had 'dealings' with the Ferengi, until quite
recently."
   "Most people have." observed Spencer.
   "And they aren't interested in us joining their empire."
   "The Federation isn't an empire, we're just a group of
planets who have joined together for mutual benefit.  Unlike
the Romulan empire, joining is entirely voluntary."
   "My father told me that the Romulans seemed to be
changing their methods." she said.
   "Yes, it's interesting that, we think they're just
putting on a show.  If they were to take Tsakkia by force,
would Tsakkia request help from the Federation?"
   "I should think so." replied Espyla.
   "Well there you are then, they've had to resort to more
tactful methods.  Tell me, how do your people feel about
joining the Federation?"
   "To be honest, I don't know.  I only ever see friends of
Daddy and their sons and daughters.  To me, the prospect of
hundreds of planets to visit is very exciting, and joining
Starfleet certainly sounds like it would suit many of my
friends."
   'Did I over do it with "Daddy", I wonder.'  Espyla
thought.
   They lay there in silence for a while.
   "I can't believe you think this came about without divine
intervention." said Espyla.
   "Only because science has given us other theories.
That's all they are of course, theories.  Haven't Tsakkian
scientists reached the same sort of ideas?"
   "Not at all.  There is no evidence on Tsakkia for..." she
sought for the right word.  "Evolution.  Daddy says your
starship's crew was very puzzled thirteen years ago, until
they were shown the entrance to the caves.  They saw the
truth, but would not accept it."
   "Mm-hm." nodded Spencer.
   He propped himself up on an elbow.
   "Tell me about Tsakkian religion."
   "In the beginning, the Gods created the mother world, and
it was perfect in every way.  Then they created man, to care
for the mother world.  Soon, there were too many men for the
mother world, and the Gods created more worlds for their
creation to care for.  One of these worlds is Tsakkia.  Soon
the Gods tired of the affairs of men, and moved on, but they
left behind the Allacoh, in the hope that one day man would
rise to the level of the Gods, and follow in their
footsteps."
   "No crap about how man disobeyed God and chose his own
way?"
   "Chose his own way?  No, the first rite is that a man's
destiny is determined by the Gods when he is born.  It is
decided then and then," Espyla stared into Spencer's eyes.
"whether.. he... will... go..."
   They kissed.  Later Spencer wondered what Espyla was
about to say.


BRIEFING ROOM, USS ENTERPRISE

   "The main emotion I've been reading is fear, Captain."
said Deanna.
   "Fear of what?  Us?  The Romulans?" asked Riker.
   Deanna shrugged.  "I don't know, I'm sure some of the
leaders are hiding something, so it may be fear of something
else."
   "Lieutenant Nickson observed that the Tsakkians seem very
keen on Federation technology." said Data.  "It is possible
that there is a problem with the planet."
   Picard nodded.  "Work with Mr LaForge and Dr Crusher, see
if you can find any such problems.  Passive scans only." he
turned to Geordi.
   "You said you had a problem with the Warp Drive."
   "Well, I *did* sir," said Geordi.  "But it disappeared
when we arrived at Tsakkia.  The field pattern was
realigned, to create a large area of stability slightly
behind the saucer section.  It's the sort of thing I'd do if
I wanted to tow a cargo pod, but there wasn't any reason for
it."
   "A cloaked ship?" Picard suggested.
   "At such close range, it would have been picked up on the
gravitic sensors." said Riker.
   "Commander," said Data.  "If someone can tamper with the
Warp Drives, they can also tamper with the sensors."
   "That's all for now." said Picard.  "Dismissed."
   Riker caught Geordi's arm by the door.
   "Has anyone been asking about the Warp Drive?"
   "Only Lieutenant Nickson, and that was only when I had to
go and check on the diagnostics."
   "Keep an eye on him." said Riker.  "I never did trust
intelligence agents."


GREAT HALL, PALACE, TSAKKIA

   Riker watched Spencer sidle out the same side passage as
before.
   He didn't see Spencer hid his commbadge under a potted
plant, and slowly disappear in a not unfamiliar way.
   "Everything okay?" Spencer said, as he arrived in the
Chameleon.
   "Sid says Q'est." said Lucy.  She handed him a pile of
clothes.  "Authentic Tsakkian garments.  I'll wait in the
front."
   Just then Lude stuck his head round the doorway.
   "I thought it was safer for you to go down unphased, the
civilian area is much less secure than the control centre."


