Star Traks: The Vexed Generation is based on Alan Decker's Star Traks, 
which in turn is based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry, who 
is turning in his grave  The Aerostar-A was created by Starfleet,
to give Captain Conway and his crew something to do with their spare time.  
Tom Clancy wrote a lot of books, a lot of very long books.  This one isn't 
quite as long as any of them.

Copyright 2001.  All rights, and wrongs, are reserved.

If you're offended by mildly disturbing language, situations, and the utter 
disregard of some of Star Trek's greatest premises, better hit the "Back" 
button on your browser right now.  If not, welcome aboard!





STAR TRAKS: THE VEXED GENERATION 
                        
"The Slug of All Fears"

AN AEROSTAR-A ADVENTURE
BY ANTHONY BUTLER

     









NOTE TO READER:

The following book builds on storylines started in the Star Traks: 
The Vexed Generation stories "Symbiotic Relationship," "The 
Host with the Most," "Love Hurts" and  "Keep Your Friends 
Close."  A reading, or re-reading, of these stories, may help to 
alleviate some confusion, but I'm not making any promises!






                    



                    PROLOGUE
                        
                        
                        
                        
                        
380 YEARS AGO. . .
THE PLANET TRILL

     Iano Snax looked out over the lavish Trill countryside of Precinct
42 of the Agratha continent and smiled.
     Trill was a beautiful world, and Agratha was one of the most
beautiful continents.  It had dense jungles, beautiful waterfalls, expansive
gray-brown plains and vast, ebbing and flowing purple oceans.
     Within 24 hours, Iano Snax knew his mercenaries would land on
the shores of Agratha and take the continent piece by piece, storming
through its quiet, defenseless villages, and setting them ablaze.  It would be
his first move in uniting Trill in a single government, one he controlled.  
The brinksmanship and factioning, the constant quibbling and diplomatic
posturing would be over.  Trill was a planet ripe for the picking.  It was
overtly peaceful, harmless, devoid of courageous persons, and, most
importantly, naive.  It wouldn't expect such an assault, because none had 
 been attempted in centuries.
     But that was because no symbiont like Snax had ever existed, or if
it had, it had been quickly weeded out by Symbiosis Engineers.
     His scouting expedition nearly complete, Snax was about to return
to his solar skiff when he was joined at the craggy bluff by a breathless,
panting young woman in frilly white pirate's garb, similar to Iano.
     "Make this quick, Briana," Snax said, pulling his long, reddish hair
into a ponytail.  He looked the part of pirate scum: he was tall, lanky,
bearded, with long hair that, when cast about his shoulders, covered the
spots on his neck.  Any other Trill would scoff at such a thing, but Iano
reveled in it.  Anything that went against convention pleased him. 
Anything that stirred up ire in his fellow Trill made him ecstatic.
     "The chief lookout just sent a report in by telewire," Briana said,
bracing her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.  "Seven
solar frigates are headed this way at full steam.  They'll arrive by nightfall."
     "The Trill Navy?" Snax mused, rubbing his chin.
     "Word of your plans must have gotten out somehow," Briana said,
finally standing upright.  "I only thought it was fair to warn you."
     "You've done well," Snax said, brushing a hand along Briana's
face.  "You'll be a good officer, in time, if you work hard at it."
     "I've learned everything from you," Briana said sweetly.
     Snax grinned at her devilishly.  He'd picked up Briana at the port of
Shmantho a year ago.  She was University educated, recently joined, and
new and fresh to the world as if she were just born.  She was studying
astronomy at the local observatory, and had a bright future of citing
meaningless numbers in numerous, increasingly meaningless, logs, over the
years.
     When Snax came across Briana, he'd first intended to steal her
money, perhaps have his way with her.  But he saw something in her,
maybe it was something beyond the purity of Briana.  Something deep
down, in her gut.  In the symbiont called Shar.  Something he could
control, command, and pervert into a soldier in his army.
     And so Snax brought Briana with him on his ocean voyage.  And
first it was a kidnapping, the young graduate forced to spend her days in
the cargo hold.  But over several months, she learned to embrace her
captors, and Snax in particular.
     He didn't know if he was a father figure in her life, or a romantic
one.  Either way suited him just fine.  She was going to be good for his
purposes, that was all that mattered.
     So Snax began training Briana Shar, in combat and deception.
     And, that naivete in her eyes soon gave way to cold calculation. 
Briana was fading into the background, and Shar, this strong-willed
symbiont, perhaps almost as strong-willed as Snax himself, began to take
hold.
     During this long pause, Briana's calculating eyes searched Snax's
for answers.  "Snax, what do we do?"
     Snax sneered at Briana Shar.  "We let the frigates come.  And when
they do, we will be ready for them.  And we'll defeat them."
     "How can you be so sure?"
     "Because, in the end, we're nastier than they are."
     Briana Shar grinned.


     By nightfall, dozens of Snax's solar skiffs landed on the shores of
Agratha.  The agrarian population, who lived several kilometers landward,
hadn't even become aware of their presence yet.  Less technologically
inclined than the Trill of the Combra and Brekkus continenents, the
Agratha people rarely ever made contact with the rest of Trill.  That, Snax
felt, was one of the things that made them so ripe, so tempting for the
picking.
     Snax stood on the shoreline of Agratha, the waves licking his feet,
staring through a monocular.
     "What do you see?" Briana asked expectantly, as always, at Snax's
side.
     "Five sillouhettes, heading this way, at full steam."
     "Do we have enough men to stop the Trill Navy?"
     "More than enough," Snax grimaced.  "The Trill Navy is nothing
but a vacationing club for the well-to-do sons of Trill.  With any luck, we
won't even have to face General Jonus Kedric."
     "I do believe that's who they put in command of the fleet, sir,"
Briana said quietly.
     "Blast," Snax growled.  "Well, then, we'll just have to redouble our
efforts.  Get the word out to our people: Have them position themselves
behind the dunes and bluffs of the southern shore.  Instruct them that not a
single member of the Trill Navy can be allowed to set foot on this land. 
It's ours now, and they're going to have to come through us to get it."
     "How are you so sure that we'll win this engagement?" Briana
asked.
     "Because one thing General Kedric doesn't know is that I've
dropped mines throughout these waters.  And only you, me, and a handful
of my closest men know about them.  So, unless somebody gave Kedric a
map of the minefield, he's going to endure significant losses before he ever
steps foot here."
     Briana nodded.  "Thank Gods for that."
     

     Two hours later, the Trill Navy had killed and injured a hundred of
Iano Snax's men, and arrested the others and stowed them aboard their
great frigates, all beached safely on the shores of Precinct 42.
     Snax, meanwhile, was running, fast and hard.  He couldn't go to his
skiff.  It was surrounded by Trill Naval Officers.  He knew there was a
village just a few kilometers away, but he'd have to cross through some
pretty deep jungle to get there.  The good news, however, was that the
jungle would give him pretty significant cover.  Kedric and his men would
never find him, not in a million years, as long as he kept to the deep jungle.
     
     Snax was so busy patting himself on the back for surviving this
admittedly huge setback, that he didn't notice a large braktal root sticking
out of the ground.  His foot caught, he fell face forward, and hit the ground
hard.
     "Need some help?" a sweet voice asked, and he looked up to see
that it was Briana Shar.
     "Shar..." he said, grinning.  "You made it out too?"
     "Oh yeah," she said, reaching out a hand to help him up.  "I
managed just fine."
     "I don't know what went wrong.  Kedric's fleet should have been
badly damaged by that minefield.  Someone must have betrayed me."
     "Let's not worry about that now," Briana said, letting go of Snax's
hand and jogging several paces ahead of him.  "I believe you were heading
this way?"
     "Yes, dear Briana.  How did you know?"
     "I had a feeling," Briana said with a soft giggle, then turned on Shar
in an instant and yanked a pulse-gun out of her boot.  She leveled it at Snax
and smiled.  "Don't move!"
     Snax laughed.  "And what is this little game? Really, Briana, we
don't have time for this."
     "It's not a game, Snax.  You'd be surprised at what a resourceful
girl is capable of."
     "What do you mean?"
     "She means," a voice said, an Snax whipped his head around.  From
the other direction, the tall, blond, square jawed General Jonus Kedric
stepped out from the bushes.  "She contacted the Trill Navy three months
ago, when you pulled into port at Omettica.  We've talked several times
since then, and have been tracking you all along.  We tracked you right into
this jungle."
     "So..."  Snax's forehead crinkled as he turned a disapproving gaze
at Briana.  "You're the one who gave the map of my minefield to Kedric."
     "And enough information to put you and your symbiont in prison
for a lifetime," Briana said.  "No Trill should have such a psychotic, power-
hungry mind inhabiting them."
     "But my dear, you'd find it's so much more fun this way," Snax
said, gritting his teeth.  He turned to face Kedric.  "I suppose you wouldn't
want to plea bargain?"
     "I'm afraid not," Kedric said, aiming a pulse-gun of his own on
Snax.  "The only question is, are you willing to go quietly, or will we have
to shoot you?"
     "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Snax spat.  "But I'm not
going to give you the satisfaction.  Because I know that Trill don't kill
even their worst criminals.  And that one day, maybe years from now, I'll
have another chance to take over the planet."
     "Don't count on it," Shar said, and moved over to stand next to
Kedric.  "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
     "Err..." Kedric said.  "Briana, I know we got kind of friendly since
we've been talking over telewire.  But, I have to be honest, I am sort
of...involved with someone back home.  And, although I think you're a
really nice girl, I think it's probably best if we just stay friends."
     Briana's lower lip trembled.  "FRIENDS!  I betrayed my mentor for
you, and after all your promises of how happy we'd be after I turned him
over to you...you...you just decide you want to be friends!"
     "Maybe...maybe in another lifetime it would be right," Kedric said. 
"But, right now, we have other concerns to see to."
     "Damn you, Kedric!" Briana said, bursting into tears.
     "Yes," Snax said, looking on distastefully at Kedric and Shar.  "It's
safe to say that we will all have to put these quarrels aside for another date. 
Meanwhile, Shar, I hope you, one day, find a bitter, terrible end indeed..."



     



     

     
                        
                   CHAPTER ONE





THREE WEEKS AGO. . .

     Conway whirled to see Tyra Shar lunging at him.  Now she had the
shovel, and swung it at his feet.
     He lept off the ground, and the shovel swung harmlessly beneath
him.  He followed up by ramming into her shoulder-first.  That only
briefly staggered her; she quickly brought the shovel swinging up between
his legs, then slammed it against his knee, knocking one leg out from
under him.  Like a house on a bad foundation, Conway crashed to the
ground.
     Tyra loomed over him, shovel raised to give the death blow.
     "BITCH!"  And a phaser blast soared over Tyra's head.
     She turned to see Baxter standing a few feet away, at the
Susquehanna's exit hatch.
     That moment of surprise gave Conway the opportunity to kick his
feet up into Tyra's gut.  She doubled over, fell forward, and pitched over
Conway and over the edge of the plateau, or whatever.
     Conway twisted around to grab her hands, but with the rain, sweat,
and grease of those delicious alien coffee beans, her hands slipped right
through his.
     But Tyra was fueled by pure hate.  She wouldn't go out so easily. 
She dug her fingers into the rockside, clawed the edge, kicked with her
feet.
     "This isn't over!" she cried, and reached one hand up to grab
Conway's wrist.  "No, you little bastard, I'm bringing you with me!"
     "Give me the word, Conway," Baxter said, hovering behind his first
officer.
     Conway reached out his free hand as the weight of Tyra dragged
him closer and closer to the edge of the rockface.  "Give me the phaser,
Captain."
     "I'd really rather do it."
     Conway shook his hand for emphasis.  "I'd really prefer that I do
it, sir!"
     "Conway, why quibble over--"
     "GIVE ME THE DAMN PHASER!"    
     "Okay, okay!"  Baxter shoved the phaser into Conway's hand and
he aimed it down at Tyra.  She gritted her teeth, looked up at Conway with
eyes burning.
     "You don't have the guts to do it.  You've done everything I've
asked so far!  Why stop now?"
     "Why indeed!"  And Conway blasted Tyra's hand.  Her eyes
widened in shock and her hand went limp.  She slid down the rockface,
then fell backward into a freefall.  Then she slammed back into the
rockface, then fell backward, then slammed hard against the rockface,
then fell backward, and finally disappeared into the night.
     "Heavy trade winds," Baxter said, to no one in particular.
     Conway looked out at the fuzzy night sky.  It had finally stopped
raining.  "I suppose so.  Guess I'm single again."
     Baxter glanced over the edge of the rockface.  "Guess so."

          
NOW. . .

