Hacker Chronicles 2/HACKER2.BIN/503.SSN-9301.C10

Text File | 1993-03-28 | 36KB | 686 lines

<Episode #1 "United We Stand" continued>

From:  Lt. Maverint Slike

     Having completed docking sequence checks at his duty station
at CON, Maverint stood from his chair to be quickly replaced by a
bright eyed ensign.  Mav walked the slope of the bridge and entered
the turbolift as its twin doors hissed apart at his approach.  He
turned and cast a quick glance at the bridge as the doors closed in
front of him.

     Kate sighed listlessly as she lay bundled in the blankets of
their bed.  She rolled over onto her back slowly and turned her
head to the left, letting her eyes fix into a stare on a picture of
her and Maverint on Erosta propped up on Mav's bedside table.  Her
mind began to wander with thoughts of her and Mav's lives aboard
this starship.  Her thoughts were muddled and filled with self
pity.
     'What about a family?  Is our love for the stars always going
to overcloud our love for one another... until one of us dies in
some strange mishap aboard the fabled _Enterprise_, leaving the other
a broken shell of the person we loved?'  she thought mournfully.
The thought sent a slight chill through her and she rustled the
blankets into a tight cocoon in an effort to fend off the
uncomfortable sensation.
     She thought about her parents on the planet colony of Trenton-
II, right beside Maverint's family on its neighbouring planet
colony of Hindrid.  Her parents' lives always seemed so simple and
fulfilling, not complicated with thoughts of duty, desire and
family like her own.  Of one of the many things she and Maverint
had shared with each other in their short time as husband and wife,
the one thing that came to Kate's mind at this moment was how it
was ironic that their desires to be a part of the stars had brought
them together.  It was the thought of traveling amongst those
burning lights in the skies and travelling to places they could not
yet imagine that drove them both to enter the Academy.
     With Kate's mother's background as the chief medical officer
of the colony, Kate's instant ambition was to follow her mother's
example.  Kate had graduated with top honours and had been almost
immeadiately assigned a post aboard the U.S.S. _Salk_.  It was on one
of the _Salk_'s missions that she met Maverint.  His Royal Sovereign
class battlecruiser had been severely damaged by an internal
explosion and the number of injuries were great among its crew of
850.  Maverint had offered her his help in tending to the wounded,
whenever his schedule of repair work would allow it.  They became
close friends over that time and from there, their relationship
grew into love.  They were married shortly thereafter and spent a
short time on the resort planet Erosta, enjoying their honeymoon.
     When they returned to duty as a married couple without
immediate plans for a family, they were both reassigned to the
_Enterprise_.  Kate now wondered if it had been a wise decision to
accept their commissions aboard a vessel which forbade the
inclusion of children and was renowned for its 'encounters'.
     Her eyes began to feel heavy and she closed her eyes, trying
to blank her mind of the thoughts of family that seemed to torture
her...

     Maverint entered their quarters in the dark.  Trying as best
he could to be quiet, he walked into the bedroom and saw his wife
dozing.  Normally, he would have left her to her rest, knowing her
shift started just an hour from now.  It was the sight of her hand
clenched tighly around the edge of the blanket, so tight that even
in the dim light Mav could see the knuckles were white, that
brought him to sit on the side of the bed.  At the movement of the
mattress, Kate stirred and sat up.  Mav looked into her sleepy
eyes, glistening in the dimly lit darkness.  They were filled with
a look of despair... love... wanting.
     In that brief look, Mav understood the source of all of these
emotions.  He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him.
She wrapped her arms around him and they hugged.  Mav lightly
brushed over her long brown hair with his hand as her head rested
against his shoulder. He knew of no words that could come to his
lips that would ease her mind... or his own.


