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

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Subject: Grey Stars Data File
Date: Wed Jun 24 18:14 EDT 1992


1. The Bridge of the U.S.S. Resilient:
   (and some observations on it)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Turbolift door


             ______________________

           6                       7
                    ________
                    |      |
                    | - 1  |
                    |______|

   _______                             _______
   \      \                           /      /
    \      \                         /      /
     \      \                       /      /
      \      \   3            4    /      /
   2   \      --------|   |--------      /  5
        \             |   |             /
         \      ______|   |______      /
         /     /                 \     \
        /_____/                   \_____\


              ====================
                Main viewscreen

1 - Captain's chair
2 - Science Officer Station
3 - Helm
4 - Navigation
5 - First Officer Station (communication and weapons systems)
6,7 - Auxilliary stations (usually not manned)

The reasons for placing bridge consoles in certain places have always been
mostly psychological. It is still a tradition that a helmsman and a navigator
should be facing the main viewscreen and, as we can see, it was still observed
in the bridge design for the Resilient. The first officer, unlike the
Enterprise-D, has his own station and a rather heavy share of workload, which
stems from the fact that the Surya-class starships have a much smaller crew as
compared to the Galaxy class (it is worthwhile to remember that Spock, the
first officer on board the original Enterprise, also doubled as a Science
Officer).
Regardless of that, this bridge still has more in common with the Enterprise-D
bridge than with the original Enterprise bridge. In the times of James T.
Kirk, the general design philosophy was that the captain should oversee the
work of the bridge personnel, thus all the stations were on the perimeter so
that the captain could (in theory) observe each display from his (or her...)
chair. However, this was rarely the case due to two reasons: the distance was
still too great to pay attention to any details, besides, the personnel
manning those stations were more qualified in their respective fields, anyway.

Besides being rather ineffective, that particular bridge design had another
drawback, mostly psychological. It is a conditioned reflex for all military
personnel (OK, para-military) to face the captain if addressed. As the bridge
was designed in the TOS, Spock and Uhura had to turn around every time Kirk
asked them a question (Uhura, in fact, was always sitting half-turned), which
clearly reduced efficiency and created a conflict of interest (of a kind).

In contrast, the TNG bridge has most of its workstations in the back, which
are usually manned by people excluded from the decision-making process and,
therefore, rarely addressed by the captain. Those, whose opinions count (First
Officer and Counselor) are seated next to the captain. True, there is an
exception: when Data mans (androids?) the navigation, he often turns around to
talk to the captain, but then again, Data is probably the only
navigator/helmsman in Starfleet whose opinions count.

Now, on the Resilient, the first officer and the science officer are important
in the decision-making process. Both, however, have a large workload to take
care of as well. Therefore, they are seated at large consoles AND facing the
captain. The only drawback is that they cannot see the main viewscreen, but
that's not really necessary for the kind of work they do. There is a small
screen in each of their consoles, anyway.

2. The Dropship.

As it always is with military technology, a breakthrough in one field leads to
the development of techniques designed to counter it. A transporter is no
exception: widely available (on the black market, that is) and relatively
inexpensive jamming equipment makes it impossible to use the transporter in
most SWAT operations. Thence the need for a dropship.

The standard SWAT dropship (like the one on board the U.S.S. Resilient) is
actually two ships - a warp-capable assault craft and a landing module.
There are many different kinds of landing modules - some are nothing more than
short-range shuttlecraft that can separate and maneuver independently, others
are basically armored personnel carriers. If needed, a specialized module can
be constructed on board the RRF starship to meet the requirements of a
specific operation.

After the separation of the assault craft and the landing module, the latter
proceeds to acccomplish the main objective of the mission. The assault craft
assists the SWAT team by providing air support, jamming the short-range enemy
communcations, etc. In case of a space-based counterattack, the objective of
the assault craft is to engage the enemy until the landing module returns to
the mothership.

The assault craft is armed with two forward-firing disruptors for space
combat, two phaser banks for air-to-ground attacks plus a variable complement
of missile weapons. It also carries powerful subspace jamming equipment.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------



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Subject: Grey Stars 1
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Grey Stars, copyright 1992 by Sergei Shimkevich

"Star Trek" is a registered trademark of Paramount Communications, Inc.

Dr. Matthew and his Nurse, copyright by Masamune Shirow/Seishinsha

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is a story influenced by the works of Masamune Shirow (Appleseed,
Dominion, Ghost in the Shell), that takes place in ST:TNG universe.

All names are strictly products of imagination. Any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed in the story are not necessarily those of the author.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------




Cast of Characters:

U.S.S. RESILIENT
A Surya-class starship (a Next Generation version of Reliant) with additional
modifications that include a large shuttle bay for launching planet assault
troops (the ship has a special SWAT unit for planetside operations). Assigned
to the Rapid Response Force (RRF), a semi-autonomous Starfleet unit. Duties
include (but by no means limited to) hostage rescue and anti-terrorist
operations.
The creation of the RRF was quite a controversial decision that was taken to
the Federation High Council and passed only by two votes. Many Starfleet
officers, incuding Captain J-L Picard, felt that the creation of a separate
police force is unnecessary and undermines the founding principles of the
Federation.

VILDAN CEVELEK
Captain of the USS Resilient. One of the youngest captains in Starfleet, in
fact owing her position to the creation of the RRF.
Hair: red
Eye color: green
Age: 32
Rank: obvious

JANOSZ ILLY
First officer.
Hair: black
Eye color: brown
Age: 32
Rank: Commander

RENA KAMIE
Pilot of the multi-purpose craft aboard the Resilient
Hair color: brown
Eye color: blue
Age: 21
Rank: Jr. Leutenant

AMU SAGIE
The ship's Science officer. A friend of Rena.
Hair color: blond
Eye color: green
Age: 22
Rank: Leutenant

Note: Rena and Amu are not graduates of the Starfleet Academy. Once again, the
creation of the RRF was an extremely unpolular decision in Starfleet, in fact
RRF assignments were boycotted by three graduating Starfleet Academy classes
in a row. As a result, the newly-formed RRF had to recruit people from
outside. Rena and Amu come from an independent colony world where they
attended a military school of the colony's small self-defence force.

DWIGHT BEKELE
In charge of the SWAT team on board the Resilient. Was a security chief on the
USS Amiens before joining the RRF.
Hair: Black
Eye color: brown
Age: 34
Rank: Lt. Commander

KIYOSHI MINEO
Rena's co-pilot
Hair: Black
Eye color: Brown
Age: 24
Rank: Jr. Leutenant

HANS MECKELEIN
Ship's Chief Engineer
Rank: Lt. Commander

LUIS MESA    |
QUING SHAO   |  SWAT troopers
ANDREAS FREY |
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

PELLE (lastname?)
Information trader, sometimes mercenary. Owner of Kazhar, an extensively
modified Bird of Prey (where did he get the money???)
Hair: Blond
Eye color: Grey
Age: thirtyish (?)

ARISIA
Pelle's daughter
Hair: Brown
Eye color: Grey
Are: 7-8
=============================================================================
=============================================================================

1.

The person on the screen is obviously a STA (Star Trek Alien - human-looking
with a weird bump on a forehead). He is talking into an irregular-shaped thing
that appears to be a highly stylized microphone. He is speaking in his native
tongue with subtitles running across the bottom of the screen.

Newscaster: It is now 36.67 hours (obviously the translation is being done by
a computer) until the deadline set by the terrorists. At exactly 14.32 hours
tomorrow (another computer adjustment to Federation Standard Time), unless
their demands are met by that time, they will execute the first hostage who,
as they made clear, will be the President's wife.
So far the government has remained strangely silent with only mid-level
officials handling the negotiations, although family members of the key
government figures are among the hostages...

(The camera sweeps away from the screen which is on the wall of a briefing
room. Several people sitting at the table, most of them are not looking at the
screen.)

Amu (she is wearing boots which are definitely not uniform), speaking to no
one in particular: Nothing new so far

Janosz (the only properly dressed person in the room). Well, in our business
no news is good news. (smiles)

Vildan (she is wearing a field jacket): Hans, when are you going to fix the
climate control? It is freezing in here.

Hans: I can't, ma'am. Dwight is using all the available energy for the
holodeck simulation of the hostage rescue operation.

Vildan: Can we at least get some coffee?

Hans: I am very sorry, ma'am, until Dwight is finished, all systems that are
nonessential to the ship's operation at this point are shut down, including
the self-repair circuits and the energy/matter converters.

Amu: Captain?

Vildan: Yes, Leutenant?

Amu: Permission to get coffee?

Vildan (puzzled): Hmm...granted.

(Amu leaves. Vlidan's communicator pin beeps.)

Vildan: Cevelek here.

Voice: Captain, an incoming message from Gilchres 1.

Vildan: Transfer it to here.

Voice: Yes ma'am.

(An alien belonging to the same race as the newscaster appears on the screen.
He is dressed in a well-tailored suit, which is obviously an import from
Earth. It is not difficult to see that he is stressed and has been going
without sleep for some time.)

Alien: I'm afraid I have some bad news, Captain Cevelek. It appears that some
of the terrorists are cyborgs.

Vildan: Are you absolutely sure about that, Mr. President?

President Jhehal: Yes. As it is now, the terrorists have to switch off their
jamming field when they comminicate with us. It is only for a millisecond, but
we've been able to send in a quick scanning pulse every time they do so. After
pooling the data from all the pulses made so far, our specialists are
absolutely certain that there are at least three cyborgs in the building.
Since none of the hostages have had inorganic implants, these cyborgs must be
the terrorists.

Vildan: What is your decision, Mr. President?

President: It remains the same - the demands that they make are unacceptable.
We have no other choice, but to proceed with the operation as planned.

Vildan: We'll do our best, Mr. President. However, we'll need all the data on
those cyborgs that you can provide.

President: It is being transmitted as we speak. (suddenly looks even more
tired) Remember, I'm counting on you, Captain Cevelek.

(end of transmission)

Vildan (grimaces): Cyborgs...(Taps her communicator pin) Cevelek to Bekele.

Voice: Bekele here.

Vildan: Dwight, get to the briefing room right away.

(Another sector of the ship. The sign on the massive door reads: "Training
Holodeck". The doors slide open and a person in an orc suit steps out, holding
a phaser rifle in one hand. Takes off the helmet.)

Dwight (into the holodeck, loudly): NOT FAST ENOUGH! Shoot BEFORE you hit the
floor, that's what the auto-targeting systems are for...Mesa, when you go hand
to hand, drop to the floor and slide-kick, don't punch, you've got servos in
your suit, remember. If you feel like punching, go to a goddamn bar and start
a fight...Shao...now that's what I call an improvement...wasted ONLY TWO
hostages this time...magnificent! (stops short) All right, when I get back,
we'll do it again. (faint noises of disapproval inside the holodeck) I said
AGAI, Frey. What are you, tired? Let me tell you something, Frey: you ARE NOT
tired. Now when we are finished with the hostage business, you'll be
processing ammo requisitions. Then you'll know what TIRED really means.
Anybody else who is TIRED? (silence) Be sure to let me know when I come back.
(Dwight walks away)

(Inside the holodeck: the program has been stopped and we can see nineteen
people in orc suits sitting on the floor grid.)

SWAT Team Member #1 (Shao): Fwooh, I was sure I'm gonna get the paperwork
shit. Thanks, Andreas.

SWAT Team Member #2 (Frey) gives him an evil look, but says nothing.

(Cut to the turbolift. Dwight is leaning against the wall, still in his orc
suit. The doors open and Amu steps in, carrying four coffee cups on a tray.)

Amu: Hi, Dwight.

Dwight: Hello. Hey, where did you get the coffee? All FP's (food processors)
have been down since morning.

Amu: Heh, heh (devilish smile).

(Briefing room. Amu enters with coffee, followed by Dwight who has to come in
sideways because of the bulky orc suit.)

Vildan: Great timing, Leutenant. (takes a cup). I need this coffee. Dwight, we
have just received a message from Gilchres 1. Looks like some of the
terrorsits are cyborgs.

Dwight: Just what I anticipated all along. After all, a large percentage of
the population on Gilchres 2 has cyborg implants. Lots of work-related
injuries.

Janosz: The president has made it clear that he wishes to go on with the
operation. Can we adjust our tactics?

Dwight: Well, the trouble with cyborgs is that a phaser stun will not work -
most of them have some shielding around the brain and other key parts. You
have to use the full setting. however, when you hit soemthing with a full
setting, lots of energy gets released. The place is really packed, from what
I've heard. if a hostage nearby happens to have a heart condition...you get
the picture. Plus, some cyborgs have hyper-liquid power cells.

Amu: You hit them not hard enough, they just shrug it off and shoot back. You
hit them too hard and they blow up. There were a couple of cases when cyborgs
got hit by security autophasers in spaceports. Stun doesn't work, so the
computer puts on a high setting and BOOM!

Dwight: Exactly.

Vildan: So we cannot use phaser rifles...Projectile weapons?

Dwight: We don't have any on board. We could pull up the specs from the
computer and replicate some, but we haven't had any training with such stuff
for a long time. How much do we know about those cyborgs?

Janosz: That's what we've got from their president (blueprints and other data
appear on the screen.

Amu: Lessee, hyper-liquid...yup, dispersion shielding...yup, thermal
shielding...not really, reflex boosting...yup. Your typical BiOES-2
(Biological Organism Enhancement System Mark 2) type, probably bought the
design from the Ferengi. I am pretty sure they have some black market
modifications as well - a built-in phaser or something.

Dwight: Interesting...all their cyborgs are anthropomorphic and covered with
synthskin. Practically impossible to distinguish between them and a normal
Gilchresian without a scanner. And they've got a jamming field in there, too.

Janosz: It's mostly cultural. From what I've heard, most Gilchresians regard
molding of a living being and a machine highly unethical.

Amu: Ha! Hypocrites! (after a pause) We-e-ell, what can you expect from a
mineral exporter, anyway.

Vildan: Speaking of you, Leutenant, where did you get the coffee?

Hans (looking suspiciously at Amu's waist): Leutenant, where is your phaser?

Amu: Oh, I dumped phaser energy into one of the food synthesizers.

Hans: Leutenant, this is outrageous! "Dumping" of phaser energy into any
system is absolutely forbidden, even in emergency situations.

Dwight (in a solemn voice): It sure is. By the way, if I remember correctly,
when you bypass the primary energy feed, there are no circuit breakers in the
food synthesizer itself. How did you manage to get anything out?

Amu (innocent voice): You see, coffee is not very complicated to synthesize
and it took only about 20 seconds for four cups...Of course the machine got
fried after that...

Hans: Leutenant, are you aware of the fact that this is deliberate sabotage
of vital on-board equipment?

Dwight: "Vital Equipment" all right, hasn't been working since morning.

Hans (annoyed): You, Lt. Commander Bekele, should be aware of the fact that
several systems have been shut down to provide energy for your holodeck
training routine.

Dwight: Yes, and somehow the dining facilities are always the first on your
cutting list. Why don't you shut off the containment field in the shuttle bay
for a change?

Hans: You have brought up this subject before, Lt. Commander. I must repeat
myself, and the Starship Operations Code as well, that shutting of the
containment field while travelling at speeds higher than Warp 3 is forbidden.

Dwight: For one thing, the bay doors on this particular vessel are
reinforeced. Besides that, I've yet to hear about shuttle bay doors on any
ship flying off into space without a moment's notice.