     The Aerostar-A sailed through space, full of destiny and purpose.
     Captain David Conway, meanwhile, crawled on the floor of his
office, trying to find the wheel to his Dale Earnhardt racecar model.
     "Ahem," came a voice from his doorway.
     "Got it!"  Conway grabbed the wheel out from under his couch and
looked up, surprised.  "Doctor Lanham."  He stood up.  "You could have
bleeped, you know."
     "Oh, is that what that button is for?" she asked coyly, stepping into
the readyroom.  "And here all along I've been using my command
override."
     "Why do you have a command override?" Conway asked, stepping
behind his desk and snapping the wheel into place on the rear axle of his
1:24 scale model.
     "Let's just say your young, attractive security officer has a little bit
of a crush on me."
     Conway grimaced.  "Lieutenant Gellar isn't THAT young.  And he's
forbidden to have a crush on a fellow bridge officer.  Especially you."
     "Whatever," Lanham said, sitting down across from Conway.  She
stared at the model.  "What are you doing?"
     Conway held up the model, eying it with pride.  "I just finished
putting it together.  It's going to go on my desk, right next to my 
Starfleet Academy mug."
     "Isn't it standard for a captain to have a model of one of the other
ship's he's served on, or something, on his desk?"     
     "Maybe," Conway said, shrugging.  "But I want a NASCAR on my
desk.  And I AM the Captain, so I get whatever I want."  He'd been 
saying that a lot lately...mostly in private.
     Lanham sighed.  "When you're right, you're right."
     "Did you come here for a reason, or just to bug me?"
     "I was looking over the morning task list, actually," Lanham said,
tossing a padd onto Conway's desk.  "And I came in to discuss a few 
points with you."
     Conway gestured invitingly.  "By all means..."
     "Why aren't we DOING anything?"  Suddenly Lanham's voice was
quite a bit louder.
     "We're doing stuff."  Conway grabbed the padd and looked through
it.  "See right here?  We're studying a nebula at Thirteen-hundred.  That'll
be fun."
     "It's the Mutara nebula," Lanham said boredly.  "It's been looked
through thousands of times.  What could we possibly find that someone
else hasn't already found?"
     "I don't know.  Khan's hair scrunchie?"
     "This isn't funny.  The Aerostar-A has been in service for more than a
week, and we haven't been assigned a specific mission yet.  The people
in my department are bored out of their skulls."
     "I've found ways to keep myself busy," Conway said with a grin.
     "Why did you bring me here?" Lanham asked, leaning across the
table.  "I had a promising job on the Pulitzer.  I was even occasionally the
honorary first officer, whatever that means.  Captain Green said I was
going places."
     "He was right.  You went here.  Or is it came?"  Conway looked
thoughtful.
     "Maybe I should have just stayed on the Pulitzer," Lanham said,
more to herself than to anyone else.
     "Don't be silly," Conway said, his full attention now on his science
officer.  "Being aboard the Aerostar is a huge step forward.  We're going
to be getting into grisly and weird new frontiers of...stuff.  You just wait. 
We're going to explore, and explore, and explore, just like that other ship,
but better."
     "Other...ship?"
     "The Explorer."
     "Of course.  Your old ship."
     Now it was Conway who was leaning over the table.  "I assure you,
Alexa.  This is just a temporary shakedown period.  Soon your services will
be needed."
     "How soon?"
     "Captain Conway," came Commander Kristen Larkin's
monotone voice.  "You are needed on the bridge."
     "Maybe now," Conway suggested, and got up, walking with Lanham
out onto the bridge.  "What have we got?" he asked as Lanham took the 
science station.
     Larkin was standing in front of the viewscreen.  "A starship,
bearing oh-five-seven mark two-one-nine."
     "What kind of ship?"
     "It is Trill in design."
     Conway smiled.  "Friendlies, then."
     Larkin walked over and sat down next to Conway.  "Frankly, I
am surprised you would say that, considering your past with the Trill."
     Conway sunk a little in his chair.  "Point taken.  Point taken."
     Lt. Brian Gellar studied the tactical console he was seated at. 
"Doesn't look like a threat, Captain.  Just a Mark-Three courier."
     "Any need to raise shields?"
     "There's always a need to raise shields," Gellar said flatly.  "But not
an overwhelming one this time."
     "So I don't get to steer us out of danger?" Lt. Commander Zack
Ford said with a frown, from helm.
     "Guess not," Gellar said.
     "Well, what do they want?" Conway said.
     "Maybe you should hail them," Ford said.
     "My crew is already working like a well-oiled unit," Conway said. 
"And it's only been a week."  He looked back at Gellar.  "Okay,
Lieutenant.  Hail them."
     "Frequency's open."
     "This is Captain David Conway of the Starship Aerostar.  How may
I help you?"
     "Conway," the voice replied.  "Is that spelled C-O-N-W-A-Y?"
     "Last I checked.  Who wants to know?"
     "One moment."
     Conway and Larkin exchanged glances.
     "How strange," Larkin said.
     Suddenly a transporter beam flared in front of Conway and a
smartly-suited male figure coalesced, holding a padd.  He threw the padd in
Conway's lap.  "Captain Conway, you are hearby served.  Should you have
any questions, please URK!"
     That's when Gellar's phaser blast slammed into the man's chest and
felled him quite neatly before Conway.
     "You could have done that a little more quickly," Conway said to
Gellar as the security officer holstered his weapon.  He waved the padd. 
"What if this had been a bomb?"
     "It's not, spanky," Gellar said.  "So shut up."
     "Why..." Conway grumbled.
     "Perhaps you should read the padd," Larkin said.
     "Served," Conway mumbled, reading the padd.  "Served what?  A
meal?  Tennis?"
     Larkin looked on as Conway read, his brow furrowing more and
more.
     "Well?" Alexa Lanham asked, leaning on her console.
     "I'm being sued," Conway said.
     "By the Trill?" Lanham asked.
     "For what?" asked Ford.
     "For murder."
     "I did not realize that was was something one could be sued for,"
Larkin said.  "I am woefully unfamiliar with Trill legal standards. 
Perhaps I should download..."
     Conway was still reading.  "Wait just a damn...what the hell!"
     "Captain?" Larkin asked.
     "The name of the person suing me..."  Conway let the padd clatter to
the floor.  "It's Shar."
                        


                   CHAPTER TWO





     "Come."
     Commander Larkin walked into Conway's readyroom.  It was, in
point of fact, only the fourth time she'd walked into the readyroom since
the Aerostar-A's launch.  "Our guest is in Sickbay," she said to Conway,
who didn't seem to notice or react to her presence.  When she got no reply,
she continued.  "It appears he was the lone occupant of his ship.  We were
able to retrieve some identification from his computer database.  He is an
unjoined trill named Tammat Raye."
     Conway nodded dumbly.
     "He is unconscious; however, Doctor Benzra is prepared to wake
him at your command."
     "Yeah," Conway said.  "I'll be down in a minute."
     "Captain."  Larkin sat down across from Conway.
     "Hmm?"
     "Perhaps 'Shar' is a common name on Trill.  Like 'Smith' on
Earth."
     "Maybe."
     "The first name was not Tyra."
     "Someone named Unjon."
     "Unjon," Larkin said.  "Certainly, then, this is not the same Shar
we have dealt with before."
     "The symbionts CAN be put in other hosts, Commander," Conway
said, looking up, finally.  "That's sort of what the Trill do."
     "Sarcasm achieves nothing," Larkin said coldly.  "I am merely
trying to offer sane alternatives to your insane assumption."
     "What assumption?"  Conway stood up, paced over to his bookcase
replete with unread Tom Clancy classics.  There was just so much of that
stuff.  "The assumption that somehow I didn't manage to kill Shar?"
     "That is impossible.  The fall alone..."
     "Did we check?"
     "I believe Captain Baxter decided to leave those details up to the
Trill authorities."
     "Yeah," Conway said thoughtfully.  "We left the scene pretty quick."
     "I doubt you or the captain wanted to explain to the Trill that you
had killed one of their longest-lived symbionts."
     "Their longest-lived symbiont was certifiably insane.  It tried to kill
me.  Probably more than once."
     "It tried to kill several Explorer crew members as well," Larkin
said.  "And succeeded."
     Conway nodded.  "Uh-huh."
     "May I ask what you plan on doing?"
     "I have to consult with Starfleet."
     "Admiral Baxter will not be pleased," Larkin said thoughtfully.
     "That's an understatement.  But maybe he'll say I don't have to
go."
     "You would prefer to run away from the problem?"
     "Hey, it was self defense," Conway said.  "It's not as if I killed the
thing in cold blood."
     "You did violate Trill custom."
     "You're saying I should have let Tyra kill Captain Baxter and me?"
     "Not at all.  I am simply trying to examine both sides of the issue."
     "The issue is ridiculous.  I'm not even going to dignify it with a
response.  I'm not going to go to Trill and let someone who may or may
not be the person I killed sue me for killing it just because it's a symbiont,
when I know good and well it was in my rights to kill it!"
     "You make a convincing argument, Captain," Larkin said.


     "Rrrrgota Trill," Admiral Harlan Baxter said, looking out from
Conway's desktop terminal with narrowed eyes.
     "Excuse me, sir?  Did you say ricotta Trill?"
     "Gotta Trl!"
     "You gotta trail?  What does that mean?"
     "GRT TRM!"
     "Get trim?  We ll, I am trying to firm up my..."
     Harlan swiped the cigar from his mouth and leaned into the viewer. 
"GO TO TRILL, BOY!"
     Conway reflexively pulled back.  "Oh.  That's what I thought you
said."  He then shifted into whine mode.  "But Admiral...this is a ridiculous
charge.  After all, how can someone I killed sue me for killing them?"
     "You gotta admit, it sorta makes it an airtight case."
     "It doesn't make it a case at all.  If Shar did in fact survive, which
I'm still not sure is the case, then I obviously didn't kill it, so it has no case
at all.  If Shar didn't survive, well, then I killed Tyra in self-defense as I had
every right to."
     "The Trill're members of the Federation.  Yer a Starfleet cap'n. 
Start actin' like one and own up to your actions.  That's what my boy
would do!"
     "Your boy helped me kill Tyra!  Why isn't he being sued?"
     Harlan put the cigar back in his mouth.  "BRXTR OUT!"

                    

Captain's Log,
     Stardate 55004.4.  At the gentle suggestion of Admiral Baxter, I
have diverted the Aerostar from its pointless shaking down to the Trill
system so I can attend a pointless trial.  We locked Mister Raye's 
starship in a tractor beam and are keeping him as our...um...guest,
while we figure out what to do about this whole legal situation.

     "I have rights, you know," Raye said from the bench in the brig, as
Conway, Larkin, and Gellar stared at him.
     "He has a point," Larkin said.
     "Should I shoot him again?" Gellar asked.
     "No," Conway snapped, then looked at Raye.  "Mister Raye.  I
simply want information."
     "You can talk to the Accuser General.  I just deliver the summons,
that's all.  I'm no good to you as anything other than a hostage."
     Gellar and Conway stared at Raye thoughtfully.
     "You cannot use me as a hostage!"
     "Well," Conway said, looking at Larkin, who shook her head.
     "The Khitomer Accords would seem to be in your favor," Conway
said.  "As would the Seldonis Four convention.  However..." he looked at
Gellar.  "I'd be willing to, um, sidestep those little guidelines unless you
can give me some information."
     "I don't HAVE any information."
     "Who is Unjon Shar?" Conway demanded.
     "I would think that's obvious," Raye said flatly.
     "It's not obvious at all," Conway said.  "Either it's the Shar I knew,
or it isn't."
     "I'm afraid I can't speak to that.  As I said, I only deliver the
summons.  I don't..."
     "Kill him," Conway said, then left the room.
     "He cannot be serious," Larkin said to Gellar.
     "It's Conway, Commander," Gellar said.
     "Ah, yes.  You are, of course, correct."
     "Better get this overwith," Gellar said, stepping toward the brig. 
"Any last words, sir?" 
     Raye pulled himself into a ball.  "You can't do this!  I have rights!"
     "Do what?"
     "Shoot me."
     Gellar grinned.  "I'm not going to shoot you.  We were just
messing with you."
     "We were?" Larkin asked Gellar.
     "I assume so," Gellar said, and looked back at Raye.  "We will of
course, have to keep you here, until we can confirm these accusations.
You know, just for safety's sake."
     "But wait!" Raye exclaimed, as Gellar and Larkin walked out of the
brig.  "I have rights!  You can't just keep me here!"
     "Stay comfy!" Gellar said with a wave, as the doors closed, and he and
Larkin headed up the corridor, to find Captain Conway pacing in front of
the turbolift doors.
     "Raye is demanding he be released," Larkin told Conway.
     "Oh," Conway said, and glanced at Gellar.  "Couldn't get up the nerve 
to kill him, then?"
     "No sir.  I guess not."
     Conway sighed.  "Oh well.  Guess that's for the best.  Well, let's
prepare my case."
     "Us?" Gellar asked.
     "My legal database is extensive," Larkin said.
     "First, I need a drink," Conway said, and the group headed to the
ship's lounge.


     The Aerostar-A's crew lounge, The Starlight Lounge-A, was
nowhere near as comfortable a hangout as Mirk's Constellation Cafe, or
the Starlight Lounge of old, for that matter.
     Starfleet was, on an experimental basis, outsourcing its bartending
needs with the corporation, Guinanco.  So far, the Secondprize was the
only other ship that had such a facility, but Captain Conway wondered to
himself if Captain Jaroch hated his Guinanco-approved lounge any more than
Conway hated his.
     "Coffee, black and hot, and keep it coming."
     Harvey Upshaw stood, in suspenders and sombrero, shirt covered
with snazzy buttons inscribed with fun sayings, and surveyed the captain. 
"Seems like's something's wrong, Cap'n Dave!"
     "I told you never to call me that again," Dave growled, as
Larkin and Gellar sat down next to him.
     "And for the beautiful woman?"  Harvey pivoted to face Larkin,
all giant grins.
     "I am an android.  How many times do I have to remind you?"
     "We just aim to please here at the Starlight Lounge.  For you, big
guy?" Harvey asked Gellar.    
     "I'm on duty.  Tarkalian Tonic'll be fine."
     "Right-diddly-righty-O!" Harvey said musically, and trundled off to
the bar.
     "What I wouldn't give for a Maloxian about now," Conway
muttered.  "Any Maloxian."
     "Or Doctor Browning," Gellar frowned.  "I miss her restaurant."
     "I do too, although I did not eat there," Larkin said.  After a pause,
she added, "Because I do not eat."
     "We're getting off-track," Conway said.  "Let's remember why
we're here."
     "To prevent you from being jailed for killing Tyra?" Gellar offered.
     Larkin slid a padd over to Conway.  "I did some research. 
Apparently you could get the death penalty."
     "They still have that on Trill!"  Conway's eyes bugged as he read the
padd.
     "It hasn't been observed in centuries, but apparently it's still a legal
possibility."
     "I've already placed a veridian chip on your back, Captain," Gellar
said.  "Don't worry about a thing.  One sign of trouble and we beam you
up faster than they can say 'flip the switch.'"
     Conway felt his back.  Sure enough, a small chip rested on his right
shoulder blade.  "When the hell'd you do that?"
     "Out in the corridor just now, when I patted you on the back. 
Remember?"
     "Oh, yeah."
     "You didn't really think I did that because I like you, did you?"
     Conway floundered.  "Well, of course....not, Lieutenant."
     "Now then," Larkin said.  "I suggest I represent you."
     "Respectfully, Commander, what do you know about the law?"
Gellar asked.  
     "I just downloaded every Trill legal statute in existence into my
central processor.  And how about you?"
     Gellar fumbled with the padd in his hands.  "I just started 'A Time
to be Joined,' a suspenseful law novel, by that Trill author, Jurn Grashum."
     "I am sure that is going to help immensely."
     "Actually," Gellar replied, "Alexa told me the guy accused of murder 
dies in the end..."
     Conway glared at Gellar.  "Alexa?"
     "Yeah...over coffee.  Was that wrong?"
     Conway looked at Larkin.  "I don't know.  Was it?"
     Larkin looked from Conway to Gellar.  "I am afraid not."
     "Sh**," Conway muttered.  Harvey Upshaw then emerged from out
of nowhere, sliding a large, frothing soup-bowl sized cup in front of
Conway, and a clear glass of bubbly liquid in front of Gellar.
     "Enjoy-diddly-oy!"
     Conway grabbed Harvey's arm, pulling him down to eye-level. 
"What the hell is this?"
     "Guinanco's patented Frothy-Coffee Mornin' Starter."
     "I asked for black coffee!  BLACK!  B-L-A-C-K!  What is it about
your addled brain that doesn't seem to be able to get that!  Damn it...I
could just..."
     "Kill him?" Larkin offered.
     "You shut up!" 


