God, I'm sick of saying this.  Paramount owns Star Trek.
Alan Decker (That's me if you don't know by now) owns the
rest.

Author's Note: Galactic Censors have thoroughly scanned this document,
removing anything they found offensive.  Frankly, Commander Baird's
lucky to still have a part.


STAR TRAKS V:
	In The Way-Station
		by Alan Decker

	ACT ONE: The Discovery

	Chapter One

	"Captain's Log.  Stardate 50216.4.  The Secondprize is 
finally getting back to the business of exploring strange, new 
worlds and seeking out new life and new civilizations.  We're back 
to boldly going where no one has gone before.  It's about time, 
too.  I've had enough of responding to distress calls, carrying 
supplies, and transporting admirals and ambassadors.  I want to be 
on the frontier facing the unknown...as long as the unknown isn't 
better armed than we are.  Maybe we'll find a nice planet of 
happy, sexually uninhibited people to spend some time with.  That 
would be great.  Explorers need to relax a bit.
	Speaking of relaxation.  Our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Rebecca 
Singer has been relieved of duty to go take a nice, LONG 
vacation at the Federation Funny Farm on Tantalus V.  It was a 
difficult decision, but, after she almost drowned Nurse Kelley in 
tears during the delivery of Ensign Kreiger's baby, I had to 
remove her from duty.  We are currently operating without a Chief 
Medical Officer, but Starfleet Command assures me that they'll get 
us a new one as soon as they can.  
	In the meantime, we are on course to the edge of charted 
space.  Then we'll be on our own.  No starbases nearby.  No 
Starfleet Command to contact for advice.  No starship to race to our 
rescue... What the hell are we doing?  We could be killed!"

	Lieutenant Patricia Hawkins stared woefully into the glass of 
tranya sitting on the bar in front of her.  Absently, she stirred 
the orange liquid with her finger. 
	"If the drink's that depressing, I can get you something 
else," a voice said from behind the glass.  Hawkins looked up at 
Trinian, the hostess of Seven Backward.
	"I'm sorry, Trinian," Hawkins replied.  "The tranya's 
great...really."
	"I didn't know you could drink through your fingers."  
	"Don't you have any other customers to tend to besides me?"
	"Sure, I do.  I'm taking care of my other customers by 
dealing with you.  Your mood's bringing down the whole place, so 
spill it!" Trinian demanded.
	"It's just...well...he's so damn aggravating!"  Hawkins 
shouted these last few words.  Seven Backward fell completely 
silent.  Every eye was upon her.
	"Thanks, Patricia.  You do wonders for the atmosphere in here," 
Trinian whispered.
	"Go back to what you were doing!  NOW!" Hawkins ordered.  The 
lounge patrons quickly shifted back to their tables.  The wrath 
of the Secondprize's Chief of Security was something no one wanted 
to incur.
	"I take it that you are referring to Commander Dillon," 
Trinian said.  She really didn't even need to ask.  Hawkins and 
Dillon had become almost friends over the course of the last 
couple of months, much to the surprise of most...well actually all 
of the crew of the Secondprize.  Hawkins was the last person 
people expected to befriend an officious, obnoxious, overbearing, 
egotistical jerk like Commander Travis Michael Dillon.
	"Of course, I'm talking about Travis!"  Hawkins snapped.  "He 
is, unfortunately, the only male in my life at the moment."
	"Wait, you two aren't..." Trinian looked at Hawkins concerned.
	"Aren't what?"
	"You know...doing stuff."  Last Trinian knew, Dillon and 
Hawkins were just friends.  If Patricia had taken things 
farther...uggh, it was too horrible to contemplate.
	"God, no!" Hawkins exclaimed.  "He's driving me insane enough 
just being a friend.  Any more would push me over the edge."
	"What's the problem?"
	"Well, believe it or not, deep inside Travis's dipsh** exterior 
is a halfway decent guy.  You just have to be very patient and 
lucky to catch a glimpse of it."
	"I don't think I have that kind of patience," Trinian said.
	"Neither do I, and that's the problem.  I made the mistake of 
actually liking the nice guy I caught just a  few glimpses of.  
Because of that, I've been getting to know Travis better and 
spending time with him.  If I could get him to..."  Suddenly, the 
doors of Seven Backward whooshed open, and Lieutenant Emily 
Sullivan stormed angrily into the lounge.  She threw herself onto 
a stool at the other end of the bar.
	"Hold that thought," Trinian said to Hawkins.  The hostess 
walked over to Sullivan.  "Can I get you anything?"
	"A very large phaser rifle would be a start," Sullivan 
mumbled.
	"Wanna talk about it?" Trinian asked.
	"An ion storm is disrupting subspace communications, dammit!" 
Sullivan shouted.
	"I'm not trying to sound insensitive, but so what?"
	"I can't talk to Brad."
	"Who?" Trinian said frustrated.
	"He's this guy I met on SDS."
	"What's an SDS?"
	"The subspace dating service.  He runs a mining operation out 
on..."  The doors opened again revealing Commander Scott Baird.  He 
charged toward the bar, saw Sullivan, stopped, and headed for a 
table over by the viewport.  He sat down and slammed his fists 
against the table.  It was the only time Trinian had seen 
transparent aluminum break.
	"We'll talk later," Trinian said heading off toward the 
Secondprize chief engineer.
	"But what about Brad?" Sullivan wailed.
	"He's probably got six eyes and a massive overbite," Trinian 
snapped irritated.  One person complaining about their problems 
was annoying enough, but she was already up to three today.  
Patience and compassion were starting to run thin.
	"WHAT?!" Sullivan said.
	"Nothing," Trinian said, regaining her composure.  "Now hold 
on a minute."
	"What about me?" Hawkins called from across the bar.
	"Take a number!"  Trinian marched over to Baird's table.  "What 
the hell is your problem?" she shouted.  Baird looked up at her.  
The look in his eyes could have frozen a star.  "Speak, dammit!"
	"I'm having a bad day, O.K.?" he said slowly.
	"No way, mister.  You stormed into my lounge, and now you're 
going to talk to me," Trinian sat planting herself in the chair 
across from him.
	"The f***ing warp core is..."  The doors opened allowing 
Lieutenant Lisa Beck to enter.  She walked straight to the 
viewport and began staring out of it blankly.
	"Run a level one diagnostic and get over it," Trinian said 
distractedly to Baird as she got up and headed toward Beck.  Four 
unhappy people in ten minutes.  This was getting REALLY annoying. 
 She went and stood by Beck quietly.
	"If I had wanted to talk, I would have gone to see Counselor 
Webber," Beck said without looking at Trinian.
	"I didn't say a word," Trinian replied.  "I just came over 
here to get away from everyone else."
	"Right.  Look, if you really want to know, I'm just not 
feeling a lot of...job satisfaction at the moment."
	"Join the club," Trinian replied.
	"What?"
	"Never mind.  Go on."
	"I'm underappreciated.  No one cares about what I do."
	"The communications officer plays a vital role in starship 
operations."
	"Maybe seventy years ago, but not now," Beck said.  "Most 
starships don't even have them anymore.  My career's in a rut, and 
I'm being wasted here."
	"There are worse jobs."
	"Like?"
	"Being bartender here," Trinian said.  Beck smiled weakly.
	"Thanks, Trinian.  I feel a little better at least."  Beck 
turned at walked to the doors.  This made Trinian even more 
annoyed.  Beck actually thought Trinian was trying to cheer her up. 
 Damn her.
	"TRINIAN!!!" Hawkins and Sullivan whined in unison.  That was 
the last straw.
	"Oh, go get something resembling lives, you two!" Trinian 
shouted as she walked back behind the bar.  Just then, the doors 
opened and Captain Alexander Rydell entered the lounge whistling to 
himself.  Hawkins and Sullivan took the opportunity to retreat 
from the lounge.
	"Good afternoon, Trinian," Rydell said, flashing her a broad 
smile.
	"What are you so damn happy about?" she snapped, turning on 
him.  "Of course, it's not like you have any worries.  You've got 
it so easy sitting up on the bridge in your cozy padded chair 
while I sit down here having to listen to these fools complain.  
Well, I've had it!"
	"Is there a problem?"
	"Yeah, you and everyone else on this damn ship!"
	"If I came at a bad time..."
	"Shut up!"
	"Look, I..." Rydell stammered.
	"You, you, you!  Who cares?"
	"Can I just have..."
	"Get it yourself!"  Trinian said.  She pulled her hat off and 
slammed it down on Rydell's head until the brim was somewhere 
around his nose.  He heard loud footsteps and then the sound of 
the doors opening.  A second later, the doors opened again.
	"I do not think that the hat is quite you, sir," Lieutenant 
Commander Jaroch's voice said from behind him.
	"Shut up and get me to sickbay.  I think this thing has 
molecularly bonded to my eyebrows."

	Chapter Two

	"Captain's Log.  Stardate 50218.6.  I have returned to duty 
after my short stay in sickbay.  It would have been a lot shorter 
if they hadn't given me that unrequested appendectomy.  I cannot 
wait until we get a new chief medical officer to get those 
butchers under control.  
	Otherwise, ship's operations are running smoothly, and 
there's nothing interesting to report.  Two days exploring the 
unknown, and we haven't found a thing.  I just hope that this 
doesn't continue.  The crew has a tendency to do strange things 
when they're bored."

	The tension on the bridge could have been sliced with a 
phaser.  The bridge crew manned their stations with a heightened 
sense of anticipation while Captain Alexander Rydell and Commander 
Travis Dillon paced back and forth across the bridge floor listening 
to Lieutenant Commander Jaroch.
	"Seven, six..."
	"Almost there," Dillon said, stating the obvious.  Rydell 
shot a quick, angry look at him.  "Sorry."
	"Two, One."
	"Fifty quadrillion kilometers!!!" everyone shouted.
	"We have been out here way too long," Jaroch said turning away 
from the odometer on his science console.
	"What do you mean?" Dillon asked.  "Going this far is a major 
milestone for any starship.  I'm glad that I was here to witness 
it.  This will be something that I'll remember until the day that 
I die."
	"I do not doubt it," Jaroch replied.  "I am sure that you must 
fill the space in your head with something."
	"What was that, Lieutenant Commander?" Dillon demanded.  
"That remark was a severe breech of chain-of-command etiquette and 
protocol.  A reprimand will be showing up on your record, believe 
it."
	"Oh, stow it, Dillon," Captain Rydell said.  "Jaroch's right."
	"That my head's empty!" Dillon shouted.
	"No...well, yeah, O.K. there's that, but I mean he's right 
about us being out here too long.  It's been almost a week since 
we left Federation territory and we haven't seen a thing 
except uninhabited solar systems."
	"Those systems will be perfect for new colonies, though," 
Dillon said.
	"Yeah, but we're supposed to be encountering the unknown out 
here.  We haven't run into one alien yet!" Rydell said.
	"Captain, I am detecting subspace waves," Jaroch reported.
	"You had to say something," Dillon mumbled.
	"Are they naturally occurring?" Rydell asked, rushing up to 
Jaroch's console. 
	"I do not believe so, sir, but they are not of any type that 
I am familiar with."
	"Could they be a message?" Dillon asked.
	"They are not of any type that I am familiar with," Jaroch 
repeated with an edge of anger in his voice.
	"I'm working on it," Lieutenant Lisa Beck said from the 
communications console.
	"I am quite capable of handling this myself, Lieutenant," Jaroch 
said, his irritation growing further.
	"But if it's a message, I'm the one with the best chance of 
translating it," Beck retorted.
	"Do and DIE, mortal!" an deep rumbling voice bellowed from 
Jaroch's body.  Rydell dove toward Lieutenant Patricia Hawkins.  If J'Ter 
was out, the safest place to be was behind the Secondprize's chief 
of security.
	"That is my job," Beck said, refusing to back down.  Jaroch/J'Ter 
stood up from his console and walked over to Beck.
	"You will be destroyed."
	"Will you two grow up and stop bickering?" Dillon said.
	"SHUT UP!!!" Jaroch/J'Ter and Beck shouted.
	"Gotcha," Dillon said weakly.  
	"Now, are you going to let me to my job, psycho-boy, or do I 
start knocking off a few of your past lives," Beck said calmly.  
Jaroch's eyes glazed over for a second.
	"I seem to have lost control there for a moment," Jaroch said, 
looking around confused.  "I apologize."
	"Thank you," Beck said.  She turned back to her console and 
got to work.
	"You can get up now, sir," Lieutenant Hawkins said, pocketing 
her phaser.
	"Thanks," Rydell said embarrassed as he picked himself up off 
the bridge carpet.  "You have the bridge, Number One."  Rydell 
walked toward his ready room.
	"I don't want it," Dillon said nervously.
	"Too bad, you've got it anyway.  Let me know when you find 
out something," Rydell replied as he left the bridge.  Dillon 
glanced at Beck and Jaroch.  They smiled back evilly.
	"Mommy," Dillon squeaked.

	"Jaroch to Captain."  The voice of the Secondprize's science 
officer pulled Captain Rydell out of the Piers Anthony book he was 
reading.
	"Rydell here," he replied.
	"I have located the source of the subspace waves."
	"I'll be right there.  Rydell out."  He switched off his desk 
computer and left the ready room.  The bridge looked pretty much 
the same as it had when he left half an hour earlier except Jaroch was 
looking very pleased with himself and Commander Dillon was curled 
up in the command chair babbling incoherently.  Rydell ignored his 
first officer and joined Jaroch back at the science console.  "What 
have you got?"
	"Well, sir, the waves are being emitted from the fifth planet 
in the J-39 system.  At warp five, we can be there in four hours," 
Jaroch reported.
	"Sullivan, lay in a course and engage," Rydell ordered.  
	"Sir?" Ensign Larkin said.  "Lieutenant Sullivan 
can only lay in the course.  I have to engage it, sir."
	"I don't care who does it," Rydell said.  "Just get us 
there."  Sullivan and Larkin went to work at their respective 
consoles, while Rydell wished for the ten-thousandth time that he 
had a modern starship with a conn station like everyone else.  
Pushing the thought out of his mind, he turned to Lieutenant Beck.
	"Report, Beck."
	"I haven't got much yet," Beck said, clearly frustrated.
	"You should have let me do it," Jaroch said.  Beck glared at Jaroch 
furiously.  Lieutenant Hawkins reached into her pocket and held 
her phaser out to Beck.
	"That's enough," Rydell said before Beck had a chance to 
vaporize Jaroch.  "Let me hear what you do have."  Beck pressed a 
button on her console and a loud whine started screaming out of 
the speakers on the bridge.
	"EEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNN the 
YYYYYYNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN a 
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE."
	"That's all you've got?" Rydell asked.
	"I'm afraid so, sir," Beck replied.
	"Well, keep working on it."