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     Jack rapped at the stateroom door.
     "Come," said a voice from within.
     The door opened, and Jack walked into Barnabas' stateroom to
find him seated at his personal tech-console, hands moving
restlessly across the touchpad.  "What are you working on?" she
asked.
     "Oh, just bacterial stuff.  Really it's Krystan's pet project,
but she has this amazing ability to find everything but the
obvious."  He swivelled around in his chair and looked up at her.
"Thanks for coming by."
     "Well, when you called I assumed it was important.  What's on
your mind?"  Jack walked over to the settee and sat down, crossing
her legs and folding her arms.  Barnabas followed and eased himself
into the overstuffed armchair, his silver eyes serious.
     "It's about the Borg," he said.  "Are you...okay about this?"
     "Do I wish I could take him apart gear by gear for what the
Borg did to my father, you mean?"
     "Well, if you want to put it that way, yes."
     Jack smiled.  "No.  Why blame Nikctalos for the sins of his
fathers?  The fact that he's left the Borg shows that he doesn't
approve of their ways, and his greatest desire seems to be finding
a way to cut himself off from them forever."
     "Seems to be," said Barnabas.
     "Yes.  I know:  he could be a spy.  But the Borg consciousness
doesn't work like that.  They're utilitarian--they conquer by
superior technology and armed strength, not by stealth.  In other
words, they're highly intelligent and exceedingly adaptable, but
they're not clever.  Spying simply wouldn't occur to them.  Being
a good spy requires acute psychological awareness, both of oneself
and of one's enemies.  And the Borg gave that up with their
humanity."
     "You're saying, in effect, that the Borg don't lie."
     "Do computers lie?"
     "They malfunction."
     "But malfunctions are as abhorrent to the Borg as a loathsome
disease would be to us.  Any malfunction would be immediately
corrected, or the unit would be terminated.  And Nikctalos,
technically, is in perfect working order."
     "But he's still tapped into the Borglink."
     "At this point, in order to survive, he has to be."
     "What if they take him over?  I don't think anyone wants a
killer Borg on the loose."
     "According to his psychological profile the danger of the
Borglink battering through Nikctalos' mental defenses is minimal,
and James has just informed me that it may be possible to cut
Nikctalos off from the link entirely."
     "As your mother did with your father."
     "Yes... well, almost entirely."
     "Okay," said Barnabas.  "But let's take a worst-case scenario
here..."
     "Barnabas, if this is what you're really worried about, I've
made a thorough study of Nikctalos' technical specs.  All I'd need
would be a second's distraction, and I could take him down.  I've
also briefed his Second, Lt. Mordon, on this matter.  So whatever
happens, there's no cause for concern."
     The Lieutenant nodded.
     "Is that all?" Jack asked.
     "Yes," said Barnabas.
     "Good."  She got to her feet and headed for the door.
Barnabas remained silent.  Something made her stop and turn back to
scrutinize his averted face.  His expression was one of guarded
melancholy, as usual.  "Are you okay?" she asked with more
gentleness than was her wont.
     He did not look up.  "I'm fine."
     "Our Counsellor will be arriving soon," Jack said.  "You might
want to talk to her."
     "No thanks," said Barnabas, a bitter metallic undertone
creeping into his voice, "I've had enough of misdirected pity.  You
can't counsel what you don't understand."
     Jack was silent.  "No," she said at last.  "I suppose not."
She turned and left the stateroom, and the door hissed shut behind
her, leaving Barnabas alone in the half-light, staring out the
viewport into space.