     
Captain's Log,
     Supplemental.  We've arrived at Trill, and after being pulled
bodily off of Harvey Upshaw, I was forced to get my coffee from a
replicator, which is probably where I'll go from now on.  Stupid
Guinanco.

     "Standard orbit, Mister Ford," Conway ordered, standing between
he and Saral at the foreward stations.
     "As opposed to deluxe?" Ford giggled.
     "This is not the time to screw with me, Ford."
     "Or what...you'll kill me?"
     Conway felt a vein bulging in his forehead as he walked back to his
chair.  "Just give me a reason, Ford."
     "Okay, okay.  Standard orbit, eye, Captain Testy."
     "Hail them, Gellar," Conway said, as Larkin walked in from the
turbolift and sat down next to him.  "Well?" he asked her.
     "Well, what?"
     "Are you all set to deliver my defense?"
     "As ready as I shall ever be," Larkin said.  "Although I do wish
we could have spent more of our time down in the lounge planning your
defense, instead of abusing the waitstaff."
     "You know that guy had it coming."
     "I will refrain from speaking about it until the civil suit between you
and Guinanco is settled."
     "Civil suit?  Isn't there some law forbidding people from being sued
multiple times?"
     "For the same crimes, yes.  In your case, I am afraid you are out of
luck.  You will be hearing from Guinanco's lawyers."
     "They sure do move fast."
     "Much like their food service, yes."
     "You know, you two seem awfully calm about this," Dr. Lanham
spoke up from the science station.  "What makes you so sure you'll win?"
     "I will have you know we are making every effort to defend the
captain, Doctor," Larkin said.  "And should your services be needed, I
will let you know."
     "Ouch," Conway giggled.
     "Getting a response from the Trill embassy, sir," said Gellar.
     "Good.  On screen."
     A familiar face appeared on the viewer.  "Captain Conway.  What a
pleasure to see you."
     "Sh**."
     "And hello to you too, Captain Conway," the tall, lanky but
handsome, tawny-haired man on the viewscreen said, smiling amicably. 
"What a fascinating set of circumstances we find ourselves in."
     "Yeah."
     "You know him?" Lanham asked.
     "Yeah.  He's Filna Kedric.  The Federation Ambassador to Tellar."
     "Actually, I am now the Trill Minister of Foreign Affairs."
     "Yeah, good for you," Conway said, looking back at Larkin. 
"Remember him?"
     "I am afraid I do not."
     "Back when Lana was with us on the Explorer, we went down to
Tellar to negotiate a dispute between him and the Tellarite leader."
     "Indeed," Larkin replied.  "But, if you recall, I was busy defending 
my orifices from that rancorous Tellarite diplomat who came on the ship."
     "Oh, right."  Conway frowned, then looked back at an expectant
Kedric.  "So.  How ya been?"
     Kedric frowned.  "Good, until I learned a Starfleet officer
attempted to murder one of our most revered symbionts."
     "Hey," Conway said.  "It's all in my report.  It was self-defense!"
     "I suppose the jury will decide that."
     "She tried to kill me.  Great Bird, Kedric!  You should have seen
the way she treated me.  Not at all the way she was when she was in Lana.  
She was awful.  She hit me, all the time.  And killed one of my crew.  Or
more.  And tried to throw me off a plateau..."
     "Butte," Larkin corrected.
     "You shut up!"
     "You are as even-tempered as I remember, Captain," Kedric said. 
"I only hope your temper does not get you into even more trouble."
     "Ask about Shar being alive!" Lanham said as quietly as she could,
between clenched teeth..
     "Say..."  Conway leaned forward, picking up his cup of coffee from
its spot beside his chair and sipping.  "What's this about Shar still being
alive?"
     "I will leave that for him to explain, at your tribunal.  Trill
Command out."
     And Kedric blinked off the screen, replaced by a serene image of
Trill.
     "HIM?"  Conway exploded, spitting coffee everywhere.
     
                        


                  CHAPTER THREE





     "Think of it this way, sir.  There won't be any chance of romantic
involvement getting in the way this time," Gellar said as he, Conway, and
Larkin walked to the transporter room.  He looked at Conway, askance. 
"Or WILL there?"
     Conway gritted his teeth.  "I don't want to hear any more about it."
     "I fear you will be hearing much more about it, and very soon," said
Larkin.
     "You just keep your trap shut and focus on defending me."
     "As you wish," Larkin said.
     "Wait up!" Alexa Lanham cried, jogging behind the group.  "I want
to go down there."
     "Why?" Larkin asked, as the group stopped in the corridor.
     "You're my ex-husband," Lanham explained to Conway.  "I can be a
character witness."
     "That will not be necessary," Larkin said.
     Conway clamped a hand on Lanham's shoulder.  "Don't worry about
a thing, Alexa.  We'll get this thing sorted out in a couple hours, and I'll be
back in time for dinner.  That is, if you'd like to have dinner with me..."
     "I can't believe you're thinking about sex at a time like this!"
Lanham seethed.
     "Who said anything about sex?  Hmm, you're thinking about sex?"
     "Don't turn this around on me.  I'm just trying to help.  Arrrrgh! 
This is why I almost killed you eight years ago!"
     "Hmm.  Maybe I should have pressed charges," Conway pondered. 
"Oh well.  Don't worry about us.  Just go back to the bridge and...scan
something.  This whole thing will be over in a jiff."
     "Go to hell, Captain!" Lanham growled, turning on a heel and
stomping back toward the turbolift.
     "You sure have a way with women," Gellar said as the trio stepped
into the transporter room.
     "Ready to beam down, Captain!" a voice called out, causing Conway
to jump.
     Gellar instinctively went for his sidearm, looking around the room.
     Conway peered over the transporter console, to see the diminutive
Crewman Bark, a Ferengi, at the controls.
     "One of the new transfers, huh?" Conway said, sizing the Ferengi up.
     "Yeah!" he shouted.  "You got a problem with that!?"
     "No, no," Conway put his hands up.  "Just wondering."
     "Why must you shout?" Larkin inquired.
     "I have a problem controlling the volume of my voice!  It's all in
my personnel report!  Some people find it a little off-putting!  I'm sorry!"
     "Don't worry," Gellar said, as he, Conway, and Larkin mounted
the transporter pad.  "I'm sure his bark is worse than his..."
     "Don't," Conway snapped.  "Energize, Mister Bark!"
     "You got it!"
     

     "I miss Hartley," Conway said softly as he materialized in the lobby of
the Trill Command Building.
     "What's that?" Gellar asked.
     "Nothing," Conway said quickly and looked around.  "So what
now?"
     "You are under arrest, on formal charges of attempted murder. 
You will be taken immediately to a holding facility, where you will be
prepared for trial."
     The voice came from behind him.  A pair of muscular Trill jerked
his arms behind him and slapped electro-shackles on his wrists, then spun
him around.
     "Are those really necessary?" Gellar asked.
     "They are according to Trill law," one of the officers said.
     "But he has shown no signs of resisting arrest," said Larkin.
     "But he is an extradited alien.  Under subsection forty-six, Trill
penal code states all extradited aliens must be cuffed and..."
     "I am aware of the statute," Larkin cut the officer off.  "Sorry,
Captain, there is nothing I can do.  He is quite correct."
     "You fought valiantly for me," Conway muttered, twisting his bound
wrists behind his back.  "So...what do you mean...'prepared' for trial. 
You're going to delouse me?"
     "Thoroughly," the two Trill guards said in unison.
     "Damn," said Conway.
     "Don't worry, Captain.  I'm sure you could use a good scrubbing
up," Gellar said, patting Conway's shoulder.
     "What did you put on me this time?" Conway said under his breath
as the officers pulled him off down a long hallway.
     "Nothing.  Just trying to be nice!" Gellar called after him.
     "We must locate the tribunal chambers," Larkin said.  "For the
moment, the Captain must fend for himself."
     "Poor guy," Gellar said, then slapped his hands together. 
"Okeydoke.  Let's ask that cute receptionist!"
     Larkin pondered.  "Very well."
     

     "I knew this day would come," Lieutenant Commander Ford said,
rubbing the arms of the command chair with glee.  "Command!  Command,
command, command.  I'm in command!"
     "Do not get used to it," Lieutenant Saral said from the foreward
stations.
     "And why not?  Check the pips, Saral.  I'm a heartbeat away from
being first officer."
     "Commander Larkin does not have a heartbeat."
     "That's not the point!  I'm third in command!"
     "Scary thought," Ensign Puckett said from the tactical
console.  "Kiss a little more ass and you're a shoe-in for a captaincy."
     "And maybe if you kiss some other things, you'll be my first
officer."
     "Only if you kiss my ass first, jerk," Puckett said, and went back to
her panel.  "I don't stoop to such things to move up in rank."
     "Let's see if you're still saying that a few years from now, when
you're still an ensign."
     "Whatever!"
     Ford turned to face Saral.  "Any word on Captain Conway,
Lieutenant?"
     "None as yet.  It may be some time before we hear from the away
team again."
     "Shame."
     "The trial will be televised, however, on the planetary information
net."
     "Yay!  On screen, Lieutenant!"
     Saral checked her panel.  "Currently, it's just the pre-tribunal
show."
     "Good enough."  Ford leaned forward eagerly, nearly falling off the
command chair.
     The viewscreen came to life suddenly, with a few of four Trill
sitting behind a large, semi-circular desk.
     "Greetings, folks, and welcome to Tribunal Kursday!  I'm your
host, Jame Santor.  We've got a big slate of tribunal action coming up.  So
let's get started.  We have a full house here, with your commentators Hal
Onglin, Taran Shau and Karse Lokkol.  Gentlemen, what do you think of
tonight's main event, the David Conway trial?"
     The one called Karse spoke up first.  "Well, Jame, I think it's just a
case of who wants victory more.  On one side you have Unjon Shar, a
relative unknown in the Trill legal world until this case arrived.  On the
other side of the aisle, you have Captain David Conway, a decorated
Starfleet officer accused of the worst crime on our books...attempted
murder."
     "As usual, you're an idiot," Taran said.  "Conway is no more
decorated than my bathroom, and attempted murder isn't the worst crime
on our books.  Murder is."
     "I think you guys are missing the big picture," Hal Onglin said,
making notes on a padd and then gesturing at the holo-camera with his
stylus.  "This is about two immovable wills.  A test of spirit, and persistence.  
Only the best arguer will win, and it's sure to be a great battle."
     "A great battle it will be indeed," Jame finished off.  "Now let's
take it down to Pard and Jarv, who are standing by at the Tribunal
Chambers, with their pregame report."
     Ford grimaced as peppy transition music played, and the huge,
colorful words were plastered across the viewscreen:
     "Welcome to the Trial Show!"
     "Great.  It's a damn show trial," Ford murmured.


     "I smell like tulips," Conway observed, sitting on a bench in his tiny
brig.  His outer uniform jacket, combadge, phaser, and tricorder had all
been confiscated, and he was sprayed with something that smelled awful
flowery.  Awful, and flowery.
     "That's unfortunate.  As is this entire affair," a man's voice said.
     "Come again?"  Conway looked up.  Beyond his forcefield, in the
dark recesses of the holding facility, a cloaked, hooded figure stood.
     "You are being wrongly accused, Captain, of a crime you didn't
commit."
     "Tell me something I don't know."  Conway peered into the
darkness.  "Who the hell are you, anyway?  One can only hope, one of 
the jurors."
     "Most certainly not," the stranger replied.  "I am a...friend.  A
kindered spirit."
     "Good.  Then help me get out of this."
     "It is not the proper time."
     "What do you mean?"
     "We are not strong enough yet."
     "Strong enough for what?  Who are you?"
     "A member of a growing number, Captain, of people who are sick
of injustice in the Federation."
     "Section 31?" Conway said, raising an eyebrow.
     "No.  Not...quite."  The figure stepped backward.  "Don't trust
Unjon Shar, Captain.  He is out to destroy you, and Trill.  Trust us.  We've
done the research..."
     Conway stood up, walking just to the edge of the forcefield that
caged him in.  "WHO ARE YOU?"
     "Just a public defender, Captain.  We'll speak later.  Good luck to
you!"  There was a brief, almost immeasurable, flash of light, and Conway
knew, although he couldn't see to be sure, that the figure was gone.
     