	"We're entering orbit around the fifth planet," Ensign 
Larkin said.
	"Good.  How's it look, Jaroch?" Rydell said.
	"Class M...barely.  The surface is arid.  There is a group of 
small structures near the planet's equator.  The waves are coming 
from one of these buildings."
	"Life signs?" Dillon asked.
	"None that I can detect," Jaroch replied.
	"That's strange," Rydell said.  "Everybody left, and they 
forgot to turn things off."
	"Ha!" Lieutenant Beck shouted suddenly.  "I've got the 
translation."
	"Let's hear it," Rydell said.
	"Welcome, visitors.  You may follow this signal to the 
landing coordinates.  Have a nice day."
	"That's it," Dillon said when the computer had finished 
speaking.
	"It?!" Beck shouted.  "That took me five hours."
	"Good work, Lieutenant," Rydell said, diffusing the 
situation.  He stopped for a minute to think.  "Well, I guess we're 
just going to have to send a team down.  Dillon, take Jaroch and 
Lieutenant Russell down and..."
	"Sir, request permission to accompany the away team," Beck 
said.  "If they find any written examples of this culture's 
language, I have the best chance of translating it."
	"Granted," Rydell said.  Dillon, Beck, and Jaroch left their 
positions and got into the turbolift.
	"So," Dillon said friendlily as the turbolift descended.  
"You two are going to be nice to each other on this mission aren't 
you?"  He sincerely hoped that Hawkins's advice for dealing with 
crewmembers was going to work.
	"Oh, I'm sure that we'll be fine," Beck said with a forced 
smile.
	"I have no doubt," Jaroch replied.  "We are professionals, and 
know when to let our colleagues with more experience and ability 
take over.  Right, Lieutenant?"	
	"I'm not the one that you need to tell that to," Beck 
replied.
	"Are you insinuating that you have more experience than I?"
	"I'm telling you."
	"Really, Miss I-Need-Five-Hours-To-Translate-Hello," Jaroch 
retorted.
	"That's it, Commander Nut-Boy!"
	"Help me!" Dillon screamed.



	Chapter Three

	Dillon, Jaroch, Beck, and Lieutenant Sean Russell materialized 
on a sandswept cliff overlooking a vast wasteland of dirt.  At the 
edge of the cliff on a pedestal sat a tablet with some kind of 
writing on it.
	"See what you can make of that thing, Beck," Dillon ordered. 
 Beck smiled victoriously at Jaroch and walked over to get to work.
	"Yes," Jaroch said.  "Contact us when you have a translation.  I 
am sure that it will only take you a year or so."
	"Let's check out these buildings before someone gets hurt," 
Dillon said quickly.  He grabbed Jaroch by the arm and pulled him off 
toward the large, metal structures behind them.
	"Fun place, huh?" Russell remarked.
	"Yeah, a real barrel of laughs," Beck replied, not looking up 
from her tricorder.  "The one time I get off the ship, and where 
do I end up?  A dustball accompanied by a nit-wit and a know-
it-all."
	"You've still got me," Russell said with a smile.
	"True," Beck relented.
	"Great.  How about we have dinner tonight in celebration of 
having found each other in this desolate hell-hole?"
	"Sean!"  She should have seen it coming.  They could have 
been stranded on a planet about to be engulfed by a super-nova, 
and he still would have asked her out.  It was just his nature.  
About a quarter of the female crewmembers on the Secondprize could 
vouch for that.
	"What?" he exclaimed.  "I was just asking."
	"Why don't you go help the others?" Beck said irritated.
	"All right, I'm going."  Russell trudged off feeling dejected 
until he remembered that ensign in Astrophysics he'd been meaning 
to ask out.  If at first you don't succeed, try try again.  Eventually, 
someone had to say yes.
	
	"What is this place?" Dillon asked as he and Jaroch entered the 
largest of the structures.  The room they had entered was 
cavernous.  The ceiling was dominated by a giant starchart showing 
various planets marked with the same unintelligible writing that 
was on the tablet outside.  Jaroch quickly recorded the chart in his 
tricorder for later study.  
Dillon walked over to a long counter 
on the far side of the room.  As he approached it, a panel in the 
counter's surface opened up, and a small round object levitated 
out of it.  The object was all metallic silver except for a black 
band around it's center.  It made some obnoxious, incoherent 
noises at Dillon, then the black band opened revealing a small arm 
which reached out toward Dillon.
	"What have you found, sir?" Jaroch asked walking over.
	"I was about to ask you the same question," Dillon said.  The 
robot repeated its earlier noises and moved the arm a bit.
	"The universal translator should have something for us in a 
second," Jaroch said.  "That is assuming that Lieutenant Beck's 
translation was accurate."  He said lieutenant with obvious 
contempt.
	"You don't like her much, do you?" Dillon said.
	"I do not like what she stands for," Jaroch replied.  "People who 
I outrank that believe they can outperform me."
	"Yeah, I hate that, too," Dillon said.  "All of those stupid 
underlings who have no respect for rank and regulations.  If 
Captain Rydell enforced regulations we wouldn't..."  As Dillon 
droned on, Jaroch rethought his views on the matter.  He couldn't 
believe that he would actually have the same view as Dillon on 
something.  Coming out of the first officer's mouth, it sounded 
like a horrible, pretentious thing to believe.
	"Thank you, Commander," Jaroch said, interrupting Dillon.  "You 
have made me see the error of my ways."
	"Error?" Dillon said confused.  "But, I agree with..."
	"Not now, sir, the translation is coming through," Jaroch 
snapped.
	"Welcome to Edgeworld.  May I see your reservation?" the 
electronic monotone voice from the tricorder said.
	"Reservation?  This is some kind of hotel?" Dillon said.
	"I believe so, sir," Jaroch replied.
	"Welcome to the edge of the universe, gentlemen," Beck's 
voice said from behind them.
	"Explain, Lieutenant," Dillon said turning toward her.
	"Well, according to that plaque out there, we are now 
standing at the edge of Multek space," Beck said.
	"Multek?" Jaroch asked.
	"Would you please just give us the whole story?" Dillon 
demanded.
	"All right," Beck huffed.  "This place is some kind of 
tourist attraction for these people called the Multeks.  This is 
one corner of their space.  They don't believe there's anything 
beyond here except an empty void."
	"They've got a surprise coming," Dillon commented.
	"What exactly does the plaque say?" Jaroch asked.  Beck looked at 
her tricorder and started reading.
	"This is the end of habitable space.  Beyond this point lies 
the great void of emptiness.  Multek society has filled all that 
there is to fill.  Rejoice in our accomplishment while enjoying 
the vast view of the void."
	"You have got to be kidding me?" Dillon said.  "What kind of 
weirdos are these people?  Filled all that there is to fill.  
Yeah, right!"
	"Where's Russell?" Beck asked, looking around.
	"We thought that he was with you," Jaroch said.
	"I sent him to find you guys," Beck replied.
	"Great," Dillon said.  "You two contact the ship and tell 
them what we found out.  I'll go find Russell."  Dillon drew his 
phaser and walked cautiously out of the building.
	"There is no one here to attack him," Jaroch said, shaking his 
head in disgust.
	"We can always hope," Beck replied.  Jaroch almost smiled.
	"Lieutenant, I... want to apologize for any comments I may 
have made that..."
	"Me too," Beck said quickly.  The last thing she wanted from 
Jaroch was a sappy show of emotion.  Getting attacked by J'Ter would 
be better.  "Let's just call it off."
	"Agreed," Jaroch said.

	"Russell?" Dillon called into another one of the buildings.  
He'd checked two others already and hadn't found a thing except 
more babbling robots.
	"In here, sir," Russell's voice shouted back from far inside 
the building.  Dillon entered, his phaser ready.  He found Russell 
in a small room near the back of the building.  He was laying on 
his stomach on a long metal table while a robot that looked like 
some kind of giant spider crawled over his back.  "This thing is 
great!" Russell exclaimed.
	"What is it?" Dillon asked fearfully.
	"It's a massager!  I've got to take this back to the ship 
with me.  Can you imagine the dates I'd get with this little 
beauty sitting in my quarters?"
	"I don't think I want to," Dillon replied, backing out of the 
room.

	"A tourist attraction?" Captain Rydell said in disbelief.
	"That's right, sir," Lieutenant Beck's voice replied.  "It's 
kind of like the Lookout Mountain attraction in Tennessee.  Except instead of 
being able to see seven other states you can see..."
	"Vast emptiness," Rydell finished.
	"That is correct, sir," Lieutenant Commander Jaroch's voice said.
	"Good work, you two," Rydell said.  "See what else you can 
find out.  Secondprize out."
	"Sir, there's a ship approaching our position from inside 
Multek space," Lieutenant Craig Porter reported from the science 
station.
	"On screen," Rydell said, getting out of the command chair.  
The starfield image shifted to included a small but growing ship. 
 It was approximately the length of the Secondprize, but it was 
shaped more like a sideways obelisk with vast wings extending from 
either side.
	"It doesn't match anything in Federation records," Porter 
continued.  "Our scans are having a hard time penetrating the 
ship, but I believe there are at least four hundred life forms 
aboard."
	"Weapons?" Rydell asked.
	"Nothing standard," Hawkins reported.  "They're either 
unarmed or using something we've never seen before."
	"I not going to bet on the former," Rydell said.  "But we'll 
give them the benefit of the doubt for now.  Hail them, Hawkins."
	"But that's not my job," Hawkins said.  "I have to watch the 
tactical board and..."
	"Never mind!" Rydell snapped.  Yeoman Tina Jones picked that 
exact moment to exit a turbolift.  "Jones, take communications."
	"But I just need you to sign these..."
	"Now, Jones," Rydell said forcefully.  Jones shrugged and 
walked back to the communications console behind and to the left 
of Rydell.  "Hail the Multek ship."  Jones looked at the console 
confused.  She tentatively hit a couple of buttons and hoped for 
the best.  Suddenly, the image of a humanoid creature appeared on 
the screen.  It had midnight blue hair, pale white skin, and red 
eyes.  Rydell straightened his uniform and stepped forward.
	"This is Captain Alexander Rydell of the Federation Starship 
Secondprize.  We are a peaceful organization of planets dedicated 
to the exploration of the cosmos."
	"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the alien screamed in horror.  The 
communication was suddenly shut off.
	"There's some type of power surge building on their ship!" 
Hawkins shouted.
	"Shields up!" Rydell said.  A burst of blue light lanced out 
from the Multek ship and slammed into the shields.
	"Shields are down to sixty percent!" Hawkins said.
	"Well, so much for that approach," Rydell remarked.
	"They're moving away, sir," Hawkins reported.  "May I return 
fire?"  Rydell could see that her finger was hovering over the 
phaser controls.
	"No, Lieutenant.  Lower shields and beam up the away team."
	"Vaughn to bridge," the voice of Lieutenant Monica Vaughn, 
the Secondprize's transporter chief, said suddenly.
	"What is it, Lieutenant?" Rydell asked.
	"I've lost the away team's signal," Vaughn said.  "Something 
just snatched them off the planet's surface!"
	"Gee, I wonder who," Rydell said softly as he watched the 
retreating ship growing smaller and smaller on the viewscreen.



	Chapter Four

	"Follow them, Larkin," Captain Rydell ordered.  "But keep a 
friendly distance.  We don't want the Multeks to do anything 
rash."
	"You mean like shoot at us and kidnap our people without any 
provocation," Lieutenant Hawkins said.
	"OK.  We don't want them to do anything else rash.  Is that 
better?" Rydell asked.
	"Sorry, sir.  I was just..."
	"We'll get them back, Lieutenant.  Trust me," Rydell said 
flashing her a confidant smile.  "I want a briefing on the whole 
situation.  I want sensor logs, transporter logs, the whole bit.  
The senior officers will meet in the observation lounge in ten 
minutes."
	"Uh...sir," Porter ventured.  "Why are we going in there?  
It'd be easier just to do it out here."
	"Look, Porter," Rydell snapped.  "We've barely used that room 
once the entire time I've been captain.  Now, we're going in there.  Is that clear?"
	"Got it," Porter said turning back to the science console.

	"I'd really love to know what just happened," Commander 
Dillon said as he stared at the steel-blue wall that just appeared 
in front of him.
	"We've been moved!" Russell exclaimed.
	"Please let me handle this part," Jaroch said irritated.  "Your 
observation, however astute, does not help us."  Jaroch began scanning 
their new surroundings with his tricorder.  They were in a ten 
foot by ten foot metal room.  One of the walls was open revealing 
a hallway.  The border of this wall was glowing with a greenish 
light.
	"This place looks uncomfortably like a brig," Beck said.  She 
tried to move her hand out into the hallway.  A green barrier 
flashed into existence blocking her hand with a large blast of 
energy.  "Yep, it is," she gasped, holding her painful hand. 
	"My scans are being blocked somehow," Jaroch reported.  "I'm  
detecting life-forms, but I cannot discern their numbers or 
location."
	"That's it," Russell said, drawing his phaser.  "I'm getting 
us out of here."
	"No!" Beck, Dillon, and Jaroch shouted, but it was too late.  
Russell fired at the invisible barrier which deflected his phaser 
beam right back at him.  He dove to the floor just in time to 
avoid having his head fried off.  Unfortunately, he was too slow 
to save some of his hair.  A three inch wide section of his black 
hair had been scorched off right down the middle of his scalp.
	"You could try something sane before you pull out the 
phasers," Dillon said.  He tapped his commbadge.  "Dillon to 
Secondprize."  An ear-piercing wail blasted through his badge.  
Dillon quickly hit the badge again to close the channel.  "Well, 
I'm open to suggestions."
	"Yeah, me too," Russell said.
	"Get a clue," Beck said.
	"What?" Russell said.
	"Just a suggestion."
	"The odds of escaping our confinement are very low," Jaroch said. 
 "Astronomically low.  Impossibly low.  We just cannot escape."
	"That bad, huh?" Dillon said.  Jaroch just looked at him.  "Oh."
	"Radical thought here guys, but why don't we try contacting 
whoever grabbed us," Beck said.
	"That would be the intelligent thing to do," Jaroch said.
	"Yes, why didn't I think of that?" Dillon said.
	"I think I just explained that, sir," Jaroch said.
	"I'm going to try to send a message out with the tricorder's 
data transmission circuits," Beck said as she recalibrated her 
tricorder.  "Hopefully, our captors will be able to receive and 
understand it.  If we're real lucky, the Secondprize will get it 
and come save us."
	"When have we ever been that lucky?" Jaroch asked.