A DARK ALLEY, CENTRAL CITY, TSAKKIA

   Spencer watched the runabout shimmer from view, and
looked around him.  He appeared to be in small, dark room,
that smelt like a garbage dump.  He tapped the wall, it
appeared to be made of plastic.  Feeling around the walls,
it was apparent that there was no way out.
   'Unless...'
   He pushed at the ceiling, which opened allowing a dim
shaft of light in.
   'Oh.'
   Spencer climbed out of the wheelie-bin and looked around.
The buildings he was between were very tall, and made of
brick.  'Hardly 22nd century.' he mused.  He wandered out of
the alley into a street, it stretched for miles each way.
It was mid-morning, but the street seemed rather gloomy.
Some young children threw a ball about in the road.
   Some older children sat on the steps leading to one of
the tall houses.  One of them threw a stub-end down and
absently stamped it out.  Spencer kept his eyes low, to
avoid eye-contact.  He kicked a can out of his way and heard
it clatter into the gutter.
   A man dressed in little more than rags held a hand out
towards Spencer, who averted his eyes and carried on
walking.
   A muddy-white patrol car was trundling in Spencer's
direction from the other end of the street, so he ducked
into the next alley.  In the shadows, he watched it pass.
He was about to step out into the street when a muffled
scream caught his attention, from further into the alley.
   Instictively, he jogged through the shadows until he saw
two tall Tsakkians wearing uniforms beating and kicking a
young girl.
   "Hey!" Spencer shouted.
   One of the uniforms looked up.
   "Move along, citizen." he said, and grabbed the girl by
the arm.
   The other Tsakkian pulled and ripped the girl's clothes.
Suddenly he was flung into a wall by a flying kick from
Spencer.  He spun round and caught the other one with a left
hook.  The girl took her chance and ran for it, trying to
hold her clothing together as she ran.  With a sudden pang
of déja vu, Spencer grabbed a dustbin lid from its resting
place and brought it up to shield himself from the
Tsakkian's attacks.
   Somehow he sensed the first Tsakkian coming up behind
him, and he swung the lid round to catch him in the face,
knocking him down.  He turned back to see the other Tsakkian
firing a weapon, a blinding bolt of electricity.
   In the last few seconds of consciousness, Spencer felt a
knee smash into his face as he hit the ground.

                     TO BE CONTINUED

--
Magnus Huckvale
--posted by
Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK
The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants
Tel: [phone]   Fax: [phone]   Email: [e-mail]
                      Any opinions expressed are mine
--
Tim H
"Praxis, meaning turning-point, culmination, action; orgasm."
Fay Weldon, in her novel "Praxis".  (#2 in a series of quotes)


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!uknet!root44!praxis!tjh
From: [e-mail] (Tim Huckvale)
Subject: NEW STORY: Who is the Enemy? Part 4
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.
Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 17:25:50 GMT
Lines: 433


     STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - WHO IS THE ENEMY?
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
                                          by Magnus Huckvale

Part 4 -

TRANSPORTER ROOM ONE, USS ENTERPRISE, 1700hrs

   Riker stepped off the transporter pad.
   "Chief, have all personnel beamed up?" he asked.
   "No sir, SIA Lieutenant Nickson is still on the planet,
he hasn't requested transport yet."
   Riker looked at Captain Picard, and tapped his commbadge.
   "Commander Riker to Lieutenant Nickson."
   There was no reply.
   Then, in a more assertive, and slightly frustrated voice,
Riker spoke again.
   "Lieutenant Nickson, can you hear me?"
   Riker turned back to the transporter chief.
   "Do you have a lock?"
   "I think so, sir."
   "Beam him up."
   The chief looked down at his controls, and energised the
transporter.
   The air above the pad started to sparkle, and after a few
seconds a pot-plant appeared.


CHANCELLOR'S OFFICE, PARLIAMENT, TSAKKIA

   The Chancellor smiled sweetly at Captain Picard.
   "We have very efficient search methods, Captain.  We will
find your officer for you as quickly as possible.  Our
search units are already on the look out for a Romulan
officer, who has also disappeared.  It is too much of a
coincidence to be ignored, and I believe that when we find
one, we will find the other."
   "Thank you Chancellor." said Picard.  "As I said, the
Enterprise is at your disposal should you need assistance
with the search.  Enterprise out."
   The Chancellor nodded, and waited for Picard to disappear
from the screen.
   "DENSK!" he roared.
   The only dark-haired man in the Palace with any authority
stepped out of the shadows.
   "You had better find these two.  When you do, it will
turn out that the Fleeter killed the Romulan, and one of
your guards was attacked by the Fleeter, so he had to be
killed also."
   "Understood, Sir." said Densk, and cringed out the door.
   "DENSK!"
   The door half-opened.
   "On second thoughts, bring them to me first."
   "Yessir, ofcoursir."