     "Big crowd," Lt. Gellar observed, standing behind, and slightly
below Larkin.
     "The crowd does not concern me.  This contraption, however,
does..."
     "When in Rome, Commander...."
     "It seems...unsafe.  And I fail to see the connection between Trill
and an ancient Earth civilization."
     Larkin was standing on a hovering, circular platform, less than
three meters in diameter.  There was no railing, no seats, only a small stand
about the size of a music stand, for notes, Larkin assumed.
     "At least the prosecution has a similar stand," Gellar offered.
     "I do not see why the judge gets a railing," Larkin said, looking
over at the unoccupied, railed platform that hovered several meters in front
of her.
     "I'm sure he's an older fellow.  Don't want him falling, right?"
     "Perhaps you should take a seat, before all the seats are gone."
     "Florinda is saving me a seat."
     "Florinda?"
     "Remember, the cute receptionist?"
     "I was not aware that was her name, or I assure you I would have
remembered."
     "Whatever.  Good luck."  
     "I do not require luck," Larkin said, as Conway was led out, still
in shackles, from a side entrance.
     "Captain," Larkin said, as the guards shoved a small set of stairs
over to the platform and helped Conway up next to her.  "Have you been
treated well?"
     "Deloused and confused, Commander."
     "I understand," Larkin lied.  "I am pleased to say my defense
has been thoroughly prepared."
     "Good.  I hope you won't need to call on your Judge Judy
program."
     "That will not be necessary," Larkin said firmly.
     "You don't know how gratified I am to hear that," Conway said. 
"So...you need me to do anything, or just sit there and look pretty?"
     "Answer my questions as clearly and honestly as you can, Captain. 
And try not to... overreact when Unjon Shar makes his first appearnce."
     "What makes you think I'll--OH GOD, it's HIM!"
     "Here we go," Larkin said solemnly.
     He walked in, outfitted in the traditional satin blue Trill Tribunal
garb.  Larkin deactivated her jealousy program as soon as it came up,
questioning why Unjon got to wear a special outfit and she didn't.
     "He's..." Conway began.
     "Quite attractive," Larkin said as Unjon marched toward his
platform.  He waved off the mobile set of stairs and did a graceful,
beautiful front-over-end flip, landing perfectly erect on the platform, hands
up.  The assembled crowd cheered, save Gellar, who was making out with
Florinda, back in the eighteenth row.
     "Six-foot-four.  Blond hair. Blue eyes.  Never lost a case," the
voice of Jarn Mordan boomed over the Tribunal Chamber's loudspeakers. 
     "Although this is apparently the first case he's tried," Pard Surmal
pointed out.  
     "Yeah," Jarn replied.  "This guy here is new to the legal
system.  But he comes in with lots of experience.  His symbiont, Shar, has
lived over five hundred years, and in that time, he's dished out a lot of
punishment to the opposition, be it Trill armies or your basic street gang. 
This symbiont can do it all."
     "And the host, hailing from Zirkna province, is a master gymnast,
orbital skydiver, and accountant, with expertise in PR and Marketing and
restaurant management," Pard added.  "A nice fit for a symbiont with such
a storied past."
     "Yeah, yeah!" Jarn said, his excitement for the case obviously
building.  "Even more amazing is the fact that Shar's last host, Tyra, took a
twenty storey dive from the top of a cliff, and that rugged little symbiont
still came out fighting.  The rescue workers had no problem getting that
little guy into a new host!"
     "Unbelievable!" Conway exclaimed, as he stared at Unjon Shar with
narrowed eyes.  He turned around to find Pard and Jarn perched on
another platform, up near the Chamber's high ceiling.  He wasn't sure
exactly what their purpose was, other than to exploit the proceedings.
     "Husky, yet attractive," Larkin observed, looking at Unjon, and
Conway sighed.  "And surprisingly nimble," the android added.
     "Fine time for your attraction program to initiate," Conway
muttered.  "Keep it to yourself.  Trust me, he's nothing but trouble."
     "That is a safe assumption," Larkin said.  "Still.  He has nice,
broad shoulders and a dazzling forehead."
     "Snap out of it!"
     "Indeed."
     "And over on the defense side, look for first-time defender Kristen
Larkin to play hard and come out swinging, Pard," Jarn continued.
     "Swinging....what?" Larkin asked, confused.
     "Now let's go to the judge!" Pard called out.
     "Let's get this thing started, Pard!"
     As a strange electronic music mix played and the lights went dim,
replaced with multicolor intelligent lighting traveling around the chamber,
Conway's eyes connected with Unjon's deep baby-blues.  He saw a little bit
of Lana in there.  Or was it Tyra.  Either way, he was afraid.  Because
Unjon just stared back, and it wasn't a look of hatred or animosity that
Conway saw.  It was unbridled, unadulterated passion.  Conway's
stomach gurgled.
     "Are you ready for a tribunal?" the sound system blared.  "A
Kursday night party?  We got Pard and Jarn and we're gonna get this thing
started!  We got legal mumbo jumbo, someone's gonna die, and all my
rowdy friends are here on Kursday night!"
     Then, slowly, the lights all converged on the central platform,
where a tiny, stooped over, prunefaced Trill hobbled up a flight of stairs on
rickety legs and stepped onto his platform, sitting behind a round desk. 
The staircase fell away and the platform hovered out closer to Conway's and
Unjon's platforms.
     "Gentleman...android...I am the Honorous Expediter Suffroid
Grandall, and I am only going to say this once.  No shenanigans.  Keep it
short and sweet, because I'm scheduled to get put into another host at oh-
nine hundred, and I've got dying to do."
     "Expediter Grandall is rumored to be four hundred years old, Jarn,"
Pard pointed out over the loudspeakers.
     "No kidding.  And how many hosts has Grandall had?"
     "Two, apparently."
     "Boy, he sure has a lot of fight in him.  That's probably why he's
made it to this year's All-Mordan Tribunal team."
     "Yup," Pard replied.
     "Let's hear opening statements, while I'm living," Grandall
announced, scooting closer to his desk.
     "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Tribunal.  Pard, Jarn.  Spectators. 
Home audience.  Honored guests and attempted murderers.  Let's get right
down to the point," Unjon Shar said in slow, measured tones, looking out
at the murmurring crowd, and at the jurors, who sat on a large, oblong
platform to the judge's right.  He slowly swung an incriminating hand at
Captain Conway, who gulped in response.  "This man tried to kill my
symbiont.  You know the most sacred lifeforms on Trill are our symbionts. 
There is no greater crime than killing one, and I argue trying to kill one,
with the intent of finishing the job, is just as bad."
     Grandall turned to face Larkin.  "Defense?"
     "Captain Conway may have tried to kill Tyra Shar, but he had good
cause.  Further, he never managed to finish the job, so I move that there
was no crime committed here."
     "That's all you've got?" Conway groaned, staring at Larkin.
     "I am simply getting warmed up," Larkin assured him.
     "Rebuttal," Grandall said, looking boredly at Unjon.
     "A Trill citizen is dead!" Unjon snapped back.  "Tyra Cranule was a
valued member of Trill society and deserved to have a long, happy life! 
Shar or no Shar!"
     Grandall looked at Larkin.
     "She killed two Explorer crewmembers; Ensigns Cassie Drucker
and Samuel Burke."
     "Let the record state the Explorer is one of the more incompetent
ships in Starfleet," Unjon said, "recently crewed by the defendant and the
defender, who have since transferred to an equally incompetent ship, the
Aerostar."
     "That is incorrect, sir," Larkin said to Grandall.  "It is actually
the Aerostar-A."
     "Did I mention how good a job you're doing?" Conway mumbled.
     "Enough with the opening statements," sighed Grandall.  "Why
don't the two of you start calling witnesses.  Who wants to go first?"
     "Me, me!" cried Unjon.
     "Good enough."
     "Larkin!  Why didn't you step in?"
     "I refuse to reduce myself to begging, sir.  Let him have his
witnesses.  I will destroy them on cross-examination."
     Conway folded his arms.  "I sure hope you know what you're
doing."
     "As do I."
     

     "Wake up, 'captain,'" Alexa Lanham whispered in Ford's ear.  He
woke up with a jerk, looking at the science officer with a mixture of
confusion and annoyance.
     "Report back belowdecks.  See if there's anything...going on down
there!" Ford rattled.
     "I came to see the trial in a little more of a quiet environment. 
There was too much cheering going on in the Starlight Lounge," Lanham
said, stepping back to the science console and sitting down.
     "For or against the Captain?" Ford asked.
     "You know," Lanham said.  "I couldn't tell."  She stared at the
screen.  "So, what are they doing now?"
     "Larkin is cross-examining one of Unjon's witnesses.  A
supposed expert on Trill psychology."
     Lanham nodded.  "Ahh..."


     "And what position do you hold on station Deep Space Nine,
Commander Dax?"
     "Counselor," the cute, elfen-looking Trill said, sitting low on the
hovering witness stand as Larkin and Conway hovered in circles around
her on their own platform.  "And, sometimes, I command the Defiant."
     "That makes no sense," Larkin said.
     "Well, during an emergency, I was forced to take over the Defiant,
and some of the more prominent leadership characteristics of the Dax
symbiont came out, and because of that, Colonel Kira...well, she was a
Colonel then anyway, promoted me to more of a command position."
     "So the symbiont has an affect on the host personality," Larkin
concluded.
     "Oh, very much so.  The symbiont and the host, after the joining,
become, essentially, one."
     "Does that get confusing?" Larkin asked casually, leaning on
her little stand.
     "All the time..."  Ezri looked nervously at Expediter Grandall. 
"Then again, I'm not an initiate.  I got the Dax symbiont by...accident."
     "A real initiate is more prepared for the joining, then," Larkin
said.
     "Right."
     "Interesting."  Larkin pretended to look at her padd, which was
unnecessary, since everything was perfectly recorded in her memory banks. 
"Now then, what can you tell me about the Shar symbiont?"   
     "Nothing more than I told Mister Shar.  That I understand it's a
revered symbiont on Trill.  One of the oldest living ones."
     "Fascinating.  And you know nothing of Shar's history?"
     "Only what I read in high school."
     "Enlighten us, Commander.  What did you read about Shar in high
school?"
     "Well..."  Ezri rolled her eyes.  She looked at Grandall.  
     "Answer the question, child."
     Ezri seemed flustered.  "Well, apparently Shar was a bit of a street
fighter at one time."
     "And...?"
     "And, later, became a really nasty wrestler."
     "And?"
     "A common theif.  A gambler.  A rogue stuntwoman..."
     "Not exactly an exemplary citizen."
     "No, I guess not."
     "Objection, your honor!" Unjon called out.  "Inconsequential. 
Shar's character is not on trial here!"
     "Keep to the facts of the case, Commander Larkin," Grandall
warned.  "Or whatever."
     "Of course," Larkin said, turning back to Dax.  "Where were
we?  Ah, yes.  Shar's character.  Well, perhaps, if you cannot speak on
Shar's character, you can tell me about Dax."
     "What about...me?"
     "One of your hosts...Joran Dax...was a murderer, was he not?"
     "Yeah," Ezri said, looking down, guiltily.
     "And you once invoked him, brought out his personality so you
could use it to your benefit, is that not true?"
     "A little bit."
     "Objection!  Relevance!"
     "I am getting there," Larkin said tersely.
     "I'll allow it, I guess," Grandall mumbled.
     "When you invoked Joran, didn't he try to get you to commit
murder?"
     "Maybe...a little..." Dax said, squirming in her chair.
     "So it's safe to say the past host's sins still weigh on the current
host."
     "Oh, yeah.  Lots!"  Ezri looked around nervously, as if feeling the
gazes of the other Trill on her.  "Can this be over soon?"
     "Shortly," Larkin said. "One thing more.  You told Mister Shar
that, if you kill a host, it feels like a death to the symbiont."
     "Oh, yes.  The symbiont feels the host's death.  It's a profound
experience."
     "The Dax symbiont has experienced its host's deaths?"
     "Yes, several of them very grizzly."
     Larkin nodded.  "Must have been terrible for you."
     "Actually, it's not altogether unpleasant.  When the host dies...it's a
feeling of release, relaxation.  It's kind of peaceful."
     "Indeed.  No further questions, Expediter."
     "Prosecutor, you may call your next witness," Grandall said tiredly.
     "Witnesses," Unjon corrected.
     "Whatever," said Grandall.
     "Witnesses?  Plural?  And what does that mean?" Larkin asked,
turning on Unjon.
     "In due course."  Unjon clapped his hands.
     The double doors at the rear of the Chamber swung open, and in
walked two rows of simple-garbed, down-to-earth, rather pale looking
folk, all walking in single file, toward the hovering platforms at the front of
the room.
     "If it please the tribunal," Unjon announced.  "I call the keepers of
Agratha."
     "What the hell's a keeper?" Conway blurted into Larkin's ear. 
"And what the hell's Agratha?"
     "You dated a trill for six point five months!  Surely, you are
aware!"
     "You just downloaded the whole Trill database!"
     "I am experiencing a processing lag!"
     "Well, fix it!"
     "The keepers are, of course," Unjon said, "the individuals
responsible for maintaining the symbiont pools.  Agratha is our southern-
most continent, a symbiont holding place I've chosen absolutely at random."
     "Keepers," Conway said.  "Yeah, now I remember hearing
something about that."
     Unjon smiled.  "I have only subpoenaed thirty-seven keepers.  
Shouldn't take long."
     "Objection.  Too many witnesses!" Larkin objected.
     Grandall eased from side to side behind his desk.  "I'm at death's
door.  I'll allow it."
     "What is the purpose of this?" Larkin asked Unjon.
     "Expediter," Unjon said, not looking at Larkin.  "I aim to prove,
by interviewing these  keepers, that symbionts are incapable of evil, and
only the host determines whether or not the joined Trill commits evil acts."
     "Fascinating.  Go ahead.  I've got nothing better to do...except
die," Grandall sighed.
     "So much for being home by dinner time," Conway sighed.


     "I wonder if anything else is on," Lt. Commander Ford said, resting
his chin on one fist and punching the controls on the command chair with
the other, searching the Federnet for something more interesting to do.
     "The captain's future is at stake here, Commander," Lt. Saral said
from ops.  "Surely, is that not worthy of our attention?"
     "Ah, this thing could go on for hours and hours.  I'm getting
bored."
     "Your compassion is heartening," Alexa Lanham mumbled from
scienecs.
     "Hey, I'm hoping that Captain Conway makes it out of this. 
But if you think of it, they've got a pretty airtight case against him."  On
the viewscreen, Unjon Shar was interviewing his twenty-third keeper.  In
every case, he asked the sallow individual one question.  "Are symbionts
capable of evil?"  Each of them gave a resolute "no," and stepped down. 
One of them accidentally belched in the middle of his reply, and that was,
so far, the highlight of this line of questioning.
     "Don't count out Larkin," Lanham said.  "I haven't known her
for long, but I'm beginning to get the idea that she's more than competent
enough to get Conway out of this."
     "She's all right," Ford agreed.  "Yeah, me and Larky go a long way
back..."  He leaned back in the command chair and yawned.  "Say, Doctor
Lanham...you're single, aren't you?"
     "Don't even try it, Mister " Lanham said, then her console bleeped and
she turned to check it.  The bridge had been in such a lull for so
long that any sensor activity was a huge event.
     "What's up," Ford said lazily.
     "A large Koberian freighter, Class-IV, requesting orbital clearance
from Trill Ground Control," Lanham said. 
     "Mmhmmm.  Curious."
     Lanham perused her panel.  "What's curious is that the freighter is
empty."
     "Well, maybe it's making a pick-up."
     "Trill is known much more for importing than exporting.  I doubt
they would require such a large freighter for shipping.  Something here is
very...irregular."
     "Note it in some log or something.  We've got important trial
coverage to watch."
     "You just said it was boring."
     "Not as boring as talking about some freighter."
     "Hmm.  It's activating its cargo transporters.  They're set for a very
wide beam."
     "Yawn, yawn, yawn," muttered Ford, swinging one leg over the
arm of the command chair and leaning back.
     "Seems like they're targeting the southernmost continent, well
below the planet's surface."
     "Ah, a mining expedition.  Fascinating."
     Lanham's eyes widened.  "That's not rocks they're beaming up,
Commander!"
     Ford spun around.  "Then what are they beaming up?"
     "Symbionts!"
     Ford flipped about in the command chair, struggling to get to his
feet.  "How many?"
     "Hundreds!"
     "Inform Trill Command.  And hail that freighter!"  Ford looked at
the viewscreen, and suddenly became very alarmed indeed as, during the
trial coverage, it appeared Unjon Shar was being beamed away.

                        


                  CHAPTER FOUR





     Larkin watched, mouth set to "agape mode," as Unjon Shar
dematerialized.  "Objection!" she called out.  "Prosecutor dematerializing!"
     "I'll allow it," Grandall mumbled, as his head slammed forward
onto his desk.  A baliff walked up and felt for a pulse.
     "This judge is dead," the baliff announced to the crowd.  "That's a
mistrial.  Good night, everybody.  Have a safe drive home!"
     "Well how about " Larkin said, turning to Conway.  But he
didn't say anything, instead just looked on in shock as he, too, began to
dematerialize.  "OBJECTION!  Oh, hell with it."  She slapped her
combadge.  "Larkin to Aerostar.  Beam me and Mister Gellar to the
bridge immediately.  Mister Gellar!  Stop making out with that woman!"
     