From:  Lt. Cmdr. Mac Scott

     As the turbolift climbed towards the bridge Mac's stomach
swelled.  This was going to be his first real mission on board the
_Enterprise_.  Imagine, Mac Scott, Lieutenant Commander, Chief of
Engineering onboard the flagship of the Federation.
     The doors opened, and in walked something Mac wasn't
expecting...a Borg!  "Hello Lieutenant Commander Scott."
     "uhhh....Hello...You have me at a loss, sir...You know my name,
but I don't know yours?"  Of course Commander Picard had told him
about the Borg security officer.
     "Nikctalos D'pyrann is my name sir."
     "Well Nikctalos D'pyrann then it's nice to meet you."
     "Nice to meet you?...Ahh a form of greeting.  I'm sorry I'm
still trying to adapt to the ways of non-Borg society."
     "So Nikctalos....ummm you're the Chief of Security?   Right?"
     "Yes that is correct Lieutenant Commander Scott."
     "Hey Nikctalos just call me Mac.  We're co-workers and equal
rank so don't worry about calling me by my full title when we're
not on station.  Besides titles always bothered me.  My mother
named me Mac not sir, or Lieutenant Commander."
     "Very well Mac I think this is the bridge."
     "Yep looks right, time to meet the rest of the new crew.  Come
on Nikctalos my friend let's go to work."
     "Mac?"
     "Let's assume our stations Nikctalos."
     "I see...Of course Lieutenant Commander Scott."
     "GROAN"


From:  Dr. James N'Dok

     "N'Dok to Picard."
     "Go ahead, James," piped the pleasant female voice of Jack,
the _Enterprise_'s First Officer.
     "The Borg has been assigned today, correct?"
     "The Lieutenant?  Sure!  Why do you ask?"
     "Well, I've read some medical information on them, and I
understand that people _do_ feel undercomfortable around them."
     "Right again."
     "I _could_ change him back to a human, you know."
     Jack was silent.
     "Jack?" he asked.
     "James, you'll have to give me some time.  Besides, he's just
getting used to things."
     "Sure thing Commander.  Just let me know what everyone else,
including the Borg, thinks..."



From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     Jack sat in the council chambers, gazing at the small
viewscreen before her.  She had two notices of acceptance to put
through:  one to Counsellor T'Pryn and one to Centurion Salek.  As
First Officer, it was her duty to inform the candidates of their
acceptance:  when they boarded the _Enterprise_ they would be
privileged to meet their Captain.  Still, not knowing either T'Pryn
or the Romulan made things a little difficult.  Notifying James had
been a lot easier.
     But she was not one to hesitate.  "Computer, establish a sub-
space communication link to Starbase 218."
     There was a slight pause.  "Established."
     Jack sat straight up in her chair and gazed down at the screen
with her father's air of cool command.  "Starfleet Sub-Space
Communication, Stardate 59818.3.  Commander Jacqueline Picard to
Lieutenant Commander T'Pryn of Starbase 218, greetings.  Your
application for the post of Counsellor on the _Enterprise_ has been
thoroughly examined in accordance with Starfleet regulations, and
it is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted.  We
will be arriving at Starbase 218 in 2.5 days, at which point you
will be asked to transfer immediately to the _Enterprise_.
Congratulations, Counsellor, and welcome to the _Enterprise_ crew."
     "Send as dictated?" asked the computer.
     "Send," said Jack.
     Now for the Romulan.  "Establish a sub-space communication
link to the Romulan ship Amaloch."
     The pause was a lot longer this time, but not as long as it
might have been:  it was fairly easy to locate a ship that was at
the Federation Peace Talks.
     "Starfleet Sub-Space Communication, Stardate 59818.3.
Commander Jacqueline Picard to Centurion Salek of the Romulan
warbird Amaloch, greetings.  Your application for exchange has been
thoroughly examined in accordance with Starfleet regulations..."
     When she had dictated the message to her satisfaction,
informing the Centurion of the duties he must perform as Tactical
Officer and the limitations of his access to Starfleet records and
computer systems, plus the necessity of a Second to keep watch on
him in accordance with the agreed-upon terms of the exchange, she
closed the communications port and got up.  Stretching stiff limbs
she moved to the viewport and stared out at the stars streaking by
outside.
     "A Borg at Security, a Romulan at Tactical, and a Vulcan
Counsellor," she murmured to no one.  "Starfleet is going to think
us completely mad..."
     Then she remembered one communication she had not delivered.
Tapping her badge she said crisply, "Lieutenant Nikctalos D'Pyrann,
report to the First Officer in the counsel chambers immediately."
     "Responding, Commander," came the Borg's dead, metallic voice.
     Jack sat back down at the head of the long glassy table,
crossed her legs, and waited for the Borg to enter.  She had only
to wait a few moments before the door hissed open and Nikctalos
clanked in.
     "Lieutenant," she said, indicating the seat to her left.  The
Borg took it.
     "It has been brought to my attention," she said, looking him
directly in the eye--well, she supposed that telescopic
protruberance served the same purpose as an eye, though it hadn't
the same cosmetic appeal--"that our Chief Medical Officer, James
N'Dok, believes himself capable of severing you partially or
totally from the Borglink, and, possibly, returning you to a more
or less human state.  I had no intention of accepting such an offer
on your behalf; indeed, I was not sure you would be interested.  So
I told him that I would inform you of the possibilities, and that
he must await your decision on the matter."
     The Borg was silent, but she could almost hear the gears
whirring as he contemplated this unexpected information.  "He would
remove my mechanical appendages and make me small and pink like
you?"
     Small and pink wasn't exactly the way Jack would have
described herself or indeed humans in general, but she let this
pass.  "Perhaps--if you wish it.  However, I have not the same
confidence in the Doctor's ability on this score.  I discussed the
matter with the Captain, who as you may or may not know is also a
doctor, and having made an intensive study of your medical records,
she believes that one who has been a Borg all his life could not be
deprived of his servo-mechanisms without being crippled or killed.
That is a risk neither of us ask you to take."
     "Nor am I willing to take it," replied the Borg.  "I am Borg.
I do not obey the Borg Mind, but even so I will not be other-than-
Borg.  Borg is--" he paused fractionally-- "what I am."
     Jack nodded.  "But perhaps he can help with the Borglink.  You
might wish to consult with him on the matter when you are off-
duty."
     Nikctalos inclined his metal-shrouded head to her.  "I will do
so.  Request permission to return to duty, Commander Jacqueline
Picard."
     "Permission granted," said Jack.