	"All right, Lieutenant Porter," Rydell said as he sat down in 
the plush chair at the head of the table in the observation 
lounge.  "What have we got?"  As he sat, a huge cloud of dust rose 
up from the chair engulfing the captain. 
	"I guess this room doesn't get used much," Porter said.
	"No," Rydell said with a cough.  Porter, Hawkins, Vaughn, 
and Jones sat down carefully to avoid a similar dust eruptions.  
Commander Scott Baird remained standing.
	"Look," Baird said before Porter could answer the captain.  
"This isn't an engineering problem, so I don't need to be here, 
right?"
	"Scott, you're a senior officer, so you have to sit through 
these briefings just like the rest of us," Rydell replied.
	"Yeah?!  Well, I don't see Dillon or Jaroch here!"
	"They've kind of been kidnapped," Rydell said, trying to 
remain calm.  "That's why we're having this meeting in the first 
place.  Now sit down!"
	"Well excuse the f*** out of me," Baird said as he took his 
seat.
	"Go ahead, Porter," Rydell said.
	"The Multek ship is constructed from an alloy that I do not 
recognize.  We can't get exact life-form readings, but I am 
estimating that there are at least four hundred persons about the 
vessel.  The ship is using basic impulse engines.  I cannot detect 
the materials generally associated with warp travel, but they may 
either be blocked from our scans, or they may have a totally 
different system."
	"So you haven't found out a thing," Rydell said.
	"No."
	"What about the away team?" Hawkins asked.
	"They may be over there, but I can't locate them," Porter 
replied.  "For all we know they could be dead by now.  The Multeks 
could have cut them open for experiments or just vaporized them 
straight off."  Hawkins's fists tightened in anger.
	"Thanks for the positive outlook there, Porter," Rydell said. 
 "Let's go on the assumption that they're still alive, O.K.?  
Lieutenant Hawkins, your report."  She glared at Porter one last 
time, then turned to the captain.
	"The beam they hit us with was some type of subspace 
distortion ray," Hawkins reported.  "Our shield harmonics were 
such that most of the rays effect was deflected and the remainder 
was absorbed.  The down side is that if they adjust the ray's 
frequency so that more is absorbed, our shields will take more of 
a beating than they did this last time.  If they can take out 
forty percent of our shields with only a fifth of their ray's full 
power, a full power shot may destroy us."
	"Even more good news," Rydell remarked.  "Vaughn, what about 
their transporters."
	"I scanned the surface for transporter signatures, but the 
only ones I detected were ours.  Whatever the away team was picked 
up with, it's nothing like anything we have in our technology," 
the transporter chief said.
	"Perfect," Rydell said.  "How about you, Jones?"
	"Well...I don't really know anything about communications, so 
I really couldn't tell you anything new," Jones said.  "On the 
bright side, the computer has perfected it's Multek translation 
matrix, so we'll have instantaneous communications through the 
universal translator."
	"That's good at least," Rydell said.  "Well, it seems that 
we're just going to have to muddle through on our own, or hope 
that the away team manages to save itself."	
	"Brilliant!" Baird said.  "Can we leave now?"
	"Yeah, yeah," Rydell said.  The briefing room cleared in a 
cloud of dust leaving the captain alone, lost in thought.


	Chapter Five

	Lieutenant Beck was the first to hear the humming noise 
outside of their cell.  She glanced over at the other members of 
the away team.  Dillon and Russell had fallen asleep, and Jaroch was 
staring at his tricorder and mumbling to himself.  Beck picked 
herself up off the metal floor and tried to look out beyond the 
force field for the source of the hum.  The corridor was empty.  
There were two more cells along the wall and a door at the far end 
of it, but there were no signs of life.  The humming stopped, and 
the door at the far end of the hall slid open quietly.  A deathly 
white humanoid with deep blue hair and eerie red eyes stepped into 
the corridor and approached their cell.
	"Somebody's coming," Beck whispered urgently.  Jaroch quickly 
stood up and kicked Dillon and Russell to awaken them.  Commander 
Dillon cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and straightened 
his uniform to prepare for their visitor.
	"Try to keep him talking," Jaroch said.  "The longer he is down 
here, the better chance I will have of calibrating the tricorder to 
get through the force field and get a good scan of him."  The 
Multek stopped in front of their cell and stared in at them.
	"I am Commander Travis Michael Dillon of the Federation starship 
Secondprize," Dillon said, stepping toward their visitor.  "This 
kidnapping is an extreme violation of Federation law and our rights 
as individuals.  I demand that you release us from this cell 
and return us to the Secondprize or the next available Federation-
aligned ship in the vicinity."
	"You are not of the enclave," the alien said.  He seemed like 
he knew it to be true, but was just accepting it for the first 
time.
	"Uh...no we aren't," Dillon said confused.
	"But we'll gladly join if you'll let us out," Russell added 
hopefully.
	"But there are none outside of the enclave," the Multek said. 
 He seemed to be having some kind of debate within himself.
	"Actually, there are many outside of the enclave," Beck said 
kindly.  She almost felt sorry for this Multek, and he was the one 
holding them prisoner.  He seemed so lost and confused.  "We 
represent an organization of many other races throughout the 
galaxy."
	"No!  There are none, but the Multek!!!" the Multek shouted. 
 "You cannot and do not exist."
	"Then how do you explain us?" Dillon asked.
	"You are a hallucination."
	"So, you're using up power to keep some hallucinations in the 
brig," Dillon said.
	"I must declare myself unfit for duty," the Multek said, 
shaking his head.  "I have lost my sense of reality."
	"You're telling us," Russell said.
	"I must go now, my imaginary prisoners."  The Multek turned 
and trudged sadly back down the corridor.
	"Were you able to get a reading, Jaroch?" Beck asked.
	"Most definitely," Jaroch replied.  "Since I knew what I was 
trying to scan, I was able to adjust the tricorder's scanning 
frequencies until I negated the effects of the force field."
	"What did you scan for?" Beck asked.  "They're completely 
alien to us."
	"The movement of his mouth when he spoke," Jaroch replied smugly. 
 	"Great," Dillon said, thoroughly disinterested on how it was 
done.  "What did you find out?"
	"Well, the entire ship is surrounded by some kind of 
dampening field which prevents scans from penetrating the ship," 
Jaroch reported.  "The force field in this cell has the same effect, 
but it also jams all normal communications traffic and deflects 
phaser fire."  Russell involuntarily felt the new bald streak on 
the top of his head.
	"Well, that explains why they didn't take any of our stuff.  
But the important question is can we get out of here?" Beck asked.
	"I believe so," Jaroch replied.  "If we set the phasers to the 
frequency which I used to scan outside of the field, they should 
be enough to hyper-energize the field.  This will cause the field 
generators to overload and, most likely, shut down."
	"What do you mean most likely?" Dillon demanded.
	"There is also a chance that the overload will cause them to 
explode, killing us all instantly."
	"Lovely," Beck muttered.
	"Is that our only option?" Russell asked.
	"No," Jaroch said.  "We could also just sit and wait until we rot 
into unrecognizable hunks of flesh and bone."
	"Oh," Dillon said.  "In that case, what frequency do we set 
the phasers on?
	"I had a feeling that you would see it my way," Jaroch said.

	"Report, Kroll," the captain of the Multek ship barked as 
Kroll entered the bridge after returning from the brig.
	"The imaginary ones are still there, Captain Wuddle," Kroll 
said.
	"You mean that you think you saw imaginary beings in the 
brig," the science officer said.  Kroll fell silent as he tried to 
work things out.
	"Yes...I thought that I imagined having a hallucination of 
beings who don't exist in our brig, and I also didn't really have 
a conversation with them because they aren't really there and 
couldn't have made me hear what I thought I imagined that I heard 
...I think."
	Suddenly, alarms blared across the bridge.  The Multek 
science officer rushed back to his console to see what was 
happening.
	"Captain!  The ship is imagining that the unreal ones that we 
think we might be hallucinating as existing in our brig just 
pretended to overload the brig force field.  I am now imagining 
that the illusionary aliens are entering the transport shaft!"
	"Where are they pretending to go?!" Captain Wuddle demanded.
	"The computer thinks that the imaginary ones are headed toward 
the craft in the landing bay."
	"They have to go through the passenger area to get there!  
There'll be chaos!  Quick, Kroll, go stop them...or pretend to 
stop them...whatever!"
	"But, Captain," Kroll said.  "I have seen the imaginary ones. 
 I must be suffering from hallucinations and am, therefore, unfit 
for duty."
	"I don't care.  Go stop the imaginary ones from going near 
the passengers!"  Kroll turned and rushed back into the transport 
shaft.  He wondered if his blaster would have any effect on 
imaginary beings.  Sometimes, being the ship's security officer 
just wasn't a great job.
	"Send a message back to Multos informing them of our 
situation," Captain Wuddle ordered after Kroll had left.  He was 
just the captain of a passenger liner.  Imaginary beings were the 
military's problem, not his.

	"How much farther, Jaroch?" Commander Dillon asked as they exited 
the Multek version of a turbolift and began walking down a long 
hallway.
	"The shuttlebay is at the end of this corridor," Jaroch replied, 
looking at his tricorder.
	"What about these doors?" Russell asked referring to the long 
rows of red doors lining either side of the steel grey hallway.
	"They appear to be quarters," Jaroch said.  "Each is occupied by 
at least one Multek."
	"In other words, let's move fast and quietly," Dillon said, 
moving ahead at a brisk jog.
	"Die, imaginary ones!" Kroll shouted suddenly as he dove out 
of a transport shaft in front of the away team.  He was pointing 
some type of weapon at them.
	"Well, so much for doing this quietly," Beck remarked.
	"What do you mean die?" Dillon asked.  "If we're not real, 
you can't kill us."  Kroll stopped to think, allowing his weapon 
to drop a bit.
	"Oh yeah, well...how about disappear imaginary ones?" Kroll 
asked.
	"How about not?" Russell said.  He dove forward, catching 
Kroll in the stomach with his bald spot.  They fell to the deck, 
wrestling for control of Kroll's weapon.  Suddenly, a door opened 
to their right.  Russell and Kroll looked over and saw a Multek 
child with his mother.
	"What's that, Mommy?" the child asked pointing at Russell and 
Kroll.
	"It's not polite to point at things that don't exist," the 
mother replied and herded her child back inside their quarters.  
Kroll took advantage of the distraction to pull away from Russell. 
 He put his weapon against Russell's head and slowly stood up.
	"Ha!  I have you now, illusionary alien type being!"  He was 
immediately struck by three phaser beams as Dillon, Jaroch, and Beck 
fired.
	"Grab him," Dillon ordered.  "Hopefully, the Multek's will be 
a little less willing to blast us out of space if we've got one of 
their own people with us."
	"Sir, I doubt that kidnapping one of their people is going to 
help us win the Multeks' friendship," Jaroch said.
	"Why?" Beck asked.  "We don't exist to them, remember.  This 
Multek will just be going on a little trip with four of his 
imaginary friends."
	"You are just saying that to disagree with me," Jaroch said 
annoyed.
	"Maybe," Beck replied with an evil grin.  They walked off 
down the hall while Russell, struggling under the weight of Kroll, 
tried to keep up.

	"I think that I have an idea, Captain," Lieutenant Porter 
said from the science station.  "It's a bit of a longshot, though."
	"Anything would be useful right now," Captain Rydell replied 
as he got out of the command chair and headed back to Porter's 
station.  "What have you got?"
	"The dampening field blocking the Multek ship from our scans 
must be set to a particular frequency."
	"Just like our shields are."
	"Exactly.  Now if we could find the frequency of the Multek's 
field, we could overload it with the phasers," Porter said.
	"So how do we find the frequency?"
	"I'm not sure, sir, but if we did it would definitely get 
their attention."
	"Yes, but what do we do when they start firing back at us?" 
Lieutenant Hawkins said from her position at the tactical console.
	"That may not be a problem," Captain Rydell replied.  Hawkins 
could see a familiar glint in his eye.  He had an idea.  "Just get 
me that frequency, Porter."  He walked back down to the command 
chair and looked out at the Multek ship in front of them.



	Chapter Six

	Dillon, Jaroch, Beck, and Russell looked at the Multek shuttlepod 
in shock.
	"Please tell me this isn't happening," Dillon said.
	"I wish that it wasn't, sir," Beck said.  She walked around 
the small pod one more time.  "How many of us do you think it can 
fit?"
	"Two.  Three if someone is really wedged in," Jaroch replied.
	"I can't believe that a ship this big only has one shuttle," 
Dillon said.
	"Well, unless you feel like going out and looking for another 
one, I suggest that you believe it," Jaroch said.
	"Jaroch, you and Beck go back to the ship with this Multek," 
Dillon ordered gesturing at Kroll's unconscious body.  "Russell 
and I will take care of things over here."
	"We will?" Russell asked in alarm.
	"Sir, I think I have an idea," Beck said.  "I'd like to stay 
here."
	"O.K.  Fine with me.  Jaroch, you just make sure that you get the 
force field frequency back to the Secondprize."
	"Aye, sir," Jaroch said.  He and Russell shoved Kroll into the 
small shuttle pod, then pushed their way in beside him.  A minute 
later, the shuttle lifted off and exited the landing bay into 
space.
	"Well, Lieutenant, I hope this plan of yours is a real good 
one because there's about four hundred of them and two of us," 
Dillon said."
	"Actually, I thought that we'd just go take over the bridge," 
Beck replied.  Dillon laughed weakly.
	"No, seriously, what's your plan?"
	"That's it."
	"Oh god."

	"Captain, there's a small craft leaving the Multek ship," 
Hawkins reported.
	"How many people on board?" Rydell asked.
	"I'm reading a Yynsian, a human, and one unknown," Porter 
said.
	"Can we get a tractor beam on them?"
	"Not yet, sir," Hawkins said.
	"Ensign Larkin, bring us into range," Rydell ordered the 
helm officer.  "Hawkins, keep an eye on the Multek's power levels. 
 I want some warning if they're going to fire"
	"The shuttle is wavering erratically," Hawkins said.
	"Are they damaged?" Rydell asked.
	"Not that I can tell, sir."
	"There must some type of struggle going on over there," 
Rydell said.  "Increase speed, Ensign."

	"Russell, move your arm!"
	"That's not my arm."
	"Then move his arm.  I am trying to fly over here."
	"I'm sorry, sir, there's just no room."
	"It is wedged under my gluteus maximus."
	"Your what?"
	"My ass, you fool!  Now move it!"
	"Yes, sir.  I'll try."


	"Captain Wuddle, the imaginary ship is moving closer to us.  
Shall I fire?" the helm officer said.
	"Fire at what?  There's nothing out there," the science 
officer said.
	"But we fired earlier," the helm officer insisted.
	"That was a rash mistake," Captain Wuddle said.  "It's not 
good for us to give into our hallucinations.  We'll leave the 
imaginary ship alone."  Suddenly, the transport shaft doors 
opened, and Dillon and Beck walked out onto the Multek bridge.
	"Don't mind us," Dillon said waving at the bridge crew. 
	"Just pretend we're not here," Beck added with a laugh.
	"Captain, the imaginary ones have entered the bridge," the 
science officer reported.
	"I can see that... I mean, I am hallucinating that as well," 
the captain replied.
	"Should we take action?"
	"Against who?  There's no one here," Captain Wuddle said.  
Dillon walked in front of him and stuck his tongue out at him.
	"Naah naah, you can't get me," Dillon taunted.
	"For instance, no one is sticking their tongue out at me," 
the captain said, anger growing in his voice.
	"Get to work, sir," Beck said.
	"Right," Dillon replied.  He moved over to the front of the 
helm console, right in front of the exasperated helm officer.  
Dillon waved at him a bit then punched a couple of buttons.  The 
helm officer quickly moved to rectify what Dillon had done.
	"Captain, I'm imagining that someone is messing with my 
console," the helm officer said.
	"Ignore it," the captain said, his voice quivering.  "Just 
remember, there's no one here."
	"Yes, sir."
	"Captain!" the science officer suddenly shouted.  "The 
imaginary vessel has captured the escaped shuttle with an 
illusionary tractor beam."
	"Don't worry about that," Dillon said.  "It's nothing."
	"Have you found the field controls yet?" Beck asked.
	"No."
	"The imaginary ones are after our shields," the science 
officer said alarmed.
	"I heard," Captain Wuddle said.  "Get them!"
	"But, sir, you said they don't exist," the helm officer said.
	"I'm making an exception this time."
	"Uh, Lisa...I think we may have a problem," Dillon said, 
backing up to the rear of the bridge.  The Multeks each leveled a 
nasty-looking ray gun at Dillon and Beck.
	"I think you're right," Beck said, backing up next to him.  
They were soon pinned against the wall with three angry Multeks 
ready to shoot them whether they were imaginary or not.