     Larkin appeared at the center of the bridge, watching as tiny
ships scrambled around in a state of chaos on the viewscreen, while her
bridge, meanwhile, did likewise.
     "Trill Command, please confirm the number of symbionts that were
taken," Saral was saying on a private comm channel.
     "Tracking the freighter.  It's making a bee-line out of the system,"
Alexa Lanham was calling out.
     "Shields and weapons, at your command," Gellar said, scooting an
annoyed Puckett out of her chair at tactical.
     "Go to Red Alert," Larkin said, walking back to the command
area and pushing Ford out of her way.  "Man the helm, Mister Ford."
     "But I...!"
     "Go!"  Larkin straightened her uniform and stared at the
viewscreen as Ford took the helm over from the relief officer, Ensign
Garrity.  "Now.  What happened?"
     "A Koberian freighter showed up, then stole hundreds of
symbionts, then beamed away with the Captain," Lanham said.
     "And I have a feeling I know who is the mastermind behind all of
this," Larkin said resolutely as she sat down in the command chair. 
"Intercept that freighter."
     "It's almost cleared the system," Ford said, looking at his controls.
     "Go to full impulse.  Mister Gellar, ready the tractor beam."
     "Aye, Commander."
     "And hail them."
     Gellar's hands tapped at the communications console.  "No
response."
     Larkin leaned forward in the command chair.  "Mister Ford, I
want you to get a tractor beam on them before they "
     "They just went to warp," Gellar reported.
     "Go to warp," Larkin told Ford.  "Closing speed."
     "Speaking of closing..." Gellar piped up.  "Four other ships are
closing in from behind us."
     "Type?"
     "Assorted.  But, by their markings, I'd say they're Orion."
     "The Orions?  What are they doing so close to Trill space?"
     "Shopping for symbionts?" Ford offered.
     "You be quiet," Larkin snapped, her emotion program
registering a brief spike.  This trial and Conway's subsequent kidnapping
were playing havoc with it.  "Focus your efforts on closing to tractor beam
range of the freighter.  Mister Gellar, ready on tractors."
     "At warp?" Gellar said.  "Respectfully, are you crazy?"
     "Respectfully, no I am not.  But I am intent on retrieving the
captain."
     "The captain.  Hard to think of him like that," Ford mused.
     "Is anyone at all interested in what that freighter's doing?" Alexa
Lanham piped up.  "They just increased to Warp Eight."
     "I'm compensating!" Ford said, sounding off-put.
     "A Koberian freighter of that class should not be capable of Warp
Eight," Larkin observed.    
     "A Koberian freighter of that class wouldn't usually be stealing
symbionts from Trill, either," Lanham pointed out.
     "Uhmm," Gellar said.
     "What?" Larkin asked, swiveling in the command chair.
     "Those Orion ships are targeting us."
     "Target them in return," Larkin said.  "They shall not deter us
from our appointed course.  Lock on tractor beam."
     "We're not in range yet," Gellar said.  "Twenty more seconds.  The
Orions, however, will be in range in--"
     BLAMMMMMM!
     "--a little less than two seconds."
     Everyone, save Larkin, who had a vicelike grip on the command
chair, sprung forward and slammed against their consoles as the Aerostar
richocheted out of warp, spinning on a wing.
     "Kamtezen to bridge!  Nacelles two and four just experienced a
major overload!" the Bewhal engineer wailed over the comm system.  "It'll
be two hours before we can go to warp again!"
     "I know you are in the middle of a gender switch, Miss-Mister, but
I want you to maintain your calm and keep us from exploding. 
Understood?" Larkin said, surveying the bridge.  "Status reports!"
     Lt. Saral was the first back at her station.  "Massive hits to our
engine nacelles.  Shields weakened at several points.  Backup systems all
over the ship are coming online, and damage crews are responding.  It was
a precision strike, to be sure, since the nacelles that were affected span
both warp-capable sections of this ship."
     "Where are the Orion ships now?" Larkin asked Gellar.
     Gellar checked his readouts.  "They never left warp.  They're still
following the freighter.  On their way out of sensor range."
     "Keep track of where they are headed and try to extrapolate their
course.  Mister Ford, take the conn.  We are to maintain pursuit course at
impulse until the warp engines are repaired.  In the meantime, I have
another witness to question."
     "Stupid me.  I figured the trial was over," Lt. Commander Ford
said, picking himself up off the deck and heading to the command chair.


     Commander David Conway, First Officer of the U.S.S. Explorer,
walked down the dimly lit corridor of the starship he called home, toward
what, he did not know.
     "David..." a soft voice called.  "David..."
     "Yes," he said, walking, zombielike, toward the source of the voice.
     "Come to me, David.  Let me help you..."
     "Yes.  Help," Conway said.  "Good idea."
     Then, out of the darkness at the end of the hallway, a figure took
shape.  A lithe, beautiful figure with long, brown hair that framed a pretty,
if unremarkable, face.
     "Lana..." Conway said, the word falling from his lips like a prayer.
     "Yes.  Everything's okay now, David," Lana Shar said, taking
Conway into her arms and running her hands through his hair.  "You just cry
to Auntie Lana and she'll make it all better."
     "Ahh..." Conway cooed, feeling his cares drift away.
     "And then Tyra can have you!" Lana said, shoving Conway out of
her arms.  He slammed against something soft and forgiving.  He turned to
see it was Tyra's expansive bosom.  The large woman laughed
uproariously, hefting Conway over her head.
     "I've been waiting to do this for a long time!" she bellowed, and, to
Conway's alarm, the Explorer bulkhead melted away to the surface of
Talandra--Planet Rain.  Now he and Tyra were standing on a precipice,
overlooking a vast valley.  "It's about time I had my revenge. 
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
     "You should have known better," Lana chided, as Tyra effortlessly
hurled Conway off the precipices.
     And downward he fell.
     

     "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  Conway's eyes snapped open.
     And just as suddenly he felt someone fall onto his lap, straddling
him.
     "Ahh, nice of you to join us, Mister Sleepyhead!"  The owner of the
lispy, but somehow gravelly voice giggled.  "I so loved watching you
sleep!"
     Conway tried to sit up, but found he was held down by a restraining
field.  He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus.  "Who...what...?"
     "Did I get the registry number of the transport that slammed into
you?" the voice said.  "Oh, I think it was something along the line of
SHAR.  Unjon Shar, to be exact, my little captive.  Yes, suffice it to say
you're my bitch now.  One might argue, you always were."
     "Oh sh**," Conway grumbled.  "You."
     "You could sound happier to see me."  The knees squeezed
Conway's sides.  "You are still in love with me, aren't you?"
     "You're...a....man."
     "Well, in some senses of the word.  But damn it, Dave, I still have
needs!  And you used to fulfill them so well.  Ahhh, don't ya see, I still
have the memories!"  Conway's vision cleared to see Unjon, big as life,
straddling him and pointing at his forehead.  It was a kind of nice forehead.
     "You...son of a bitch....you better let me go so I can kick your ass."
     "Big words from a man that's got no starship backing him up,"
Unjon said, sliding off Conway.  He marched back and forth at the captain's
bedside.  "You see, we've taken you away from your precious little
Aerostar."
     "Aerostar-A," Conway corrected.
     "Whatever," Unjon said flatly.  "As I've been trying to tell you,
you're my bitch now."
     "Fat chance."
     "If that's a jab at my...huskiness, I take great offense," Unjon
growled.  "I can't help it if Shar took a certain liking to Trefalian Truffles
from Tyra.  Thanks to that fat bitch my hips are all but gone!"
     "I weep for you," Conway mumbled.
     "You are the master of sarcasm.  Take heart, little man.  Your wit
will serve you well, where you're going."
     "And where," Conway said stiffly, "would that be."
     "A life of servitude, for starters," Unjon said.  "Don't you think
that's fair?  You took Tyra's life.  I think I should get yours in return."
     "I didn't have a choice.  And if you really have Shar in you, you'd
know that."
     "Can't a girl have some fun?"
     "You mean murder?"
     "Just trying to have a good time."  Unjon sat on the bench opposite
Conway in what Conway figured was some kind of isolation room aboard a
starship.  There was a definite thrum of engines.  His acute space senses
told him at least that.  "You'd deny a gal a few meaningless scuffles here or
there?"
     "Isn't murder what I was on trial for?  The greatest of all Trill
crimes and all that jazz?"
     "Oh, that was just a big fat act, silly!" Unjon said, slapping Conway
on the belly.  "Surely you knew the real Shar is all for a little of the old
knockabout!"
     "I figured."
     "It was just a matter of distracting the Trill authorities long
enough."
     Conway's eyebrows shot up.  "Long enough for what?"
     "To get what we came for."
     "And that is?" Conway didn't know what Unjon was talking about,
but he didn't like where the conversation was leading.
     "You'll find out soon enough.  But, at the moment, I have
everything I need."
     Conway didn't bother to respond.
     "That means you, ya big dumb oaf!"  And he slapped Conway's belly
again.  "You're my prize.  Let's call it...icing on the Kavorkian cake. 
Remember how much I liked Kavorkian cake?"
     Conway sighed.  "Didn't see that one coming."
     "And," Unjon said, rolling his eyes mirthfully.  "On top of all that, I
get a little scoshe of revenge.  Is that so bad?
     "Starfleet will come for you.  And your associates, whoever they
are, and stop you from whatever it is you did, whatever that is."
     "Maybe they will find us.  But I doubt they'll find us in time to stop
all the transactions.  And there will be a lot of them."  Unjon clicked his
tongue.  "So many transactions."
     "Of WHAT?" Conway demanded.
     "Oh, you are a forceful man, aren't you?  I'll just let you stew on
that a bit and see you later.  But don't worry, you won't be stuck in here
much longer."
     "That's a relief."
     "I'm having your playpen prepared as we speak."
     "GOD DAMN YOU, SHAR!"
     "I knew you'd love the idea.  See you soon, sweetie!"
     

First Officer's Log,
     Stardate 55005.3.  We have rendez-voused with a Trill transport
carrying Foreign Minister Filna Kedric.  Apparently, the Trill do not have
complete faith in us to find and rescue their symbionts, and have sent
Foreign Minister Kedric to make sure we do not fail in our task.  I have sent
Lieutenant Gellar to fetch the minister, as I am currently...otherwise
employed.

     "Minister Kedric, welcome to the Aerostar," Lieutenant Gellar said,
shaking Kedric's hand as he stepped off the transporter pad.  He led Kedric
down the corridor toward the turbolift that would take them to the bridge.
     "Where is Shar?" he asked bluntly.
     "We don't know.  We didn't even know Shar was alive until
today."
     "Neither did we," Kedric said, following Gellar out of the
transporter room.
     "And we're having no luck locating Captain Conway or Shar.  Until
we get the warp engines back up, we're helpless, and very limited in our
investigative options."
     "I hope you appreciate the seriousness of this situation,
Lieutenant," Kedric said.  "Our symbionts are all we are.  The number of
symbionts Shar has stolen...it's more than enough to truly destabilize our
society if we don't get them back."
     Gellar gesured for Kedric to step into the turbolift.  "I imagine that
must be quite the PR nightmare."
     "We haven't exactly told anyone," Kedric said, averting his eyes
from Gellar.  "But the symbionts taken represent a significant portion of
our symbiont supply."
     "Bridge," Gellar ordered, then looked at Kedric.  "How did you
explain the chaos at the end of the trial?"
     "We pre-empted it with another trial that was happening on the
other side of Trill.  We called it 'bonus coverage.'  A very savvy
entertainment move, if I do say so..."
     "But won't people notice that the symbionts are gone?"
     "Only the keepers spend time with the symbionts.  And we are
currently giving them... a little vacation."
     Gellar nodded.  "Sounds fun."
     Once the turbolift reached the bridge, Gellar gestured for Kedric to
step out.  The Trill looked around the bridge quizzically, then back at
Gellar.  "I understand your captain's been kidnapped.  But where is
Commander Larkin, your first officer?"
     "She's...busy," Gellar said.
     "Doing what, may I ask?"
     "I'm sure it's very important," Gellar said.  "You know, android
stuff."  He looked around the bridge.  "Anyway, this is pretty much the
nerve center of the Federation effort to retrieve your missing symbionts. 
Have a seat down here in the command area, and Lieutenant Commander
Ford will fill you in on all the particulars."  He glanced at Ford as he
delivered Kedric to the seat adjacent to the command chair.  "Won't you,
Commander Ford?"
     "Oh, you bet!" Ford said, grinning at Kedric.  "I'm in command. 
Isn't that swell?"
     "Swell," Kedric said dully.
     "Want to see me give an order?"
     "You kids have fun," Gellar said, and dashed for the turbolift.


     "What is the status of our guest?" said Rikkens, the bulky, tall, and
glowering Orion, whose brown suit barely covered his massive barrel 
chest.  He was standing in front of--well, blocking out--the entrance to 
the Koberian freighter Payload's bridge.
     "He is resting comfortably," Unjon said, squeezing around the
massive Orion.
     "Are we ready for the procedure?"
     "Kamella is making...final arrangements in Sickbay.  Actually, she
asked that you come down to approve some...equipment requsitions she is
making."
     "I don't have time for this," Rikkens snapped.  "We are almost at
the Orion Mart.  Our contacts there will be ready to distribute the
symbionts immediately.  There is much to prepare for."
     "Which is exactly why you must come with me," Unjon fired back,
glaring at Rikkens.  "Need I remind you that, without Kamella and I, your
whole enterprise is doomed?"
     Rikkens grumbled something to himself in Orion and followed
Unjon back into the turbolift.  "Very well, you smarmy Trill scum.  Bridge,
make ready for planetary orbit.  I will be right back."
     "More or less," Unjon said under his breath as Rikkens stepped into
the lift.