From:  Centurion Salek

     "Go ahead."
     "Centurion, you have a sub-space communication from the
Federation Starship _Enterprise_."
     Salek was suddenly nervous. Here was what he had been waiting
for: the acceptance, or denial, of Starfleet.
     "I'll take it here."
     He walked across the room to his personal communications
screen. When he turned it on, he quickly read the report.
Acceptance.
     Salek could barely contain himself. All along, he was not sure
whether he had been hoping for acceptance or rejection. Now that he
had been accepted, he knew.
     Suddenly, he stopped his personal celebrations. He thought
carefully to himself. Was the name on the communique "Picard"?
Glancing back to the screen, he searched for the name. Yes, there
it was: Commander Jacqueline Picard.

     Sevana was a Rank 7 Officer. She was also Salek's closest
friend.
     "Hmmm. I see your dilemma, but I can see only two possible
ways to resolve it."
     "And those are...?"
     "One. Do not accept the assignment."
     Salek thought a moment, then shook his head. Sevana sighed.
She had hoped he would stay. She had grown quite fond of him
recently.
     "Two," she continued. "Confront her with it immediately."
     Now it was Salek's turn to sigh. "I had already come to that
conclusion. I was just hoping for another way around it."
     "Well, there is a slight possibility that she doesn't know
about it."
     "No. Even if that is so, deception is not the way to start off
a relationship. Especially not with one's superiors!"
     "No," Sevana corrected him. "Commanding Officers. You are
Romulan. You have no superiors."
     Salek thought to himself, _That train of thought will have to
go, if the talks are successful._  "Sevana, thank you. Your advice
and your presence have both brought me peace. Will I see you in the
mess later?"
     She wrinkled her nose. "Not if you will be eating any of that
awful Terran food again."
     Salek smiled. "No. My last meal will be Romulan."
     She smiled back. "In that case, I'll see you then. Oh, by the
way, what was it you were eating the other day?"
     "A Terran delicacy. I believe they are called 'Sweet Breads'."