Hans: The regulations are not designed for each ship individually, Lt.
Commander. Although I understand your concerns about inconveniences associated
with the periodical systems shutdown, they are...

(Vildan finishes her coffee.)

Vildan: Excuse me?

Hans/Dwight: Yes, ma'am.

Vildan: If you don't mind, gentlemen, we'll postpone the fifteenth or whatever
round of this entertaining discussion until the end of the operation. As for
you, Leutenant Sagie, read the Starhip Operations Code once again,
less you dump phaser energy into the main computer core next time.

Amu: Yes, ma'am.

(Vildan turns to Janosz and away from Amu. Amu seizes the opportunity and
sticks out her tongue at Hans. Janosz sees it but pretends not to notice.)

Hans: Leutenant! This is outrageous! How dare you!

Vildan (annoyed): I told her to read the manual. We've got a cyborg hostage
situation to tace care of, Lt. Commander Meckelein.

Hans: Leutenant Sagie's behavior is completely unacceptable by any standards.

Vildan: Leutenant Sagie! Explain yourself!

Amu: Nothing, ma'am. I just licked my lips, the air is kind of dry in here and
Lt. Commander Meckelein has interpreted my actions.

Hans: This was a deliberate mockery of a superior officer. Commander Illy will
prove it.

Janosz: I am sorry, chief. I was not watching Lt. Sagie at that time and I
cannot comment on her behavior.

Hans: Very well, I shall file a formal complaint.

Vlidan: As you wish, Lt. Commander. Make sure you do it after the hostage
crisis is over, though. Understood?

Hans: Yes, ma'am.

Vildan: All right, let's get back to the assault plan. Dwight, any suggestions
as to which projectile weapon might be the best?

Dwight: Not now. We'll make a computer model and cross-reference it with the
weapons database. Will take a couple of hours.

Vildan: Very well. Everyone should report to me in seven hours. If no fresh,
original and previously uncopyrighted ideas grace my desk by that time, we
stick to the assault with phaser rifles. Understood?

(Everybody nods)

Vildan: Dismissed.

(Dwight and Amu are walking side by side along one of the corridors.)

Amu: A-after the hostage crisis is over, sure. Seven hours. Ha! He'll just
finish checking all the commas in his report on me in seven hours. What a
loser!

Dwight (he is serious): Most of the Starfleet is like that, Amu.

Amu: What do you mean?

Dwight: You haven't seen much of Starfleet. Resilient is your first assignment
and it is by no means a typical Federation starship. For one thing, Vildan is
pretty mellow when it comes to protocol. Where else can you get away with
sticking out a tongue at the ship's Chief Engineer.

Amu: Yeah, I guess I overdid it. But he is such a pain, really.

Dwight: It's just his way of expressing himself. Marks him as a protocol rat
the moment he opens his mouth. Most Starfleet officers are more subtle - all
friendliness and jokes on the outside, but the moment you forget where you are
and don't salute properly, you're toast.
(after a pause)
You won't be serving on the same ship forever. Sooner or later you'll get
transferred. If you don't learn what Starfleet considers to be proper
behavior, you'll soon find yourself in trouble. Especially with your
background.

Amu: You mean that I am a colonial?

Dwight: Precisely. Look at yourself - you are 22 and already a Leutenant. Your
peers are still in the Academy.

Amu: Well, wasn't it Starfleet in the first place who decided that I am fully
qualified for my position?

Dwight: Some in Starfleet and a definite minority at that. The rest agreed to
defuse an embarrasing situation. But remember - you, colonials, are always a
thorn in their side. A good-looking thorn in your case, I must add.

Amu (with a smirk): Thanks. Guess it's for us, thorns, to do the job the roses
in the Academy won't take.
(after a pause)
What's the scoop with the Academy, anyway. Tell me more about it.

Dwight: You mean the RRF boycott?

Amu: Yes. I haven't been able to get any info about it. Almost no Starfleet
records, at least among those available to me with my clearance. The media is
full of meaningless speculations, as usual.

Dwight: Well, as you probably know, it started four years ago when the Student
Board decided that the creation of the RRF was incompatible with the
principles of the Federation. The overwhelming majority of the cadets
supported the decision and the boycott of the RRF assignments started. Riedel,
however, shrugged them off, went over the heads of his superiors - not that
there are many, mind you - and obtained the permission to hire "qualified
outside personnel" directly from the Federation Supreme Court, citing some
ancient regulation from the early days of Starfleet.

Amu (wide-eyed): Holy s**t! Directly to the Supreme Court! And they gave him
the approval, too. By how many votes, I wonder?

Dwight: That was a closed session...Anyway, the rest of the Starfleet was mad
as hell, but couldn't do anything. The Academy boycott lasted for three years,
but once the old members left the Student Board, the new ones were reasonable
enough to stop it.

Amu: Quite reasonable. After all, the longer they boycott, the RRF, the more
of us, colonials, are hired, diluting their precious principles even further.

Dwight: Don't get me wrong, Amu. The principles are important to the
Federation. It's just that they've been hardened into a dogma which hinders
anything new. Admiral Riedel is not against the principles, he is just using
them creatively.

Amu: Seems to me they were a dogma to start with. Say, how can one interpret
the Prime Directive creatively? You either follow it, or break it, like JTK
did...if you can get away with it, that is. Like JTK.
[Note: JTK - obviously James T. Kirk]

Dwight: There is more to the Prime Directive than meet the eye. True, it
sounds like a dogma and everybody interprets it as such. But it is as much a
self-preservation rule as it is a principle.

Amu: ??

Dwight: Ever heard of Vietnam?

Amu: Vietnam? The O'Neil staion in the Nutara sector?

Dwight: No, the country. Twentieth-century Earth.

Amu: Nope. They did not cover much of the Old World history in our schools.
What is it?

Dwight: It was a small country torn apart by civil war. The nastier bunch
seemed to be winning, so the United States - on of the two world powers at
that time - decided to interfere. This resulted in a long, protracted and
bloody conflict, upheaval back home and it finally culminated in a humiliating
withdrawal. If you are interested, you can look up some history files for
detail, there are plenty of them. (they enter the turbolift) Deck 6.

Amu: Deck 10. Ah, I get it. The Federation sacrifices local interest for the
sake of overall stability.

Dwight: Exactly. The problem is to keep the proper balance between the two,
something that was understood in JTK's time and what the current Starfleet
leadership ignores. They are so deep in negotiating disputes between alien
races that they forget about the true purpose of diplomacy which is a show of
force. The Borg incident aside, Starfleet hasn't been seen in "action" for the
last seventy years. Not that there has been any - there were quite a lot of
"incidents", but the policy of the Federation is to keep everyting quiet. All
such incidents are classified and the general public knows nothing.
Admiral Riedel created the RRF not only to crack down on crime, but also to
show all potential adversaries that the Federation can be aggressive when it
wants to. Of course now everybody sees him as just another power-hungry
admiral, but he is not that kind of person at all. The irony is that he is
more true to the principles of the Federation - true principles - than they
are. He wants the Federation to evolve. Most are content with the status quo
that we have now.

Amu: From your words it looks like the Federation is having an identity crisis
and we are smack-dab in the middle of it.

Dwight: I wouldn't say in the middle. Somewhat involved, that's all.

Amu: (mock disappointment): That's just too bad. I love being in the middle of
things.

Dwight: Oh, we will be...If the operation gets screwed up, that is.

(The turbolift stops)

Amu: Better get to work. See you later, Dwight.

Dwight: See you later. (steps out)

==============================================================================
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From: [e-mail] (shimkevi)
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Subject: Grey Stars 2
Date: Thu Jun 25 16:37 EDT 1992



An alien city. Tall, white buildings under a bright blue sky with a shining
bright-orange ball of a sun overhead. The crowd in the streets is a mixture of
different races. It is not as warm as it seems from a first glance at the city
- most of the humans in the crowd are wearing coats or jackets.
Am alien with a diamond-shaped bump on a forehead (note: different race from
the alien in the beginning of the story), dressed in a short blue jacket and
brown pants is walking towards a huge transparent wall. The 3-d sign on the
wall says "Green Zone Hotel" in several languages. The alien is carrying a
small black suitcase. When he approaches the wall, a rectangular outline
appears under the hotel sign. The alien walks right through the wall which
gives way. (cut to the hotel lobby) We see the alien walking through the wall
towards us. He almost clears the wall when the outline flashes brightly and
then disappears. His left foot is now stuck in the wall. Suddenly stopped in
his tracks, the alien waves his hands frantically to regain balance. On of the
receptionists rushes from behind his desk with a contraption that looks like a
small vacuum cleaner.

Receptionist: A thousand apologies, sir. We've just installed this new system
and sometimes people get stuck. (raises his "vacuum cleaner". The wall around
the alien's leg starts to ripple slightly.) You can pull your foot out now,
sir.

Alien: From the speed of your reaction, I would guess that this happens pretty
often. Why don't you switch back to normal doors?

Receptionist: Not on this world, sir. Permeativity is the latest rage. If you
don't have permeable doors, you won't stay in business.

Alien: Yours is a strange world.

Receptionist: It sure is, sir. Can I help you with anything else?

Alien: I have an appointment here at two o'clock. Appointment number 47.

Receptionist: If you could just come to the lady over there, she'll give you
the directions.

(A lounge in the same hotel. A blond human male in his late twenties/early
thirties is sitting in an armchair, holding a portable viewer in his hand. He
is wearing a loose olive-colored suit. A klingon female, dressed in what is
best desribed as a cross between a business suit and a suit of armor
approaches him.)

Woman: Don't keep your appointment waiting, Pelle. (gives him a crooked smile)

Pelle: That mystery person of yours, Vernath? Showed up on time, hasn't he.

Vernath: He's already in the room. Take a look. (takes a viewer out of the
pocket and gives it to Pelle)

Pelle (he looks funny with a viewer in each hand): Just great. The only thing
absent in my life this morning is an appointment with a Lardonian.

Vernath: This one looks promising, though. (another crooked smile)

Pelle: Don't get too excited about the whole thing.

Vernath: Why not? Come on, Pelle, let's not keep our client waiting.

Pelle: Jeez, Vernath. You actually enjoy plotting, don't you.

Vernath (laughs): That's our evil Klingon nature, don't you know.

Pelle: Is the room prepared?

Vernath: Of course. As if you haven't checked it yourself ten minutes ago.

Pelle: Just to make sure. Knowing you, Vernath.

Vernath (annoyed): Just what is that supposed to mean?

Pelle: Er, sorry. That was supposed to be a compliment.

Vernath: <...>

(Pelle stands up and leaves. Vernath taps a jewelled pin on her collar and
says something in an alien language [not Klingon].
Cut to Pelle walking along a corridor. He stops at one of the doors which
slides open after a couple of seconds. One can notice the unusual thickness of
the walls. The room has windows but the curtains are down. A simple table and
two chairs are the only furniture. One of the chairs is occupied by the alien
who got stuck in the door.)

Pelle (pulls the chair away from the table and sits down, facing the alien):
Good afternoon.

Alien (stares at him): Are you Pelle?

Pelle (somewhat annoyed by the stare): No, I'm a Venusian slime mold.

Alien: This is not the appropriate time for jokes.

Pelle: All right, all right. You're my prospective employer after all. I am
Pelle.

Alien (not noticing the irony in Pelle's voice): You can call me Daruma. My
real name is not important.

Pelle: I understand. Some of the names that our parents give us are real
bummers.

Daruma (smiles a forced smile): I heard that you like to make jokes.

Pelle: Not really. I'm just not as gloomy as other people in the business. I
just stand out, that's it. If I were to try being a stand-up comedian, I
wouldn't stand a chance.

Daruma: We don't want you for your comedy talents.

Pelle (bored): Guess not. Nobody seems to like my jokes. All right, what is
that you want me to do?

Daruma: We want someone in Starfleet to be killed.

Pelle: I don't usually do assassinations. You and your organization, whatever
it might be, ought to know that.

Daruma: Yet we know that you are good at everything you do. Maybe besides
making jokes.

Pelle: Who exactly in Starfleet?

Daruma: His name is Captain Picard.

Pelle (looks quizzically at Daruma): Captain Picard? He is a well-known
person.

Daruma (his emotions surface for an instant): Too well known for his own good.

Pelle (takes a deep breath): Kinda stuffy in here. The climate control needs
adjustment.

Daruma: Excuse me?

Pelle: oh, nothing.

Daruma: Do you agree?

Pelle: I said, he is a well-known person.

Daruma: We'll pay you well.

Pelle (another quizzical look): Just how well?

(Daruma takes his suitcase and opens it. Inside, there is a small grey box.
Daruma taps on the cover which becomes transparent. Inside there are several
fairly large crystals.)

Daruma: Dilithium crystals. Current market price is 500,000.

Pelle (takes a small tricorder from the jacket pocket and scans the box):
Looks real enough.

Daruma: Do you accept the offer?

Pelle (takes a deep breath, looks at the ceiling and breathes out): How 'bout
this: you take your money, buy your buddies from the Ladonian Liberation
Alliance some cookies at the nearest coffee shop and make this planet free of
your presence in 12 hours.

Daruma (in disbelief): What?

Pelle: Actually, make it 6 hours, or I'll keep the crystals. I could use some
pocket change, y'know.

Daruma (draws out a phaser): You are quite stupid, Pelle. You must realize
that I cannot let you out of this room alive.

Pelle: Whoa, you are holding it the right way. Congratulations. Must be quite
an accomplishment for a Lardonian.

Daruma: I was right about you. You are just a clown.

(Closeup of Daruma's hand. His index finger is straight and definitely not in
the proximity of a triger.)

Daruma: What the...?

Pelle (looks at Daruma in the same way a scientist looks at a rat): Works well
so far.

Daruma: I - I can't move.

Pelle: Of course you can't. This is a small invention of mine...Not entirely
mine, mind you - I was using other people's research in the process, but the
end result is quite unique...What incapacitates you now is a nanite-like
artificial parasite which I designed a year ago...Never had a chance to use it
before, I must admit.
(stands up and starts walking around the table)
These micro-parasites were spread on the table surface before you came here -
you didn't notice that I never touched it with my hands. The parasites
penetrated through the skin on your palms and into the bloodstream. That was
easy enough to design, nothing new, really, nature has been using this method
for millenia.

(Daruma looks at him with fear and hartred)

Daruma: You planned this from the start!

Pelle (ignores him): Now the interesting part: the surfaces of these parasites
were coated with a protein that has an affinity towards the cell membranes of
the glial cells that cover the nerves...Of course there is a problem that the
all might stick to one nerve and we don't want that, do we...well, I don't,
you do, of course...that's why there is a proximity detector in each of them -
the binding properties are temporarily suppressed when one of them is near an
already bound nanite. After five-ten minutes your nervous system is seeded
with these computer-controlled parasites...Now, when you presented me with
that loony proposition of yours, I said a keyword - "climate control". A
nanite attached to an auditory nerve has read the signal that the key word
generated and released a chemical messenger into the bloodstream. This
messenger activated the nanites attached to the nerves in your hand, telling
them to block a specific signal from the brain - a signal that tells the index
finger to squeeze the trigger.