     
     When the pair reached the Payload's small infirmary, they found Dr.
Kamella Shope standing by a biobed, looking at some information on a
tricorder.  Kamella was a compactly built, raven-haired Trill--a drop-out
med student Unjon had befriended for purposes of...well, these purposes.
     "Dr. Shope," Unjon cooed.  "Are we all ready for our procedure?"
     "I have searched the tidal pools belowdecks, and found the
appropriate symbiont," Kamella said softly.  "Do not worry, Unjon.  Is is
safe, and as we remembered it."
     "Who?" Rikkens demanded.  "It what?"
     "Stop worrying so much, Rikkens," Unjon said, wrapping an arm
around the Orion.  "You're in good hands with Kamella and I.  We won't
betray you."
     "Much," Kamella added, as Unjon stabbed a hypospray into the
back of Rikkens' neck.
     Rikkens promptly pitched forward onto the biobed, his great body
giving the thing a gentle shake.
     "He is massive," Kamella said, her eyes going wide.  "I hope I'll be 
able to make love to him."
     "All will be possible in the new order of Trill," Unjon said, pinching
Kamella's cheek.  "Once our friend returns to his former glory, unlimited
power will be at our fingertips."
     "Are you attracted to women too?" Kamella asked, by way of
conversation.
     "A tad," Unjon admitted.  "Now, then.  Are you sure Orion
physiology will be compatible with symbionts'?"
     "For the time being," Kamella said.  "I can keep him alive long
enough to find a proper host.  I can't promise it will be pleasant for
Rikkens, though."
     "Doesn't have to be," Unjon said easily.  "Begin your procedure. 
I'll watch the entrance."
     "Right," Kamella said, turning around and swinging a cart toward
the biobed where Rikkens was laying.  In the cart, a symbiont sloshed and
thrashed.  "Be still, Snax.  Soon, you'll have a body again.  And soon, we'll
take over Trill together."
     "Yippee!" Unjon Shar squealed, and ran out of the infirmary.


     
                        


                  CHAPTER FIVE





     The Trill Foreign Affairs Minister sat back in the conference lounge
chair and stared across the room at the bulkhead bearing a decorative
display of all the vessels to carry the name "Aerostar."
     Since the Aerostar-A was only the second ship to bear the name,
there were only two gleaming silver starship models perched on the granite
gray wall.  Below those models was another model, but it looked like no
ship he'd ever seen.  It looked more like a shuttle, except it had more
viewports and odd, round protrusions along the bottom.  They appeared to
be rudimentary wheels of some kind, but that did not seem right to Kedric. 
Why would the Federation pay homage to an ancient ground vehicle?
     It all just made Kedric's head ache more.
     Filna Kedric had gone to the conference lounge to gather his
thoughts after just a few minutes interacting with Lieutenant Commander
Ford.  He found the man incredibly tiresome, full of ridiculous human jokes
and aphorisms, and generally a pain in the spots.
     Now Kedric was alone with his thoughts, and thinking about a lot
more than just the three Aerostar models.
     He was thinking about Shar.
     He'd hoped he'd never have to deal with Shar again.  To be sure,
Kedric was happy to have Lana Shar come back into his life when she
visited him on Tellar three years earlier, but now he was having to face the
symbiont again under entirely different circumstances.
     Now he was facing a villainous and dangerous Shar.  Not that he
wasn't used to that as well.
     No matter how many lives Kedric lived, he still couldn't get used to
how much changed from lifetime to lifetime.  Shar would know more about
that than he, however, since Shar had been through three hosts in the time
that Kedric has been in one...that being Filna...but regardless, Kedric felt
like he would never adapt to meeting Shar again and again, from life to life.
     And despite the fact that Trill society forbade hosts from
associating with symbionts from past lifetimes, it happened, and quite a bit
more often than the average Trill was aware.
     It was inevitable.  People of like interests are drawn together. 
Symbionts, too, have like interests, and are drawn to the same symbionts
again and again, usually without even trying very hard.
     Case in point, Filna hadn't been trying at all to find Shar again, and
was content, however saddened, with the fact that Shar had died on
Talandra.  He'd read Captain Conway's report.  Shar had become unstable
in the Tyra host, like it had with so many other hosts.
     The symbiont was probably better off swimming in a tidal pool the
rest of its existence.  But the Symbiosis Commission believed that evil
originated from the host and not the symbiont, and so continued to place
Shar with new partners.  With the exception of Lana, poor, sweet, taken-
before-her-time Lana, all of the joinings in the last three hundred years
were an abject failure.
     So now Unjon was the latest casualty claimed in the Shar
symbionts' slime trail of terror, and Kedric only hoped he could help the
Aerostar crew intervene before Shar caused any real damage.
     He felt that it was something akin to destiny that he clean up Shar's
mess.  It was an arrangement he was all too familiar with.  Kedric would
forever be forced to atone for Shar's sins and misdoings.  And why
shouldn't he?  
     It was all his fault anyway.  Each and every time.

300 YEARS AGO
THE PLANET TRILL

     Shana Kedric was nearing her three-year anniversary as a peace
officer in Precinct 12 of the Kotaris continent when she was called to the
Commerce Building in Pummus City to monitor the arrival of a routine
transport.  
     She was extremely proud that, in only three years, she had already
attained the rank of Preceptor, and therefore supervised a squad of thirteen
other police officers.  Quite an achievement for one who'd only just begun
her career.
     Shana could have assigned any number of Inceptors to this job,
instead of taking the time out of her day to watch the shipment come in and
verify its contents, but she believed that one of the reasons she was so
good at her job was that she was always willing to pitch in with grunt
work.  Besides, she liked getting out of the office from time to time, and it
was a nice, sunny Kotaris day to boot.
     Just as Shana arrived at the commerce building, she saw the taupe-
colored transport swing down out of the clouds on its approach to the
building's rooftop, its four overhead rotors buzzing.  Must be a little early,
Shana thought, squinting in the sun, watching the vehicle angle in.  Nothing
out of the ordinary.
     Shana continued into the building and past the receptionist desk,
where a slight, skinny man wielding an electronic clipboard was sitting.  On
seeing her, he got up from behind his desk and trotted over.
     "Officer Kedric?" the little man asked.
     "Yes?"
     "It's you.  It's really you!  I saw your name in the paper for
stopping that museum robbery, but I couldn't believe it.  But now I see it. 
It's all in the eyes!"
     Shana squinted at the man.  "Do I know you?"
     "Shar!  Gobin Shar!"
     Shana thought back, a lifetime ago, to Briana Shar, Iano Snax, the
Agratha continent and a much more strife-filled time in Kedric's life.  "Of
course," she said.  "So, how have you been?"
     "I am a clerical tech," Gobin said sheepishly.  "Not quite as stressful
as being a double agent."
     "I'm sure," Shana said, glancing at the elevator across the lobby. 
The light was lit on the top floor.  They must be loading the shipment now. 
She was late.  "Look, I've..."
     "I thought about you a lot, Kedric.  You know, since we decided it
was best that we didn't see one another."
     "Yes," Shana agreed.  "I think that all worked out for the best. 
Now, if you don't mind, I've got a shipment to..."
     "Look," Gobin said, leaning forward and gripping Shana's arm.  "I
know there's that whole rule about not being able to talk to people you
associated with in past lives, but let's just call that last one a mulligan and
start over..."
     "I'm not sure that's such a good..."  Shana pulled her arm away and
glanced at the indicator light above the elevator.  The elevator was already
moving down.  Now she might as well just wait till it got to the bottom
floor and inspect the shipment then.  "Look, I'm a Preceptor.  It's
dangerous work.  It's best if I don't have any attachments that might
distract..."  She started walking towards the elevator, but Gobin followed
her, stuck on like glue.
     "I may be crazy, Kedric, but there's something between us.  Destiny
is pulling us along on this path for a reason."
     "Actually, right now, destiny is pulling me on a path to the
elevator."  Shana pointed at the elevator.  "So I gotta go.  Maybe I'll call
you sometime?"  Shana quickened her step into a slight jog, leaving Gobin
standing behind her.     
     "But do you even have my protcol number?"
     "I'm sure it's in the directory!"
     "Let me give it to you!"
     "Not right now!"  And Shana was at the elevator, just as it was
opening.
     "But Kedric!" Gobin cried out.  "We're destined!"
     And Shana turned in the direction of Gobin's voice in the same split
second that the butt of a blastgun slammed down into the back of her head,
dropping her to the floor.
     She heard the mumbles of several people, all speaking in Agrathan
accents, and saw several pairs of legs, pushing an equipment-laden cart
along the floor toward the entrance of the Commerce Building.
     "Everybody get on the ground!  This is piracy, if you hadn't figured
that out already!"
     "Pirates," Shana mumbled, struggling to her feet and reaching for
her sidearm.  She'd thought the pirate menace, after eighty years, had
finally been eradicated.  But some still existed, having taken refuge along
the shores of Agratha.
     "Stop!  Stop, right there!" Gobin Shar commanded, standing in
front of the group of frilly-dressed pirates, who surrounded the cart of
equipment.  "I cannot let you leave with that shipment of..."  
     "Bathroom aides for the elderly," one of the pirates spoke up.
     "Oh.  Well, in that case, I guess it's not worth making a fuss
over..."
     "They're not bathroom aides for the elderly, you idiot," Shar said,
stepping forward.  "That equipment is military assault hardware.  And very
valuable."
     "Just the thing to reunite the factions of Agratha," the most vocal
of the pirates said.  "To turn things back to the time of Iano Snax."
     "You tell them, Bojoy!" another pirate said. 
     "Iano Snax is gone, and isn't coming back," Shana spat, just as
Bojoy lifted his blastgun and pointed it at her.
     But Shana lifted her gun at the same time, leveling it on the pirate.
     Bojoy's hand twitched.
     "Noooooooooooooooooo!" Gobin Shar cried, and lept at Bojoy
just as Shana fired.
     The blast slammed square into Gobin's chest, and the Trill then
tumbled to the ground, spreadeagle on his back, as Bojoy and the others
cackled uproariously.
     Shana put her weapon back in its holster and knelt by Gobin's side.
     "Guess we won't be having that date," Gobin said, blood dripping
from his mouth as the pirates shoved off with the cart.
     Shana yanked her talkator off her belt and clicked the call button. 
"Kedric to base.  There's been a pirate attack at the commerce building. 
We have a man down.  Send backup and medical assistance immediately!"
     "It's hopeless," Gobin trailed off, touching Kedric's face.  "Maybe
in the next lifetime, huh?"
     Shana's expression softened as she looked down at Gobin.  "Sure,
Gobin.  You bet."
     

230 YEARS AGO

     It had been six months since Shana Kedric's death, and the
subsequent installation of Kedric into high school shuffle-ball sensation
Brant Monry, and so far Kedric felt just dandy in his new body.
     Much like its previous incarnations, Brant was smart, athletic,
handsome, and fully equipped to lead a long and healthy life.  He was
destined for greatness, like all Kedrics.  There were already rumblings of a
run at public office, perhaps chancellorship of a precinct.
     Brant was contemplating these moves as he studied for his final
exam at the University, in his private apartment in one of the nicer sectors
of Trillian, Trill's capital city
     While Brant sipped Creyalan tea and sifted through his notes, there
was a knock at his door.  He got up and walked over to the door. 
Glancing through the looking-portal, he saw an elderly man who did not
look familiar.  "Can I help you, sir?" he called through the door.
     "I have important news for you, young man!" the man called
through the door.  "I must see you, Kedric!"
     The man knew his name.  This should be interesting.  Brant opened
the door, and the stooped, balding old man barreled through, embracing
Brant in a crushing hug.  The man was much stronger than he looked.
     "Sir?  Can I help you?"
     The old man looked up at Brant with sparkling tears in his eyes. 
"Oh, Kedric!  The time has finally come!"
     "Come...for what?"
     "I have waited so long.  I respected your wish for space, and
decided not to contact you until you received a new host.  So now that
you've had time to get used to your host, we can pick up where we left
off!"
     "I'm sorry," Brant said, scratching his head.  "Can you be any more
specific?"
     "Oh, Kedric, can't you tell it's me?  The eyes, the way I carry
myself?  The longing, the passion?"
     "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."
     "I have been joined for seventy years.  It is nearly the end for me. 
This body has been through so much.  I was in the Trill army for the last six
decades, learning to be the kind of person you wanted me to be. 
Disciplined, regimented.  Honorable!  And I'm good in battle, Kedric!  I
once twisted a man's legs until they snapped right off!"
     "While I admire that, I'm still confused as to how you know me."
     "My name is Noval," the old man said, running his fingers through
his craggly beard.  "Noval Shar."
     Brant stared at the old man and sighed.  "Oh.  It's you."  He
cracked a weak smile.  "I was wondering what had happened to you."
     "Oh, it's been such a hellish life without you, Kedric.  But I did like
you asked.  I gave you space.  Seventy years of space.  And now we have
everything we want, right in front of us!  Oh, it couldn't be more perfect."
     "Oh, I could think of a couple ways," Brant said.  "Look, I just got
joined.  This is a really weird time for me.  You know?
     "We'll go through it together."  Noval wrapped an arm around
Brant.  "Oh, I know I'm like eighty years older than you, but that doesn't
matter.  And sure, we're both guys.  But that doesn't matter.  Not when
there's a true spark of love between us.  Not when we have...when we
have...destiny!"
     "Right," Brant said, and gently pushed Noval's arm away.  "What's
say I call you sometime?"
     "But you said that last time, and I died!"
     "I'm really sorry about that.  I just don't think our lifetimes lined up
very well this time, you know?  Maybe next time?"
     "You mean..."
     "Well, I'm sure you have a long, healthy life ahead of you."
     "The doctors say I will probably die any day."
     "Really?" Brant asked, shuffling Noval toward the door.  "Well,
they're coming up with new cures every day.  Bye now!"
     "But..."
     "Bye!"
     One week later, Brant read in the Daily Communique that Noval
Shar passed away in his sleep.  The cause was listed as "natural," but he
knew it was heartache that killed Noval, and he was sorry for that.  But
really, what could he do?  It wasn't really his problem.