READY ROOM, USS ENTERPRISE

   Picard irritably tapped the desk, waiting for the bridge
to establish a sub-space link.
   "Commander Cretineck, I understand one of your crew is
missing." said Picard, when the Romulan appeared on the
screen.
   "Yes captain, that is true.  How did you know?" said the
Romulan.
   "One of my own crew is missing also.  It is likely that
the two incidents are connected."
   "I agree.  What do you intend to do?"
   "I already have my Chief Engineer scanning the city for
any Romulan life-forms, it should be easy to distinguish
between your crew member and any Tsakkians, and hopefully
our man will be nearby.  When we locate your crew member we
will inform you."
   Cretineck nodded.
   "I will also have the city scanned, although I understand
Federation sensor equipment is superior to our own."
   "I heard that your equipment was better, Commander."
   "Riker to Captain Picard."
   "Excuse me, Commander."  Picard looked up at the ceiling.
"Picard here."
   "Captain, we're picking up three Ferengi Marauders just
entering sensor range.  They haven't detected us yet."
   Picard looked up at Cretineck.
   "We will deal with this, Captain." Cretineck said.
   "Actually, Commander, I would rather try talking to the
Ferengi."
   Cretineck thought for a moment.
   "Very well, I will cloak my ship and allow you to try.
But at the slightest sign of trouble, we will decloak and
use our own methods to get rid of the Ferengi."
   "Thank you..." Picard found himself talking to an empty
screen.  He quickly rose and stepped through the door to the
bridge.
   "The Romulans have cloaked, Captain." Worf rumbled.
   "Have the Ferengi detected us?"
   "Not yet sir." said Ensign Resu.  "They should do in
about six seconds."
   The young girl turned to face the captain.  He smiled at
her approvingly, making her blush and turn back.
   "I wonder what they want." said Riker.
   "They have detected us, sir." said Resu.
   "We'll let them think we haven't noticed them for a few
seconds." said Picard.
   "So they think we have inferior technology?" asked Troi.
   "Something like that." Picard replied.  "Hail them,
mister Worf."
   Picard stood up.
   "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Starship
Enterprise.  Ferengi vessels, please identify yourselves."
   The Ferengi that appeared on screen was ugly even by
Ferengi standards.
   "I am Daimon Yoq, of the Hai'ku." he said.  "My brother
Yog is owed a great deal of merchandise by this planet."
   "Why are three battleships needed to collect this
'merchandise', when one freighter would do?" asked Picard.
   "We anticipated res..." the Ferengi looked to the side
sharply.
   "Sir, the Garnigar has decloaked." grumbled Worf.  "They
have raised shields and armed weapons."
   The Marauders split formation and sped off in random
directions.  The Garnigar followed one of them and fired
several times, but quickly became bored with that, and
returned to orbit.
   "Hail the Garnigar." fumed Picard.
   Cretineck appeared on the screen.  Picard glared at him.
   "What was the meaning of that?" he asked.  "We agreed..."
   "We agreed that I would decloak at the first sign of
trouble." interrupted Garnigar.  "I would say three
Marauders is a sign of trouble, wouldn't you captain?"
   Picard once again found himself staring at a blank
screen.


A LARGE CELL

   Cloudy images formed in front of Spencer.
   The clouds soon turned into people, and Spencer managed
to sit up.
   "Where am I?" he said, to anyone who was listening.
   The cell walls were lined with people, at one end was the
usual blue-glowing force field.  He could smell the o-zone
radiating from it.
   "We don't know." said the Tsakkian sitting next to him.
   "Has anyone asked them?" Spencer pointed to the tall,
blond guards standing outside the field.  One of them was
fiddling with the dials on a large furnace.
   Tall.  Blond.  Everyone inside the cell was shorter,
darker-haired.  One of them had a funny arm.
   Something clicked inside Spencer's brain.
   "Oh bugger." he rested his head on his knees and
remembered what Espyla had said.  The words echoed in his
mind.  "a man's destiny is determined by the Gods when he is
born."
   "Pre-bloody-destination" he muttered.
   'Take the Calvinists, add a few Aryan ideas, and you get
Tsakkia.' he thought.  'A divided population.  Masters and
slaves.'
   Another something clicked inside Spencer's brain.
   He looked up.  Yep.  Holes in the ceiling, for pumping in
the gas.  A furnace, for burning the bodies.  Our bodies.
   Suddenly the force field was snapped off and a trolley
was wheeled in.  There were several bowls of steaming soup
on it.  All the prisoners, including Spencer, immediately
jumped up and grabbed for a bowl.
   It was soon realised that there weren't enough bowls to
go round.
   The man with the deformed arm didn't have one.
   "Here, have some of mine." Spencer offered.
   The largest of the other prisoners went over to Spencer.
   "Are you gonna share with the rest of us?" he asked.
   "You've got your own." said Spencer.
   Another prisoner stood up behind the first one.
   "So have you.  The crippo will have to go without."
   The 'crippo' tried to make Spencer sit down.  Spencer
wouldn't let him.
   "Bull." said Spencer.  "You're just as bad as them." he
pointed at the guards, who had come over to watch from
behind the forcefield.
   The other prisoners groaned softly, and tried to hide.
   The large prisoner stepped towards Spencer, grabbed his
soup bowl, and tipped it up.
   Spencer gave the bowl to 'crippo'.
   "Hold this a second."
   Spencer's fist moved faster than light, or more
importantly, faster than the Tsakkian, who found himself
thrown onto the trolley.  The other prisoner moved towards
Spencer, but someone tripped him up.  He would have fought
back, but the same someone had a wierd grip on his neck, and
he lost consciousness.
   Spencer pushed the trolley towards the forcefield, which
connected with the Tsakkians head.  Spencer span round,
expecting to see another Tsakkian hurtling towards him.
Instead, he saw his would-be attacker being lowered to the
ground.
   "Thank you." Spencer said.
   "Don't mention it.  Perhaps you can return the favour."
the man brushed his long, wavy hair behind his ear.  His
*pointed* ear.
   "Oh." Spencer smiled.  "I hope so."
   One of the Tsakkian guards came to the doorway.
   There was a hissing sound from above.  Spencer didn't
even bother to look up.
   "Ready to die?" the guard grinned.