(takes a keychain from his pocket and spins the keys around his finger)

Pelle: You must have realized that this signal word is quite unnecessary. A
touch of designer's vanity on my part, perhaps. If I ever decide to sell this
thing, it would be just with the remote control, like the one I'm holding now
in my hand. (takes out his mini-tricorder) Or I might list the voice control
as an option and charge extra for it, I'm not sure...Together with the nanites
in your body this tricorder works as a CNS emulator, which results in your
body accepting my voice commands and not the ones from your brain.
(puts the keychain back into his pocket)
Anyway, Mr. Daruma, talking to you has been extremely enjoyable, but I'm
afraid I can't do this all day. (turns away from Daruma and looks at the
window curtains) Therefore, I would be much obliged if you could turn this
phaser around and pull the trigger...

(Daruma's hand turns the phaser around until it is pointing directly at his
chest. We can see sweat on his forehead.
A closeup of Daruma's index finger pressing the trigger.
A dull clunk of the phaser dropping to the floor.

Pelle turns around, comes to the table, puts on a glove and picks up the
phaser. He sets it on low-power, high-dispersion and moves the resulting broad
beam across the table and the suitcase. He then throws the phaser away, takes
off the glove, opens the suitcase, takes the box with the dilithium crystals
and puts it into his pocket.

The door opens. Vernath comes in.)

Vernath: Hey, you greedy human. Don't forget my share.

Pelle: One day those schemes of yours will get you killed.

Vernath (winces): Another of your hypocrisy fits?

Pelle: Where do you see hypocrisy?

Vernath: For one thing, you were the one taking risks.

Pelle: True, but I'm not doing this on a regular basis.

Vernath: Doesn't matter. Death is where you find it.

Pelle: Oh yes, the Klingon fatalism. A good way to avoid unnecessary stress, I
must admit.

Vernath: Could we discuss the respective philosophies of our races some time
later? Say, after I get the crystals.

Pelle: Crystals? What crystals? they were decomposed by a phaser blast, as
your report says.

Vernat: You know something? This Lardonian was pathetic, but he was right
about one thing, though...you are not funny.

Pelle (with resignation): All right, here they are. (hands the box over to
Vernath)

Vernath: Great! Too bad we have to share it with the spaceport security.

Pelle: What about the other two Lardonians?

Vernath: We tried to arrest them twenty minutes ago. Unfortunately, they
resisted arrest and were mortally wounded in the resulting shootout.

Pelle: And this guy here? (points over his shoulder to the chair where Daruma
was sitting)

Vernath: As we decided earlier. He presented you with a ridiculous
proposition. When, understandably, you refused, he tried  to kill you.
Fortunately, you had a concealed phaser with a neural link, which you used to
protect yourself... Not that you don't have one, in those padded shoulders of
yours.

Pelle: I just love the law enforcement here!

Vernath (annoyed): I see nothing wrong in what I did. Only a falzh would
surrender the spoils of war. Or law enforcement, in my case.
[Note: "falzh" - literally translated as "subdued warrior"]

Pelle: Come on, Vernath. It was not about morality at all. Just a humorous
conmment.

Vernath: Yet humor is a reflection of reality and in reality humans are
hypocrites who hate to confront their own selfishness. Thus your comment.

Pelle: Is this Klingon psychoanalysis? Stereotypes, stereotypes.

Vernath (gives him a side look): You, humans, are too frail for Klingon
psychoanalysis.

Pelle: Then it's just stereotypes.

Vernath: These are my observations.

Pelle: Maybe you should observe more.

Vernath: Sure. I'm going to drop everything and devote my life to observing
human behavior patterns.

Pelle: If you had time to observe, you would have noticed a lot.

Vernath: Like what?

Pelle: Just think about it. (points at Daruma's chair) This sort of thing
would have been unthinkable even thirty years ago. Some third-rate provincial
terrorist plotting to assassinate a key Starfleet figure? (after a pause)
Somewhat ironic, isn't it? Even as the Federation is growing in size and
power, it is losing respect.

Vernath: The better for us. When people do not believe that the Federation
will protect them, they come to us.

Pelle: Or our competitors...Well, I have to go now...

Vernath: When are you leaving?

Pelle: Tonight. They should finish the work about ten. I'll run the
diagnostics - should take about thirty minutes - and then take off.

Vernath: I'll have the money transferred to your account as usual. Good luck
in whatever you are looking for this time.

Pelle: Nothing in particular, just some loose ends...Good luck to you, too.

Pelle/Vernath: See you.

(Pelle leaves. Vernath sits down on a chair, takes one crystal out of the box
and tosses it into the air like we usually would toss a coin.)

-------------

(Inside a spaceport. Somewhat similar to a modern-day airport, but more
sophisticated (obviously). Everything looks shiny, new, expensive and somewhat
tasteless - twenty-fourth century baroque. A counter with a huge holographic
sign above it in the air says "Luxion Spacelink - Customer Service". A young
girl in a white and gold uniform is standing behind the counter, the wall
behind her back a huge 3-d screen which is showing short flashes of various
places where you can get by Spacelink. Two people are standing near the
counter.)

Girl: I am truly sorry, sir, but the engine parts won't be here until
Wednesday. This kind of a malfunction is extremely rare, basically unheard of
and we just don't have the right part in stock here on Rocinante.

Wesley Crusher (yes, it's him): And there is no othe company that flies to
Starbase 37?

Girl: No, sir.

(Wesley mutters something)

Wesley's companion: Wes, what's the problem? They are gonna pay for the hotel
and give us a 50% refund. Why not stay here till Wednesday? This is Rocinante
after all, not some starbase.

Wesley: I told Captain Picard that I'm going to be there on the eleventh.

Mike: So what? We can't have a better excuse. Come on, when will you ever have
another opportunity to come here?

Wesley: Picard is not gonna like it and nobody will believe our story about
the engine failure. They'll think that we've stayed here on our own.

Mike: We can get a confirmation from Luxion if it comes to that.

Wesley: Mike, I just have to be there on the eleventh. You can stay here, it
is fine with me. You don't have to come.

Mike: No way. If you go, I can't stay and you know that.

Girl: Excuse me.

Wesley: Oh, er, sorry.

Girl: There are no flights, as I said, but I can try something else.

Wesley: Could you, please?

Girl: There might be a freighter or a private ship of some kind going to
Antanarivu, a planet in the same star system as Starbase 37.

Wesley: That would be great.

Mike (to himself): No, it wouldn't.

Girl: Let me remind you that if you use a non-registered flight, you are not
eliegible for the 50% refund on your ticket.

Wesley: That's OK.

Mike (sourly): Just great!

Girl (puts her hand on a grey panel on her desk. Since there are no visible
keys, the panel must be a neural interface of some kind.): Hello, is Changting
here? Hi, this is Dora. Oh, nothing much. Listen, one of our flights got
cancelled...Do you know of anybody going to Antanarivu today? Oh, really!
When?...Will they take passengers?...Two, both human, they are actually going
to S-b 37...I see...Yeah, sure. (to Wesley) There is a small ship leaving for
Antanarivu around ten-thirty. A friend of mine is going to find out if they
take passengers.

Wesley: Thank you very much.

Mike: Wes, you can't be serious about going on a freighter. Come on, let's
stay.

Wesley: Sorry, Mike, I just can't.

Mike: Is it really about Captain Picard? Or is it about that girl on the
Enterprise? She's gonna be mad if you stay here on Rocinante, right?

Wesley: What are you talking about? Robin is not that kind of person at all.
Besides, we are just friends.

Mike: Yeah, yeah, sure.

[Note: Robin is Robin Lefler from "The Game". In her Starfleet Academy years
was one of the initiators of the RRF boycott.]

Girl (puts her hand on the panel again): Yes, Ching...They will?...OK, I'll be
sending them over...All right, see you later...Bye. (to Wesley) She said
you'll have to talk to the captain of the ship.

Wesley: Thank you very much. Where is it?

Girl: It's in zone fifteen, hangar 182. I'll load the directions into
your pocketbook.

Wesley: Thanks a lot. (gives her his pocket book)

Girl (takes the pocketbook and passes it over a blinking light): The
directions are in your pocketbook now. Voice and visual. (to herself: Shimada
66? This stuff is old! Gives Wesley his pocketbook and also a thin pad with a
stylus) Could you sign this disclaimer form, please?

Wesley: Disclaimer form?

Girl: Yes, that you don't want the hotel and are changing to a non-registered
carrier.

(Wesley takes the pad, examines it for 20-25 seconds and signs his name.)

Wesley: Thank you very much. (opens the pocket book and starts walking away,
holding it in his right hand)

(Mike starts to pick up his bag.)

Girl: Are you sure you don't want to stay? In such a hurry to get to this
Antanarivu place?

Mike: Ahh, he is hopeless. I would love to, though. (picks up his bag and
walks away)

Girl (taps one of her earrings): Calling Jennifer Baer, scrambled...Hi,
Jen...listen, we've got two who are taking a non-registered carrier...Yeah,
we've had a cancellation...Can you convert the hotel stay into cash?...Great,
I'll do the paperwork...Great, we'll blow it together. Is your boyfriend in
town?...Where do you wanna go?...Sounds great...Allright, I'll meet you in the
cafeteria at 5...Bye.

---------------------------

An open field that stretches as far as the eye can see. Huge hangars here and
there, arranged in an irregular fashion. An immense holographic projection of
a beer bottle to the left. several large cargo shuttles and a couple of sporty
warp sleds stand in the parking lot to the right. The parking lot is marked by
luminous lights. An antigrav truck glides by.
An automated taxicab stops near one of the hangars. Wesley and Mike climb out
with their bags. Wesley is still holding his pocketbook in one hand.

Mike: Jeez, this spaceport is HUGE.

Wesley: This should be the place.

Mike: Nobody's here.

Wesley: Perhaps they are in the hangar.

Mike: I wonder what kind of a ship this is. The hangar is really big.

Wesley: It is probably for a cargo shuttlecraft. I'm pretty sure the actual
ship is in orbit.

Mike (points at the door in the hangar wall): Shall we knock?

Wesley: I guess so. (walks to the door and examines it, then puts his hand on
a pad to the right of the door) Nope, doesn't open. No buzzer, either.

Mike (knocks on the door): Anybody here?

(The door opens and Pelle steps out. He is dressed in a standard issue
Starfleet field jacket, jeans and boots with force plates.)

Pelle (looks them over): You are the ones going to Starbase 37?

Wesley (pulls up a smile): Trying to get there. Could you give us a lift?

Pelle: Starfleet cadets, aren't you. What year?

Wesley: Fourth year.

Mike: Third year.

Pelle: So you've had some practical experience with warp drive, eh?

Wesley: Oh, I've had plenty. Even before the academy.

Pelle: How 'bout a deal? I give you a lift to Antanarivu, you calibrate the
warp coils on my ship.

(A look of puzzlement on Wesley's face.)

Wesley: But I thought that you were leaving tonight.

Pelle: That's right.

Wesley: But how can you calibrate the warp coils while in flight?

Pelle: If the speed is below warp 7, it is no problem.

Wesley (still puzzled): OK, we'll do it.

Pelle: OK. Got any baggage?

Wesley: Just our bags.

Pelle: Fine, pick them up and get in. (disappears into the hangar)

(Wesley and Mike walk back to where they dropped their bags.)

Wesley: This is weird.

Mike: I told you we should have stayed. We don't even know the guy.

Wesley: He looks alright. I wonder what kind of a ship he's got, though.

Mike: What do you mean?

Wesley: You see, there are only four kinds of ships where you can calibrate
the warp coils when the warp drive is operational. Three of them are pretty
ancient types and the fourth...no, it can't be.

Mike: Oh, well, we'll find out soon enough.

(Wesley and Mike take their bags and return to the hangar. They both step
inside. Cut to the inside of the hangar.)

Wesley: Oh, SHIT!!!!

Mike: Oh, man!

(The hangar is dimly illuminated and it is hard to see, but the ship inside is
undoubtedly a Bird of Prey.)

Mike: This guy owns a Bird of Prey? No way!

Wesley: Oh, no.

Mike: What's the problem?

Wesley: Not the BOP warp coils!!

Mike: What's wrong with them?

Wesley: The Klingons did not design this thing to be user-friendly. And the
warp engines, they are a nightmare when it comes to maintenance.

Mike (vindicated): Well, I don't know much about warp drive, anyway. I'm
pretty sure you can handle it with your background.

Pelle's voice from above: There is a ramp under the right wing. It's pretty
steep, so watch your step.

Mike: We're coming.
(Walks towards the ramp, Wesley is trailing him, terror in his eyes.)

(Cut to the inside of the BOP. Pelle is standing near the airlock door. Mike
and then Wesley climb in.)

Mike (shields his eyes): It's kinda bright in here.

Pelle: Yeah, I had brighter lights installed. All right, let me show you the
room, cause we have to take off in ten minutes - the air traffic here is
pretty thick. I had to book the clearance three days in advance.

(Pelle walks out of the airlock, followed by Mike and Wesley. The doors
close. Cut to Pelle, Wesley and Mike standing outside a door in the corridor.)

Pelle: OK. here is the room. You can get the bedsheets and other stuff from
the locker under the bed. I'll be on the bridge, you can join me if you want.

Mike: Just a curiosity question, but where is the crew?

Pelle: There is no crew. Kazhar is entirely automatic. (leaves)

Mike: This whole thing is weird. I think I remember the guy, though.

Wesley: From where?

Mike: er...er...Yes! Last year's Warp and Impulse magazine! They had a report
on privately owned Birds of Prey and there was a picture of him and his ship.

Wesley: Oh, I see. Another playboy.

Mike: Wes, there might be bugs in this room. Just keep quiet, willya.

(Cut to the bridge, which is brightly illuminated. Pelle is sitting in the
captain's chair, which has huge control panels attached to both armrests.)

Computer voice: Information. We are cleared for takeoff. Activating the hangar
roof now.

Pelle: Hey, Unit. we've just got ourselves a free coil job.

Unit (the computer): That would mean a savings of 10,000.

Pelle: Exactly. Just monitor them to make sure they do not screw anything up.

(Cut to the outside of the ship. The hangar roof starts to shimmer. The BOP
rises and goes through the roof in almost total silence.)

Wesley and Mike appear on the bridge.

Pelle: Want to see the takeoff? Unit, visual.

(We see first the inside of the hangar, then a thin horizontal line moves
across the screen and then there is a rapidly receding view of the field
below with brightly illuminated spaceport buidings and the multitude of lights
- the megalopolis that surrounds the spaceport.)

Wesley: Why is everything so quiet?

Pelle (glad at the opportunity to boast): I've had reactionless thrusters
installed instead of the regular impulse engines.

Wesley: Oh, wow.

Pelle: Saves space. Besides, they are more efficient and more reliable. Wonder
why Starfleet is not using them. The Klingons are putting them on the newer
Birds of Prey standard.

Wesley: There are some shortcomings, though.

Pelle (not inclined to argue): Everything has shortcomings.

Unit: A message from Flight Control. They need a voice confirmation from the
captain.

Pelle (in a bored voice): This is Kazhar, registry number PCC-3698, clearance
number, what is it?

Unit: 98R45

Pelle: Clearance number 98R45.

Voice: You are cleared for orbit. A reminder that energy transfer to any
weapons systems is illegal in Rocinante space. Have a safe trip. Flight
Control out.

Pelle: Unit, once we are in orbit, set a course for Antanarivu. Warp 5.
(To Wesley) Get something to eat - there is a food synthesizer in the hall
outside your room - and let's take a look at the warp drive. No hurry, though,
take your time. I'll be in Engineering anyway.

Wesley: OK, sure.