200 YEARS AGO

     Trill President Brant Kedric leaned back in his reclining chair and
flipped on the world-channel net.  It had been a long day, negotiating peace
with the Agrathan rebels, but he'd done it.  He'd smoothed yet another
conflict that had torn the planet asunder.  Kedric himself had been
responsible for much of the repairing and rebuilding of a dissociated Trill. 
He'd brought the planet together, made it a unified government, made it
possible for them to achieve space travel in a relatively short time, and to
reach out to neighboring star systems, where they had in fact discovered
alien life.  One of their ships had also run into a ship from a distant planet
called Earth, called Enterprise, and by all accounts those folks were lovely,
despite their distinct lack of spots.
     The technology to cross greater distances even faster was well into
development.  Soon, Trill would have travel by means of something called
"time warp."  Brant only grasped the basic concepts--his major was
theology (with a minor in the biological sciences) so he was a little rusty on
space travel.  Regardless, he loved the idea of Trill joining a vast
community of interlinked, federated planets.  Federated.  What a grand
idea.
     Brant was on the verge of dozing off when a burst of loud music
came over the channel screen at the front of his room.
     "Kursday, Kursday, KURSDAY!  Coming to Trillian, for one
appearance only, is the Trill Wrestling Alliance's Showdown of the Spots. 
Come see these pumped up wrestlers grind it out for world supremacy. 
And make sure you catch the showdown of them all, as Four-time planet-
wide champion Crumbo Gentz takes on female champ and all around nasty
girl, Lemaya Shar!"
     Brant sat up in bed.  Shar.  It couldn't be the same one.
     She appeared on the screen, her eyes gleaming rage, as she gestured
emphatically with both hands.  "You listen to me, Crumbo Gentz!  I'm a
burning ball of red hot womanly fury, and I'm coming for you!  I have
angst in me you wouldn't believe, and I'm going to take it all out on you! 
You're going to wish you were never born!  And your symbiont is going to
wish it was never put inside you.  I am going to come at you with the fury
of a thousand supernovas, and I'm going to paint the Trillco Amphitheatre
with your soggy remains!  Fear me!  FEAR ME!  Oh, and Kedric, if you're
listening, I'll be stopping by to see you while I'm in town.  Love you, baby! 
Buh-bye!"
     "Lights!" Brant ordered immediately.  He reached over to his night
stand and pressed a control.  "Kedric to Operational Control.  Prepare Trill
One for departure.  I'm going on a...fact finding mission to the Corath
continent."
     "Right away, sir," a voice replied over the communications grid.
     Brant hurriedly pulled a shirt and jacket on and jumped into the pair
of pants that was hanging by his bed.  He had to get away from the capital
city.  Maybe Shar was kidding, but he couldn't take that chance.
     He'd worked hard for his career, and believed he'd built something
that stood for rationality and sensibility.  He couldn't risk losing all that to
an obsessed symbiont who seemed to think the two of them had a future
together.  He'd have to discuss this with the Symbiosis Commission in the
morning, for sure.
     Brant straightened his jacket buttons as he headed out of his
bedroom and down the hall to the adjoining hoverport outside the
presidential mansion.
     Dizada, his assistant, a primly-kept Trill woman of stature,
destined, perhaps, for a public office of her own, in time, kept up step next
to him, handing him several of the notes she had prepared for him.
     "You should look at these latest reports of violence in Precinct 88. 
There could be trouble on the Kensat continent.  You also might want to
review the recent revisions to the Books of Joining.  I think there are some
incongruities that could get us into trouble in the long term."
     "You're invaluable to me, as usual, Dizada.  I should be back
sometime after Kursday."
     "May I ask where you're going?"
     "Important...affairs of state," Brant said slowly.  "If anything of
importance comes up, have the Vice President contact me."
     Dizada nodded.  "Of course."
     As the pair emerged from the portal that lead out to the hoverport,
a shadowy figure loomed out of the darkness, ominous and muscular,
blocking the path to the idly hoverjet, Trill One.
     "Kedric, old friend, how I've missed you," came a low, sultry voice
from the figure.
     "Dizada," Brant snapped.  "Go get security.  Now!"
     The figure stepped out of the darkness, revealing itself as the
spandex-clad Lemaya Shar.  "Dizada?  Dizada Fran?"
     Dizada's eyes went wide.  "Shar?  Is that you?"
     "What a small world!" Lemaya giggled. 
     "Really!" Dizada replied.  "What's it been?  Three hundred years?"
     "At least," replied Lemaya.  "I didn't know you were working for
the President."
     "I was in corporate affairs for a long time, but I switched to
politics.  Less back biting."
     Lemaya threw back her head and laughed.  "Believe me, I know
what you mean.  In wrestling, people really do bite your back."
     Dizada wrinkled her nose.  "Sounds nasty."  She grinned.  "But in a
good way."
     "I'm so glad I found you here," Lemaya said, then looked at the
stunned Brant.  "I was just coming to put a little scare into this guy.  You
know, freak him out.  There was a time he thought I was in love with him."
     "I..." Brant stammered.
     "He can be a little bit of a stuffed shirt at times," Dizada admitted.
     "You should have seen him in his last life," said Lemaya.  NO
personality."
     "Heheh.  You want to get out of here and get a hot malted at
Snarky's?"          
     "Love to," Lemaya said, taking Dizada by the arm.  "And then,
maybe we'll see where it leads?"
     "If it's anything like three hundred years ago, I'm in trouble."
     "Um," Brant said, watching the two leave.  "Where are you guys
going?"
     "Oh, just like old Kedric.  Thinks everything's about him," Lemaya
Shar laughed, and walked off.
     Lemaya Shar and Dizada Fran became engaged to be married two
weeks later.  One week before their wedding date, Lemaya was killed when
her wrestling arena was crushed by mortar assault from some Agratha
rebels, responding to President Kedric's resent rejection of their free trade
proposal.
     The next day, Dizada quit and Kedric was not voted back into
office.
     That was when he decided that the symbiont Shar was bad luck for
him, and likewise, he for her.



EIGHT YEARS AGO

     Kedric had survived three life times--the remainder of Brant's, and
two others, Cheero, who, probably due to Brant's inauspicous end, never
went beyond the rank of manager of a local Snarky's, and Lobut, who
became the president of the Trill Worker's Union and disappeared
inexplicably fifty-two years earlier.  Only the symbiont was found..  Kedric
always considered Cheero and Lobut the only failed lifetimes in his
existence, and they were a constant source of embarrassment to him.
     Now, however, Kedric was much better off.  Inhabiting the body of
Kena, she had been the advisor of the Trill defense ministry for fifty years,
and much respected in her time.  Kedric decided that, probably during the
next lifetime, his host would be in the presidency again.  It was only a
matter of time until he could put the pieces back together.
     Kena was working at her desk, in her office on the fortieth floor of
the Trill Defense Building, analyzing the reports from several of the
peacekeeping forces surrounding Agratha.  The rebel threat was all but
gone, but occasionally one or two factions would show up and cause
trouble.  Eventually, thanks to Kena's advice and intercession, they would
be located and eradicated.  This newest menace would be no different.
     "Ms. Kedric," came the voice of Ressek, Kena's loyal assistant. 
"You've got a delivery from Trillian Express.  I told them I could sign for
it, but they insist on delivering it to you specifically."
     "I'll take care of it," Kena said, pushing aside several padds she'd
been working on.  Ressek wasn't as organized or efficient as Dizada, but
he was at least curt and punctual, and had the smarmy attitude of an
assistant.  That went a long way, in Kena's mind.
     The door to Kena's office swung open and a tall man dressed in a
deep blue Trillian Express uniform walked in, carrying a large gray cargo
container.
     "Kena Kedric?" he asked, setting the container down on the floor.
     "Yes, that's me," Kena said, stepping out from around her desk. 
"What do you have here?"
     "It's of defensive importance."  The bulky deliveryman looked back
at Ressek.  "Your eyes only, Ms. Kedric."
     "Ma'am?" Ressek asked.
     "Wait out side, please, Ressek," Kena said, squatting down next to
the container as Ressek ducked out of her office.  "So, what's in the box,
son?"
     "Dead weight, just like you'll be soon," the man said coldly,
knocking Kena across the face, sending her sprawling, spreadeagle, on the
floor.  Before she could scream, he pulled a roll of packing tape off his belt
and slapped some across her mouth.  "You recognize me, Kena?  See
anything in the eyes?"
     Kena shook her head.
     "Give ya one guess.  I'm the meanest street fighter on Trill."
     Kena shrugged.
     "Two hundred arrests.  Multiple convictions.  Five escapes.  I'm on
Trill's Most Wanted every week."
     Kena shrugged again.
     "For providence sake, you work for the Defense Ministry, and you
don't even know the dirtiest criminal on Trill?  Maybe the name will ring a
bell.  Dosav."
     No response from Kena.   
     "Dosav Shar."
     Kena rolled her eyes.
     "Yes.  Me again.  And might I say, I'm saddened that you don't
remember me.  We did meet, years ago, at a state function.  I was the
waiter.  I tried to talk to you, but you snubbed me to talk to some guy in a
suit who claimed to have two symbionts in him at once.  Apparently, that
was more impressive than the love of your lives."
     Kena shook her head.
     "Oh, not feeling romantic?  But I don't get it.  You said to give you
some time.  Give you some space.  Wait for things to work themselves out. 
Well, I waited...three hundred and seventy-two years.  And guess what? 
Things haven't worked themselves yet.  Don't guess they're going to,
huh?"
     Kena shrugged again.
     "Well, it doesn't matter.  I'll just hook up with your next host." 
Dosav glanced up at the chronometer on the wall.  "Should be along any
day now."
     And with that, he hoisted Kena up to her feet and dragged her
toward her office window.  "You should at least take heart that you lived a
long and happy lifetime, Kena.  My symbiont was put on ice for two
hundred years or so after Lemaya's brutal death...which was, by the way,
your fault.  It was felt that a host might be overwhelmed, driven insane by
what had happened.  So they made me wait, and wait, and wait.  And you
know what?  It only made me madder!"
     "Mmmmmmmmph mmmmmpph!" Kena grumbled through the
thick tape as Dosav opened the window.
     "You should know that there is one thing of interest in that cargo
container," Dosav said with a grin.  "A suicide note.  Seems the stress of
office has gotten to you, Kedric.  Hope you won't have any trouble
securing a post in your next life.  I'd be SO upset to interfere with your
ambition.  Well, guess all that is up to you, huh?  Have a nice trip.  See you
next life!"
     Before Kena could do anything to resist, Dosav unceremoniously
ripped the tape off her mouth and shoved her out her office window.
     The last thing Kena saw was his smiling, pleased face, as she
plummeted to her demise.


     Filna Kedric's eyes snapped open.  He'd dozed off, thinking of his
past with Shar.  But the memory of Kena's death snapped him awake.
     He stood, shaking the thoughts from his head, walking to the
window to watch the stars outside.  If Kena's death did mean anything, it
was that her next and current host, Kedric, reported Dosav's misdoings to
the authorities, who promptly arrested Dosav.     
     The ornery street fighter didn't last long at the rehab colony.  He
had gotten in a fight with a Tarkalian assassin and found the business end
of a broken-off chair leg.  Truly a fitting end for such a troubled being.
     But, Filna recollected, it wasn't long till the Symbiosis Commission,
stubborn as they were, tried again.  This time, a "memory-cleansing"
technique was applied to Shar, and the symbiont was installed in the
competent and stable scientist, Lana Kofax.
     Lana had no recollection of the things Shar had done, to Kedric or
anyone else.  In fact, she had been under the misguided notion that she and
Kedric had been friends.  And when they met that once, when she had
visited his diplomatic post on Tellar aboard the Explorer, he played along. 
And, in all honesty, he probably would have pursued a relationship with
her, had that oafish Commander Conway not been so stubbornly hanging
around.
     But those were thoughts for another time.  Because Shar was on
the loose again and causing trouble.  And, much like with Tyra, Unjon Shar
seemed to have full access to all of Shar's most creepy and vile traits.
     And, do or die, it was up to Filna to stop them.
     Both Unjon and Shar.
     "Ford to Kedric," the comm system trilled.  "Are you sleeping in
there?"
     "No...not at all," Kedric said, smoothing the folds of his uniforms. 
"Is Commander Larkin prepared to meet with me yet?"
     "Not exactly, sir.  She's, uh, otherwise occupied."
     "Doing what?" Kedric asked.
     "It's of a...sensitive nature."
                        


     


                   CHAPTER SIX





     The Aerostar-A was not equipped with an interrogation room, so
Larkin had Ensign Puckett set her and her...subject...up in the bakery
on Deck Five.  She'd had to evacuate it, and post a message on shipwide
that fresh baked cruellers would not be available until after lunch.  This met
with several annoyed responses, but Larkin was well aware that
command was about much more than pleasing the troops.
     "Mind if I grab a bagel?" Ensign Puckett asked as Larkin sat
down at one of the small, circular cafe tables with Tammat Raye, the Trill
courier they'd kept in the brig since he'd delivered his summons to Captain
Conway.
     "Yes.  Just stay by the door, Ensign."
     "I like bagels," Raye said, glancing at the steaming breads behind
the nearby glass counter.
     "In that case," Larkin said, "have all the bagels you like, Ensign. 
May I suggest the intergalactic supreme bagel with Selayan pimento
spread?"
     "Ooh, good choice, Commander!" Puckett said, realizing
Larkin's plan.  "Sounds tasty."
     Raye licked his lips, watching Puckett duck behind the counter and
select her bagel from the fresh pile.  "So...what is this about, Commander?"
     "It is about the truth, Mister Raye," Larkin said, clasping her
hands on the table and staring at the Trill courier.  "Ensign Puckett.  Once
you have thoroughly applied spread to your bagel, please do come over
here and enjoy it while mister Raye and I talk.  And bring a warming lamp,
if you will."
     "Um...okay..."
     Larkin stared blankly at Raye as he watched Puckett slowly,
luxuriously, spread pimento stuff all over her big, warm, doughy bagel, and
carry it, and the lamp, over to the small table.  She sat between Larkin
and Raye.
     "Here you go, Commander!"
     "Thank you," Larkin said, and switched on the lamp.  She
pointed it at Raye.  "Now, Mister Raye, you should know I am loathe to
resort to crude, hurtful interrogation tactics, but I have little time and even
less information."
     "I don't know how you expect me to help you," Raye said, holding
up his hands to block the light.
     Larkin pushed his hands down.  "Although I do not possess
instincts or follow hunches, I am capable of exacting a phenomenal amount
of pain from individuals, and have no real ethical subroutines to hold me
back.  That, I believe, is one thing that makes me a more capable android
than Mister Data.  That debate, however, must be tabled for now.  At the
moment, the only thing of interest to me is the location of Captain Conway,
the identity of his captors, and their plans."
     Raye watched as Puckett munched on her bagel, one bite at a time,
groaning with pleasure at every bite.  The lamp, meanwhile, was turning his
cheek a bright shade of pink.
     "Uhm....what makes you think I know anything about any of that? 
I'm just a process server for the Trill government."
     "Because you are the only Trill I have access to," Larkin said
evenly.  "And, logically, if Unjon had planned this intricate ruse from the
beginning, I believe he would not have left the details of Captain Conway's
subpoena to chance."
     "Look," Raye said.  "I just did what he told me to do."
     Larkin moved the lamp closer to Raye.  "So you admit that
process serving is not exactly your career?"
     "No.  I'm involved in the...smuggling arts."
     "Arts..."
     "Well, I smuggle.  I smuggle, and sometimes I plot and steal.  And
swindle.  And, occasionally, loiter."
     "You are a man of many talents," Larkin observed.  "I hope
truthful narrative is one of them."  She moved the lamp closer.  "Tell me
where I can find Captain Conway, or I will give you a permanent tan."
     "I don't know where the Orion Syndicate is taking him!" Raye
blurted, then covered his mouth.
     "The Orion Syndicate," Larkin said.
     Puckett nearly choked on her bagel.
     "Go get a drink, Ensign," Larkin said, still looking at Raye. 
"No wonder you were reluctant to share your information."
     "The Syndicate'll kill me if they know I ratted them out!"
     "Indeed," Larkin said.  "All the more reason to cooperate with
us, so that we may prevent that from happening."
     "I was just doing them a favor...just doing what Unjon told me to,
so they could distract the Trill, and get the symbionts."
     "And do what with them?" Larkin asked.  "It is not as if you can
simply sell symbionts on the black market."
     "Actually..." Raye said.  He looked at Larkin.  "I didn't tell you
any of this!"
     "In point of fact, you did," Larkin said.  "And you will tell me
more."
     "I don't know much more, other than that they plan on marketing
the symbionts as 'mood enhancers.'"
     Larkin considered this.  "'Mood enhancers' that are
incompatible with most humanoid nervous systems."
     "I think they're going to put a warning label on them."     
     Larkin nodded, turning off the warming light.  "That must not
be allowed to happen."
     Raye gulped.  "Can I go now?" 
     Larkin shook her head.  "We will keep you in protective
custody until this matter is settled.  And at that point, you will be free to
go..."
     Raye's eyes brightened.
     "To be debriefed and detained by Starfleet Intelligence."
     Raye frowned.  "Well, can I at least have a bagel?"    
     Larkin considered his request.  "If you must..."
     Gellar burst through the door to the bakery just as Raye rushed
behind the counter to get his bagel and Puckett returned from behind the
counter with a glass of papaya juice.
     "Did you kill him yet?" he asked breathlessly.
     "You misunderstood my intentions," Larkin said.
     "We just warmed him," Puckett said, drinking her juice.
     "And fed him," Raye said, munching on a Ferengi beetle bagel.  He
shoved two more in his pockets.  "Got any jam?"
     "Do not push your luck," Larkin said warningly.  "Ensign
Puckett, take Mister Raye...and his bagels...back to the brig, and keep an
eye on him.  Mister Gellar, I take it that Filna Kedric is here and would like
to speak with me?"
     "You take it right," Gellar nodded.
     "Then I will go to see him," Larkin said.
     "Did you get what you wanted from Raye?" Gellar asked as the
pair headed for the turbolift.
     "The Orion Syndicate kidnapped Captain Conway and plans to sell
the Trill symbionts on the black market."
     "All that, and all you used was a bagel-warming lamp?  I need to
change my methods."
     "Indeed."