BRIEFING ROOM, USS ENTERPRISE

   "I'm afraid we still haven't found any Romulan
life-forms, captain." said Geordi.  "There's some sort of
shielding under the palace grounds.  Lieutenant Preston's
working on some way to penetrate it."
   "We have found large concentations of certain minerals in
the groundwater supply."  said Dr Crusher.  "Over many
centuries, this would cause problems with most life-forms.
In humans, it would almost halve life-expectancy."
   "But I thought the Tsakkians simply wanted our help with
the Ferengi." said Riker.
   "I have talked with the Chancellor." said Picard.  "He
says that he will explain at the negotiations this morning,
but Sartre says there's little point in staying.  The only
reason we're still here is Lieutenant Nickson."
   "In any case," said Crusher.  "We looked over the DNA
readings from the transporter patterns of the Tsakkians who
beamed over yesterday.  It seems the Preservers found this
minerals and genetically engineered their colonists to be
immune.  However, the alterations have a side-effect on the
Tsakkians hormone levels.  The net effect is that it makes
them more aggressive and self-centred."
   "It doesn't seem to have affected their society." said
Picard.  "And there are no other problems from the minerals
or the alterations?"
   "No sir." said Geordi.
   "I daresay we will find out their motives later on this
morning."


THE CELL

   "Any bright ideas?" said Spencer to the Romulan.
   Many of the prisoners had crouched down to avoid the
fumes, but already some at the far end of the cell were
collapsing.
   Spencer thumped the forcefield in front of the guard's
grinning face.
   "You bastards!" he yelled.
   The guard was about to reply, but was diverted by a beep
from a panel on the wall.  He sauntered over, glaring at
Spencer, and tapped a button.  Densk appeared on the screen,
and spoke quickly to the guard.  A second later Densk's
picture was replaced with pictures of Spencer and the
Romulan.
   The guard barked something at his friend, who shut off
the gas.


THE GREAT HALL, 9AM

   "Now that the Ferengi have departed," said Tequill, "I
can reveal the following information.  A Ferengi trader
believed that we had broken a contract to buy merchandise
from him, and said he would return yesterday to collect
payment, by force if necessary.  The Chancellor saw this as
an excellent oppurtunity to test the methods of both sides
interested in Tsakkia, and the threat made our people
realise that Tsakkia is not strong enough to survive in this
galactic community at our present technological levels.  I
hope no-one was offended by our slightly unconventional
methods, but it has provided us with an insight into yours."
   Tequill stepped down, and the room was filled with
excited chatter.


CHANCELLOR'S OFFICE, PALACE, TSAKKIA

   The Chancellor gazed over the city - his city - through
large plate-glass windows.  He turned to smile at his
'guests'.
   "I'm not a vindictive man, you know.  I felt I ought
to..." he shrugged,  "apologise."
   "For what?" snapped Spencer.  "Stunning me, and trying to
gas us?"
   "No." the Chancellor smiled.  "For killing you.  You
realise I can't let you go back, knowing all about our...
population control methods."
   "Population control?" the Romulan said.  His name was
Takon.  "Such methods have not been used on Romulus or Remus
for hundreds of years."
   Spencer suppressed the urge to argue with Takon's
statement.
   "You realise Tsakkia cannot join the Federation with this
going on." said Spencer.
   "We do not *want* to join the Federation.  Your presence
here is merely to deal with the Ferengi."
   Takon's eyebrows rose.
   "The Ferengi?"
   "Of course, you don't know." said the Chancellor.  "And
you never will." he smirked.  "We don't want to join the
Federation or the Empire.  Not for the moment, anyway." he
turned and gazed at the sun.
   Spencer eyed the single guard at the door.  He wondered
how long it would take the guard to draw his laser pistol.
   "We will buy all the technology we need from the Ferengi,
and Tsakkia will build it's own empire."
   Spencer scratched at the fake skin on the end of his
forefinger with his thumb, exposing a rounded metal point.
He looked across to Takon and raised his eyebrows.  Takon
looked at Spencer's finger and shook his head.
   "You're completely mad." said Spencer.  "You won't get
away with it."
   The Chancellor turned to face him.  "What makes you think
that."
   Spencer pointed at the guard.  Without pulling a trigger,
or even thinking 'fire', Spencer's brain told the minature
phaser in his finger to shoot the Tsakkian.
   Takon leapt at the Chancellor, and Spencer had reached
the guard before he even hit the floor.  The Chancellor hit
a button under his desk, before being picked up by Takon and
thrown out the window.  Just then several more guards burst
through the door.  They saw Takon with his hands up, they
saw their colleague's stunned body on the floor.  They
didn't see Spencer shooting them from behind with the
Tsakkian laser pistol he'd removed from the guard.
   Takon took a pistol for himself and peeked round the
door.  The corridor was clear so the two ran for it.  They
reached one end of the corridor just as more Tsakkians
appeared at the other.  They ducked into a doorway to fend
off the guards and Spencer hit the button next to the lift.
He glanced up at the indicator and noticed it was already on
its way.
   "We have to get to the stairs," Spencer shouted, over the
squeal of the lasers.  "I'll cover you!"
   He fired continuously towards the other end of the
corridor, until the guards ducked behind their own doorway.
Takon ran to the stairs and did the same for Spencer.
   "How far down do we go?" screamed Takon.
   "The ground floor!" Spencer yelled back, and they carried
on running down the steps.
   Eventually they reached two large double doors, although
the stairs continued down.  Peering through the slit between
the doors, they could see the entrance hall to the palace,
packed full with guards.
   "We'll go down another one.  Perhaps we can hide in the
basement."
   He glanced up at the Tsakkians thundering down the
stairs, and continued down after Takon.
   There was no door on the next floor, and the next one
down was locked.  Takon immediately fixed that with his
laser, and they entered the basement.
   "My gods..." Spencer breathed.  He and Takon stared at
the contents of the basement, or rather, what the basement
was.  A shout from the stairwell made them both remember
that they were being chased, and they ran over to a corner
and ducked down behind a stasis chamber.
   The basement was filled with stasis chambers.  Hundreds
of glass-covered beds.  Although 'basement' was hardly an
appropriate word.  'Spaceship' was more fitting.
   "Well, it's been nice knowing you." he said to Takon.
Both of them knew full well that two laser pistols would be
no use against tens of Tsakkian security guards.
   The shouts and clattering of footsteps drew nearer.
   Spencer idly rubbed at the grime on the canopy in front
of them, wondering if there was a sleeping body inside.
Instead he saw a glint of metal.
   "Help me open this," he said, and they both levered the
canopy off.
   Takon drew breath, and picked up a long chunk of metal
with a hole on one end and a trigger at the other.
   "The most advance stasis technology in the galaxy, and
they use it to hold weapons." said Takon.
   "These are Cardassian disruptor cannons." Spencer said.
   Seconds later the Tsakkians entered and all hell broke
loose.