_______________________________________________________________________________




Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!cis.ohio-state.edu!pacific.mps.ohio-state.edu!linac!att!bu.edu!buchmf.bu.edu!shimkevi
From: [e-mail] (Sergey Shimkevich)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Grey Stars 3
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Date: 22 Jun 92 19:12:55 GMT
Sender: [e-mail]
Organization: Boston University Chemistry Department
Lines: 462


----------------------------------------------------------------------------
3.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shot of the U.S.S. Resilient moving at warp speed.
Cut to someone's private quarters (quite small as compared to the Enterprise).
There are two beds at the opposite walls, a built-in dresser facing the door
with a large holographic screen [note: it can be set to the reflection mode
and used as a mirror]. Right now the screen is showing the stars
outside the ship. A desk next to each of the beds.
A girl in a T-shirt and bikini pants is lying on one of the beds, eating
something that looks like a candy bar. There are some 3-d pictures on the wall
above her bed - the girl with a couple that look like her parents, the girl
and her father, both wearing unfamiliar uniforms, the girl and Amu, both in
the same uniforms, the girl and Amu in civilian clothes. A large sheathed
sword is hanging on the wall above the pictures.

(The door slides open and Amu comes in)

Amu: Hi there.

Rena: Hey. What's new?

Amu: Don't you know? More trouble.

Rena: How come?

Amu: We've got new info from Gilchres. Looks like the terrorists are cyborgs,
after all.

Rena: Yuck! That's bad.

Amu: So Vildan wants a new weapon - in a couple of hours.

Rena: No way! That's impossible!

Amu: Tell me about that. But we have to come up with something. Those guys are
hyper-liquid powered - we cannot just come in shooting phasers.

Rena: I wish I could help you...I just don't know anything about hand weapons.
(after a pause) Had anything to eat?

Amu: No, not really. This was one hell of a morning.

Rena: Want some? (pulls another "candy bar" out of a plastic bag on her bed)

Amu: Where'd you get that?

Rena: It's the emergency ration from the dropship. Comes in pretty handy when
the Rat shuts down the FP's. (FP - food processor)

Amu: Just make sure he doesn't find out. I had a run-in with him at the staff
meeting.

Rena: Not again! He probably hates your guts by now...

Amu: You bet he is. He's gonna file a formal complaint.

Rena: What did you do this time?

Amu: Something really stupid. Dumped my phaser into a FP to get coffee for the
staff meeting and fried it.

Rena: Whoa, he must have been really mad.

Amu: He was. I really shouldn't have done that. It's just that something got
into me.

Rena: Don't worry about it too much. Vildan is on our side.

Amu: Yeah, she is. I wonder why.

Rena: Aw, come on. One of your moods again?

Amu: I'm so tired of all this crap. Every time we dock at a starbase, those
ensigns giving you side looks. And the officers, they are even worse, looking
you over as if you were some kind of a bug. I never knew it would be like that.

Rena: Who cares about some stupid starbase? Those ensigns are just jealous.
Most of the people on our ship are really nice and that's what counts.
Besides, we've got a job to do and we are doing it.

Amu: Sure, a job that nobody wanted us to do in the first place.

Rena: Just who is "nobody"? Some moldy Starfleet bureaucrat and his
ass-kissers from the Academy?...They hate me, fine. In fact, I want them to
hate me. I don't want to be liked by them...You're gonna eat or what?

Amu: Put it back. I don't want you to get into trouble.

Rena: Don't worry about that. What I do to the dropship is none of the Rat's
business - Dwight is in charge of all the SWAT stuff.

Amu: Thanks. (takes the "candy bar" and unwraps it)

Rena: No prob. The Rat is an emergency, anyway, so our actions are morally
justified.
(Amu manages a weak smile.)

Amu: Guess I have to start working on this weapon.

(Rena gets off the bed, walks up to the closet and takes out her flight jacket
and pants.)

Amu: Oh, sorry, I didn't mean it this way. You don't have to leave.

Rena: That's fine, I have to go to the hangar anyway.

Amu: Are you sure?

Rena (puts on her uniform and the boots): That's OK.

(Rena leaves. Amu sits down at the terminal on her desk.)

------------

Cut to the bridge, quite small as compared to the Enterprise-D or even the
original Enterprise. The captain's chair has large instrument panels attached
to both armrests. Janosz is working on something on his station, two ensigns
at the helm and navigation are just sitting there looking at their consoles.
The turbolift doors open and Vildan steps out. She is now wearing the RRF
uniform which resembles the one from the ST movies, but it is green with a
golden collar. (looks very impressive on her)

Janosz: Captain on the bridge. (He stands up. The ensign at the navigation also
stands up. [Note: the helmsman and the navigator are not required to])

Almost immediately Vildan's comminicator pin beeps.

Vildan: Cevelek here.

Dwight's voice: Bekele here, captain. We've replicated some weapons. We have
to test them, though.

Vildan: Go ahead.

Dwight: We need your permission to open the shuttle bay doors, Captain.

(Vildan and Janosz look puzzled... Since both of them are standing, the
ensign at the navigation station assumes that he is not supposed to sit down
and continues to stand.)

Vildan: Shuttle bay doors?

Dwight: These are projectile weapons, so we cannot test-fire them in the
holodeck. We're thinking of opening shuttle bay doors and using the
resulting opening for target practice.

Vildan: Can't you simulate them in the holodeck?

Dwight: Not enough data. All these weapons are pretty old, so the only thing
we have in the computer are the blueprints. No ballistic data whatsoever.
Can't make extrapolations here.

Janosz: What about the contaiment forcefield?

Dwight (coughs): Well, we were thinking about lowering the frequency and
decreasing the intensity. That would permit the bullets to clear the field but
will still keep the air in.

Vildan: M-m-m-m, allright...Do what you consider necessary.

Dwight: Thank you, captain. I'll give you the test results as soon as we get
them.

Vildan: I better go and take a look at what they are actually up to. You have
the con, Mr. Illy. (to the ensign at the navigation who is still standing)
You, ensign, are to stand here until further notice. Understood?

Ensign (totally confused): Yes, ma'am!

(The ensign at the helm chuckles.)

(Vildan leaves. Janosz returns to his station without even paying attention to
the standing ensign.)

Ensign at the helm (turns around and says in a "compassionate" voice): You
better do as she said, man. She's ROUGH!

(Cut to Vildan in the turbolift. The doors open and Amu steps in. She is
carrying a rather mean-looking gun.)

Amu: Captain.

Vildan: Leutenant.

(awkward silence)

Vildan: That's quite an interesting idea, leutenant.

Amu: Excuse me, ma'am?

(Vildan's communicator beeps.)

Vildan: Cevelek here.

Meckelein's voice: Captain! Did you authorize the procedure that Lt. Commander
Bekele is requesting?

Vildan: Yes, I did. And yes, it involves opening shuttle bay doors and
changing the containment field parameters.

Meckelein: Yes, Captain. I was just making sure that I that nothing
gets distorted by the chain of command. Sorry to disturb you, Captain.

Vildan: Not at all, Lt. Commander. I appreciate your concern. Cevelek out. (to
Amu) What idea? The one about using the shuttle bay as a shooting range!

Amu: This is the first time I hear about it, Captain!

Vildan: Hmph, I was sure this was your suggestion...So that's what you've came
up with? Let me see.

(Amu hands the gun over to Vildan who examines it.)

Vildan: Aha, a modified AC-12 [Automatic Caseless]. Haven't seen one for a
long time.

Amu: You used one before?

Vildan: No, I've been shot with one.

(A bewildered look on Amu's face.)

Vildan: I was about your age then. It was supposed to be a routine arrest,
then everything went awry and the shooting started. When I got hit, I didn't
understand what had happened - there are phaser shots all around, I'm
just sitting there, can't get up and my shirt is getting wet. So I am trying
to feel the place where the blood is coming out and thinking: I'm not
stunned 'cause I can move, I'm not vaped 'cause I am still here. So what
the hell is happening? Then I passed out and woke up in a hospital three days
later...Taught me never to underestimate any weapon, no matter how ancient.

Amu: You were in the police, Captain?

Vildan: On my homeworld. Three years.

Amu: Then...

(The turbolift stops. Vildan and Amu step out and start walking down the
corridor.)

Vildan: How did I end up here? Headhunted, very much like you: the Starfleet
decided that there was a shortage of security personnel and established a
one-year accelerated program for people with law enforcement background. I
applied and (smile/shrug) got accepted.
(after a pause)
Of course there was much less controversy back then. Not that I didn't get my
share of side looks, mind you...People in Starfleet are usually very
protective of their organization. Can be very disheartening if you are an
outsider. One can understand them, though, they are the backbone of the
Federation, after all. So...hang in there, Leutenant. Things will get better
for you.

Amu (grateful): Thank you, Captain.

Vildan: And Leutenant, if I you ever stick out your tongue at somebody at a
staff meeting, you might as well say good-bye to it. I'll cut it off.
Personally. Understood?

Amu (snaps up): Yes, ma'am!

(Cut to the main shuttle bay. It is huge - now it is clear why the rest of the
ship is so cramped. Two levels, one level is basically an elevated platform
that covers approximately 1/3 of the total area. One large door on the first
level, two smaller doors on the second level. The assault craft is on the
second level, two shuttlecraft and several landing modules are on the first.
Various loading equipment on both levels, tractor beam emitters built into the
walls and the ceiling.
The large door on the first level is open, revealing the warp-distorted space
beyound. Several SWAT troopers in orc suits are shooting at the 3-d targets,
generated by a small holographic projector that is standing to the left of the
bay doors. Bright flashes every time the bullets clear the containment field.
The rest of the SWAT team are standing around the table on which there are all
kinds of guns, mostly arguing. Rena and some guy are on the second level,
doing something to the left engine of the assault craft. Dwight is at the bay
door, shooting a gun and checking a tricorder screen on his arm after each
shot.

Vildan and Amu come in unnoticed.)

Vildan: You recognise the smell, Leutenant?

Amu (not sure): Is it the ozone from the forcefield?

Vildan: That and the pyroxine.

Amu: Pyroxine?

Vildan: A chemical used in projectile weapons. Very old stuff.

Amu: How do you know all those things, captain?

Vildan: Well, you come across a lot of things when you are in the police.
Contrary to what most people think, common street thugs don't use phasers that
much. A top of the line phaser with auto targeting and a neural link is very
expensive, especially when sold illegally. Also, there aren't that many of
them being manufactured, with all the weapons control laws that the Federation
has. Those that are for sale have an indentification code that is practicaly
unbreakable. No criminal in his right mind will want a weapon like that.

Amu: But one can buy a Romulan or a Klingon disruptor on the black market.

Vildan: It's not that easy as it seems. Romulan smuggling operations are
usually controlled by their intelligence ops, so they wouldn't sell
the weapons to anyone with the money so as not to blow their cover. Most of
the "romulan" stuff that is being sold on the side is actually made on
Rocinante and of rather poor quality. Besides, since we are the dominant race
in the Federation, yes, we are, it's just a fact, most of the criminals are
humans and they wouldn't deal with the Romulans. Warped patriotism, I guess.
As for the Klingon disruptors, they usually sell them on the frontier worlds
where the prices are higher. Some eventually trickle down, but not much.
Besides, Gavron has now cracked down on the smugglers so as not to strain the
relations with the Federation.

Amu: Guess it's easier to rewire a food synthesizer and make a gun.

Vildan: Exactly. Cheap and impossible to trace.

(They now are at the table. The SWAT people finally notice them and salute.
Amu is trying her best to look very important.)

SWAT trooper (shouts): Dwight! The captain is here!

(Dwight stops shooting, turns around and walks up to the table.)

Dwight: We're down to three, Captain. Two standard cartridge-based guns, one
EM (electromagnetic). (points at the three guns lying in the middle of the
table)

Vildan (picks up one of them): This is pretty small for an EM.

Dwight: This one shoots darts instead of the regular slugs. Rather short
range, but we won't need more.

Vildan: What are the test results?

Dwight: They all work, more or less. Performance isn't the problem, really.

Vildan: Then what is?

Dwight: These things work on the all-or-nothing principle - kill or
miss. That place is packed and they WILL be using the hostages as shields.
Frankly, I don't see how we are going to pull it off without some of the
hostages getting caught in the crossfire.

Vildan: What choice have we got? If we use phasers, we can lose everyone.

Dwight: The cyborgs could be wired for self-destruct from the beginning,
anyway .

Vildan: Could be. Could be not.

Dwight: A game of possibilities.

Vildan: So it is. We just play by the rules and count our
blessings...(examines the EM gun) This is an intreresting one. Can I?

Dwight: Sure, Captain.

(Vildan comes up to the bay doors and starts shooting. Even though she hits
all the targets, her mind is clearly somewhere else.)

Dwight (to Amu): Hi, Amu. Got another one for us?

Amu: Yeah. Looks like I'm too late to make suggestions, though.

Dwight: Let me see it. (takes the gun) Just curious, why this one?

Amu: Well, I just browsed over the specs and this one looked like it would be
the best against the type of armor that those cyborgs have.

Dwight: I'll test it, anyway. Say, why did you keep the laser sight?

Amu: Oh, I just told the computer to make it as it was, didn't change
anything.

(Dwight takes off the laser sight and walks over to the "shooting range". Amu
picks it up and looks it over. Suddenly a paper plane hits her shoulder.)

Rena's voice from the second level: YAHOO!!! GOTCHA!!!

(Amu picks up the plane and throws it back, but misses Rena by a wide margin.)

(Rena climbs down from the platform and walks up to Amu.)

Rena: Hi! What's up? What's that?

Amu: Hi. It's a laser sight from one of the guns.

Rena: Looks like a Mark 2 hand phaser without the handle.

Amu (she was not listening): Say what?

Rena: I said it looks like a mark 2 without the handle.

(Amu looks at Rena, then at the laser sight.)

Rena: Eh?

Amu: You know what? You've just given me an idea.

Rena (suspiciously): What kind of idea?

Amu: I'll tell you in a second. (runs off and out of the shuttle bay)

Rena: Weird woman!

(Cut to Amu in a small section of the ship that looks like a lab. She is
standing near something that looks like a food synthesizer, but more
complicated, and punching the controls furiously.)

Amu (pushes the panel for the last time): Done!

(Something materializes on the pad. Looks like a gun with a laser sight. but if
one is to look more carefully, it is obvious that the "laser sight" is
actually a phaser. Amu picks up the gun and runs away.)

(Back in the shuttle bay. Vildan puts down the gun and looks at the small
display on the handle.)

Vildan: Just as I thought - has to be calibrated every ten minutes. That's
what killed the EM handguns in the first place.

Dwight: It shouldn't take longer, Captain.

Vildan: That's true.

(Amu comes rushing in)

Vildan: What's the rush, Leutenant?

Dwight: Another one?

Amu: You see, I put a phaser on top of this one, set on stun. If you could
take this (gives her pocketbook to Vildan, who is now standing with an EM gun
in one hand and Amu's pocketbook in another). You see, you fire the phaser
first, then it hits the guy..er, terrorist. If he is normal, he gets stunned.
If he is a cyborg, then the charge dissolves some of the sythskin, which gives
these spectral lines. The auto-targeting scanner right here (points at the
upper part of the gun that she is holding) recognises those lines and shoots a
dart.

Vildan (looks at Amu's gun and then at the pocketbook): Hmm, looks
reasonable...Dwight, what do you think?

Dwight: Could work. We'll have to test-fire it here and then run a simulation
in the holodeck. If we have time, that is.

Vildan: You have five hours. After that I want the whole scenario completed
and ready to go.