	Jaroch ran onto the bridge at full speed.  He shoved Porter out 
of his chair at the science station and sat down to work.
	"Welcome back, Jaroch," Rydell said.  Jaroch just grunted and worked 
at a furious pace.  "May I ask what you're doing?"
	"Not right now.  I will tell you in a second."

	"Look, we're not real," Beck said.  "You've already said that 
we have to be hallucinations.  Why don't you just let us go on our 
imaginary way?  I mean, it's not like you can hurt us."  She 
laughed weakly.
	"That may be so, but we'll let the military find that out.  
For now, I just want to prove to myself that I'm hallucinating all 
of this," Captain Wuddle said.
	"How are you going to do that?" Dillon asked.
	"By destroying your imaginary ship out there."

	"Captain, there's another power surge building on the Multek 
ship!" Hawkins shouted.
	"Evasive maneuvers!" Rydell ordered.  Larkin steered the 
Secondprize out of the path of the Multek's weapon just before it 
fired.  "Jaroch, if you've got some miracle planned, I'd really like 
to know about it."
	"They're moving to pursue!" Hawkins said.
	"Keep us out of the way of their gun," Rydell said.
	"Aye, sir," Larkin replied.

	"We missed!" the Multek helm officer said.  He had gone back 
to his station to destroy the Secondprize while the captain and 
science officer covered Dillon and Beck.
	"Impossible!" Captain Wuddle exclaimed.
	"They're moving away."
	"Go after them!" Wuddle shouted, turning to look at the helm 
officer.  Beck took that opportunity to leap forward at Wuddle.  
The science officer just stared at her in shock until Dillon's 
fist collided with the side of his face.  The helm officer drew 
his weapon and fired blindly toward the back of the bridge while 
he tried to steer the ship with his other hand.

	On the Secondprize's viewscreen, the Multek ship started to 
wobble strangely.  Rydell normally would have contacted them to 
see if they needed any assistance, but the subspace disturbances 
being fired at the Secondprize were deterring him.
	"There!" Jaroch said.  "Lieutenant Hawkins, the phasers have been 
recalibrated to the frequency of the Multeks' force field.  You 
may fire when ready."
	"It would have been a hell of a lot quicker if you'd just 
told me the frequency," Hawkins said.
	"Yes, but it would not have been nearly as dramatic," Jaroch 
replied.
	"All right!," Rydell said, happy to finally be able to take 
the offensive.  "Larkin, go to three quarters impulse and head 
back for Edgeworld."

	Captain Wuddle and the science officer had recovered enough 
to fight back against Dillon and Beck's attack allowing the helm 
officer to return his full attention to flying the ship.
	"Captain, the imaginary ship is increasing speed.  Shall I 
pursue?" the helm officer asked as the Secondprize started to zoom 
away.
	"Of course, you fool!" Captain Wuddle shouted.  Beck kicked 
him in the stomach just as he finished the last word causing him 
to double over in pain.  She shot her foot toward his head, but 
just before it hit, his armed lashed out and grabbed her leg.  He 
threw her off balance, then tackled her to the deck.  Dillon had 
pushed the science officer back against a console when the science 
officer suddenly grabbed a cup off of the console and flung it's 
hot contents in Dillon's face.  He screamed and fell backwards, 
clutching his burned nose and cheeks.  The science officer rushed 
Dillon as soon as he hit the ground.  Dillon kicked his legs out, 
catching him in the stomach.  The science officer fell back 
against the console, gasping for breath.  Noticing his dropped 
blaster on the floor, he dove forward and grabbed it.  Keeping it 
carefully trained on Dillon, he stood back up.
	"Freeze or your friend dies!" the science officer told Beck. 
 Beck stopped in mid-punch and looked at the science officer.  He 
definitely looked serious.  In a way, this was a good thing.  She 
could get rid of Dillon.  But then what?  They'd probably just 
kill her too.  She lowered her fists and allowed herself to be 
herded against the back wall with Dillon.
	"I'm getting a distinct feeling of deja vu," Dillon said.
	"No kidding," Beck replied.

	"We are coming up on Edgeworld now, sir," Larkin reported.
	"The Multeks are right behind us," Hawkins said.  As if to 
punctuate the point, the Multek ship fired another distortion.  
This one grazed the top of the shields and shook the entire ship.
	"That's enough of that," Rydell said.  "Ensign, go to full 
impulse and make and tight orbit of Edgeworld bringing us up 
underneath the Multek ship.  Hawkins, be ready with those 
phasers."
	The Secondprize shot forward and looped around Edgeworld 
before the Multek ship had a chance to even react.
	"Fire!" Rydell shouted as the bottom of the Multek ship grew 
on the viewscreen.  The Secondprize let loose a full barrage of 
phaser fire, then flew past the Multek ship.  The Multek's force 
field flickered with the energy being pumped into it by the 
phasers.  Then, it flashed brightly and disappeared.  "Bridge to 
transporter room."
	"Vaughn here."
	"Get the away team out of there!" Hawkins shouted before 
Rydell could even give the order.
	"I was going to say that, you know," Rydell said.
	"Sorry, sir," Hawkins said.
	"Beam back the away team and send our Multek visitor home," 
Rydell said. 
	"Aye, sir.  Energizing," Vaughn's voice said.

	Dillon and Beck materialized on the transporter pad and 
immediately slumped to the deck in relief.
	"Thank you, Lieutenant," Dillon said.
	"Yeah, one more second, and we would have been little burn 
marks on the floor," Beck added.
	"Glad I could help," Vaughn said.
	"Rydell to Dillon," the captain's voice said, breaking into 
their conversation.
	"Dillon here."
	"Are you and Beck alright, Number One?"
	"Yes, sir, but I recommend that we get the hell out of here. 
 That was evidently some kind of passenger liner, and they've 
called in the Multek military."
	"Understood.  Rydell out."
	Dillon and Beck picked themselves up off of the floor and 
trudged out of the transporter room.  The main thing that both of 
them wanted right then was a nap.



	Chapter Seven

	"Captain's Log.  Stardate 50220.4.  After informing Starfleet 
Command about our experience with the Multeks, the Secondprize has 
been ordered to return to Starbase 219 for a complete debriefing. 
 Oh well, so much for our deep space exploration.  I would like to 
commend Commander Dillon, Lieutenant Commander Jaroch, Lieutenant 
Russell, and Lieutenant Beck for their handling of the Multek 
situation.  Lieutenant Beck deserves special commendation.  Not 
only did she decipher the Multek language, but she also played an 
instrumental role in saving the away team."

	Lieutenant Beck, Lieutenant Commander Jaroch, and Captain Rydell 
sat at a table in Seven Backward enjoying a few drinks and 
discussing the events of the last couple of days.
	"That really was exemplary work, Lieutenant," Captain Rydell 
said.  "Starfleet is going to have to reward you in some way."
	"Yeah yeah," Jaroch said unenthusiastically.
	"Do I detect a hint of bitterness?" Beck said smiling.
	"I sincerely hope so," Jaroch replied.
	"Now, Jaroch, jealousy is so unbecoming," Rydell said.
	"So is a broken nose," Jaroch said.
	"What do you mean, Mr. Temper-tantrum?" Rydell asked 
mockingly.  Jaroch's arm lanced out, grabbed Rydell's head, and 
slammed his face into the table.
	"I've really got to stop coming in here," Rydell mumbled.  
"It's just not safe."
	At a table on the other side of the lounge, Commander Dillon 
and Lieutenant Hawkins were having dinner.  Dillon had been 
watching with disgust the crew's worshipping of Beck.
	"God, she didn't do that much," Dillon said.
	"Can't you just let her enjoy some glory?" Hawkins said.  "Is 
your ego that fragile?"
	"Well..."
	"You're the first officer of this ship, and she's just the 
communications officer.  She doesn't get many opportunities like 
this."
	"I know.  I'm sorry, Pat.  She did get really help get us 
out of that mess," Dillon said.  "But it's not like she did it 
alone."
	"We all know that," Hawkins said.  "You, Jaroch, and Sean did 
your jobs.  She went beyond hers, though."
	"You're right.  She did."  Dillon fell silent and stared out 
the window.  "But I risked my life over there, too," he said 
finally.  "And no one cared."
	"I did."
	"Really?"
	"Yeah, if you got killed, who would I go fight with in the 
holodeck?" she replied.  He looked at her to see if she was 
serious.  A few seconds later, they both started laughing.
	"Thanks," Dillon said.  "It's nice to know I was missed."
	"I wouldn't go that far," Hawkins said smiling.



	INTERMISSION: The Directive

	Chapter Eight

	As soon as the Secondprize arrived at Starbase 219, Captain 
Rydell was informed that Admiral Thomas Wagner was waiting at the 
starbase to debrief the crew.
	Less than an hour after their arrival, the Secondprize senior 
officers as well as those involved in the Multek incident had 
assembled in the now dusted and cleaned conference room to meet 
with Wagner.
	"It seems I just can't get away from this ship," Wagner said 
as he walked into the room.
	"Common problem," Lieutenant Beck muttered under her breath.
	"Now then, it would seem that you all have put the proverbial 
foot into it again," Wagner continued.  "This Multek bunch don't 
appear to be a very nice group."
	"Our initial contact would suggest that they are not open to 
the usual diplomatic overtures," Dillon said.
	"Very astute observation, Commander," Wagner said.  "How long 
did you spend rehearsing it?"  Dillon opened his mouth to reply, 
but quickly shut it again and looked down at the table. 
	"Admiral," Captain Rydell said.  "I realize that our first 
contact wasn't very successful, but that doesn't mean that there 
isn't hope for relations.  Lieutenant Beck has worked out a 
translation program that's almost perfect.  On top of that, the 
time that she, Dillon, Jaroch, and Russell spent on the Multek ship 
has given us valuable insight into their mindset, their culture, 
and their weapons."
	"Yes, you discovered that they're close-minded, xenophobic, and 
trigger-happy.  None of which are exactly good signs," Wagner 
replied.
	"But we can't just run away and avoid them," Beck said.
	"I can assure you that Starfleet has no intention of running, 
Lieutenant," Wagner said.  "In fact, we are going to establish a 
Federation presence in that sector as soon as possible."
	"What kind of presence?" Rydell asked.
	"A space station," Wagner said.  "It will be a waystation for 
ships heading out into the unexplored areas and will defend the area 
from any Multek aggression."
	"How are you going to get a station there in any kind of 
time?" Rydell asked.  "These things take years."
	"Not this time, Captain.  We expect to have Waystation 
operational within the next fourteen days."
	"Fourteen days!  You've got to be kidding!" Rydell said.  
"You can't even get personnel transferred here that quick."
	"The personnel is already here," Wagner said.  "I'm pulling 
most of it from your crew."  Rydell clenched his fists and 
resisted the urge not to slam Wagner into the nearest bulkhead.
	"My crew," Rydell seethed.  "We're short-handed as it is.  We 
don't even have a Chief Medical Officer yet."
	"Not to worry.  Your new one is on the way, and we are only 
taking a few of your current crew."
	"Who?" Rydell asked angrily.
	"Well, I want Lieutenant Sean Russell for head of station 
security.  Lieutenant Craig Porter for operations and science 
officer.  Yeoman Tina Jones for liaison officer.  Lieutenant 
Commander Walter Morales for the first officer.  And..."
	"Who's going to be in command?" Dillon asked anxiously.  This 
could be it: his big break.
	"Someone who has served this crew well time and time again, 
especially during the Multek crisis: Lieutenant... make that 
Commander Lisa Beck."
	"What?!" Dillon, Jaroch, and Beck shouted in unison.
	"Her!" Jaroch exclaimed.
	"What about me?" Dillon shouted.
	"Yeah, what about him?" Beck said.  "Let him charge 
suicidally into a dangerous sector."
	"Commander Beck, Waystation is your new post.  You have 
no choice," Wagner said.  "You will report to temporary quarters on 
the starbase immediately so that you may supervise the 
construction of the station."
	"What about us?" Lieutenant Porter asked.
	"You, Lieutenant Russell, Lieutenant Commander Morales, and 
Yeoman Jones are to take a runabout to Bracktia Prime to pick up 
your station's chief medical officer, Dr. Amelia Nelson."
	"Wait a minute," Rydell said.  "They get a doctor before we 
do.  We're about to head out again.  We need a CMO."
	"You won't be going anywhere for the next two weeks," Wagner 
said.  "It's about time the Secondprize had a refit herself.  You 
and Commander Baird will stay here to supervise the refit."
	"What do you mean stay here?" Dillon asked.  "You make it 
sound like the rest of us are going somewhere."
	"The engineering crew will stay to help with the refit," 
Wagner replied.  "Most of the rest of the crew will be granted 
leave."
	"That's fine with me," Dillon said, leaning back in his chair 
smiling.
	"You aren't included in that group, Commander Dillon," Wagner 
said.  "I have a mission for you, Lieutenant Commander Jaroch, and 
Lieutenant Hawkins."
	"Admiral, don't you have anyone else to send around other 
than my crew," Rydell said.  The irritation in his voice was 
apparent.
	"At the moment, no," Wagner replied.  "You all are in luck."
	"Great," Hawkins said sarcastically.
	"What is our mission?" Jaroch asked.
	"Well, my sister Debbie was contracted by Starfleet to create 
a kind of memorial to great Starfleet leaders.  She's finished the 
project, but no one from Starfleet has had time to go to check the 
place out and bring back a report.  Jaroch, I want you to check on the 
scientific stability of the place.  Hawkins, you check out the 
security safeguards.  And Dillon, you find out whether the kids 
will like it.  That should be right on your level."
	"What kind of place is this?" Hawkins asked.
	"We aren't sure," Wagner said.  "Debbie's being real secretive 
about this one.  She says it's going to be great though.  I just 
want to be sure.  Standard procedure states that I need to send a 
team to check out any Starfleet installation.  You guys are it.  
You leave in the morning.  Dismissed."
	"Admiral Wagner..." Rydell began.
	"Dismissed.  There's nothing to discuss."  The crew filed out 
of the conference room except for Rydell and Wagner.
	"Tom, what the hell is going on?" Rydell asked.
	"I'm sorry, Alex.  This is what Starfleet Command wants.  I 
am obliged to deliver their orders," Wagner said.  "I apologize for 
snapping at you a second ago, but there was no point in debating 
this in front of your crew.  There's nothing to debate."
	"But, Tom, you're breaking up my crew.  I've been serving 
with these people for the last three years.  I would have liked 
some notice."
	"You're getting Dillon, Jaroch, and Hawkins back.  As for the 
others, I think it's time that they moved on in their careers.  
The Secondprize is fine, but there's really no place for them to 
go here."
	"Well, I can't fault Starfleet for their choice.  Beck will 
make a great commander."
	"We think so, too," Wagner said.
	"Come on.  Let's go down to Seven Backward.  After all this, 
I could use a drink," Rydell said with a weak smile.
	"Sounds good, Captain.  You're buying."  The two men walked 
out of the conference room.