     A light bleeped on the bridge. The communications officer
responded. "Yes?"
     "Officer, this is Centurion Salek. Inform me immediately when
the _Enterprise_ arrives. Then, hail them, and let them know I wish
to be shuttled over. Request the pilot by name: Commander
Jacqueline Picard."
     "Understood, Centurion."


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     It was morning, time for Jack to begin her shift on the
Bridge.  Barnabas, as Second Officer, generally took the night
watch plus a considerable overlap; he seemed to require less sleep
than ordinary humans.
     Jack had awakened at 06:30 hours, and spent an hour in reading
and contemplation, as had been her habit for the last fifteen years
(though she would never forget the look on her father's face when
he'd first caught her studying what he regarded to be primitive
religious scribblings).  Once that was done she generally took only
half an hour to dress, take breakfast in her quarters, and
otherwise prepare herself to face the world.
     Gazing at herself in the mirror, she drew the front layer of
her autumn-coloured hair back from her face and pinned it behind
her head, letting the rest fall straight to brush her shoulders.
It was a style at once professional and feminine, softly but neatly
framing her fine-boned features.  There:  now she was ready.  She
turned and headed out the door.
     Her communicator clicked just as she was getting into the
turbolift.  She touched it on and said "Picard here."
     "Commander," said Barnabas' voice, "we have just received a
communique from the Romulan ship Amaloch.  Centurion Salek is on
board the ship and wishes to be transferred over to the _Enterprise_
by shuttle.  We are currently proceeding on an intercept course
with the Amaloch, and shuttle Hawking is primed and ready in
Docking Bay #3.  We should be within shuttle distance of the
Romulan ship in 12.6 minutes."
     "Good," said Jack.  "Notify one of our shuttle pilots--"
     "Commander," Barnabas said, "there was an unusual request from
Centurion Salek.  He wishes you to be the pilot of the shuttlecraft
for the rendezvous."
     "Me?  Why me?"  Jack wasn't easily surprised, but this one was
a corker.  "Did he give any explanation?"
     "He only said that he knew it was highly irregular, but he had
some important information which could be disclosed only to you."
     Jack shook her head.  "Does this smell as funny to you as it
does to me, Mr. Cole?"
     "He seemed...sincere," said Barnabas.  "You don't have to do
it if you don't feel comfortable about it, of course.  The Captain
gave permission for you to be released from bridge duty if you
should choose to accept the Romulan's terms, but...it's up to you."
     Jack was silent for a long moment, weighing the situation in
her mind.
     "Commander?  Are you still there?"
     "Yes," she said.  "Tell the Captain I will return as soon as
possible to take up my duties on the bridge.  I am currently
proceeding to Docking Bay #3.  You may inform the Amaloch that a
shuttle is on its way over--but don't tell them it's me."
     "Aye, sir."
     Jack touched her com-badge off and spoke into the silence:
"Docking Bay #3."  As the turbolift began to hum she leaned back
against the wall and folded her arms, staring down at the floor
between her feet.  "Centurion Salek," she murmured.  "And he wants
to talk to me... but why?"
     She couldn't even begin to guess at the answer to that, but
she guessed she'd soon find out.


From:  Centurion Salek

     Salek looked out the viewport at the _Enterprise_, situated
beside the Amaloch. He was impressed.
     "Centurion Salek, report to Shuttle Bay #2"
     He sighed. This was it. He picked up his personal carrier, and
left his quarters.
     As he walked the corridors, he was soon joined by Sevana.
"Salek. I...I just wanted to wish you good luck."
     "Thank you, Sevana. And, congratulations on your promotion."
     She looked down on her uniform, the insignia of Centurion
blazoned upon it. "Thank you. I wish it were under happier
circumstances."
     He smiled at her. Of all the acquantances he had made aboard
the Amalock, she was special. They had passed through the Bay doors
by this time, and turned to each other.
     "Sevana, I want you to have something before I go." He reached
into his carrier, and pulled out a necklace. It was his family
emblem. She gasped.
     "Salek! Is this...what I think it is?"
     "Yes, it is. Before I go, I want to know that you are promised
to be mine."
     She accepted. He helped her put it on, then faced her again.
He saluted. She returned it, smiling.
     Just then, the shuttle from the _Enterprise_ entered the Bay.
Sevana turned to go, with a last, parting glance.
     He approached the shuttle after it had docked. Its doors
slowly opened. "Permission to come aboard?" he shouted to the
interior.
     "Granted." It was a female's voice. He entered, the doors
closed, and the shuttle left the bay, as silently as it had
entered.