USS CHAMELEON

   Lude peered at the console.
   "I've done it!" he said.
   "How?" said Gary.  "I still say you can't tap into a
Galaxy class starship's computers."
   "I've still done it." said Lude.  "Here it is, the chief
engineer's trying to penetrate the sensor interference in
the palace."
   "Yeahyeahyeah.  HOW?"
   "Simple.  I just had the Chameleon log on as Spencer's
padd, with his level 10 access codes."
   Gary looked like he was about to say something and then
changed his mind.
   "What interference?" asked Lucy.
   "My theory is that the whole palace and the houses of
parliament is built on a Preserver ship." said Lude.  "The
interference has the same signature as from the ship found
on Rumar 2 .  There's no effect on commbadges or
transporting, but without a commbadge it would be very
difficult to get a proper transporter lock."
   "Has the Enterprise made any progress in penetrating it?"
   "Not yet," Lude replied.  "But I think they've nearly
cracked it."
   "They'd have better luck following the trail of
destruction Spencer usually leaves behind." joked Gary.
   "I can scan for weapons fire." said Lude, and did so.
   "Holy shit!"


PRESERVER CAVES, TSAKKIA

   "There's too many of them!" shouted Takon under the
sweltering heat.  The wall behind them was beginning to
melt.
   Spencer and Takon had a disruptor cannon each, but so did
the Tsakkians.
   "How about we try and take out the ceiling?" suggested
Spencer.
   He swung his cannon into his lap and changed the setting.
   He was about to put it back on his shoulder when fifty
more Tsakkians swarmed into the basement from the far end.
   Every single one was armed to the teeth and firing.

                     TO BE CONCLUDED

--
Magnus Huckvale
--posted by
Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK
The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants
Tel: [phone]   Fax: [phone]   Email: [e-mail]
                      Any opinions expressed are mine
--
Tim H
"Praxis, meaning turning-point, culmination, action; orgasm."
Fay Weldon, in her novel "Praxis".  (#2 in a series of quotes)


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!uknet!root44!praxis!tjh
From: [e-mail] (Tim Huckvale)
Subject: NEW STORY: Who is the Enemy? Part 5
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.
Date: Fri, 6 May 1994 17:27:16 GMT
Lines: 435

Note to people who don't know what a 'Haha' is - It is a
large step built into fields owned by rich people to stop
sheep, cows or peasants in surrounding fields getting on to
your lawn without the sight of an ugly electric fence/gun
turret

Note about transporters - I have worked out the timing for
the evac from the 700 people/hour figure in the Tech Manual,
although somehow they did it faster in 'Descent'


     STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - WHO IS THE ENEMY?
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
                                          by Magnus Huckvale