Dwight: Yes, ma'am.

Vildan: I'll be in my quarters. (leaves)







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Date: Wed Jun 24 18:14 EDT 1992


Bridge of the USS Resilient. Vildan is sitting in her chair, looking at the
dial on the right armrest. Janosz and Amu are working at their consoles. Amu
is casting quick glances at Vildan and Janosz now and then.

Vildan (takes a deep breath and looks up): It's about time.

Janosz: Yes, Captain.

Computer voice: Attention all decks! The ship is now on yellow alert. All
personnel report to stations. Repeat, the ship is on yellow alert. All
personnel report to stations.

Vildan: Cevelek to Bekele.

Dwight's voice: Bekele here.

Vildan: Ready, Dwight?

Dwight's voice: We're all set to go, Captain.

Vildan: Very well. I'll be down in a couple of minutes.

Dwight's voice: Yes, ma'am.

Vildan: I will be in the hangar bay. You have the con, Mr. Illy.

Janosz (looks up): Yes, Captain.

(Vildan leaves)

Cut to the hangar bay. Several people in engineering overalls are doing final
checks on the engines of the dropship which is now fully assembled with a
strange-looking module attached to the underside of the assault craft. SWAT
troopers are making final adjustments to their orc suits and weapons, assisted
by more Engineering people.

Rena and Kiyoshi are sitting on the left wing of the assault craft, both in
flight suits, their helmets beside them. Rena's helmet is heavily ornamented,
Kiyoshi's is plain white and blue with his name in large letters. Rena is
drinking coffee.

Rena: Say, Yoshi, are you nervous?

Kiyoshi: Me? No, not really.

Rena: I am, a little bit. This whole thing is so sensitive.

Kiyoshi: Yeah...

Rena: I mean, everyone has been so worried lately. We seem like the only ones
who don't have to worry about anything.

Kiyoshi: Not this time, I guess. Just drop the SWAT guys off and wait.

Rena: Being a pilot is quite a manic-depressive job, don't you think?

Kiyoshi: Manic-depressive?

Rena: Really, you do a drop, then you vegetate for a month.

Kiyoshi: You think so?

Rena: But that's how it is, isn't it?

Kiyoshi: We have our training in between the drops.

Rena: I don't know, somehow I can never take the holodeck for
real. Guess that's because we didn't use those things on our world.

Kiyoshi: Is it for religious reasons? (to himself: Hmm, she never seemed
to like holodeck parties. No dates in the 'deck, either...)

Rena: Not really, they are not forbidden or anything. It is just that people
tend to treat them as illusions and nothing more. There were a couple of
holo-rooms in the city where I lived, and they weren't that expensive, either.
It is just that everybody would think of you as a loser if you go there too
often.

Kiyoshi (to himself): Aha, peer pressure. (to Rena) Well, they would think the
same here, if you do it by yourself. If you go with other people, it is fine.

Rena: But if you go out with other people, it is for the company, right?
Why need an illusion if you've got company?

Kiyoshi: Why not?

Rena: I don't know. I just think that what you do for fun should be natural.
When it is for training and stuff, it is fine with me, but if I go out with
someone, I don't feel comfortable with an illusion around me.

Kiyoshi: What if you were on a Galaxy-class starship? One of those five-year
missions?

Rena: Oh, I wouldn't be on a Galaxy. Not with my background.

Kiyoshi (embarrassed): I am sorry.

Rena: That's OK. (a sly look) Actually...how come YOU are here and not on a
Galaxy?

Kiyoshi: Me? I'm not into politics. I was on the flying team in the Academy
and then I got assigned to Environmental Engineering, so I applied for a
transfer.

(One of the doors opens and Vildan comes in)

Rena (sees Vildan): Oh, Vildan is here. Let's get down.

Kiyoshi (to himself): How come she's always here and never on the bridge?

(Rena finishes her coffee in one gulp. She and Kiyoshi grab their helmets and
quickly climb down).

The SWAT troopers, Kiyoshi and Rena assemble in a semicircle near the
dropship. Dwight and Vildan approach them.

Dwight: We've put additional reactive armor plates on the orc suits.

Vildan: That would decrease the mobility, wouldn't it?

Dwight: We are more concerned with aiming than with moving. Besides, the whole
thing should be over in twenty seconds. Additional weight or not, doesn't
really matter.

Vildan: What about the gravity generators?

Dwight: We've ran the calculations, it's within the permissible loads.

Vildan: Just how permissible?

Dwight: After we eject, we should use up about eighty percent of the suit's
power pack for descent. The remaining twenty percent should be enough for us
to move inside.

Vildan: That's rather small.

Dwight: Working in those suits is always penny-pinching for energy. Especially
when you use a passive storage power unit.

Vildan: We should be getting the specs for the new model any time now. We'll
see how it fares.

Dwight: I wouldn't hold my breath for it, Captain.

Vildan: Me neither.

(Both smile, rather sadly)

Dwight: All right, listen up!

(The team snaps to attention)

Vildan (paces): Don't worry, I'll be extremely short. You all know that this
is our ninth and most important mission. Our record so far has been
unblemished. It is my sincere hope that it stays this way. Understood.

(The team nods in agreement)

Vildan: Good luck.

Dwight: All right, you heard the captain. Now move!

Rena and Kiyoshi put on their helmets and climb into the cockpit. Then a
strange thing happens - the module opens up, revealing multiple "loading
sites" that resemble missile silos. A trooper in an orc suit gets into the
"silo" which then closes. Dwight is the last one to get in. The module then
closes up.

Computer voice: All personnel clear the hangar bay. Repeat, all personnel
clear the hangar bay.

The engines of the dropship start emitting a low hum. The lights on the wings
and the belly start to flash. In the cockpit the large instrument panels come
to life.

Rena: Storm Flower to bridge. Packed and ready to go.

Janosz' voice: Bridge to Storm Flower. Entering orbit around Gilchres 1 in
five minutes, twenty seconds. Initiating countdown - now.

The main hangar bay doors open, revealing a shining planet outside.

Cut to the bridge. Vildan is back in her chair.

Navigator: Entering orbit, now.

Vildan: Launch the dropship.

Janosz: Launching the dropship, now.

(Show the dropship clearing the hangar bay doors)

Janosz: Bridge to Storm Flower, do you copy?

Rena's voice: Stormflower to bridge, loud and clear. Proceeding with
atmosphere entry.

Janosz: Go ahead, Storm Flower. Bridge out.

(Inside the cockpit)

Kiyoshi: I always wanted to ask, what is a storm flower?

Rena: Oh, it grows in the mountains on my planet. Blooms very early in the
spring.

Kiyoshi: I see. It must be a symbol of strength among your people.

Rena (laughs): Not really. It smells really nice, that's all.

(Bridge. Amu's console gives out a series of loud beeps)

Amu: Captain! Two vessels approaching at intercept course.

Vildan: What?! (looks down at her console).

Amu (reads from her display): Transponder signal verification coming in
now...the first vessel is a long-range warp-capable shuttlecraft, identified
as Starlight Warrior 2, registry number CV-281063, the second is a
medium-range warp sled, identified  as Raindrop, registry number
CV-281124.

Janosz (sour): StellarPeace...How on earth did they find out?

Vildan (curses under her breath): Hail them.

Janosz: Hailing frequencies open.

Vildan: This is captain Vildan Cevelek of the Federation starship Resilient.
You have entered a restricted area. Reverse course immediately.

Janosz: They are responding.

Vildan: Let's take a look (to Amu) What's the status of the dropship?

Amu: Should be entering the atmosphere in seven minutes.

(A human male in his early forties appears on the screen.)

Man: I am Hott Sorne of StellarPeace, presently in charge of the goodwill
mission to Gilchres.

Vildan: Mr. Sorne, you must be well aware of the fact that the vessels under
your command have entered a restricted area. To avoid further complications I
suggest that you withdraw immediately.

Sorne: Starfleet having jurisdiction over Gilchresian space? This is news to
me. We have got our permit from the government two months ago which is still
valid. As such, we have the same right to be in this region of space as you
do.

Vildan (smiles): I have this feeling, Mr. Sorne, that your permission is now
being revoked as we speak.

Sorne: Oh, but not yet, Captain, not yet.

Vildan (to Janosz): Proceed with the operation as planned.

Sorne: I don't think so, Captain... We cannot just sit idle while
you assist the repressive Gilchresian government, which has been responsible
for countless sentient rights violations.

Vildan: I am afraid that you will have to do just that, Mr. Sorne.

Sorne: We shall see, Captain.

(transmission ends)

Amu: Captain! Both vessels accelerating rapidly and changing
course...Raindrop is now on a collision course with the dropship!

Vildan: Change course to intercept. Prepare the tractor beam.

Janosz: Yes, ma'am. (to Rena) Bridge to Storm Flower, bogie on a collision
course, do you copy?

Rena's voice: Storm Flower to bridge, we copy. Evasive...now.

(A shot of Raindrop passing dangerously close to the dropship.)

Kiyoshi: He's crazy!

(Rena is cursing in her native language.)

Voices of SWAT troopers on the intercom, all of "what the hell is going on"
kind. Only Dwight is silent (he has a link to  subspace communications
between the dropship and the Resilient).

Bridge of the USS Resilient.

Vildan: Cuff them as soon as we reach ETR (Effective Tractor (beam) Range).

Janosz: Yes, ma'am.

Amu: Captain! Starlight Warrior is on a collision course!

(The ship's computer executes an evasive maneuver which is not too gentle on
the bridge personnel.)

Vildan (holding on to her chair): How the hell did they get here without being
detected?

Amu (doing the same): Probably hiding in some hangars on Gilchres 2. (to
herself) Just how incompetent can their security get??

Vildan: How much time have we got?

Janosz: Seventeen minutes.

Vildan: Continue on our present course. As soon as they make a second pass,
cuff them.

Janosz: Yes, ma'am.

(View of the Starlight Warrior turning around for another pass.)

Vildan: Here they come.

Janosz: Ready...got them, Captain.

(A view of the Starlight Warrior enveloped in a tractor beam from the USS
Resilient.)

Further away, the dropship continues to evade the Raindrop. The SWAT team is
heard cursing loudly in the intercom (Frey is heard the most).

(Another close pass.)

Kiyoshi: They are really good. There's no way we can make a descent!

Rena (looks at the panel and gasps): Only fourteen minutes left! (loud) Storm
Flower to bridge. Permission to use weapons.

Janosz's voice: Permission denied! Decelerate and stop, we'll assist you
shortly.

Rena: It better be fast!!! Storm Flower out.

(On the bridge)

Amu: Captain! Starlight Warrior is trying to break out!

Vildan: There is no way they can (looks at her display) Ohhh!

Amu: They are changing thrust to make the ship oscillate. The structural
integrity of their hull is decreasing rapidly. Estimate collapse in two
minutes!

Vildan: And we'll get the blame, no doubt...Amu, try to disable their
computers, Mr. Illy, beam in a boarding probe.

Amu: It's no use. There is a jamming field around the ship.

Vildan (bites her lip in frustration): Release the tractor beam. Get me
President Jhehal.

Janosz: Yes, ma'am. Releasing the tractor beam.

Vildan: Status?

Amu: The StellarPeace ships have stopped. The Raindrop is covering the
dropship, the Starlight Warrior is still with us.

Janosz: Incoming message from Gilchres 1.

Vildan: Go ahead.

(President Jhehal appears on the screen.)

Jhehal: Don't worry, Captain. We have foreseen the possibility of such an
eh, incident. Be assured that we have a way of dealing with unwanted
disruptions. Stand by to resume the operation.

(transmission ends)

Amu: Sensors show two more craft approaching. Both are single ion-engine
fighters, armed with particle beam cannons. No warp, sublight only.

Vildan: Hail the StellarPeace ships.

(Janosz opens hailing frequencies. Hott Sorne appears on the screen.)

Vildan: Well, Mr. Sorne, it appears that your permit to stay in Gilchresian
space has been revoked. These fighters should be enough proof.

Sorne: So you, Captain, are going to observe the murder of Federation citizens
and do nothing? Quite an erosion of your holy Starfleet principles.

Vildan: I just might do that, Mr. Sorne.

Scorne (laughs): Allow me to doubt your words, Captain. You will do exactly
what the regulations require.

(Vildan closes the channel, fuming.)

Janosz: I am afraid he is right, Captain.

Vildan: You don't have to tell me that. Hail the President.

Janosz: Hailing...no response.

Amu: The fighters are now in weapons range from the Starlight Warrior.

Vildan: Move to intercept.

Amu: They are firing.

(We see the first fighter fire its cannon. The shields of the Starlight Warrior
glow, trying to absorb the energy. The second fighter fires. The
Starlight Warrior explodes in a blinding flash.)

Amu: The fighters are changing course for the Raindrop.

Janosz: We have seven minutes left, Captain.

Vildan: Change course to intercept the Raindrop. Ready the tractor beam.
We'll hold them long enough for the dropship to enter the atmosphere.

Amu: The Raindrop is a warp sled. May blow up if we 'cuff them.

Vildan (snaps): I am aware of that, Leutenant. (to Janosz) Contact the
fighters.

Janosz: They are ignoring our messages.

Vildan: Fire a warning shot.

Janosz: Firing phaser three.

(A bright beam passes across the bow of the first Gilchresian fighter.)

Amu: They are ignoring it, Captain. Still on the same course.

Janosz: It seems that our choices are rather limited, Captain.

Vildan:.....Mr. Illy....target the drive system of the Raindrop. Make it as
low power as you can. Fire when the fighters enter the weapons range... I take
full responsibility.

Janosz (takes a deep breath): As you say, Captain.

(In the cockpit Rena is working feverishly on the console. A small screen is
showing the silhouette of the Raindrop. The picture then goes out, replaced by
the usual status readout. Rena re-activates the engines. The dropship starts
to move - away from the planet and towards the Raindrop.)

Rena: Storm Flower to Gilchresian fighters. Leave this ship to us.

(Closeup of Rena's hand activating the main disruptor guns)

Kiyoshi (to himself): She's freaked out...must be the stress...shit...have to
be calm...don't do anything rash...(to Rena) It's OK, Rena. Just calm down.

Rena: Shut up and disengage the module!

Kiyoshi (wide-eyed): A-a-all right, wh-whatever you say.

(several warning lights begin flashing)

Janosz's voice: Bridge to Storm Flower! Abort immediately! I repeat, abort
immediately!

("WHAT THE BLOODY HELL" howls from the SWAT team in the module which has just
been disengaged.)

(On the bridge)

Vildan: Leutenant, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!

Amu: The dropship is energizing main disruptors...they are disengaging the
carrier module!

Vildan (completely wide-eyed): This doesn't make sense...Unless...

(A twinkle in Amu's left eye.)

(A view of the two Gilchresian fighters closing on the Raindrop.)

Rena: I TOLD YOU, THIS IS MY KILL!!! OUT OF THE WAY!!! GET LOST!!!

Gilchresian pilot 1 (irritated): Crazy humans. Zero-one-seven, disengage.

(He and his wingman veer off.

A view of the assault craft, sleek and deadly, closing on the Raindrop.)

Rena: Yoshi, activate the docking grapplers!

Kiyoshi: What??  You don't mean to...

Rena: YES, I DO! NOW!

(Inside the Raindrop)

Young woman at the helm: Hott, the dropship is locking disruptors!

Sorne (with a smirk): Looks like one of their colonial pilots has freaked out.
(He looks triumphant and not afraid in the slightest.)