     Salek waited in the passenger area. It must be her, he
thought. It has to be.
     He estimated the shuttle to take about 40 minutes to reach the
_Enterprise_. Ample time to speak with her.
     The doors to the pilot's section hissed open. In walked a
young woman. Salek stood, and saluted.
     "Centurion Salek, reporting as ordered."
     "We can dispense with formality for the time being, Centurion.
I am Jacqueline Picard. Call me Jack."
     She sat down across from him, and he took his seat. They
studied each other. Finally, Jack broke the silence.
     "Centurion, I was told you requested me personally."
     "Yes, I did."
     "Well, here I am. Now, what is this important information that
you can only give to me?"
     "Important information? Is that what they told you? Hmm. Sums
it up about right, but delivers a false sense of degree. Yes, it is
important, but it is of a personal nature."
     He was really getting nervous now. "Commander....Jack. What do
you know of the Nibi star system?"
     She stiffened slightly. "Nibi?  Only what is commonly known.
Yellow star, five planets.  It was also the system where the former
_Enterprise_-D was destroyed by the renegade Romulan warbird, the
Decius... but it was there also that the first groundwork was laid
for peace between the Federation and the Romulans."
     Salek nodded. "Commander, what I am going to tell you, I am
telling you because...because you have the right to know. Your
father was on that ship, was he not?"
     She nodded.
     "Records also show that the Commander of the Decius was
Tomalak."
     "Yes.  His ship was also destroyed in the battle."
     "And they found that he had willingly cooperated with a
parasitic alien race--"
     "The Qelb," said Jack, her face contorting with disgust.
     "Yes.  With his help they had infiltrated the high ranks of
the Romulan command, but after the Nibi episode the Romulans
admitted what was going on and the Federation helped them."
     "Yes.  What are you getting at?"
     "Well, here is what was not on record:  Tomalak had had some
very traumatic experiences before.  Also, his wife had died
recently.  Add to that the fact of his disgraceful reduction in
rank, it is easy to see why he became...unbalanced."
     He paused. He looked up to study Jack a little further, try to
find a hint of what she was thinking. Nothing. He sighed.
     "Bluntly, he was crazy.  Insane.  He blamed the Federation for
what had happened.  Specifically, he blamed Picard.  He went out,
hoping to gain retribution.  Some thought he was possessed by the
Qelb, but he wasn't.  Just crazy."
     Just then, the computer interrupted them. "Shuttlecraft
approaching _Enterprise_. Please standby to dock."
     Jack got up to enter the pilot section, but paused.
"Centurion, I am grateful for the information. What I don't
understand is why you felt I needed to know this."
     "Because, Commander, I am the son of your father's killer."