Part 5

BRIDGE, USS ENTERPRISE, 09:08

   Geordi frowned at the computer screen.
   "Commander!  I think you should see this." he called.
   "What is it?" Riker asked.
   "There's a massive amount of energy discharge in the
Tsakkian parliament and admin buildings."
   "Weapons fire?" Riker translated.  "Good thinking, what
made you scan for it?"
   "I didn't," Geordi replied.  "I looked away to check on
the Sensor Enhancement programs and when I looked back, it
was showing all this."
   "Can you scan the area yet?" Riker asked.
   "We can do better than we did before," said Geordi.
   "Scan that area for humanoids, especially Romulans."
   Geordi tapped at the console.  The display changed.
   "Found one!" said Geordi.  "One Romulan, one human,
surrounded by about fifty humanoids - probably Tsakkian.
The weapons fire has stopped, but there's alot of residual
energy."
   "Send their coordinates to the Transporter room." said
Riker, pointing at the heartbeats that represented Spencer
and Takon.  He looked up.  "Transporter room 1.  We're
sending you coordinates for immediate beam up."
   The transporter chiefs voice came through, unnecessairily
tinny.
   "I have a good lock sir...  No, wait!  I've lost them
sir," he said.  "They just vanished."


PRESERVER CAVES, 09:08

   Spencer and Takon crouched behind the chamber, and waited
for someone - either the Tsakkian guards or the new arrivals
- to kill them.
   The sound of gunfire reached a peak, and then stopped.
   A familiar voice spoke.
   "You can come out now."
   Spencer risked a look.  What was left of the guards lay
in the doorway to the stairs.  In the opposite direction
stood about fifty Tsakkians, wearing modern combat clothes
and cradling a massive array of weaponry.  Many of them were
dark-haired.
   Standing in front of them, holding a large rifle, was
Elyspa.
   Spencer opened his mouth to say something.
   Then he shut it again.
   He nudged Takon, who stood up.
   Spencer looked at Elyspa.
   "Hi." he said.
   She walked over to lean on the stasis chamber, and
levelled the rifle at them.
   "I'm sorry," she said curtly.  "But it is the simplist
way."  She put her eye to the sight, and lined it up with
Spencer's head.
   "Can I ask a question first?" said Spencer.
   Elyspa lowered the rifle slightly and raised an eyebrow.
   "What the hell is going on?" he said.
   "That's a good question." put in Takon.
   Elyspa smiled faintly.
   "A revolution." she said.  "The second in three years.
And you helped." she pointed at Takon.  "By killing the
chancellor."
   "Hangonhangonhangon.." said Spencer.  "We're on your
side." he said.  "You're against the oppressive government
or whatever, right?"
   "Right." nodded Elyspa.  "But we don't want the
Federation's help," she spat.  "Or anyone else's." she
added.  "We are strong enough now to take power, and we will
strike in exactly five minutes.  We have to kill as many of
you as we can to alienate the Federation and the Empire, we
don't want you."
   She levelled the rifle again.
   "Goodbye, Spencer."


USS CHAMELEON 09:09

   Lude feverishly tapped at the console, with Gary looking
over his shoulder.
   "I have their coordinates." he looked over at Lucy, bent
over the transporter controls.  "Settings 1 and 2."
   "Gottem." said Lucy.  "I can't lock on...  Doubling the
sensor pre-amp."
   "Hurry.  I think they're talking to one of the
Tsakkians."  Lude reset the scanners.  "She's holding a
weapon, probably pointed at Spencer."
   "Locked on." Lucy pushed up the sequence initiators and
looked at the transporter pads expectantly.
   "Whoa!  Someone's shooting at the ACB, it's already at
one-fifty percent, it should be ok..."
   Spencer began to appear, grinning and waving his fingers
childishly.  Gary fingered the weapons locker when he saw
Takon appearing.
   "Great timing, Lucy." he stepped down and went to the
storage cupboard to grab a new communicator.
   "Beam Takon straight to the bridge of the Garnigar." he
said to Lucy.
   "Good luck." Takon said.
   "And you." replied Spencer, as Takon disappeared.
   He turned to Lucy and Lude.
   "Rebels are attacking the Palace, any second, I'm going
up to the Enterprise."
   "What shall *we* do?" asked Gary.
   Spencer span round on the transporter pad and shrugged.
   "Watch?"


BRIDGE, USS ENTERPRISE

   "What sort of vanished?" Riker demanded.
   Geordi shook his head.  "I detected weapons fire just as
they disappeared, sir."
   "Can you lock onto the others in the room?"
   "They're moving out, but I think I can..."  Geordi
stopped when he heard the jingling of a transporter beam.
   "Spencer?"
   "What's going on Lieutenant?  Where's your uniform?
Where have you been?"
   "Later, Commander." said Spencer earnestly.  "Tsakkian
resistance forces are attacking the Palace any second now,
you have to get everyone out of there."
   Riker looked at Spencer.
   Spencer looked back.
   "Riker to Captain Picard."
   Riker continued looking at Spencer.
   "I'm here, Will."
   "Is everything alright?"
   "Yes, why shouldn't it be?"
   "I'll get back to you, Captain.  Riker out."
   Spencer looked at the wall chronometer.
   "They attack in one minute." he said.
   Riker continued looked at Spencer.
   "Sir!" a young Ensign looked up from the science 1
station.  "I'm detecting a polarised magnetic shield around
the Palace."
   "Geordi?" said Riker.
   "A beam-out shield, commander, we should be able to beam
in though."
   Riker spoke quickly.
   "All available security to transporter rooms, beam down
to the palace." he said, and noticed Spencer behind the
closing turbolift doors.  "Where are you going?" he said, as
the doors hissed closed.
   "Computer, recall turbolift." he barked.
   After a second the doors re-opened, revealing an empty
lift.
   "Riker to Captain Picard."
   "Have you found something Number One?"
   Riker spoke quickly.
   "There's a beam-out shield around the palace, Captain.  I
have reason to believe that the delegation is under attack,
security is on the way to defend the area until we can
penetrate the shield."
   "Understood Number One,  I'll do what I can from here.
Picard out."
   Riker span round to Geordi.
   "Can you get through the shield?"
   "I can try." said Geordi, already bent over the console.