ACT II: The Division

	Chapter Nine

	Lieutenant Commander Walter Morales noticed the flashing message 
icon on his viewscreen the moment he walked into his quarters,
after finishing his shift in the shuttlebay.  He was the chief 
of all shuttlebay operations on board the Secondprize.  His job 
was to be invisible.  If anyone noticed him, it was usually 
because something was wrong with a shuttle or something had not 
gotten done.  Neither of those things happened very much, which 
suited Morales just fine.  
He didn't like getting involved with the 
command structure if he could avoid it.  Managing shuttlebays was 
all the responsibility he ever wanted.  He had quite happily risen 
through the ranks without anyone trying to force him into any real 
command positions.  He was now one of only eight lieutenant 
commanders on the ship, which put him somewhere in the top ten of 
ranks on the whole ship.  If something were ever to happen to 
Rydell, Dillon, Jaroch, and all of the other lieutenant commanders, 
he'd be in command of the ship.  
It wasn't something he worried 
about too much, though.  Things like that just didn't happen.  He 
was safe tucked away in his shuttlebay.  Flying shuttles was all 
he'd wanted to do when he joined Starfleet anyway.  There was 
something about being in a vehicle that small travelling through 
space that made him feel closer to the whole experience.
	Morales stared at the blinking message icon for a moment trying 
to figure out who would have left it.  Anyone on the ship would 
have just called him on his commbadge, and his parents weren't 
scheduled to contact him for another week.  That was unless 
something had happened to them.  Morales ran over to his desk 
console and activate the message playback system.  The face of a 
young man in a Starfleet uniform filled the screen.  By his pips, 
Morales could tell that he was a lieutenant.
	"Lieutenant Commander Morales, my name is Lieutenant James 
Terris.  I am the refit supervisor for Starbase 219.  By order of 
Starfleet Command, I have the honor of informing you that you have 
been transferred to the new Starfleet waystation to be established 
near Multek space.  You will be assuming the post of first officer 
for the station.  Congratulations.  Your first mission is to 
retrieve your station's chief medical officer from Bracktia Prime. 
 You are to leave by runabout tomorrow morning at 0600 hours.  The 
rest of your team will meet you in the Secondprize's main 
shuttlebay.  Starfleet out."  Lieutenant Terris' face was 
replaced by the blue and white seal of the Federation.
	Morales fell back into his desk chair.  It was worse than he 
could have possibly imagined.  First officer.  He was going to be 
a first officer.  So much from hiding from command.

	"Leave immediately," Commander Dillon grumbled as he and 
Lieutenant Hawkins entered Shuttlebay Two carrying his travel 
case.  "Admiral Wagner could have at least let us wait until 
tomorrow morning."
	"No kidding.  I can't see how going to look at some
amusement park is that important," Hawkins said.
	"I see that we all agree on the relative importance of this 
mission," Lieutenant Commander Jaroch said from by the shuttlecraft 
they were to depart in.  "I protest being used for such menial 
tasks."
	"Sorry, Jaroch," Hawkins said.  "You can't save the universe 
every day."
	"I know, but there is a serious situation developing with the 
Multek Enclave.  I should be analyzing their technology, not 
testing kiddie rides."
	"Hey, we don't even know what's at this place yet," Dillon 
said.  "There might not be any kiddie rides at all."
	"If you're trying to help, Travis, stop it," Hawkins said.
	"Gotcha," Dillon said.  The shuttlebay doors opened, and 
Ensign Andrea Carr walked in.
	"What are you doing here?" Jaroch asked.
	"I'm your pilot," Carr replied.  "Let's go."
	"Go?" Hawkins said.  "We haven't been told where we're 
supposed to be going to."
	"I have," Carr replied.
	"Well... where are we going?" Jaroch asked.
	"I'm afraid I can't tell you, sir," Carr said.
	"We outrank you, Ensign," Dillon said angrily.
	"And Admiral Wagner outranks all of you, and he ordered me not to 
tell you where we are going.  He wants you to be totally objective 
about his sister's project," Carr said.
	"What's that got to do with know where we're going?" Hawkins 
asked.
	"The admiral felt that the planet's name might color your 
opinion."
	"What?  That's insane," Dillon said.
	"Orders are orders.  Now, please get in the shuttle.  We have 
a long flight ahead of us," Carr said.  She pushed past the 
three officers and entered the shuttle to start her pre-flight 
check.
	"I'm liking this trip less and less all the time," Hawkins 
said.
	"Tell me about it," Dillon and Jaroch said in unison.

	Commander Lisa Beck was busy packing up her belongings when 
she heard her door chime.
	"Come in," she said as she put her Idorian gas sculpture 
carefully into a box.  The door whooshed open.
	"Am I disturbing you?" Captain Rydell asked.  Beck finished 
packing the sculpture and turned to her former captain.
	"Not at all, sir," Beck said.  "What can I do for you?"  
Rydell walked over to her replicator.
	"Two cherry Icees," he ordered.  The two drinks appeared in a 
bluish flurry of molecules.  Rydell picked up the drinks and 
handed one to Beck.  "I came by to wish you luck, 
Lieutenant...excuse me, Commander."
	"Thank you, sir," Beck replied after taking a sip of her 
Icee.  "It still hasn't quite sunk in yet."
	"It won't until you're standing in the station operations 
center with an entire crew around you waiting for your commands," 
Rydell said.  "It's a strange experience, but very...rewarding."
	"You sound a bit hesitant about that."
	"Well, the Secondprize is my first command, and it hasn't 
exactly been all that I expected.  This crew is nothing like 
anything I heard about at the Academy," Rydell said.
	"I think the word you're looking for is eclectic," Beck 
replied smiling.
	"Whatever the word for them, they're still my crew, and I 
hate to lose any of them.  Especially someone like you, Beck.  
You've been a real asset to this ship.  We're going to miss you."
	"Thank you, Captain.  I've really enjoyed serving under you. 
 I'm going to miss you, too.  I can't say that about everyone on 
board."
	"Well, I hope your new command gives you what you've been 
looking for."
	"What do you mean?" Beck asked.
	"I heard about your dissatisfaction with your position," 
Rydell replied.  "I can't say that I blame you.  You needed 
something like this to happen.  I'm very happy for you."
	"That means a lot, sir."
	"Well then, now that we've gotten that out of the way, how 
about some dinner?" Rydell asked attempting to lighten the mood.  
"It seems that we're going to be stuck on the starbase for the 
next two weeks.  We might as well make the most of it."
	"Sounds good, sir."
	"Great.  I'll meet you in the starbase lounge in two hours," 
Rydell said.  "I can give you some command tips."
	"I'll take any advice you can give me.  See you then, sir," 
Beck said.  Rydell walked out of the quarters leaving Beck alone. 
 She took a look around the rooms that had been her home for the 
last three years.  She felt some regret pulling at her.  Was she 
actually going to miss this place?  The weirdness, the idiocy, the 
craziness.  The Secondprize was...unique to say the least.

	"Commander," Jaroch mumbled from the rear of the shuttlecraft.
	"What?" Dillon said.
	"Commander."
	"What?"
	"Commander."
	"What?!"
	"Commander." 
	"WHAT!?!" Dillon screamed.
	"I was not talking to you," Jaroch said.
	"You've been saying commander over and over for the last 
couple of minutes," Dillon said.  "Who were you talking to if you 
weren't talking to me?"
	"No one.  I was just thinking about Lieutenant Beck's 
promotion."
	"Annoying, isn't it?" Dillon said.  "I can't believe that 
Starfleet would look over me for that position."
	"There were other choices as well," Jaroch said.
	"Who?"
	"Me!" Jaroch shouted.
	"Oh yeah," Dillon said.  "Sorry.  Well, I guess we both got 
shafted."
	"If this an attempt to establish a friendly camaraderie with 
me, please stop.  It is making me angry," Jaroch said.
	"Oh."  Dillon stood up and moved to the front row of seats in 
the shuttle next to Lieutenant Hawkins.  "Jaroch seems a bit on edge."
	"Really, why?"
	"He's just jealous that Beck got promoted instead of him."
	"I am not jealous!" Jaroch screamed.
	"See what I mean," Dillon said.  Dillon's unconscious body 
hit the floor a second later after experiencing a forceful 
collision between it and Jaroch's foot.
	"And you actually like him?" Jaroch said to Hawkins.
	"He's not all bad," she replied as she tried to pull Dillon 
back up into a seat.
	"That may be, however; I hope that you and Commander Dillon 
are not pursuing a relationship at any level higher than platonic 
friendship," Jaroch said.
	"We're just friends," Hawkins said.  "But what if we were 
more?  What would be the big deal?"
	"Well, aside from making me violently ill, it would be 
potentially dangerous."
	"What?"
	"You have thus far only dealt with the commander in small 
doses," Jaroch replied.  "A romantic entanglement would require that 
you spend much more time together, which could lead to you killing 
him."
	"What Travis and I do is our business, OK?  If I want to be 
friends with him or date him, it's for me do say."
	"But, Lieutenant..."
	"But nothing!" Hawkins shouted.  "I can sleep with him if I 
want to!  Got it!" 
	"Is there something going on back there I should know about," 
Ensign Carr asked from the cockpit.
	"NO!" Hawkins shouted.  "Just fly the damn ship!"
	"Excuse me for asking!" Carr shouted back angrily.
	"I take it that this is not open for discussion," Jaroch said.
	"No.  Go back to wallowing in self-pity about Lisa getting 
promoted over you," Hawkins said.
	"Thank you for reminding me.  I just wanted to prevent you 
from going where Commander Baird and Lieutenant Sullivan have gone 
before." Jaroch said.
	"What are you talking about?"
	"I believe that my meaning is clear enough," Jaroch said.
	"What happened?" Dillon asked groggily as he rubbed the back 
of his head.
	"Turbulence," Jaroch said. 
	"Oh, how come I was the only one affected?"
	"Luck," Jaroch said.  "I will be returning to my meditations now, 
Commander.  You can continue being sickening with Lieutenant 
Hawkins."
	"How long have I been out of it?" Dillon asked confused.
	"About thirty years," Jaroch said.  "And you will continue to be 
so for the foreseeable future."
	"I get the distinct feeling that I was better off 
unconscious," Dillon said.
	"And so were we," Jaroch snapped.
	"Speak for yourself," Hawkins said.  She grabbed Dillon and 
kissed him.
	"I am going to be sick," Jaroch said as he ran to the bathroom at 
the back of the shuttle.
	"Pat," Dillon said.  "What was..."
	"Nothing.  Never mind.  Just sit there and rest your head," 
Hawkins said.  Dillon's mind was starting to overload.  Events had 
lost all coherence from the moment he'd regained consciousness, 
and he wasn't happy about it.  On top of that, his head was 
killing him.  Hawkins moved up to the cockpit with Carr 
without saying another word to him, and Jaroch was in the bathroom 
suffering from some mysterious illness.  What the hell was going 
on?  This mission was just getting worse and worse by the second. 
 Except for the kiss, of course.  That was nice and unexpected.  
Did Hawkins mean that or was it done for Jaroch's benefit?  Was she 
trying to make Jaroch jealous?  Had she been seeing him without Dillon 
knowing it?  If she had, it was certainly within her rights since 
she and Dillon were just friends, but he had hoped that maybe one 
day she'd like him.  So much for that.  Patricia and Jaroch.  The thought 
of it was making Dillon's head hurt even more.  He stretched out 
across the seats and tried to go to sleep.  Patricia and Jaroch.  This 
was not the way he had pictured things going.  He drifted off to 
sleep with images of a wedding filling his head, a wedding where 
Patricia married Jaroch while Dillon could only stand aside and watch.

	Chapter Ten

	Admiral Thomas Wagner spotted his quarry the moment he walked 
into the starbase lounge.  Captain Rydell and Commander Beck were 
sitting together over by the viewports.  Perfect.  He could get 
all of this out at once.
	"Come on, Terris," Wagner said to the lieutenant who had come 
in with him.  They walked over to Rydell and Beck's table.
	"Oh boy," Rydell muttered upon spotting Wagner and Terris 
heading toward them.  "I bet this is more good news."
	"Good evening, Captain, Commander," Wagner said smiling.  
"Mind if we join you?"
	"Not at all," Rydell said, trying to sound happy to see them.
	"Good."  Wagner and Terris sat down, and Terris put a small 
holoprojector on the table.  "Alex, Lisa, this is Lieutenant James 
Terris.  He's the refit supervisor on board this starbase.  
Brilliant mind and a top notch officer.  Terris will be handling 
the construction of the waystation and the Secondprize refit."
	"I thought that Commander Baird was handling the Secondprize 
refit," Rydell said.
	"He'll be reporting to me," Terris replied.
	"Oh, he's going to love that," Beck said.
	"James, show them the designs," Wagner said.  Terris reached 
forward and activated the holoprojector.  Instantly, the image 
of...something appeared in the space over the table.  Beck wasn't 
sure what it was, but she had the sinking feeling that it was 
going to be her command.
	"This is Waystation," Terris said.  Waystation appeared to be 
nothing more than two saucer sections from a couple of old 
Enterprise class starships joined by a thin tube.  There were four 
docking modules protruding from the sides of the top saucer, and a 
smaller tube rose up from where the top saucer's bridge should 
have been.  One top of that tube, was a slowly rotating room.  
"Due to the necessity of getting this station operational as 
quickly as possible, we have constructed it completely out of pre-
existing materials."
	"You mean you threw some obsolete junk together," Beck said. 
 "The saucer sections alone have to be seventy years old."
	"Yes, but they're still in tip top shape," Terris said.  "The 
upper saucer will be the docking saucer.  Besides the docking 
modules, it will have cargo areas, supply depot, space for shops 
and recreational facilities, and the operations center."
	"Is that the rotating thing on top?" Beck asked afraid that 
she already knew the answer.
	"Yes," Terris replied.  "We were most fortunate to find an 
old rotating restaurant that fit our space needs perfectly."
	"Oh God," Rydell said putting his head down on the table.
	"Continuing on down the station," Terris said, irritation 
growing in his voice.  "We have the connecting tube between the 
two saucers.  This tube will be well shielded to prevent enemy 
fire from disconnecting the two saucers and to protect the computer 
core."
	"That's comforting," Beck said smiling weakly.
	"The lower saucer will contain the quarters for the station's 
crew and residents as well as visitors from other ships," Terris 
said.
	"You see, Commander, Starfleet wants Waystation to be the 
gateway to the unexplored sections of Beta Quadrant.  With your 
docking facilities and supply depots, you will become a key stop 
for pioneers and exploratory vessels," Wagner said.
	"What about the Multeks?" Beck asked.
	"You will be responsible for handling them as well," Wagner 
said.  "Also, Waystation will be the staging center for a 
battalion of Federation Marines whose job it will be to protect 
colonies from Multek intrusion."
	"Marines?  Not Starfleet?"
	"No, Commander.  The Federation Council felt that the Marines 
would be more suited to the ground-based operations that would be 
required if the Multeks invaded any colonies.  But don't worry 
about the Marines.  They are under your command as long as they 
are on the station," Wagner said.
	"Great," Beck said.  "What about if the Multeks come to us?"
	"Waystation is equipped with four phaser rings, one around 
the top and bottom of each saucer, and has eight pairs of photon 
torpedo tubes.  You will be sufficiently armed," Terris said.
	"See, Commander, you're going to be in command of the most 
exciting post in the galaxy," Wagner said smiling.
	"Lucky me," Beck replied.  Suddenly, having her own command 
wasn't sounding so good.  She was going to be a sitting duck in 
unfamiliar space.  If the Multeks decided to retaliate, it could 
be a really short command.
	"What about the Secondprize?" Rydell asked.  "You aren't 
turning it into a restaurant or anything, are you?"
	"No, Captain," Terris said as he hit another switch on the 
holoprojector.  The image of a starship's bridge appeared, but it 
wasn't Rydell's bridge.  It looked too new, too sleek, too nice.  
"This will be the Secondprize's bridge after the refit.  You will 
have the fleet standard conn and ops consoles rather than helm and 
navigation.  Also your communications and tactical consoles will 
be combined into one station.  Normally, a bridge refit is a 
simple matter of removing one bridge and plugging in a new one.  
Unfortunately, in this case, the shipyards wired the ship for the 
old style consoles.  We have to basically rewire the entire 
network between the bridge and the new subsystems."
	"And what do you need me for?" Rydell asked.  "This is way 
out of my line."
	"You have to approve every change we make.  I'll be bringing 
you updates at the end of each day," Terris said.
	"Got it," Rydell said.  He was starting to get the distinct 
feeling that his was going to be the most boring two weeks of his 
life.