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     Jack stared at the Romulan, a sick feeling working its way
from her stomach up into her throat.  Salek said nothing, but she
could read the question in his eyes.  What were they going to do
now?
     If he had been a Klingon he would have expected her to kill
him; in that society the son was held accountable for the father's
actions.  But Romulans no doubt had a different view of things.
The fear in Salek's eyes was not the fear of death, just natural
apprehension.  After all, Jack was First Officer of the _Enterprise_,
and the Captain trusted her judgment; if she chose she could send
this Romulan right back to the Amaloch.  And she couldn't say that
she wasn't tempted to do exactly that--though not for the reasons
one might expect.
     "Were you with Tomalak, when he killed my parents?" said Jack
abruptly.  The Romulan looked up at her, startled, incomprehending.
She rephrased the question:  "Did you help him?"
     "Of course not.  If I'd been on the Decius then, I wouldn't be
here talking to you."
     "Did you approve of his actions?"
     "No."  His fist tightened, his heavy brow drawing downward in
a frown.  "No, I did not.  I tried to stop him."
     "Well, then," said Jack with a calmness she did not feel,
"what difference does it make that he was your father?  Welcome to
the _Enterprise_ crew, Centurion."  She turned and headed into the
pilot section; the door sealed itself shut behind her.  For a long
moment she stared out at the stars twinkling in the blackness
around of them, the shadowy bulk of the _Enterprise_ drifting ahead.
Then she slumped in her chair and put her hands over her face,
taking long, shuddering breaths.
     She didn't hate this Romulan; there was no reason for her to
hate him.  And even if she had felt him to be guilty for his
father's sins, it was her responsibility to forgive--once, seven
times, seventy times seven if need be--and, as much as she could or
should, to forget.  She fully intended to do just that.
     The only thing that made her wish she could send him back to
his ship was that his presence on the _Enterprise_ would be a
constant reminder to her of what she had lost in that desperate,
senseless battle ten years ago.  She knew her parents' sacrifice
had not been in vain as far as the Federation was concerned--far
from it--but their premature deaths had grieved her deeply.
Especially because she knew she would never see them again.
     But that was something she must learn to live with.  There was
no logical reason for sending this Romulan away, and she was not
given to fabrication:  therefore he must remain, and she must try,
as best she could, to endure until the pain had faded and somehow
she could make this enemy a friend.


From:  Counsellor T'Pryn

     "I've just tried and tried," said the woman miserably, "but I
can't seem to get over it.  You can't imagine what New Paris was
like.  I've been here for three years now, and I'm still frightened
of my own shadow.  Now they're saying that maybe I ought to leave
Starfleet."
     "Is that what you want to do?" asked the Counsellor.
     "No!"  The Ensign wrung her hands, eyes filling up with tears.
"I know I could be so good if only they'd give me the chance--"
     "Are they then trying to prevent you from fulfilling your
responsibilities?"
     The Ensign blinked.  "Well, no."
     "Then how are they not giving you a chance?"
     "Because they don't understand how hard it is for me!  They
expect me to do all kinds of things--"
     "Like your duty?"
     The woman leaped to her feet.  "Oh, fine!  Now I suppose
you're going to tell me I should leave Starfleet, too!  Just great.
Look, forget I ever came here, okay?  I should have known better
than to try and explain feelings to a Vulcan.  You don't feel
anything, do you?  You just sit there and analyze the facts."
     The calm expression in the Counsellor's eyes remained
unshaken.  "I believe you know better than that, Marielle.  I do
sympathize very much with your sufferings.  However, if your fears
are preventing you from being effective in your post here on the
Starbase, a leave of absence, time to relax and view your situation
from a new perspective, might well be beneficial.
     "I would like to say that I can take away your fears.  I
cannot:  I can only listen, and assure you that I care.  It is
because I care that I would recommend the path that I have
mentioned.  It need not be forever:  only a short time, and then if
you wish you could easily return to Starfleet.  Will you consider
it?"
     The Ensign's face was white.  "How can you be so cold?  This
is my whole life we're talking about!"
     "Starfleet is your whole life?"
     "Yes!"
     "Then a leave of absence would certainly be best.  There is so
much more in life, Marielle.  Perhaps you need to find that before
you can really decide whether you can give your all to Starfleet,
or whether you should choose another path."  The Counsellor flicked
a fold of blue skirt across her knee.  "Count that advice from
someone who has seen both sides of the world."
     "So you've seen it.  But you're in Starfleet now, aren't you?"
snapped the woman.  "You chose what you thought was the better of
the two."
     "I chose," said the Counsellor levelly, "what was logical
given the circumstances.  My husband died, Marielle.  I had to do
something."
     "You--"  The Ensign gaped at her.  "I'm so sorry.  I had no
idea--"
     The dark-haired woman waved it off.  "It is in the past.  But
do understand; you cannot decide based on what anyone else has done
with their lives.  I have given my recommendation:  it is up to you
whether to follow up on it."
     Marielle nodded, lips tightening as she fought to hold back
tears.  "Maybe you're right.  I don't know.  I'll think about it."
     "Good," said the Counsellor.
     "Will I--see you next week, then?" asked the Ensign timidly.
     The Vulcan woman shook her head.  "I fear not.  I have been
accepted to serve on board the _Enterprise_, and will be beaming over
in just a few hours.  However, whether you choose to stay in
Starfleet or leave, there are many excellent counsellors available
to you.  Perhaps--they will be more able to understand your needs.
I regret any errors I have made in your case."
     "No," said Marielle.  "No, it's not your fault.  You give very
good advice.  I mean--if I just want a shoulder to cry on, I
could go to any of my friends for that.  It's okay.  I'm sorry I
snapped at you.  I--well, never mind.  Thank you.  Goodbye."  She
backed toward the door, with a thin, sheepish smile, and half-
walked, half-ran into the corridor.
     The Counsellor took a deep breath.  "Well," she said.  Then
she rose from her chair and continued her packing.  The _Enterprise_
would be arriving at Starbase 218 shortly:  there was no more time
to waste.