USS CHAMELEON

   "That was quick." said Lucy.  "Now what the hell is going
on?"
   Spencer stepped off the pad and opened the weapons
locker.
   "Gary!  There's a beam-out shield around the palace, put
me down as close to the source as you can."
   Gary instantly had a scan of the palace on his console,
and transferred the coordinates to the transporter.
   "Locked in."
   Spencer went back to the transporter, starting up the
sequence as he passed the console and stepping onto the pad
just in time.
   Gary opened his mouth to say something.
   "Just keep watching." said Spencer.


THE PALACE TERRACE

   An angry Klingon loomed over Sartre.
   "Go inside." he rumbled.
   "Now listen to me, young.. Klingon." said Sartre, hardly
missing a beat.  "I want to see this."
   "See it from inside." said Worf.
   Blaster fire peppered the wall above their heads,
signalling the start of the siege.
   "Actually, I think you could be right." Sartre said, and
scuttled off.
   Worf turned to see his officers taking up strategic
positions as they arrived.  Romulans were beaming down as
well.  *This* was a job for warriors.
   He tapped his commbadge.
   "All security personnel, setting 8 is authorised." he
said, and took up his own position, right next to a Romulan,
who nodded a greeting.


BEHIND THE PALACE

   Spencer took in his surroundings and dived for cover just
in time.  The wall between him and his attackers shuddered
with each hit.  He caught his breath, and set the phaser to
a wide beam.
   "When in doubt..." he muttered, and fired blindly.  The
blasts stopped, and he reset the phaser and risked a peek.
Three dark-haired Tsakkians lay where they'd fallen.
"..over do it." he grinned.  Holding the phaser out in
front, he crossed to a small building.  From inside he could
feel the prickling of the air from the enormous antenna
jamming the transporter.
   He notched the phaser up to its highest setting.


ENTERPRISE BRIDGE

   Geordi looked at the console in disbelief.
   "All transporter rooms.  Begin emergency evac from the
palace."
   "Did you crack it?" asked Riker.
   Geordi shook his head.
   "No, the shield came down.  Cut off at the source."
   "How long for everyone to beam up?" Riker asked.
   Data looked up from the helm.  "With 85 Federation
personnel in the palace, it will take 7 minutes 17 seconds,
Commander."
   Riker glanced at the chronometer.
   "I only hope they can hold out that long."


USS CHAMELEON

   Lucy, Gary, and Lude watched the viewscreen pan across
the palace grounds.  Smudges of fluffy white clouds obscured
much of the view, but bright flashes of weapons fire showed
up clearly.
   The console beeped at Lude.
   "An explosion behind the palace." he said, altering the
view.  "Looks like Spencer found the shield transmitter."
   "Can we at least go below the clouds," asked Lucy.  "He
did tell us to watch."
   The console beeped again.
   "Uh oh," said Lude.  "I'm picking up 3.. no 6
planet-bound craft approaching the palace from behind.  I
think two were just taken out by sam's so I'll bet anything
that they're baddies."
   "ETA?" snapped Gary.
   "One minute ten.  They won't have beamed up in time."
   Gary moved the seat forward and looked across to Lude.
   "Whaddya reckon?"
   Lude looked at the scanner, and back to Gary.
   "Need you ask?"


UNDERNEATH A MASSIVE GREAT WHOPPER CLOUD OF SMOKE BEHIND THE
PALACE

   Spencer watched the column of dust rise up with an
immense feeling of satisfaction.  He started a leisurely
stroll towards the palace.  People began to appear at
windows, and a cook leaned out of a back door.
   "Don't worry!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air.
"I do this all the time!"


THE PALACE TERRACE

   Worf knew it took three times as many soldiers to attack
an area than it did to defend.  Unfortunately it looked like
there were about ten times as many rebels attacking than
there were fleeters - and Romulans - to defend it.
   The palace was built at the very top of a hill, with
large grassy areas to the left, right and rear.  These were
bordered by large Haha's, so attack was difficult, if not
impossible, but the elegant twisting maze of hedges in the
garden to the front of the palace provided excellent cover
for any attackers, and the Tsakkian rebels were using this
to their advantage.