	Across the lounge from Rydell and Beck, Lieutenant Craig 
Porter and Lieutenant Sean Russell were discussing the day's turn 
of events.
	"I don't believe this," Russell said running his hands 
through the patch of sythehair that was covering up his bald 
streak.  "I'm going to be a security chief.  No more risking my 
neck for stupid reasons.  I can send other people to do it for 
me."
	"Good to see that you're being such a humanitarian about 
this," Porter commented.
	"Self preservation is one of humanity's most basic instincts, 
thank you," Russell said.  "Seriously though, I hope that I'm up 
to this.  Chief of Security is a bit more important than being a 
plain, old security officer."
	"I'm sure you'll do fine," Porter said.  "Besides, you can 
always be replaced."  Russell glared at him.  "I was just 
kidding."
	"Sirs!  Sirs!" a female voice started shouting from across 
the room.  Porter and Russell looked and saw Yeoman Tina Jones 
heading toward them.  She was smiling broadly and almost bouncing. 
 "Did you hear the news?  We're being transferred!"
	"We're about four hours ahead of you," Porter said.
	"Oh," Jones said, her buoyance deflating briefly.  "Isn't it 
exciting?  Our own station, and I'm going to be the liaison 
officer."
	"Jones, what exactly is a liaison officer?" Russell asked.
	"I have no idea," she replied.  "I've been wondering that 
since I first heard about the transfer."
	"Well, Admiral Wagner is right over there with Captain Rydell 
and Commander Beck.  Why don't you go ask him?" Porter said.
	"I don't think that would be such a good idea," Jones 
replied.  "I don't want the first impression I make on my new 
commanding officer to be asking what the heck my job is."
	"I can see your point," Russell said.  "I'm sure you'll 
figure it out soon enough."
	"I just hope that I won't need to do anything liaison 
officerish on this mission tomorrow," Jones said.
	"We'll cover for you," Porter said.  "But, I'm not real 
thrilled about this whole mission thing."
	"Why not?" Russell asked.
	"Why are they sending four of us to pick up a doctor?  And 
who the hell is this Walter Morales guy anyway?  I've never heard of 
him even though he's supposedly been on the Secondprize as long as 
we have."
	"I don't know, and I don't know," Russell said.  "We'll just 
have to be prepared for anything, but it will probably be a boring 
mission.  Starfleet probably just overstaffed for the trip, that's 
all."
	"I'm not sure whether I hope you're right or not," Porter 
said.

	"We'll be landing shortly," Ensign Carr reported.  
Lieutenant Hawkins looked up from the padd she'd been writing on 
and saw that they were approaching a large green planet.
	"Where are we?" she asked.
	"I can't tell you that," Carr said.  "I'm sorry."
	"It's O.K."  Hawkins got up and walked into the back.  Jaroch was 
seated on the floor against the rear wall of the passenger 
compartment.  "We're there," she said.
	"Good," Jaroch replied.  "I was finished anyway."
	"What were you doing?"
	"I was attempting to contact each one of my past lives in 
order to ascertain whether or not I committed some horrendous 
crime in any of them."
	"Why?"
	"That is the only explanation I can come up with for being 
stuck with Commander Dillon in this life," Jaroch said.
	"Oh, get over it," Hawkins said.  She turned to Dillon who 
was still sleeping.  "Travis," she said softly.  "Wake up."
	"No," Dillon replied, still asleep.  "Don't go with Jaroch.  I 
need..."
	"Travis!" Hawkins shouted.  Dillon sprung up.
	"What?  Where am I?  Oh.  I'm up.  What's going on?" Dillon 
asked.
	"We've arrived," Hawkins said.
	"What were you dreaming about?" Jaroch asked.  "You mentioned my 
name, and the thought of being trapped in one of your dreams 
frightens me immensely."  Dillon looked back and forth between Jaroch 
and Hawkins.
	"Nothing," he said quietly.  "It was just a dream."  They 
felt a slight thud as the shuttle touched down.  Carr opened 
the shuttle hatch allowing the occupants to step outside.  They 
found themselves inside of a large landing bay.  A couple of small 
spacecraft and hovercars were parked next to their shuttle, but the 
bulk of the landing area was empty.
	"Not a real popular place," Hawkins said.
	"It will be soon," an unfamiliar female voice said from off 
to their left.  They turned and saw and older woman, about fifty-
five, walking towards them from a large set of double doors.  She 
was tall and thin with long black hair.  Her resemblance to 
Admiral Wagner was obvious.  They had the same grey eyes and 
aquiline nose.
	"Debbie Wagner, I presume," Jaroch said.
	"Yes, welcome to the Starfleet Memorial Gardens," she 
replied.
	"Ms. Wagner.  I'm Commander Travis Michael Dillon from the 
Starship Secondprize.  This is Lieutenant Commander Jaroch, Lieutenant 
Patricia Hawkins, and Ensign Andrea Carr.  We've been ordered to 
inspect your facility for any scientific or security hazards."
	"Relax, Commander," Wagner said.  "You're away from Starfleet 
for now.  Enjoy it.  You can call me Debbie.  I just want you all 
to have a good time while you're here.  I've arranged for you to 
take a private tour tomorrow morning."
	"Thank you, Debbie," Hawkins said, pushing past Dillon.  
"You'll have to excuse Commander Dillon.  He gets a little too 
enveloped in protocol sometimes."
	"Sometimes?" Jaroch said.
	"I'll show you all to your rooms.  I would be honored if you 
would join me for dinner in an hour in our main dining room.  
Formal dress please, but no uniforms," Debbie said.  
	"No uniforms!" Dillon said.  "What's that leave?"
	"Try a tuxedo," Debbie said.  "Just give the replicator in 
your room your measurements."
	"It sounds great," Hawkins said.
	"Good.  Now, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to your 
rooms."
	"Debbie, what is this place exactly?" Jaroch asked.
	"You'll see tomorrow," she replied.  "For now, just relax, 
enjoy dinner, and have a good time.  Can you boys handle that?"
	"I can, but he can't," Dillon and Jaroch said in unison, pointing 
at each other.
	"I don't envy you two," Debbie said to Hawkins and 
Carr.
	"They're really not so bad," Hawkins said.  "After about 
three years you become desensitized."
	"I don't think I want to wait that long," Debbie said.
	"Good choice," Hawkins said.



	Chapter Eleven

	Commander Travis Dillon stared at himself in the mirror in the 
room Debbie Wagner had assigned to him.  He pulled at the black bow 
tie constricting his neck.  This whole thing just seemed so wrong. 
 He was a Starfleet officer.  At formal occasions, he should wear 
the Starfleet dress uniform, not some stupid tuxedo.  He felt that 
he looked like a refugee from one of those twentieth-century film 
musicals.  The tuxedo just was not him.  It didn't have any flair 
to it.  What he needed was...tails!  And a cane!  That would be 
the touch he needed to make this ridiculous outfit work.  Debbie 
wanted formal, she'd get formal.  He walked over to the 
replicator.
	"Give me a tuxedo coat with tails matching the measurements 
of the one you gave me earlier," he ordered.  The replicator 
hummed and produced his new coat.  "Now, I want a four foot long, 
black cane.  Smooth.  No decorations."
	"That object is not on file," the replicator replied.
	"What?  It's just a stupid stick!  Give me a stick!"  The 
replicator produced a nice twig.  "Forget it."  Dillon put the 
coat with tails on and admired himself in the mirror.  Much 
better.  It made him seem taller, more impressive.  A knock on the 
door interrupted his fashion show.  "Come in.  No wait.  I'll be 
right there."  He gave himself one last look, then walked over to 
the door and opened it.  Lieutenant Hawkins was there in a floor 
length, form-fitting, silver sequined gown.  Dillon felt the 
breath rush out of his body.
	"Tails," she said surprised.  "Very nice, Commander."
	"Thank you.  Your attire selection was excellent as well, 
Lieutenant," he replied, trying not to sound too taken aback by 
Hawkins's appearance.
	"Is that a compliment?" she said smiling.  She had noticed 
Dillon's eyes practically jump out of his head when he opened the 
door, so she knew the answer to this one.  She just wanted to hear 
him say it.
	"Yes, Pat.  You look great," Dillon said.
	"Fine.  I guess I'll allow you to escort me to dinner then," 
she replied.
	"I would be honored."  Dillon held out his arm like he'd seen 
in the old movies.  Hawkins wrapped her arm around his and they 
walked off down the corridor.  Dillon was concentrating on his 
every movement.  He was going to be suave and debonair.  If this 
meant there was even a chance that she was interested in him and 
not Jaroch, he was going to be sure not to blow it.  Sophistication 
and poise was the key.
	Jaroch, Carr and Debbie Wagner were already in the dining 
room when Dillon and Hawkins arrived.  A long table set for five 
dominated the room.  Debbie Wagner was seated on one end, Jaroch was 
seated at her left elbow, and Ensign Carr was at her right. 
 Hawkins detached herself from Dillon and sat down next to Jaroch.  
Dillon went around the table and sat next to Carr.  Well, at 
least he was across from Pat.  He glanced around at the dining 
room.  It was a simple room, grey walls with a few plants 
scattered around for decoration, but, like every other room he'd 
seen in the place, there were no windows.
	"Since we're all here, I guess we can start," Debbie said.  
She picked up a small remote that was sitting by her right hand 
and pressed a button.  There was the sound of a transporter, and 
dinner materialized on their plates.  "I love doing that.  It's 
the first time I've been able to do it for guests.  Now then, how 
are your rooms?"
	"Very comfortable," Hawkins said.  Dillon shoved a big fork-
full of pasta into his mouth.
	"Agreed," Jaroch said.
	"Mine's fine," Carr said.  
	"Commander Dillon?" Debbie said.  Dillon suddenly realized 
that he was supposed to answer that question.  He put his fork 
down and tried to talk through the noodles in his mouth. 
	"Ibt's grrt."
	"Ahh," Debbie said.  "Good."
	"Ms. Wagner, thank you for the hospitality and all, but you 
are not helping us complete our mission here," Jaroch said.  "What is 
this park?"
	Having finally finished swallowing the pasta, Dillon reached 
for his fork and knocked it onto the floor.  It hit the carpet 
without a sound.
	"This park is the culmination of centuries of research," 
Debbie said.
	"That is a bit vague," Jaroch said.
	Dillon pushed his chair back as inconspicuously as possible 
and looked under the table.  His fork had landed beside Hawkins's 
foot.  He scooted his chair back in quickly.
	"I don't want to spoil the surprise," Debbie said.  "But I 
can tell you that we are building upon the work of..."  She 
launched into a technical spiel about a lot of scientists and 
theories Dillon had never heard of.  He extended his leg and tried 
to get his fork with his foot.  His leg accidently rubbed up 
against Hawkins's leg.  She looked at him and smiled.  He felt her 
push her leg against his.  He smiled back and tried again to 
get his fork.  It should have been right under his foot, but it 
wasn't.  Dillon stole another look under the table.  Hawkins must 
have kicked his fork when she pushed against his leg because it 
was now by Jaroch.  
	Dillon smiled at Hawkins again and gradually shifted his leg 
over toward Jaroch.  It was a bit of a stretch.  He was starting to 
feel himself slipping off of the chair, but he almost had the 
fork.  He leg bumped against Jaroch's as he put his foot down on the 
fork.  Jaroch glared at him angrily.  Dillon smiled weakly and started 
to pull the fork back toward him.  He suddenly felt a sharp pain 
in his shin as Jaroch kicked it.  Dillon's foot involuntarily slipped 
backwards off the fork as he tried to keep himself from shouting 
in pain. 
	The fork was now over in front of Carr.  Determined not 
to get kicked again, Dillon carefully maneuvered his leg toward 
the fork.  Almost there.  Almost...there.  He had.  He let out a 
sigh of relief and started pulling back toward himself.  He felt 
his leg brush past a knee.  Carr turned toward him angrily.
	"Sorry," he whispered.  She picked up her fork and stabbed 
him in the side with it.  Then, she shifted her feet, knocking the 
fork back between her and Jaroch.  Dillon sighed and pushed his chair 
back a little bit.  "Excuse me," he said finally, "I dropped my 
fork."  He hadn't wanted Hawkins to know, but now it just didn't 
matter.  He'd pick up his fork and not make any more mistakes for 
the rest of the night.  One little blunder wouldn't destroy 
everything...he hoped.  He slid forward in his chair to get his 
fork.  Suddenly, his butt slipped off the front of the chair, 
sending him falling to the floor.  His tails got caught in the 
back of his chair somehow and refused to fall down to the floor 
with him.  Dillon heard a loud rip and looked back fearing the 
worst.  The tails were still in the chair, free of the jacket they 
had once been a part of.  Dillon reached back to pull them off the 
chair, but they were firmly attached.  He ended up pulling the 
chair forcefully into himself.  Rubbing his head where the chair 
had collided with it, he decided to just get his fork and 
forget it.
	Dillon crawled underneath the table and grabbed his fork.  
Suddenly, Jaroch and Carr started kicking him repeatedly in the 
sides.  He quickly backed up toward his chair to get away from the 
insistent barrage of feet.  He got up and bumped into the table.  
It raised up underneath him sending everything on it sliding into 
Debbie's lap.  Dillon let the table fall again and threw himself 
back into his chair.
	"Are you finished?" Debbie said angrily.  Dillon could tell 
that she was on the edge of losing her temper.  He wasn't sure why 
until he noticed the devastation on the table and the new red 
stripes on Debbie's white dress.
	"Sorry," he said as he leaned back into his chair.  At least 
Hawkins wasn't mad at him.  He stretched his leg back out toward 
hers and rubbed against it again.  She didn't respond.  She didn't 
even look at him.  Maybe she was mad at him.  She was just sitting 
there, and her leg was as stiff as a board.  Wait a second.  
Dillon looked back under the table.  He'd been rubbing the table 
leg.  Writing dinner off as a total loss, Dillon decided just to 
be quiet until he could get the hell back to his room and go to 
sleep.