Woman at the helm (terrified): They are firing! (Closes her eyes and screams)

(The assault craft is almost on top of the StellarPeace ship, when its
disruptors release two bolts of green energy...which pass right above the hull
of the Raindrop. The assault craft then brakes rapidly and connects with the
warp sled. A close-up of the grapplers adjusting to the ports on the hull of
the StellarPeace ship.

Inside, the crew is shaken around as the gravity compensators are trying to
dissipate the energy of the impact.)

Rena: Yoshi, scramble their computers! Only five minutes left!

Kiyoshi: I am trying!

(Inside the Raindrop.)

Somebody from the back of the ship: Hott, what's going on?

Sorne (shouting at the woman at the helm): Engage the anti-boarding programs!

Woman at the helm (her hands are visibly shaking): Ah, ah, eh...

Scorne: Get out! (pushes her away and starts working himself) Damn!!!

(Rena's face appears on the screen.)

Rena (makes a face at Sorne): Guess you boys and girls are gonna stay here for
a while...Oh, and you'll LOVE the new brig on our ship...See you there! Byyye!

(Bridge of the USS Resilient.)

Vildan (not sure whether she should be angry or happy): Fwooh!

Janosz (he regained his composure rather quickly): Bridge to Storm Flower.
Re-attach the module and proceed with the operation as planned.

Rena's voice: Roger!

(Cut to Amu - she is beaming.
View of the dropship reconnecting with the module.)

Rena: OH, NO! THREE MINUTES LEFT!

Kiyoshi: We'll have to do a high-speed descent.

Rena (adjusting the controls): High-speed descent...now! YAHOOO!!!!!

(The dropship plummets down into the atmosphere.)

SWAT Team: YAAAA!!!!

(Inside the building where the terrorists are holding hostages. Five of them
are covering the group of people in the middle of the room with their guns,
two are standing in front of a large viewscreen on the wall, their guns
pointed at two hostages - one male, one female.)

Gilchresian official on the screen: We are working on your demands. We need
more time.

Terrorist 1: You've had enough of it. I need the answer in sixty seconds.

(Terrorist 2 points his weapon at the female hostage.

The conversation is being monitored both on the bridge of the Resilient and in
the (rather lavish) office of President Jhehal. Important-looking Gilchresians
in suits and military-style uniforms are in the office as well. Vildan's face
is on the screen on top of Jhehal's desk.)

Vildan: Mr. President, the assault team will be down there in three minutes.

Jhehal: I'm afraid we don't have three minutes, Captain.

Vildan: Mr. President, you should agree to their demands. That should buy us
time.
(Several Gilchresians in the room nod in agreement.)

Jhehal: With all due respect, Captain, I cannot do that. As a member of the
ruling family, I cannot break a promise made in public, even when dealing with
such rabble.

(A view of the dropship cutting through the clouds like a red meteor. The
instrument panels are ablaze with warning lights.)

Kiyoshi: Surface temperature 5000 degrees! All systems in the red!

Rena: Hold on, please, hold on...

(The clouds part, revealing a sprawling megalopolis below.)

Rena: Release in ten seconds and counting.

Dwight: Ready.

Frey: Don't worry. Can't wait to get out of here.

(Lightning begins to dance over the left engine of the dropship.)

Kiyoshi: Damn! We're losing the starboard engine!

Rena: Release, NOW!

(The module opens up. Then twelve cylindrical packets shoot out in all
directions. Viewed from above, they look like lines spreading radially from
the center that is the dropship. After reaching a certain distance the
cylinders open up, releasing a SWAT trooper in an orc suit. A closeup of
Dwight's orc suit - the anti-grav unit on the back is activated, slowing down
his fall. The troopers fall down and disappear from view.

The left engine of the dropship begins trailing smoke (or is it plasma - hard
to tell)

Cut to the room where the hostages are held.)

Terrorist 1: Your time is up. Let it be known that we hold you and the
government that you represent responsible for harm that will befall the
hostages.

Official on the screen (sneers): ...His Excellency President Jhehal will now
inform you of his decision.

Terrorist 2 (jubilant): We've won, Ash'hen! (raises his gun)

Terrorist 1 (not impressed): Very well. Thirty more seconds.

(President Jhehal appears on the screen.)

Jhehal: We have reviewed your demands, Ash'hen.

Terrorist 1 (sarcastic): I am glad to hear that, Mr. President.

Jhehal: It appears that indeed, there are some grievances expressed by our
citizens on Gilchres Minor, that have to be addressed.

(A jubilant look on the faces of all terrorists except Ash'hen.)

(Cut to the dropship above the city, trailing smoke. Rena is struggling with
the controls, trying to get more altitude.)

Kiyoshi: It is no use! The engine's gonna blow!

Rena: We have to get it away from the city!

Kiyoshi: No time! I'll get it as far up as it can and self-destruct! You
eject!

Rena: No, you eject!

Kiyoshi: It's enough heroics for you in one day!

Rena: Envious, aren't we?

(The dropship begins to shake violently.)

Kiyoshi: We've lost both engines! Setting the self-destruct!

Rena: Let's get out of here!

(They both eject. Moments later there is a blinding flash as the ship
explodes.)

(Back to the room where the hostages are held.)

Jhehal: ...and to increase the understanding taking into consideration the
cultural differences that have developed since the establishment of Gilchres
Minor...

Terrorist 1 (raises his gun): It has been highly entertaining, Mr. President.
However, if we wanted to listen to your speeches, we would have stayed home
and watched TV. What I  need is a simple answer - yes or no.

Jhehal's wife (hartred in her eyes): How can you even talk to this scum! You
must not agree to what they have the insolence to demand!

Jhehal: I do not intend to, Jhiria. I...am...sorry.

Terrorist 1: I guess this is a "no". Very well...

(A loud explosion shakes the entire building [this is the dropship], knocking
everyone but three of the terrorists down. The next instant the SWAT troopers
come crashing through the walls and the windows. The terrorists try to get up
- and are getting picked off by the troopers one by one.)

Dwight (through the universal translator in his suit): Everybody keep, er,
STAY DOWN!!!

(The room is criss-crossed by phaser beams. Several shots are heard. Two of
the three cyborg terrorists go down. One of the troopers shoots at the third.
The phaser beam hits the terrorist - then sizzles harmlessly against a
transparent screen that suddenly appears around the cyborg's body. The
terrorist shoots back. The beam hits the trooper, sending discharges across
the surface of the suit. The reactive armor plates glow red and then
disintegrate with a bright flash.)

Trooper (Mesa): AAARGH!

(Dwight whirls around and fires his projectile gun manually. The bullets hit
the cyborg, which staggers and drops to the floor.)

Dwight (looks around, sees that all the non-cyborg terrorists have been
stunned): You OK, Mesa?

Mesa: The goddamn suit is sizzlin'! Shit! Owww! F***ing piece of shit!

(Two of the troopers rush over and are trying to get Mesa out of his suit.)

Dwight: Bekele to Resilient. All hostages are safe.

Vildan's voice (rather tense): Casualties?

Dwight: None.

Vildan (show the bridge): Excelent, Mr. Bekele. (to Janosz) Cancel red alert.
(to Jhehal on the screen) It is over, Mr. President.

Jhehal (bows): The people of Gilchres are indebted to you, Captain Cevelek.
We'll contact you as soon as we are ready to bestow the appropriate honors
upon the valiant crew under your command. My Secretary of State will be
beaming on board your ship to make all the necessary arrangements.

Vildan: Very well, Mr. President.

(transmission ends)

Dwight's voice: That explosion...was it the dropship?

Vildan: Yes.

Dwight: Did they make it?

Vildan: According to our sensors they ejected five seconds before it blew up.
It's a city down there, can't single out any life-signs.

Dwight: Their transponders?

Vildan: Inoperative.

Dwight (unsure): Could be shorted out by the blast...or damaged during the
ejection.

Amu (she is slumped in her seat): Yes, yes, that's what probably happened.

Vildan: The President has promised to mobilize everybody for the search.

Dwight: We'll see what we can do down here. And Captain, make sure that we are
the first to get those cyborgs for autopsy.

Vildan (frowns): Very well.

Amu: Captain! Permission to beam down and assist in the search!

Vildan (looks at her): Go ahead, Leutenant.

Amu: THANK YOU, CAPTAIN! (Rushes off the bridge).
____________________________________________________________________________








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From: [e-mail] (shimkevi)
To: [e-mail]
Subject: Grey Stars 5
Date: Wed Jun 24 18:15 EDT 1992



Everything is black. In the darkness there are voices speaking in an alien
tongue.

Voice 1 (female): It's a human! Wow!

Voice 2 (female): You've never seen one before?

Voice 1: Only on TV, not like this. Is it a he or she?

Voice 2: Want to find out?

Voice 1&2: Hee-hee-hee.

(The darkness suddenly turns to bright blue. There are two Gilchresian faces
looking down.)

Kiyoshi (sits up): Owww!

(He looks around. He is surrounded by Gilchresians, most of them are in
swimsuits. He then notices that he's dripping wet and, in fact, lying on a
couch near a swimming pool. His helmet is beside him.)

Kiyoshi (to himself): Right into a swimming pool, how embarrassing. Well,
could be worse... (to Gilchresians) Excuse me...(taps his communicator pin)
Mineo to Resilient.

(no response)

(Kiyoshi taps it again and then notices that it doesn't even beep.)

Kiyoshi: Damn! ...Rena? (looks around) Rena?!!!! (to Gilchresians) Have you
seen my co-pilot?

(Blank stares)

Gilchresian girl 1: Hi....(thinks for a moment) OK!!!

Kiyoshi: OK what?

Gilchresian girl 1 (reassuringly): OK!!!

Gilchresian girl 2 (points at herself): Alh'hen!

Gilchresian girl 1 (points at herself): As'tap!

Kiyoshi (points at himself): Kiyoshi...Hey, you have a translator by any
chance?

Gilchresian girl 2: Keeeoshi...Traslato?

Kiyoshi (to himself): We are not getting anywhere...(out loud) Does anyone
speak human?

Gilchresian girls 1 & 2: Not speak human! Pash'ren poshel za "Toshiba
Multi-Speak"! OK!

Kiyoshi (smiles): OK...I guess.

Gilchresian girl 1: Where is Pash'ren? It's just across the street!

Gilchresian girl 2: He looks pretty shaken up. Should we give him something to
drink?

Gilchresian guy 1: No, we shouldn't. The body chemistry can be incompatible.

Gilchresian guy 2: Just where did he come from, anyway?

Gilchresian girl 1: There was this flash in the sky. I guess his plane blew up
and he ejected.

Gilchresian guy 1 (looks at the uniform): Hey, he isn't regular Federation
Starfleet. It says "RRF SWAT" something.

Gilchresian guy 2: I think "swat" is police.

Gilchresian girl 1: I get it! The president must have asked Federation for
help and they sent the police to get those terrorists.

Gilchresian guy 2: Then how come they blew up above the city?

Gilchresian girl 2: Well, Pash'ren should be here with the Multi-Speak any
minute. Come on, guys, it is not very polite to speak in a language that
someone doesn't understand.

(A Gilchresian guy comes running.)

Pash'ren: I am sorry! SORRY! Couldn't find batteries!

Gilchresian girl 1: Give it to me! (takes the Multi-Speak and gives it to
Kiyoshi)

Kiyohi: Thanks. (stands up) Oww.

Gilchresian girl 1: Are you all right?

Kiyoshi: I think so...Leutenant Kiyoshi Mineo of the Federation Rapid
Response Force starship USS Resilient.. I, er,  apologize for any
inconveniences that my presence might have caused.

Gilchresian girl 1: Oh, not at all. I am As'tap, this is
Alh'hen (Gilchresian girl 2).

Gilchresian guy 1: I am Low're.

Gilchresian guy 2: I'm Jhaa'ben.

Kiyoshi: Nice meeting you...Listen, have you seen my co-pilot by any chance?

Low're: Co-pilot?

Kiyoshi: Yeah. We ejected together. I hope she's all right.

As'tap: She? You have women in Starfleet?

Alh'hen: Of course they do, stupid.

As'tap: Want a drink? We have some human stuff in the fridge.

Kiyoshi: Thanks a lot, but I really have to get in touch with my ship.

Pash'ren: Oh, right, there was a public announcement on TV. They are looking
for two pilots.

Alh'hen: Public announcement?

Pash'ren: Yeah, about, eh, fifteen minutes ago. I saw it in the store where I
was buying batteries.

Alh'hen: How nice of you to remember...Guess we should try calling the police
(taps her bracelet)...Hello, police?

Voice (sarcastic): Don't tell me, you've seen the pilots.

Alh'hen (taken by surprise): Why, yes. As a matter of fact, he is here right
now.

Voice: Yeah, sure. You are the forty-seventh one to have a pilot "here right
now". Call us when you've got the second one. Bye, miss.

Alh'hen: Wait!

As'tap: Great! They don't believe us.

Low're: Every loonie in the city is probably on the phone by now.

As'tap: So what do we do?

Alh'hen (to Kiyoshi): We can give you a ride to the nearest police station.

Low're: Nah, let's go to that place where they were holding hostages. I'm sure
somebody from the ship is gonna be there.

Alh'hen: All right, let's go.

Kiyoshi: How far is it?

Alh'hen: About twenty minutes...if we manage to beat the rush traffic, that
is...

(Cut to the outside of the building where the hostage standoff took place. Amu
and Dwight are inside a police hovervan, talking to a Gilchresian official.)

Amu: What is this? A city or some kind of desert?

Official: I am sorry, Leutenant, but we've got two hundred calls so far. We
are doing our best to check them all out.

(Amu swears in her native language and storms out of the van).

Official (listening to a message on the radio): Wait! We've got positive ID
from the twenty-fourth precinct. Yes, they have the female pilot. They should
be here any moment.

Amu (sticks her head in): How is she? Is she all right?

Official: They said that she was unconscious. They didn't have a medic with
them, so they don't know how serious the condition is.

Amu: How soon till they get here?

Official: It's a police speeder, so it should be here any moment.

Amu: Dwight! Where is Doctor Matthew?

Dwight: He's here. Don't worry, it will be OK.

Amu: How do we know? These morons don't know anything about human anatomy!
What if she's got internal injuries?

Dwight: Calm down, Amu.

Amu: That's easy for you to say (leaves).

(There is already a large crowd outside which the police are trying to keep
out. Several news media hovercars above, shadowed by
police hovercars. Dr. Matthew from Resilient and his nurse are standing near
two sophisticated-looking stretchers.

A police speeder with its lights flashing swoops down, right near Dr. Matthew.
Amu and a medtech from the Resilient help the Gilchresians inside to pull the
unconscious Rena out of the speeder and put her on the stretcher.

Amu: Those idiots didn't even take the gravpack off!

(Everybody begins to gather around the stretcher. The nurse starts to take off
Rena's flight jacket and various gadgets that are attached to the suit. Dr.
Matthew activates the medical scanner.)

Dr. Matthew: Hmph...Nothing new here - your classic ejection trauma.

Amu: Ejection trauma?

Dr. Matthew: Happens all the time. Ejects too late, gets knocked
unconscious by the blast, then hits the ground while still unconscious.

Amu: What do you mean "hits the ground"? What's the bloody gravpack supposed
to do, then?

Dr. Matthew: I don't design them, Miss.

Amu: Shouldn't you beam directly to Sickbay?