From:  Cmdr. Jacqueline Picard

     "I hear our new Counsellor is a Vulcan," said Jack to her
companion as they walked down the corridor, and suppressed a smile
as Barnabas' eyes snapped wide in astonishment.
     "A _Vulcan_ Counsellor?  Are you out of your mind?"
     "Assuredly not," Jack said serenely.  "Her name is T'Pryn, if
I recall correctly, and we will be picking her up at Starbase 218
very soon."
     "Vulcans don't become Counsellors," said Barnabas.  "It's
ridiculous.  What does a Vulcan know about emotions and needs?  The
diplomacy aspect of the job she could no doubt handle quite
admirably, but counselling the crew?  Nobody would go to her in a
million years."
     "You might be surprised," Jack told him.  "I've examined her
profile and she seems to be quite--refreshing in her views."
     "I'll believe it when I see it," replied Barnabas.

     Some hours later, Jack and Barnabas stood in the transporter
room and watched silently as the figure of the _Enterprise_'s new
Counsellor coalesced on the platform.  It was clear that T'Pryn was
a true Vulcan, at least in appearance:  the small, slight figure
had the pointed ears and finely drawn features that were her
people's trademark.  But where most Vulcan women preferred a
clipped, severe style to their hair, T'Pryn's black tresses
cascaded down around her shoulders in ripples and curls, and more
astonishingly still, there was a decided sparkle in those wide
green eyes.
     "Greetings, Counsellor T'Pryn," said Jack politely.  "Welcome
to the Starship _Enterprise_."
     "Greetings to you, Commander Picard," replied the woman.
     "May I introduce you to Lieutenant Commander Barnabas Cole,
our Science Officer," Jack said, turning to the silver-eyed man,
and frowned as she realized that the Lieutenant was actually
gaping, his eyes fixed on T'Pryn.  With a frown Jack turned back to
the Counsellor--and nearly gaped herself.
     T'Pryn was _smiling_.


From:  Mac Scott

     Suddenly the entire ship lurched violently.
     "Commander Scott what's going on down there?"
     "I'm not sure Captain it appears as though the warp drives
have..."
     "Commander?"
     "Well seized up Captain."
     "Seized up?"
     "Yes.  I'll give you a report as soon as I can figure out what
the heck's going on down here."
     "Very well Mr. Scott.  Captain Lestat out."
     The drive chamber was completely dark.  It was almost as if
the reactant simply stopped existing.  What had happened--a hole in
the continuum or something?  Well whatever it was, Mac Scott was
going to get to the bottom of it...or die trying.
     Thank God we're docked, he thought as he went to work.

<The End of Episode #1 "United We Stand">
<Look for Episode #2 "The Game is Afoot" in the next issue of SSN>