	Chapter Twelve

	Lieutenant Commander Morales was in the main shuttlebay early 
the next morning to get a runabout ready for the mission to 
Bracktia Prime.  He could have assigned one of the other 
shuttlebay workers to do it, but he was nervous as hell and needed 
something to occupy his mind.  It wasn't working though.  He'd 
already almost screwed up and realigned the warp core's energy 
output to match the phaser harmonics.  Luckily, he caught it 
before he blew up the entire shuttlebay.
	Starfleet must be insane to be giving me command, he thought 
as he checked the runabout's systems for the fourth time.  He 
looked at the chronometer in the control panel.  0600 hours.  They 
would be here in a second.  His crew.  His team.  The lives that 
he was responsible for.  Morales could not remember the last time 
that he this anxious not to do something.
	The shuttlebay doors opened, and Morales heard the sound of 
voices.  He walked to the runabout hatch and stepped out into the 
main shuttlebay.
	"After sleeping on it," Lieutenant Craig Porter was saying.  
"I've decided that this could be really bad."
	"What gives you that idea?" Lieutenant Sean Russell asked.
	"We're going into an unknown situation with an unknown 
commanding officer.  That tends to make me nervous," Porter 
replied.
	"I hadn't thought of it like that," Yeoman Tina Jones said.  
Morales cleared his throat to get their attention.
	"Hello, everyone.  The runabout is ready," he said.
	"Thanks," Russell said.  "We'll be ready in a minute.  We're 
waiting for someone."  That took Morales by surprise.  As far as he 
knew, the team was going to be him and three others.  They were 
all here.  Who were they waiting for?  Whoever it was, it didn't 
matter.  They were supposed to leave at 0600 hours.  They were 
already a little behind schedule.  It was time to be a commanding 
officer.
	"I think leaving now would be good," Morales said.
	"Yeah.  And who the hell are you?" Porter asked.
	"Lieutenant Commander Walter Morales."  Saying his full title 
like that was giving Morales confidence.  "I'm your commanding 
officer.  Now, let's go."  Porter, Russell, and Jones stared at 
him.
	"Oh God, I'm sorry, sir," Jones said nervously.  "We didn't 
know..."
	"It's OK," Morales said.  "I just think that we need to leave 
now.  Who were you waiting for?"
	"You.  We didn't know who was in command of this mission," 
Porter said.
	"That would be me," Morales said.  "Shall we go?"
	"Aye, sir," Porter, Russell, and Jones said in unison.  They 
walked past him into the runabout.  Morales let out a big sigh of 
relief and walked in after them.  He'd gotten through the first 
real command he'd ever had to give.  Somehow it was never like 
this when he was running the shuttlebays.  They worked more as a 
team.  Morales was just the one who gave the reports to the captain. 
 This was a whole new game.
	Lieutenant Porter was seated at the runabout controls when 
Morales entered the cockpit.  Russell was seated next to him 
checking the sensors and weapons systems.  Jones had grabbed the 
chair behind Russell.
	"We're ready for departure, sir," Porter reported.  Morales sat 
down in the chair behind Porter uncomfortably.  They were going to 
fly the runabout for him.  Well, of course they were.  He was in 
command.  Subordinates take care of the routine stuff.  All he had 
to do was give orders.  Morales felt this sudden longing to be a 
subordinate again, to be the one flying the ship.
	"Let's go," he said finally and without enthusiasm.
	"This is Runabout Hudson.  We're heading out," Porter said.
	"Acknowledged, Hudson.  You're cleared for departure." a 
voice said over the comm system.  Morales recognized it.  It was 
Lieutenant Kaplan.  She was his second-in-command in the 
shuttlebay.  She was probably in command of the shuttlebay now.  
She deserved it.  Morales felt a pang in his stomach.  It wasn't 
hunger, it was regret.  He was going to miss those people.  What 
had Starfleet done to him?  This transfer was going to be hell.
	The giant hanger doors leading into space opened in front of 
the runabout.  Porter flew the runabout out of the shuttlebay and 
steered it around past the Secondprize.  Off to their left, they 
could see the giant form of Starbase 219.  The Secondprize would 
be entering the starbase's hangar soon to start it's refit.  
Inside that hanger sat the space station that they would all soon 
call home.
	"How come I feel like I'm going to a funeral?" Jones said 
softly.
	"You aren't the only one," Russell said.
	"Porter, turn us around and give us a good pass by the ship," 
Morales said.
	"You got it," Porter said.  He steered the runabout back 
around until the Secondprize was directly in front of them.  It 
may have only been an old Excelsior class ship, but it was still 
impressive.  Morales thought that he could almost look into the 
windows of Seven Backward.  He'd never understood why they called 
it that since it was at the front of the ship.
	Porter flew them over the saucer section and the bridge.  
They descended down to the secondary hull.  The runabout's 
navigation lights glinted off the white hull of the ship.  Above 
them to their left and right sat the warp nacelles, Commander 
Baird's babies.  He'd never tell you that to your face though.
	The runabout flew over the main shuttlebay finally, and then 
into the emptiness of space.  The Secondprize wasn't a very large 
ship in the cosmic scheme of things, but it had been their home 
for the last three years.
	"I think I speak for all of us when I say that I'm really 
going to miss this ship," Russell said.  "There's no other one 
like it, and no other people like her crew."
	"And I think the universe is better off that way," Porter 
said.  The four of them laughed.
	"Agreed," Morales said.  "Get us to Bracktia Prime.  Warp 
five."  Porter's hands flew across the console.  The runabout's 
warp engines hummed and propelled the ship forward, making the 
stars appear to be nothing more than streaks of light.
	"Answering warp five, sir," Porter said.  "We'll arrive at 
Bracktia Prime in three hours twenty minutes."
	"I guess that gives us some time to get to know each other," 
Morales said, trying to break the ice.  "Who wants to go first?"
	"Excuse me?" Russell said.
	"Introduce yourself.  Tell me about yourself."
	"Well...my name's Sean Russell.  I'm your new security 
chief."
	"Anything else?" Morales asked.
	"I'm a lieutenant."
	"Thank you.  Next."
	"My name's Tina Jones.  And I'm really happy to be here and 
not on Odala Two.  That's where I grew up.  It was really, really 
boring, so I left on a freighter and enlisted in Starfleet as soon 
as I got a chance.  I've always wanted to see the galaxy and meet 
all kinds of strange beings...as long as they didn't try to hurt 
me or anything.  But so far, I haven't met any real violent ones, 
but that..."
	"Thank you, Yeoman," Morales said, cutting her off.  "How about 
you, Lieutenant?" he said to Porter.
	"My name's Craig Porter.  My hobbies include skiing and 
solving the secrets of the universe.  I keep my weight at..."
	"OK.  OK.  I get the point," Morales said.  "How much time did 
we use?"
	"About two minutes," Porter said.  "Three hours eighteen 
minutes to go."
	"With your permission, sir, I'm going to go to the back and 
read or something," Russell said.
	"Good idea," Jones said.  "Do you need us for anything else?"
	"No.  Dismissed," Morales said.  Russell and Jones retreated to 
the rear passenger compartment.  Morales moved up to the seat beside 
Porter.  "If you want someone else to fly for a while, let me 
know."
	"Aye, sir," Porter replied.  The two men sat in silence for a 
moment.  Morales stared out the window at the stars streaking by.  
"If you don't mind me asking, sir," Porter said.   "Is this your first time 
commanding an away mission?"
	"This is my first time commanding any mission," Morales 
replied.  "Is it that obvious?"
	"Just relax.  I'm sure you'll get used to it."
	"I hope so.  I'm just glad that this is a simple pick-up trip 
instead of something sticky and complicated," Morales said.
	"I wish that you hadn't said that."
	"Why?"
	"Whenever commanding officers say something like that, 
something bad happens," Porter replied.
	"Great.  Just the confidence builder I needed."
	"Sorry, but it's the truth."
	"Well, lie to me next time," Morales said.
	"Is that an order?"
	"No.  Let's just get through this.  Maybe nothing will 
happen."
	"Yeah, right," Porter said.

	Commander Lisa Beck pressed the door chime outside of 
Lieutenant James Terris' office just after 8:30 in the morning.  
Admiral Wagner had finished his pep talk with Rydell and Beck the 
night before by ordering them both to met with Terris and 
Commander Baird in Terris' office early the next morning.
	"You may enter," Terris' voice said from inside.  The doors 
parted for Beck allowing her to see the inside of the office.  
Actually the office held no interest for her.  The windows, 
however, did.  Terris' office looked out into the vast hanger 
facility inside Starbase 219.  The Secondprize had been moved 
inside, and occupied a docking slip on the other side of the 
hanger from the office.  At a slip almost right outside of the 
window, surrounded in scaffolding, sat Waystation.  The two 
Enterprise class saucer sections had been connected into one 
seamless whole.  Two workbee shuttlepods were maneuvering a large 
docking arm into position on the side of the upper saucer.  On top 
of the entire structure, a small room slowly rotated.  The night 
before, Beck hadn't liked the idea of the operations center being 
an old rotating restaurant, but upon actually seeing it, it kind 
of worked.  The station had a certain grace to it.
	"Impressive, isn't it," Terris said, breaking into her 
thoughts.
	"I'd have to say yes," Beck replied.
	"Have a seat.  Captain Rydell and Commander Baird should be 
here any second."  Suddenly, the door burst open and Commander 
Baird rushed in.  The chief engineer lunged across Terris' desk, 
grabbed the lieutenant by the front of his uniform, and started 
shaking him.
	"There's no f***ing way we can rewire the whole damn ship in 
two weeks!" Baird shouted.  Captain Rydell ran into the office.
	"Sorry, he got away from me," Rydell said.
	"Commander Baird, I assure you that you can," Terris said, 
trying to pry Baird's hands off of his uniform.  "My staff will 
assist you."
	"Yeah, like I'm going to let your minions on board.  They 
have no clue what our systems are like."
	"They've studied the specs," Terris said.
	"F*** the specs!"  Baird threw Terris back into his desk chair 
and began pacing the office.  "You desk-jockeys have no idea what 
the reality of a ship's innards are like.  Specs won't do a damn 
thing, but confuse people."
	"Baird, I'm sure that you can do this," Rydell said 
soothingly.  "Consider it a challenge."
	"I consider it moronic," Baird replied.  "I should've expected it, 
though.  You always expect the engineers to save your asses.  Get 
this done now.  I need the warp drive in two minutes or we're all 
dead.  Why don't you come do it for a change?"
	"Commander Baird, the Secondprize will be refitted and ready 
to go in two weeks.  Understood," Rydell said angrily.  "That is 
an order.  If you can't do it, I'll find someone who can while you 
sit in a brig somewhere rotting for insubordination.  And I 
promise that you won't see the light of any sun until the Borg 
open up a maid service.  Got it!"
	"Aye, sir!" Baird shouted.  He turned on Terris.  "Have your 
trained chimps meet me in the Secondprize's engine room in half an 
hour."  Baird stormed out of the office.
	"Is he always like that?" Terris asked.
	"Actually, that was a lot easier than I thought it would be," 
Rydell said, taking a seat in front of Terris' desk.
	"He seems to be mellowing in his old age," Beck said.
	"I don't even think I want to know," Terris said.  "Anyway, 
the reason I called you here is that I need you both to give me 
full reports of the Multek situation so that I may plan your 
defensive systems accordingly."
	"Didn't Admiral Wagner give you all of that?" Rydell asked.
	"No.  He forgot, and he left this morning to head back to 
Starfleet Headquarters."
	"Can't you just contact him over subspace?" Beck asked.
	"Why bother?  You're already here," Terris said.  "I can just 
get it from you."
	"We'll have to get through the security protocols," Rydell 
said.  He stood up and touched Beck on the shoulder to signal her 
to follow him.  "How about we meet back here this afternoon?"
	"1500 hours alright?" Terris asked.
	"Perfect," Rydell said.  "We'll see you later."  He and Beck 
walked out into the hall.
	"What was all that about?" Beck asked when they had gotten a 
few meters from Terris' office. 
	"I'm not sure,"  Rydell replied.  "Something just seems a bit 
off."
	"Command intuition?" Beck asked.
	"I guess you could call it that.  I have a feeling that 
there's something going on that we don't know about, and that 
Terris' behind it."
	"I just thought I didn't like him," Beck said.  "Maybe that 
was my intuition."
	"Most likely," Rydell said.  "The question is how are we 
going to see if our intuition is correct?"
	"Let's give him what he wants and see what he does with it," 
Beck said.  "Do you think we could program fake sensor logs of a 
Multek encounter by three o'clock?"  Rydell's face lit up.
	"We don't have to.  We'll just alter some logs that are 
already there," he said.  "Let's go."  He and Beck jogged down the 
corridor toward the starbase's transporter room.



	Chapter Thirteen

	"Federation vessel, please identify yourself," the voice of a 
Bracktia Control officer said over the runabout's comm system.
	"This is the Federation Runabout Hudson," Lieutenant Porter 
replied.  "We're here to pick up Dr. Amelia Nelson."
	"We've been expecting you, Hudson," the voice interrupted.  
"You may enter orbit above our world.  The coordinates of Dr. 
Nelson's lab are being sent to you now.  Bracktia Control out."
	"They don't waste any time," Porter said to Lieutenant 
Commander Morales who was seated beside him.
	"No kidding," Morales said.  "But you heard the man.  Standard 
orbit.  We'll beam down as soon as you're ready."
	"Aye, sir."