Dr. Matthew: We'll wait for the second pilot.

Amu (looks at the scanner display): She's got internal bleeding! Do something!

Dr. Matthew: Sure, my pretty. How 'bout stitching your mouth shut?

(Amu glares at him. Then the crowd behind the police barrier separates and a
hovercar glides through. Kiyoshi jumps out and rushes to where Rena's
stretcher is, followed by Alh'hen, Low're and As'tap. As'tap is wearing
Kiyoshi's helmet.)

Kiyoshi: Rena!!!

Amu (looks at him): Worried, aren't we?

Kiyoshi: Is...is she all right?

Amu: Why should you care? (points at Alh'hen and As'tap who are still in
swimsuits) Go on partying.

Kiyoshi: I wasn't partying! We got stuck in the traffic!

Amu: Traffic, huh (grabs him by the collar) SOME PARTNER YOU ARE!!! Her life is
at stake and you...you...PARTYING WITH ALIEN BIMBOS!!!

Dwight (puts his hand on Amu's shoulder): It's OK, Amu. Just calm down.

(Amu pays no notice)

Dwight (sternly): Leutenant!

(Amu releases Kiyoshi, still glaring.)

Amu (grudgingly): Sorry!

Kiyoshi: That's OK. (runs over to Rena's side)

Kiyoshi: How is she, Doc? Will she live?

Dr. Matthew: Oh, here you are. Get on the second stretcher.

Kiyoshi: WILL SHE LIVE?!

Dr. Matthew: How many times do I have to answer this question? Yes, she will.
Now get on the stretcher.

Kiyoshi: I'm all right.

Dr. Matthew (working on Rena): Nurse, sedate him and get him on the stretcher.

Kiyoshi: OK, OK (gets on the stretcher).

(Alh'hen and As'tap are waving their hands in the distance.)

Dr. Matthew: Four to beam up. Directly to sickbay.

Nurse (in a very melodic voice): Oh, Doctor, should I use Becosine?

Amu: I'm coming too.

Dr. Matthew (matter of factly): No, you are not.

(Amu is about to explode again.)

Dwight: Calm down, Amu. She will be all right.

Amu: But I have to be with her!

Dwight: Get yourself together, Leutenant. When you are in Starfleet, you worry
in your spare time.

Amu (stubbornly): She's my friend.

Dwight (to himself): She was in a MILITARY SCHOOL? Did they ever teach
DISCIPLINE? (to Amu) She's also a Starfleet officer, as you are. You are not
helping her or anyone else by getting in everybody's way.

Amu: <....>

Dwight: Did you bring your tricorder with you?

Amu: Eh?...Yes, I did.

Dwight: I want you to take a look at those cyborgs.

(Dwight and Amu leave.

In the room where the hostages were held. The dead (nonfunctional?) cyborgs
are lying covered on the floor, guarded by two SWAT troopers and two
Gilchresian policemen. Luis Mesa is sitting on the floor, rubbing various
parts of his body. Frey is standing near the window.)

Mesa: Is he gone?

Frey: Yup, just beamed back with the victims.

(Dwight and Amu enter.)

Dwight: Mesa? You are supposed to be in sickbay, not down here.

Mesa: No way, Dwight! Not Matthew!

(Dwight and Amu approach one of the cyborgs. Dwight pulls down the cover.)

Amu (scanning the body): Hmm...looks like a modified BiOES-2...very
modified...what the hell is that?

Dwight: You tell me.

Amu: This is not BiOES-2, this looks like a...(stops short, looking at the two
Gilchresian policemen.)

Dwight: Replay this footage from my suit.

Amu: Yeah...(the screen on her tricorder shows the footage of the phaser beam
striking the cyborg)...OHHH, JEEZ! Dwight, we have to tell the captain!

Dwight: We'll talk to her in person. I asked her to get the permission to do
the autopsy.

(A comminucator in Dwight's suit beeps.)

Vildan's voice: Dwight, we've got the permission. We'll beam you directly to
the autopsy room. Dr. Matthew will be there as soon as he is finished with the patients.

Dwight: Acknowledged. Standing by.

(Dwight, Amu and the two bodies dematerialize.

On board the USS Resilient. Vildan and a Gilchresian in civilian clothes are
walking along the corridor.)

Vildan: As you see, Minister, it is in our mutual interest to keep this matter
as secret as possible.

Minister (of State Security): Quite so, Captain. We shall exhibit uttermost
discretion in our investigation. Be assured that any relevant information will
be passed on to your Intelligence.

Vildan: We appreciate your cooperation, Minister... Also, if you require any
assistance in your investigation, we'll be happy to provide it.

(they enter the transporter room which is empty)

Minister: I thank you for your most generous offer, Captain. However, taking
into account the very delicate nature of this case and the fact that the
presence of outside investigators will most certainly attract attention, I
must decline...Be assured that my decicion is in no way meant to undermine the
trust between the UFP and the Gilchresian Republic - I am acting solely in the
mutual interests of both governments.

Vildan: Be assured that it won't be taken as such. Being a public servant
myself, I understand your concerns.

Minister: The Federation is indeed fortunate to have you as their servant,
Captain Cevelek.

Vildan (smiles): Thank you, Minister.

Minister: My pleasure, Captain. (steps onto the transporter pad)

(Vildan activates the transporter. The Minister dematerializes. Vildan leaves
the room and almost immediately bumps into Amu.)

Amu: Oh, hello Captain.

Vildan: Hello, Leutenant.

Amu: Er, Captain, can I ask you something...

Vildan (suspicious): Forget it, Leutenant. No investigations on your own.

Amu: No, Captain, that's not what I wanted to ask.

Vildan: What is it, then?

Amu: Are we required to wear uniforms at the reception tonight?

Vildan: Mmm...we'll stretch the regulations on this occasion, I guess.

Amu: Thank you, Captain...And about that case.

Vildan: Yes.

Amu: Where did it get transferred - SIS or FCIA?

Vildan: It was SIS.

[SIS is Starfleet - Intelligence Section, FCIA is actually UFP-CIA]

Amu: This is strange, don't you think, Captain?

Vildan: We're not supposed to discuss that, Leutenant. As far as WE are
concerned, the case is closed.

Amu: ....

Vildan: That's the way things are...See you later, Leutenant (leaves)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

(Cargo bay of the USS Resilient. It is empty and dimly illuminated. The door
opens and Amu walks in, very cautiously, carrying a duffle bag in one hand and
Rena's sword in another. Amu takes another look around, then
places the sword and the bag on the transporter platform. She then walks to
the control panel and activates the transporter. The bag and the sword
dematerialize. Amu turns around and leaves the cargo bay.

Cut to sickbay. Rena is lying in bed, sleeping. Dr. Matthew and his nurse are
nowhere to be seen. Amu comes in, she is now dressed in a blue gown, somewhat
reminiscent of XIV century France, though perhaps a bit more "functional".)

Amu (in a whisper): Rena! Wake up!

Rena (she was only pretending to be asleep): How did it go?

Amu (gives her an "OK" sign): All set.

Rena: What took you so long?

Amu: Somebody was in the cargo bay...OK, listen. When I leave, you get in
there and change. We're beaming down in about ten minutes. I've set the
transporter to get you out of there and feed your signal into the carrier
beam.

Rena: Did you get the medal? The new one, that the President gave to me.

(Amu nods)

Rena: Did you get the sword?

Amu: Yeah...Just don't clobber anyone on the head this time.

Rena: Aw, come on, that guy was really asking for it...What was his name, Bill
or Will something?

Amu: Will. Man, we sure are lucky he didn't know we were Starfleet as well.

Rena: You remember that, right? That guy was so pushy, jeez.

Amu: I sure am glad he is not OUR first officer.

(The door opens and Dr. Matthew comes in.)

Dr. Matthew: Hi there, young ladies.

Rena: Doctor, pleeeeze!!!

Matthew: Out of the question, my pretty. You're grounded for the rest of the
week.

Amu: You won't be missing much. I'm pretty sure it's gonna be boring (gives
her a wink which Rena returns).

Amu: Well, I have to get going. See you soon.

Rena: Have fun.

(Amu leaves. A couple of minutes later Rena gets up and puts on her slippers.)

Matthew: Now where do you think you are going?

Rena: BATHROOM! (gets in and locks the door. Inside she opens the duffle bag,
takes out her dress, shoes, etc. and starts changing.)

(Cut to the transporter room. Janosz and Dwight are standing on the platform.
Vildan comes in, dressed in a somewhat risky garment.)

Dwight (appreciative look): Looking great, Captain. May I have the first
dance?

Vildan (smiles): If we survive the official part...(looks at her watch)
Where's Leutenant Sagie?

(Amu rushes in.)

Dwight: There she is.

Amu: Sorry I am late!

Vildan (absent-mindedly): That's all right. (to a person at the transporter
controls) Energize.

(The "landing party" disappears.)

(Inside the sickbay)

Dr. Matthew (knocks on the bathroom door): Leutenant, get out of there.
(after a pause) Very well, you give me no choice...Computer, this is the chief
medical officer speaking. Requesting the sickbay bathroom lock override.

Computer voice: Affirmative. The door lock is now disabled.

(Dr. Matthew opens the door and sees Rena's patient gown, slippers and the
duffle bag.)

Nurse: Doctor! What shall we do?

Matthew: We'll have her head when she comes back. Her science officer friend's
as well...Young people today!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A view of Kazhar at warp speed. On the bridge Pelle is standing near one of
the wall consoles, looking at the schematics displayed on the screen. There is
a neural interface bracelet on his left arm.

The door opens. Mike comes in drinking beer.)

Mike: Hi! Can I come in?

Pelle (without turning): Sure.

Mike: Thanks. Wes has crashed in the room, so I thought I'll just hang around.

Pelle (switches off the interface bracelet and turns around): By all means.

Mike: It's a great ship you've got.

Pelle: It's all right.

Mike: It's not all right, it's awesome! The only thing they told us about
BOP's at the academy is that they are unreliable and have a low safety margin.

Pelle: Only if you don't take care of it. As far as the design goes it is
probably the best.

Mike (not convinced): Really?

Pelle: When it was first introduced - sixty years ago, it was way ahead
of its time. Even now it is still the best all-around ship...well, I heard
some good things about the new Rihannsu "Glorious Inspiration" class, but it's
all hearsay so far, nothing solid.

[Rihannsu = Romulans]

Mike: Glorious Inspiration? I've never heard of that one.

Pelle (smiles): The Starfleet codename is "War Bird IV". It's not a correct
translation, though.

Mike: A new Warbird? But isn't their present design only five years old?

Pelle: Why not, they are a paranoid race. Besides, their present design is
garbage.

Mike: You can't be serious! A War...er, Glorious Inspiration can take out a
Galaxy-class ship.

Pelle (amused): Oh, Galaxy...Galaxy is a joke. Two BOP's can take it out -
easily. It's built for show, not real combat.

Mike: Not when it separates.

Pelle: Yes, but your enemy won't wait for you to separate. Besides, the saucer
section is extremely vulnerable. The only way this can work if you put a
cloaking device on the saucer...in which case you have to put a separate M/A
reactor in there...but if it is powerful enough to sustain a cloaking field it
is powerful enough to drive the on-board weaponry, then the whole separation
idea is unnecessary...Another triumph of politics over common sense.

Mike: You don't think much of Federation technollogy, do you?

Pelle: Not at all. The problem is not technology, in fact it's probably the
best there is. The problem is how it is being implemented. What your ideology
demands and what your survival instincts dictate is in constant conflict.

Mike: Not with the Romulans and the Klingons.

Pelle: You're right about the Klingons. That's why their ship designs are the
most balanced. Not with the Rihannsu, though.

Mike: But still, they always say that Klingon ships are unreliable.

Pelle: It's a cultural problem - mostly. In Klingon society, every male is
expected to become a warrior (this word said with sarcasm), not a technician.
Therefore their repair crews are always stretched thin and consist mostly of
unmotivated losers...But this is also the reason why they were the first to
develop a workable self-repair system. The Federation still doesn't have one.

Mike: No, they started putting one on the new ships.

Pelle: If you are talking about the RRF ships, the AMOS they use is bought
from the Klingons...Same as the one on this ship, actually.

[AMOS - Auto Maintenance Operating System]

Unit: Bleeeep! New information has been received. The USS Enterprise has left
Starbase 37 for Gilchres, apparently on a diplomatic mission.

Mike: Eh?

(The door slides open. Wesley comes in, rubbing his eyes. There are sleep
marks on his face.)

Wesley: Eh, what time is it now?

Mike: Wes, the Enterprise is no longer at 37!

Wesley: What did you say?

Mike: The Enterprise has left for Gilchres...You have any suggestions?

Unit: Bleeeep! Message coming in.

Pelle: From where?

Unit: It is coded and marked for you only.

Pelle: Transfer it to my room (to Mike and Wesley) Sorry...can't get away from
those business calls. I'll be right back. (leaves)

Mike: This is just great, Wes. What are we supposed to do now?

Wesley (he is exhausted and doesn't care anymore): I don't know (in a very
honest voice)

Mike: Well, I know. We're gonna rot at 37 for the rest of our vacation. Thanks
a lot.

(Inside Pelle's room, which is fairly large. The room is a mess and is in
contrast with the rest of the ship. The only tidy spot is a small table near
the bed. A holographic picture of a young vulcanoid female is on the table,
signed in an alien language. Pelle comes in.)

Pelle: All right, what is it? (picks up a portable viewer from the floor)

Unit: Decoding...now.

(Pelle reads the text that appears on the viewer screen. It's a very short
message, basically a bunch of figures and numbers.)

Pelle: Ahh, bioscramble as well. Unit, give me a decoder.

(Two hyposprays materialize on the table. Pelle picks up the first one and
injects the contents into his arm. Switch to the view from his eyes - suddenly
everything in the room becomes a blur except for the message which is now
readable. Pelle examines the message, then closes his eyes and injects the
contents of the second hypospray. His vision slowly returns to normal.)

Pelle (winces): Uhhh...I hate this stuff...Unit, looks like we are not going
to Antanarivu after all. Set course for Sochi. (stands up)

Unit: Very well. The course change has now been effected.

Pelle (winces again and rubs his eyes): Send a message to USS Enterprise. Tell
them that we want to drop those two off and arrange a rendesvois. (leaves the
room)

Unit: Very well. Sending the message now.

(Bridge of Kazhar. Pelle comes in.)

Pelle: Good news for you guys. Looks like I have to change my plans, so Unit
will try to arrange a rendesvois with the Enterprise.

Wesley: Thank you very much, Captain.

Pelle: Captain? You see any crew around? I don't.

Mike: Thanks a lot.

Pelle: You're welcome. (comes up to one of the consoles and starts working).

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A seaside city drenched in water that is pouring from the skies.
Looks like the downpour is not a problem for the diverse and colorful crowd in
the streets. Especially entertaining are the various attempts
to cope with the rain. Bright semi-permeable cloaks that allow bodily
perspiration to evaporate but do not let any water in, antigrav umbrellas
hovering over their owners' heads. One person is walking with a Yakti dragon
on his shoulders, covered by the almost translucent leathery wings of the
animal. But quite a lot of people clearly do not mind the water at all,
preferring to wear swimsuits. A Vulcan couple walks by, dripping wet but
impassive and unperturbed as usual.