PLUMMETING DOWN THROUGH THE ATMOSPHERE

   Lucy read off the display.
   "5 kilometres...  4 kilometres..."
   Gary powered down the engines.
   "Lude, keep the cloak up as long as possible, and raise
it as soon as we're done.  Lucy, target those fighters."
   "2 kilometres..  Targets locked in."
   "Brace for reverse thrust." said Gary.
   The IDF systems in the runabout whined, but dampened the
decceleration until it was barely noticable.
   "1 kilometre and closing."


THE PALACE TERRACE

   Worf looked up when he heard the engine noise.  He caught
a glimpse of four dung-brown craft roaring overheard before
they were destroyed by bright yellow shafts of energy
suspiciously similar to Starfleet phaser beams.
   Each fighter exploded in a ball of bright yellow fire and
plunged into the carefully manicured garden.
   The attackers couldn't help but notice the destruction of
their aerial back-up, and many of them decided to give up
the attack as a bad job.
   Inside the palace, utter chaos reigned.
   A Tsakkian barged through the crowd to Commander
Cretineck and Captain Picard.  It was the secretary to the
Tsakkian council.
   "The Chancellor is dead!" he yelled.  "You must help us!"
   "We cannot interfere." said Picard.  "The Prime Directive
forbids it, when we have removed our people, we will have to
leave."
   "And we do not *want* to interfere." said Cretineck.
"You have lied to us, and proved that you are a feeble and
unstable people."
   Picard raised his eyebrows at the word 'unstable'.  The
Romulan government was far from steady.
   "Of course," continued Picard.  "If you wish to join the
Federation.."
   "I cannot make that decision." said the Tsakkian.
   "Good." said Spencer, barging through the rapidly
dematerialising crowd.  "Captain, Commander.  Myself and
your officer" - he gestured to the Romulan Commander - "have
discovered that there is a heavy slave trade on Tsakkia.  We
have been lied to about the most important aspects of the
Tsakkian community..."
   As Spencer explained the situation, Picard noticed.  He
noticed the way the waiters had looked at the Starfleeters
and how they had looked at their oppressors.  He noticed the
hair, the heights, the clothing.
   "Worf to Captain Picard." came a husky voice.  "We have
the  situation under control for the moment, but I recommend
immediate withdrawal."


CAPTAIN'S READY ROOM, USS ENTERPRISE

   Picard stared at the computer screen.  It told him
everything, and nothing.
   The doorchime sounded.  Now he would get his answers.
   "Come." he said.
   Lieutenant Nickson stepped through the door.
   "You wanted to see me, Captain."
   "Please sit down, Lieutenant.  Before I start, you and I
both know that your job here was slightly more than to be
the Ambassador's bodyguard."
   Spencer nodded reluctantly.
   "I realise I have no jurisdiction over you," continued
Picard.  "But the Enterprise and her crew are my
responsibility, and I feel that it would have been safer for
those on the planet if you had coordinated with us on
your... mission."
   Spencer nodded slowly.
   "I see." he said carefully.  "I was under the impression
that you did not approve of going behind the backs of
prospective Federation members."
   "That's as may be, but my opinions would have no bearing
on the Enterprise's ability to assist you.  The key to our
success is working as a team.."
   "And the key to mine," interrupted Spencer, "is working
on my own."
   "What about your colleagues in the runabout out there?"
asked Picard, waving towards the window.
   Spencer widened his eyes.
   "Is this room secure?"
   "Computer, engage security lock level 10." said Picard.
"It is now."
   "How did you find out?"
   "Let's say I have an efficient Chief Engineer."
   "Captain, it is important that I know, the success of
future missions may depend on it."
   Picard smiled.
   "We detected a slight phase shift in the light passing
through your cloaking device, LaForge suspected the presence
of another Romulan ship there, and ran a sensitive gravitic
scan.  The distortion sillhouette exactly matched that of a
runabout."
   "How did you detect the phase shift?  We checked against
the Galaxy class sensor specifications, you should never
have picked them up."
   "LaForge has made some modifications.  You'll have to
talk to him.  I must say I am not keen on the idea of
Starfleet breaking the Treaty of Algeron."
   Spencer shrugged.
   "It hasn't been the only time.  I know you are aware of
the Vigilante, captain, and there have been many enemies
just as dangerous as the Borg where a cloaked ship has been
helpful.  Obviously there are occasions when rules must be
bent."
   "I won't argue with you there, Lieutenant." Picard
glanced at the chronometer.  "I have work to do.  I want to
make it clear that the Enterprise is eager to assist with
any future missions, although I may not agree with your
methods, I certainly agree with your aims, and the next time
a situation such as this arises, tell me."
   Spencer smiled and nodded.
   "Alright Captain.  I might just take you up on that."


****************

I hope you liked it, a sequel is already half written, but
may not be finished for a while.

Magnus Huckvale 1994

--posted by
Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK
The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants
Tel: [phone]   Fax: [phone]   Email: [e-mail]
                      Any opinions expressed are mine
--
Tim H
"Praxis, meaning turning-point, culmination, action; orgasm."
Fay Weldon, in her novel "Praxis".  (#2 in a series of quotes)