	Morales, Porter, Russell, and Jones materialized inside of a 
sterile white corridor.  The white of the walls was enough to make 
the away team shield their eyes.  A man in a dark blue jumpsuit 
walked over to them, giving them something not so bright to focus 
on.
	"Welcome, my name is Dr. Landris.  We've been expecting you," 
the man said.  Morales thought that the man seemed anxious or 
agitated or something.  He just couldn't put his finger on it.
	"So we heard," Morales replied.  "I'm Lieutenant Commander Walter 
Morales.  This is Lieutenant Craig Porter, Lieutenant Sean Russell, 
and Yeoman Tina Jones."
	"Delighted.  Come on," Landris said.  He turned and 
practically started jogging down the corridor.  The team followed 
Landris into a large room.  Various computer consoles ringed the 
room, but the space was dominated by a smoky pool of green, 
glowing liquid.  A woman was leaning over the tank scanning 
something in the liquid with a tricorder.  "Dr. Nelson, your 
ride's here."  The woman slammed her tricorder shut violently and 
turned toward Landris and the away team.
	"Go away," she said angrily.
	"Doctor, my name's Lieutenant Commander Walter Morales.  I've 
been ordered to take you back to Starbase 219, so that you may 
take the position of chief medical officer on our station.  I 
can't go away."
	"Then you're going to be in for a long wait, Morales, because 
I'm not leaving until I finish my work," Nelson snapped.
	"How long will that be?" Russell asked.  "A couple of days?"
	"Try months to years, pal," Nelson said.
	"What are you doing?" Porter asked.
	"Wasting time with you people at the moment," Nelson said.  
"But normally, I'm studying Midon."
	"What's a Midon?" Morales said.
	"Perhaps I should explain," Landris said, jumping into the 
conversation.  "The people of my world are capable of joining with 
a species indigenous to our planet.  We call them Brackto.  The 
Midon that Dr. Nelson refers to is a Brackto."
	"So it's a symbiont like the Trill have," Porter said.
	"The symbionts are genetically similar," Nelson said.  "I'm 
attempting to trace the evolution of the Brackto to determine if 
there is some kind of common ancestry between them and the Trill."
	"But the Trill homeworld is on the other side of the 
quadrant," Morales said.  Nelson looked at him and smiled.
	"Exactly," she said.  "I believe that there may be some other 
force involved.  Now, if you will excuse me I have work to do and 
time is precious."
	"Is everybody around here in a hurry?" Morales asked.
	"Realistic, I think is a better word," Landris said.  "There 
are rumors that the Hinaree have determined the location of this 
lab." 
	"Yeoman, remind me in the future to read the reports on 
planets I'm visiting before I get there," Morales said to Jones.
	"Yes, sir," she said confused.
	"OK, who are the Hinaree?" Morales asked.
	"They are a radical terrorist group," Landris replied.
	"They're murderers!" Nelson shouted without looking away from 
her tricorder.
	"Unlike the Trill, not all of our population believes it to 
be a great honor to be joined with a symbiont," Landris said.  
"The Hinaree feel that the symbionts are trying to take over our 
society and destroy our individual identities."
	"They're nuts," Nelson said.
	"Since Dr. Nelson is human, she tends to overlook the 
sensitive political situation brought up by the Hinaree," Landris 
said.  "I do not blame her for this, but there is more going on here 
than a simple terrorism issue.  A large portion of our population 
thinks like the Hinaree.  We are lucky that so few of them have 
turned violent."
	"What do you mean by violent?" Russell asked.  This whole 
situation had just turned dangerous.
	"Several joined Bracktians have been killed.  Those who have 
symbionts now try to keep it secret in order to avoid becoming a 
target.  Hinaree supporters in our legislative body are attempting 
to make joining illegal, or, if they cannot accomplish that, take 
away most of the rights of joined Bracktians."
	"And the Hinaree know where this lab is?" Jones said 
uncomfortably.
	"We believe so."
	"Then I think it would be a good idea if we left right now," 
Morales said.  "Dr. Nelson, I'm afraid that..."
	"I'm not leaving until I finish my research on Midon," 
Nelson said.
	"Then bring it with us," Morales said.  "We need to leave."
	"The government will not allow any Brackto to be taken off 
the planet," Landris said.
	"You're kidding," Porter said.  "But you said most of the 
population wanted them killed.  Why not just let them leave?"
	"Bureaucracy," Landris said.
	"Understood," Porter said.
	"Dr. Landris, can you take us to the President?" Morales asked. 
 "Surely he can make an exception."
	"I can take you, but I don't know how much good it will do."
	"I'm willing to take a chance."
	"I'd like to stay here and help Dr. Nelson," Porter said.
	"Fine," Morales replied.  "Russell, Jones, let's go."  Landris, 
Morales, Russell, and Jones walked out of the lab.
	"I hope that you weren't staying to hit on me, Lieutenant," 
Nelson said.
	"Why would you say that?" Porter asked.
	"Most people don't find researching creatures that look like 
giant slugs to be that interesting."
	"Well, I find meetings with stuffy politicians to be even 
less interesting," Porter said.  "Besides, if you're going to be 
bringing that thing to Waystation, it's my job as science officer 
to know what the hell it is."
	"Then step over to that console," Nelson said gesturing to a 
computer sitting beside the tank.  "There's two years of research 
in there."  
	"I probably won't be able to read all of that in one 
sitting," Porter said.  "If you don't mind, I'll just dump it into 
my tricorder to look at later."
	"Up to you, but if you aren't reading, you're going to be 
helping me," Nelson said.
	"Got it."  Porter connected the console to his tricorder and 
started dumping the computer's files into it.
	"Now, come over here and pick up Midon for me," Nelson 
ordered.
	"Pick it up?"
	"Yes, the sterilization field will take care of your hands as 
you reach into the tank."
	"But the slime..."
	"Porter, I was starting to like you.  Please don't make me 
change my mind," Nelson said.  Porter walked over to the tank and 
slowly stuck his hands into it.  The green liquid was had a 
consistency somewhere between liquid soap and jello.  It was 
disgusting.  Trying not to think about the slime on his hands, 
Porter grabbed Midon and lifted it out of the liquid.  Nelson was 
right, it did kind of look like a giant slug.  It was about a foot 
long and had grayish-green skin that had the texture of wet 
rubber.  Four long tendrils protruded from each side of its body.  
Porter assumed that it used those to connect itself to its host.  
He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of something crawling 
inside his body and attaching itself to him.
	Nelson grabbed a different scanner from an instrument 
table next to the tank and ran another series of tests.  She seemed 
completely enthralled in her research.  Five minutes later, she 
was still scanning and completely oblivious that Porter's arms 
were getting tired.
	"Doctor, can I put Midon back any time soon?" he asked 
finally.  Nelson looked up at him and smiled slightly.
	"Sorry, I just get a little involved sometimes," she replied.
	"I think obsessed is a better word for it."  He gently put 
Midon back into the tank and put his hands in the sonic sink on 
the other side of the tank.
	"I've been at this for two years, Lieutenant, and I'm just 
now getting close to finding the link between the Brackto and the 
Trill.  I think a bit of obsession after all this time is only 
natural."
	"Whatever you say, Doc."  Porter went over to check his 
tricorder's progress.  It had completed recording Nelson's files, 
so he put it back in his uniform pocket.  Once he had time to 
study the information, he might be able to give Nelson a hand with 
her research.
	"Unauthorized personnel are attempting to gain entry to the 
laboratory facility," a loud computer voice barked suddenly.
	"Oh no!" Nelson shouted.  She rushed over to a computer near 
the door and frantically started pushing buttons.
	"Maybe it's just Lieutenant Commander Morales and the others," 
Porter suggested.
	"Not unless they brought explosives."
	"What?"
	The building rocked under the force of an explosion.
	"It's the Hinaree," Nelson said.  "I've activated the 
defensive barrier doors, but that won't hold them long."
	"We don't need very long," Porter said.  He slapped his 
commbadge.  "Porter to Hudson."  Nothing happened.  "Porter to 
Morales."  Still nothing.  He pulled out his tricorder and started 
scanning.  "There's a jamming field around the building."
	"What are we going to do?  We have no weapons."
	"What are they going to want?"
	"Midon.  They'll have no interest in us," Nelson said.
	"Is there anyplace we can hide Midon?" Porter asked.  Maybe 
if the Hinaree didn't find a symbiont in the lab, they'd just 
leave.
	"Yes.  Inside me," Nelson said.
	"Are you insane?" Porter shouted.  Another explosion shook 
the lab.
	"We don't have time to argue about this.  It's a fairly 
simple procedure.  I just need you to put Midon in me and 
monitor my vital signs.  A Brackto has never been joined to a 
human before."
	"But I'm not a doctor," Porter insisted.
	"I'll talk you through it.  Come on."  Nelson grabbed Midon 
and cleaned it off in the sonic sink.  "Grab the laser scalpel, 
the anesthesia pad, and the skin sealer."  Porter found the items 
on the instrument table and ran over to Nelson.  She had lain 
across an examining table and pushed her shirt up exposing her 
stomach.  He handed her the anesthesia pad which she placed across 
her forehead.  The red and green lights on the pad started 
blinking signalling that it was working.  Nelson wouldn't feel a 
thing, but she'd be conscious through the whole procedure.
	"Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this?" Porter 
asked.  A bigger explosion sent bits of ceiling falling to the 
floor behind him.
	"Yes.  Now make a six inch incision in my abdomen," she 
ordered.  Porter activated the beam and made the cut.  Nelson 
winced a little more out of reflex than as a result of any pain.  
"Put Midon in front of the cut."  Porter put the symbiont on 
Nelson's stomach.  It found the opening and slowly moved inside of 
it.  Porter couldn't watch.  Nelson suddenly moaned.
	"Are you alright?" Porter asked.
	"Yes," she said gasping.  "Midon's getting situated."  She 
winced.  "It's a bit uncomfortable."  Nelson screamed.
	"I'm pulling it out," Porter said.
	"No!  I'm fine.  Give Midon time."  Another explosion shook 
the room.  It sounded much closer than the last one.
	"This had better be quick."
	"Close us up," Nelson ordered.  Her voice sounded different.  
More calm than before.  "We are joined."  Porter ran the skin 
sealer across the incision on Nelson's stomach and pulled her shirt 
down.  He could hear footsteps and shouting voices outside the 
door.
	"Just lie still for now," Porter said.  "I'll handle this."  
He ran over to a corner of the lab, grabbed a large plastic 
container, and started throwing tools and data chips into it.  The 
lab doors exploded inward violently, knocking Porter off his feet. 
 Five people carrying rifles charged into the lab.
	"Kill the symbiont," the woman in the lead ordered. 
	"It's not here," Porter shouted.
	"Find it," the leader said to her followers.  She approached 
Porter.  "If you're lying, I will kill you myself."
	"Why would I lie?  I'm just here to clean up the lab and get 
Dr. Nelson out of here," Porter said.
	"What happened to her?" the leader asked walking over to 
Nelson.
	"She got hit by a piece of ceiling debris after one of the 
explosions.  I was trying to finish up and beam us out before you got here."
	"You would not have been able to leave.  We have jammed all 
communications."
	"Oh," Porter said.  Play dumb.  Play dumb.
	"It's not here," one of the Hinaree reported.
	"Where is the Midon symbiont?" the leader said.  She 
pointed her rifle at Porter's face.
	"Dr. Landris took it yesterday," Nelson said weakly.  "He said 
that the Bracktia Science Council had sole rights to the 
symbionts.  He called the Federation to have me removed."  Porter 
was impressed.  Dr. Nelson was adding to the lie quite nicely.
	"We have no quarrel with the Federation," the Hinaree leader 
said.
	"That's good," Porter said.  "Can you let us leave now?"
	"I don't think so," the leader said, a smile crossing her 
face.  "You'll make such great hostages.  The Bracktia government 
wants Federation membership so badly that they'd do anything we 
wanted to insure your safe return.  Bring them."  Two Hinaree 
grabbed Porter and pushed him towards the door, while the two 
others picked up Nelson.


	Chapter Fourteen

	After a good night's sleep, Commander Dillon was feeling 
better about life. Nothing else had happened after the fork incident 
the night before.  Of course, it helped that he excused 
himself right after dinner and hid in his room for the rest of the 
evening.
	Today, however, was a new day, and he had a mission to 
complete.  He straightened his uniform, checked his commbadge and 
phaser, and walked out of his quarters.  Jaroch was just passing his 
room as Dillon walked out the door.
	"Jaroch, good, just the person I wanted to see," he said warmly.
	"What about?" Jaroch said wearily.  It was too early in the day 
to have Dillon getting on his nerves.  He was going to have to 
deal with Dillon all day.
	"What did Debbie tell you about the park last night?  I got 
kind of distracted."
	"I noticed.  She did not tell me anything very useful.  All I 
know is that this place has some kind of genetic manipulation 
involved."
	"That's not a lot to go on," Dillon said.  "I guess we'll 
just have to wait and see."
	"A brilliant plan, sir," Jaroch said and walked off down the 
hall.
	Hawkins and Carr were seated at the dining room table 
with Debbie when Jaroch and Dillon walked in.  The table was full of 
doughnuts, muffins, and juices.
	"Eat quickly, gentlemen," Debbie said.  "Your tour leaves in 
ten minutes."
	"Commander, as per Admiral Wagner's orders, I'll be 
remaining here while you take your tour," Ensign Carr said.
	"Fine," Dillon said, gulping down a bit of doughnut.
	Ten minutes later, Debbie led Dillon, Jaroch, and Carr to a 
large room which opened to the outside.  A passenger conveyance of 
some kind hung from a track in the ceiling.  It had room for about 
six people.  A Starfleet insignia was painted on the side as well 
as the words "Starfleet Memorial Gardens."
	"Hop in," Debbie said.  "As soon as I get to the control 
room, we'll start the tour."  She turned and walked out of the 
room.  The door of the passenger car opened by itself.  Dillon, 
Jaroch, and Hawkins stepped inside and sat down.  The door slammed 
shut, and the car moved forward and out of the room.  Dillon, Jaroch, 
and Hawkins found themselves suspended at least fifty feet above 
the ground passing over a thickly forested area.
	"Welcome to Starfleet Memorial Gardens," Debbie's voice said 
over the loudspeaker inside the passenger car.  "This park is 
dedicated to honoring the legends of Starfleet.  And, through some 
wonderful advances in cloning technology, you will actually be 
able to meet legends like Pike, Kirk, Spock, and Picard.  They're 
all here and larger than life: about fifty feet larger to be 
exact.  Starfleet's giants have become literal giants, and they're 
all here for you at Starfleet Memorial Gardens."
	"I am suddenly very unhappy about this," Dillon said.  "A 
fifty-foot tall clone of Captain Pike.  That's ludicrous.  That's 
insulting."
	"That's technology," Debbie's voice said.  "Now sit down, 
shut up, and enjoy it."

	"God, he's annoying," Debbie said, turning to Ensign 
Carr.  They were in the control center of the gardens 
watching the other's progress through the park on a huge view 
screen.
	"I know," Carr replied.  "But he outranks us, so we 
have to put up with him."
	"All systems nominal," a woman said from a console across the 
room.
	"Thanks, Claudia," Debbie said.  "Let me know if anything 
starts acting weird."  She walked over to a large window on the 
far side of the room.  It looked in on a large power reactor.  An 
electronically sealed door, similar to the ones all over the 
building, was next to the window and allowed access to the 
reactor.
	"Have things started acting weird in the past?" Carr 
asked.
	"Nothing major," Debbie replied.  "The clones aren't exactly 
normal, but other than that, things here work pretty well."
	"What's so abnormal about the clones?"
	"Nothing," Debbie said quickly.  "Nothing dangerous anyway."
	"Well, that's comforting...I think."

	"Commander, I am not sure that I can approve of this place on 
an ethical level," Jaroch said as they passed over the trees of the 
Starfleet Memorial Gardens.  
	"What do you mean?" Dillon said.
	"The cloning of people is shaky enough ethically, but making 
them fifty feet high?  That sounds rather...awful."
	"Come on, Jaroch.  This is our one chance to meet the greatest 
leaders in Starfleet history," Hawkins said.  "I don't care if 
they're fifty feet high or two feet high, they're still legends."
	They heard loud screaming off in the distance.
	"What the hell was that?" Hawkins said, going instinctively 
for her phaser.
	"I have no idea," Jaroch said.
	"I'm sure it's nothing," Dillon said uncomfortably.  Another 
scream, closer this time, shook the passenger car.
	"I'm starting to understand why Starfleet wanted me to check 
on the security of this place," Hawkins said.  "What kind of 
animals are living on this planet?"
	"MAAAAKKKISOOOO!!" the scream bellowed.
	"Whatever it is, we're getting closer to it now," Dillon 
said.
	"I'm really wishing that I brought a bigger phaser," Hawkins 
said, looking down at the tiny personal phaser she was carrying.
	"MAAKKITTTTTTTSOOOO!"  The car was shaking violent.
	"You are now approaching