The cafe at the pier, built entirely of paper-thin transparent material, looks
like it is about to dissolve in the falling water. The material must be really
strong, though - the flimsy-looking stairs do not bend in the under
the weight of a Klingon couple who are leaving the cafe.
A gray-haired heavy-built human male is sitting at one of the tables. A young
couple is seated at the table nearest to him.

The water curtain at the entrance parts to let in Pelle, who's wearing a white
jacket, light grey pants and a dark green t-shirt. Pelle presses something on
the handle of the umbrella he is carrying. The umbrella folds
into a cylinder the size of a pen, which Pelle puts into the breast pocket.


Pelle (approaches the grey-haired man at the table): It's been a while, Udo.

Udo (looks up): Still feeling young, Pelle?

Pelle (sits down): I guess young enough to feel that three years have passed.

(The couple at the next table shows signs of discomfort)

Udo: I rather wouldn't start our conversation with this, but my assistants are
very sensitive to the thing you are wearing (points at Pelle's rather thick
headband).

Pelle: Betazoids, eh?

Udo: They are here for your protection as well as mine.

Pelle: I can decrease the intensity.

Udo: Please do. They can't monitor the people around with a neural jammer on
your head at full power.

Pelle: It's at 200 kPSI now. They should be able to tolerate it.

Udo: Barely.

Pelle: You can give them my sincere apologies.

Udo: These people are loyal to me. I do not feel comfortable subjecting them
to unnecessary pain.

Pelle (smiles): We all love our tools, don't we, Admiral?

Udo: Tools? Sometimes I wonder if your people have truly discarded their old
philosophy.

Pelle (smiles): My people? How many of them, perhaps a hundred thousand at
most with eighty percent of those unaware of what they actually are. Of the
twenty thousand that remain, no one is in the position of power, not even
remotely. Once we understood that we are not a step forward in the human
evolution, we stepped aside and let the regular humans live their life as they
see fit.

Udo (sarcastic): Or rather been helped to understand?

Pelle: We could have easily regrouped after the Eugenics Wars and started
another round of planet-wide bloodshed. But we did not - on our own free will.
That decision, made more than three hundred years ago, still stands... Yet even
you still perceive us as a threat.

Udo: I do not perceive you as a threat. But I would rather not have you insult
my assistants.

Pelle: Insult? I apologize if it has been perceived as such.

Udo: I believe that we have carried this discussion too far.

Pelle: Quite so...Let's get back to business, shall we?

Udo: I believe you've been to Gilchres a couple of times.

Pelle: Only once. They were considering joining the Federation at that time.

Udo: They still do. That was one of the reasons we've sent in a SWAT team a
week ago, to assist in a cyborg hostage crisis. The operation was a success.
However, the results of the autopsy done on one of the terminated cyborgs were
quite alarming...The design did not confirm to any known standard - but one.
The Borg.

Pelle: Borg? That's interesting.

Udo: Then I assume you won't mind investigating this.

Pelle: This looks like a dangerous assignment.

Udo: What would you say about twice the usual rate?

Pelle: 2.5

Udo: The SIS is investigating this matter as well, so make sure you
don't get their attention.

Pelle: SIS? So your people are off the case...That would be three times the
usual rate.

Udo: There is a limit to how much we can write off in miscellaneous.

Pelle: You can use Infocom funds. What I am asking is barely adequate for what
you are requesting.

Udo: We don't know what it is yet.

Pelle: From what I know about the Borg, they do not plant agents. I assume
that this is some kind of underground weapons manufacturer who got hold of the
Borg technology.

Udo: It's not as easy as you might think.

Pelle: Why not? After all, a Borg ship exploded above the Earth. Lots of junk
floating around, just waiting to be picked up. Plus there were those implants
on Captain Picard.

Udo: The area was swept clean immediately after the explosion. There were no
unidentified ships in the area. All the techincal data on the Borg is
available only with a special security clearance.

Pelle: There could have been a cloaked ship.

Udo: Possible, but highly unlikely.

Pelle: If so, then the only alternative is that there is somebody in Starfleet
with enough authority to have access to the Borg data who is also working for
some yet unknown arms manufacturer... Quite a conspiracy to tackle, if you ask
me.

Udo: We don't know if there is a conspiracy.

Pelle: If not, then why do you need my services? Tell one of the ships under
your command to do an independent investigation. This is well within your
authority.

Udo: You know the answer.

Pelle: Heh, heh (crooked smile)

Udo (takes something out of his pocket): This is the information that we've
got so far.

Pelle: Thank you (takes the chip)...

Udo: The spending money will be in the Infocom account as usual. Any
additional information termed relevant to your investigation will be posted
there as well.

Pelle: What about the payment? I would rather not have it appear in my
Federation account.

Udo: We'll do a wire transfer into a separate Infocom account every two weeks.

Pelle: Perfect...Looks like we've reached an agreement this time. (stands up)
It's been a pleasure, Admiral.

Udo: There is one more thing I wanted to tell you...It's about Praetor
Tessemok.

Pelle (frowns): What about him?

Udo: According to the latest intelligence report, his son has died in an
accident...leaving no children.

Pelle: What makes you think that this is of any relevance to me?

Udo: As it is now, your daughter is his only descendant.

Pelle: He disowned Arsha and her future descendants when she married me. This
is something that no Rihannsu can take back, no matter how powerful.

Udo: With both of his children dead and no one to continue the bloodline he
just might change his mind.

Pelle: He has other means of continuing his family line. The Rihannsu medical
sciences are not as advanced as ours, but they are not in the stone age,
either...Technology-wise, that is.

Udo (shrugs): You know their customs better than I do. Still, I suggest that
you take notice.

Pelle: Good-bye, Admiral.

(Pelle leaves)

_____________________________________________________________________________

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From: [e-mail] (shimkevi)
To: [e-mail]
Subject: Grey Stars 6
Date: Wed Jun 24 18:17 EDT 1992


(A view of Kazhar passing over a house at the foot of a small hill. As the Bird
of Prey goes down, we see two small figures running up the
green slope. One is a little girl, the other one is a large black dog.

The Bird of Prey lands on top of the hill. Pelle jumps out of the airlock and
looks around.

The girl and the dog reach the top.)

Girl: Daddy! (launches herself at Pelle)

(The dog is running around, barking)

Pelle (staggers back from the impact): Hey, you've grown, ai'ni. (holds her in
his hands) Not a little girl anymore, aren't we?

Arisia: No! I am a big girl now!

Pelle: So, when should I say "Happy Birthday"? Now or tomorrow?

Arisia (thinks for a moment): Now! And tomorrow, too!

Pelle (laughs): Happy Birthday! (throws her up and then catches
her)

Arisia: Waah!

Pelle: You scared?

Arisia: Me, scared? No way! I am never scared!

Pelle (winks): That's the spirit, ai'ni.

Arisia: Why didn't you come earlier? Your stupid business again?

Pelle: Yeah...I am sorry.

Arisia: I was afraid you won't come back...like Mommy.

Pelle (forced smile): Don't worry, ai'ni. I will never leave you.

Arisia: You promise?

Pelle: I promise.

(The dog comes up to Pelle and starts sniffing him)

Pelle: Hi, dog. What's up?

Arisia (grabs Bruno, the dog tolerates it stoically): I can't ride Bruno
anymore.

Pelle: Would you like a horse, ai'ni?

Arisia: No, I don't like horses, they are stupid. I want to ride Bruno.

Pelle (smiles): Hmm, you can put him into a landmate.

(Fortunately, the dog doesn't understand what is being said :-)

Arisia (clearly imitating someone): Oh, Daddy, the people here are so
backward, they'll never get it.

Pelle (laughs): You think so?

Arisia: That's what Aunt Dingyi always says.

(Pelle chuckles.

Arisia's bracelet beeps.)

Female voice: Did you get your dad, Arisia?

Arisia: We're coming, aunt Dingyi!

Dingyi: Tell your dad to hurry up. Everyting is cold already.

Pelle: Don't worry, Dingyi. We're coming.

(Pelle and Arisia are walking down the hill, followed by Bruno, who is
sniffing at the holes left by some burrowing creatures.)

Pelle: So, ai'ni, how's everything?

Arisia: It's all right...It's boring here.

Pelle: Yeah, I know...How 'bout this: when you finish school, I'll take you to
Rocinante for a week or two.

Arisia: Wow, really? You promise?

(Pelle nods)

Arisia: But...the school has just started.

Pelle: Well, you see, I have to do some work myself, so when your vacation
starts, I'll be done as well and we both go to Rocinante. Deal?

Arisia: OK, deal. (shakes Pelle's hand)

(Pelle and Arisia now approach the house. It is fairly large and is surrounded
by a weird-looking fence. They walk up the stairs. Arisia puts her hand on the
head of a stone gargoyle at the door. The door slides open. Pelle and Arisia
walk in and are met by a middle-aged couple. They exchange greetings.)

Pelle: So, how is everything here?

Chen: Slow as always. Nothing changes around here...Well, that's why we moved
here in the first place. How about yourself?

Pelle (shrugs): Lots of things out there. Just trying to keep up with the
times, really.

Dingyi: First, let's sit down. Have some real food for a change.

Pelle: What? You've got a multi-scan food processor?

Dingyi: I said REAL FOOD!

(Pelle, Arisia, Dingyi and Chen are sitting at the table. Arisia is bored and
is playing with her empty cup.)

Arisia: Daddy, can we go for a walk?

Pelle (eating): Just a second, ai'ni.

Arisia: Want to see something?

Pelle: Sure, what is it?

Arisia: Can we go, Aunt Dingyi?

Dingyi: You can go. We'll be coming shortly.

Arisia: Quickly, right?

Pelle: Right.

Arisia: Bruno! (runs out of the room. the dog follows her).

(A couple of minutes later there is an agonizing howl from the dog.)

Pelle: Looks like she's really hard on the dog.

Chen: Well, it can't be helped, really. She's just stronger than a human child
her age.

Pelle: I should bring her a sehlat next time.

Chen: Good idea. I hope Bruno lasts till then. (smiles)

Dingyi: The neighbours will just love it...Besides, isn't this climate too
cold for a sehlat?

Pelle: They have some specialized breeds - made for Vulcan families that
work off-planet. The climate shouldn't be a problem. What about the
neighbours?

Chen (sighs): Well, it's a rather...quiet place. Most of the people here
haven't been off planet once in their lifetime. She just stands out, that's
all.

Pelle: Has there been any problems?

Dingyi: With the neighbours - not really. We're telling everybody she's half
Vulcan.

Pelle: Good...Is the school all right?

Dingyi: As far as the kids go - fine. She's much stronger than her classmates,
anyway (smiles). They don't try to tease her anymore. It's a teacher -
doesn't seem to like her. Especially since she came into school wearing that
landmate.

Pelle: What's wrong with a landmate?

Chen: Well, she had a really large water gun attached to it, Mrs. Evoni
thought that it was a phaser rifle and...became really nervous.

Pelle: They don't even know how a real phaser rifle looks like...Happy people,
what can you say.

Dingyi: They are...happily isolated...and she's reminding them of the outside.

Pelle (looks down): I know. But she should learn to accept what she is. This
is a good place to start.

Dingyi: Having her father around for more than two weeks a year would also
help.

Pelle: Yeah, I should spend more time with her.

Dingyi: You said that the last time and disappeared for seven months...If
things keep going the way they are, one day you won't come back. Have you ever
thought of that?

Pelle: In this world it is dangerous just to be alive.

Dingyi: Let me tell you something. You are becoming to think that you are
invincible. Arsha thought that, too - and now Arisia is without a mother...
It's been really hard on her. She still cries at night sometimes,
tries not to show it, but we know.

Chen: Stop that, Dingyi.

Dingyi: Even if Kazhar is the best ship around, it did not protect Arsha and it
won't protect you. If you don't want your daughter to become an orphan, you
should stop - now.

Pelle: I will. After this mission, I will.

Dingyi: I hope you mean it. For her AND for you.

Pelle (looks up): Yes, I mean it...By the way, did they get any planetary
defences here?

Chen: No, not really. Still squabbling whether to repair that satellite.

Pelle: There was a Starfleet report that I've intercepted. One of their
research outposts was wiped out by a snowflake. Not that it was anywhere near,
but still...

Dingyi: Are you serious? This is horrible!

Pelle: I brought something with me...just in case.

(Arisia appears in the doorway)

Arisia: You all are still here!

Dingyi: Sorry, dear. We and your dad had to discuss something.

Arisia (suspicious): Did you tell Daddy about yesterday?

Chen: No, we didn't.

Pelle: Hmm, and what happened yesterday?

Arisia: It was not my fault!

Chen: She was suspended from school for a week. (smiles)

Arisia: It was all Molly's fault!

Dingyi: It's that new girl in class.

Arisia: She called me "long-ears", so I punched her nose.

Pelle: Yeah?

Arisia (with a guilty look): It...it broke, and Mrs. Evoni got really mad at
me. But it was all Molly's fault, really... Are you gonna be mad at me?

Pelle (picks her up and winks): Me, mad at my ai'ni?

Arisia: You are not angry, really?

Pelle: Just don't do it again, OK?

Arisia: No, I won't!

Pelle: So, what is it that you wanted to show me?

Arisia: It's in the garden.

Pelle: All right, let's go. (to Chen and Dingyi) Excuse us.

(Chen and Dingyi nod. Pelle and Arisia leave the room.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------

(Later at night. Chen and Dingyi's hovertruck is standing in the backyard.
Pelle and Chen are dragging something large out of the truck. Dingyi is
standing nearby, "coordinating" the efforts.)

Pelle: Uhh...I could have tried a phased pulse.

Dingyi: They still might detect it. The governor's really nervous every time
you come.

Pelle: They didn' have any transporter restrictions the last time.

Dingyi: Is it THAT heavy?

Pelle/Chen: Uhhh...

Pelle: Where now?

Dingyi: Put it in the shed. We'll think where to install it tomorrow. (looks
at the device on the back seat) What is this thing?

(Pelle and Chen put their load down)

Pelle: Oh, this is a circuit breaker override. It switches off all the users
on the power net except for you. With it you'll be able to power the bank
directly from the planet's power station.

Dingyi: Illegal, I'll bet.

Pelle: Eh, it's a new one. They haven't had the time to outlaw it yet.

(The door opens. Arisia walks out of the house.)

Arisia: Dad? Uncle Chen? What are you doing?

Dingyi: Arisia? You should be in bed!

Pelle: Oh, this is just some equipment for the house that I've brought.

Arisia (comes close and looks at the thing that Pelle and Chen have just been
carrying): Wow! A phaser bank!

Dingyi: Now, how do you know that? (looks suspiciously at Pelle)

(Pelle gives her an innocent look)

Arisia: I saw Mommy calibrate one before...(sniff)...Mommy...

Pelle (comes close to her and puts his hands on her shoulders): I know. It's
hard for me, too.

Arisia: (sniff) Could you walk with me?

(Pelle nods)

Dingyi: Go ahead, we'll manage ourselves.

(Pelle and Arisia are standing under the night sky. Far, far away there are
the lights of the house.)

Arisia: Will you go out there again, Daddy?

Pelle: It will be the last time...I promise.

Arisia: Is it true that you can meet the souls of the dead among the stars?

Pelle: Some people say that.

Arisia: Did you ever see Mommy's soul out there? Just once?

Pelle: ...No...I haven't.

Arisia: Will you look when you go this time?

Pelle (takes Arisia's hand): Yes...I shall always look.

=============================================================================
=============================== THE END =====================================
=============================================================================

Copyright 1992 by Sergei Shimkevich ([e-mail])