     Captain Conway was shaken awake, finding himself in a rubber-
walled room, in which all four walls were done in alternating pastel colors:
blue, pink, yellow, green.  The floor and ceiling were purple.
     He was lying on a squishy bed.  Not quite a waterbed....filled with
some kind of sludgy material.  Like mud.
     On further inspection, he saw the bedframe was that of a racecar. 
Unjon certainly knew his likes.
     The walls were plastered with posters of Dale Earnhardt, crossing
finish lines and holding up trophies.  And, just for spite, there was a poster
of Jeff Gordon.  Unjon was a sick bastard.
     Conway was relieved to find he could sit up, that he was no longer
being held by a restraining field.
     He walked over to the door, which came complete with a little
observation window.
     He also spotted, nearby, a trunk full of race cars.  How thoughtful.
     Conway stared out the window, trying to get some glimpse of the
corridor outside, any passing crewmembers.  He had no idea what type of
ship he was on, or who was helping Unjon in this mad venture.
     All he knew was that he was stuck on this ship.
     Then another face filled the little window, staring at him with wild,
impassioned eyes.
     Conway fell backwards onto his rubberized floor with the shock of
seeing that face.  So much like Tyra's...but manly.  Kind of.
     The door irised open and Unjon stepped through, his glittery cape
fluttering behind him.  Why was he still wearing that?  
     "Ahh, my sexy little pet!  I see you're up and about."  Unjon also
had a little walking stick, it appeared, although Conway didn't remember
him having a limp.
     "And not restrained anymore," Conway growled, looking up at
Unjon.  "Which means nothing's stopping me from grabbing you by the..." 
     "Oh please, not until I know you better!"  As Conway lunged at him
from the floor, Unjon lifted his walking stick and poked it into the captain's
armpit.  A visible rainbow of shocks radiated from Conway's armpit all over
his body, and a seizure sent him flying back onto his squishy bed.  "Do I
seem like that kind of guy?"
     "Oh, Lordy..." Conway sighed, shaking the effects of the shock from
his head.
     "I was hoping the torture would be more of a concentual thing,"
Unjon said, swinging his stick up and blowing on the end of it.  "Nice little
accessory, isn't it?  I'll see if we can get you one."
     "Please do..." Conway said.  "So I can shove it up your..."
     "In good time!" Unjon squealed with delight.  "Oh, all in good time. 
But first, we've got a teensy little job for you!"
     "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Conway shouted as
Unjon walked out.
     "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," the Trill giggled, and
slammed the door.


     "May I ask where we're going?" Filna Kedric asked, barging out of
the turbolift and onto the bridge of the Aerostar.  He'd just gone below to
find Larkin, only to find that she'd headed back to the bridge.  He
wasn't enamored of chasing the android all over the ship.  Not with so
much at stake.
     "You may ask," Larkin said, turning in the command chair to
face Kedric.  "But I may not tell you."
     "As an official representative of the Trill government, I demand to
know all of the details pertaining to your investigation," Kedric said,
stepping down until he was toe to toe with Larkin.  She stared up at
him from the command chair as he loomed over her, flapping a padd in her
face.  "I just received a very disturbing account of your interrogation of
Tammat Raye.  That kind of behavior will not be allowed to continue
during this investigation.  My government, Commander, is determined that
this matter be resolved as quickly as possible in order to satisfy the best
interests of the Trill people.  Starfleet will not be permitted to haphazardly
disregard the needs of my people any longer!  And let's not forget the real
mission here...it's to find and capture Unjon Shar!"
     "Are you quite finished?" Larkin asked.
     "Yes," Kedric said, and sat next to her.
     "Good," she said.  "Then allow me to bring you up to date."
     "Please do," Kedric said stiffly.
     "Our warp engines are back on-line, and we have headed at high
warp to a colony in Orion space, where I have a contact waiting."
     "Why Orion space?"
     "Because we believe the Orion Syndicate is responsible for
absconding with your symbionts, Minister."
     Kedric went sallow.  "To what end?"
     "It is the Orion Syndicate," Larkin said archly.  "Use your
imagination."
     "Do you mean to say..."
     "They're going to sell the symbionts," Ford said, whipping around
in his chair.  "Catch up to the plot already!"
     "Enough, Mister Ford!" Larkin snapped.  She looked at Kedric. 
"Although tactless, Lieutenant Commander Ford is, essentially, correct."
     "You think your 'contact' can help us find the freighter carrying
our symbionts?" Kedric asked.
     "It is our only hope," Larkin said.
     "We lost the warp trail while we were getting our engines back
online," Alexa Lanham said.  "And might I add, there were no Trill vessels in
the area that were capable of taking over the pursuit."
     "Indeed," Kedric said, seeming to deflate.
     "That is usually my line," Larkin said.  "If you need any more
information, you are welcomed to ask.  In the meantime, I must prepare for
my rendez-vous.  Mister Ford will see to your needs while I am gone."
     "You're leaving the ship?"
     "I would prefer to keep a slightly lower profile," Larkin said,
and nodded at Ford, who took the command chair as she left.  "The
Aerostar, meanwhile, will be safely hidden in a nearby nebula."
     "Isn't anyone going to go with her?" Kedric demanded as
Larkin disappeared into the aft turbolift.
     Alexa Lanham slid out from around her station.  "As a matter of fact,
yes."
     "So," Ford said, turning toward Kedric as Lanham left.  "You've
known Shar through several lifetimes.  What was that like?"
     Kedric glared at Ford.  "I don't want to talk about it."

               

     "Captain Rikkens, are you okay?  You look like hells," said Ortok,
the Payload's navigator, as Rikkens stepped shakily out onto the bridge.
     "One too many Romulan ales last night," Rikkens muttered, and sat
down in his command chair.  He rubbed the arms of the chair up and down,
as if he was feeling the material for the first time in hundreds of years.  "It
feels good to be up and about again."
     "What do you mean?" Ortok asked.
     "Oh, you know, things."  Rikkens furrowed his brow, as if it were
difficult to come up with the proper thoughts.  "Orions are quite the
menacing race."
     "We like to think so," Ortok agreed, looking perplexed at Rikkens.
     "Many planets.  Many different races out there, huh," Rikkens said
slowly.  "Space travel.  Many dimensions.  Wormholes.  Replicators.  New
life, civilizations, far away galaxies.  Running water in every room...."
     "Sir, perhaps you should retire to your quarters while we offload
the cargo?"
     "NO!" Rikkens snapped, rising to his feet.  "I will check the
precious cargo myself and oversee its offloading.  This is a vastly important
step in taking over Tr..."  Rikkens face seemed to go through a muddle of
expressions, as if he was just now discovering his own thoughts.
     "Sir?"
     Finally, looking much more self-assured, Rikkens said, "A vastly
important step in making profit for the Orions.'


     Lanham caught up to Larkin as she headed toward the Main
Shuttlebay.  "Commander, wait up."
     "You are not at your station," Larkin noticed as she walked
through the large shuttlebay doors.
     "Nice of you to notice," Lanham said.  "I am going with you."
     "Your services will not be required," Larkin said.  "I am going
to a somewhat inhospitable moon of Therris Prime."
     "One of the hotbeds of the Orion Syndicate."
     "That is correct."
     "You're not even bringing security?"
     "I am in need of none," Larkin said.  "As you may already be
aware, I am nearly indestructible."
     "While that may be true, what's to say that anybody in the
Syndicate is going to give you information?"
     An ensign approached and handed Larkin a small satchel.
     "Thank you, Ensign Croft."  She looked back at Lanham.  "Because
I am going to be traveling under a different guise."
     "As who?"
     "Kristen Larkin," Larkin said.
     Lanham blinked.  "Uhm, isn't that you?"
     "Kris Larkin, actually," Larkin said.  "A freighter captain,
and the inspiration for my likeness.  It could be said I bear a....passing
resemblance to her."
     "So why would anyone in the Syndicate tell HER where the
symbionts are?"
     "Because Kris is involved in several rather...questionable
partnerships.  I have discussed this all with her in depth over subspace, and
see no need to delve into it any further with you."
     Lanham took Larkin by the shoulders and attempted to turn the
android to face her.  She was unsuccessful, as the android's strength made
her virtually immobile.  "Look, Commander, I have a vested interest in
getting Captain Conway back.  I was married to the guy."
     Larkin frowned at Lanham, finally turning to face her as, in the
background, a work crew prepped the runabout Kissimee.  "You should
know I questioned Captain Conway's decision to bring you on as Chief
Science Officer.  As a rule, I do not believe that civilians should serve in
command posts on Starfleet vessels.  The captain, for whatever reason, is
fond of you, and because of that I will attempt to offer you some...latitude. 
You must, however, recognize the chain of command, and realize that
Starfleet vessels are not democracies and that my decisions, once made,
can not simply be circumvented."
     "Good points all," Lanham said.  "Just one thing."
     "And that is?" Larkin asked.
     "The runabout's leaving without us."  Lanham pointed at the
Kissimee, which was, in fact, lifting off the flight deck of the shuttlebay and
pivoting toward the opening bay doors.
     "Ensign Croft, man the tractor beam!" Larkin called out and
bolted toward the runabout, leaping onto its nearest nacelle as the surprised
work crew scattered.  "Larkin to bridge, lock down the shuttlebay!"
     Lanham walked over to the control station where Croft latched a
tractor beam onto the Kissimee.  Upon noticing the runabouts shields
hadn't yet been raised, she used the cargo transporter to lock onto her and
Larkin and beam them both into the runabout.
     Larkin appeared in the cockpit looking uncharacteristically
disoriented, but Lanham immediately lurched toward the cockpit's lone
occupant and socked him across the face with a swift left jab.  His head
slammed against the control console.
     "Tammat Raye," Larkin muttered, as Lanham took a seat at the
unoccupied navigation station.  "I am going to have to speak with Ensign
Puckett about her security measures.  It appears they were insufficient."
     "He was laying in a course for a warehouse on Therris Prime,"
Lanham said, looking over the runabout's navigation panel.  "Maybe a
hiding spot for the Syndicate?"
     "You did an excellent job incapacitating Mr. Raye.  I was unaware
you were trained in combat."
     "I nearly killed Captain Conway when we were married."
     "Yes, I have heard," Larkin said, effortlessly tossing Raye into
an open seat toward the rear of the cockpit.
     "Does this change our plans any?" Lanham asked.
     "Indeed it does," Larkin said.  "I am bringing you with me. 
Alert the bridge and continue along Mister Raye's course for Therris
Prime."
     "What about your contact?" Lanham asked.
     "I will tell him to make other arrangements," Larkin said. 
"You, meanwhile, should replicate an outfit a little less...Starfleet." 
Lanham wore a traditional Starfleet uniform, just without the pips. 
Occasionally, she'd put a nice broach on the collar, but she found superior
officers frowned on that, since oftentimes other crewmen would think there
was a new ranking system.
     "Will do," Lanham said, heading toward the back of the cockpit. 
"What about sleeping beauty here?"
     "Bait," Larkin said simply.


     Captain Conway awoke feeling very...full.  
     One moment, he was resting in his padded playroom, reading a
padd about Dale Earnhardt, Junior's bid for the 2006 Winston Cup, and the
next moment he'd lost consciousness.
     Now he was in another room on the freighter, lying on a bed,
feeling very...full.
     His stomach hurt.  He looked down, noticing that his Starfleet
uniform was replaced with a glittery purple pantsuit.
     He leaned up.  At least he could move around.  Slowly, Conway
swung his legs off the bed and sat upright.
     "What the hell did they do to me?" he asked himself, lifting the
purple shirt a bit to see that he had about a ten-centimeter scar in the
middle of his belly.  "What could they have done to me that would require
cutting a hole in my stom..." 
     Conway's eyes glazed.  He stared at the wall.
     "And...where's...Shar..." he asked slowly.
     Right here baby, a voice cooed in his brain, and then something
gripped his mind, vicelike, and he felt his limbs move as if they weren't his
own.
     And the last thing Conway did of his own free will was fall forward
and ram his head into the rubberized wall of his cell.
     It was a rubber wall, but it still hurt like the dickens.



     


                      
                  CHAPTER SEVEN




     "Nice place," Alexa Lanham said out of the side of her mouth, shortly
after Larkin, she, and a quite unconscious Tammat Raye materialized
just outside the warehouse on the murky, dusky, Therris Prime.  They'd
put the runabout in orbit just inside the ionosphere, in a pocket of radiation
that would hopefully hide it from any probing Orion sensors.
     "I would not want to live here," Larkin commented, then
glanced back at Lanham.  "By the way, Doctor, may I say what an excellent
job you did selecting your apparel."
     "I was going for sleazy," Lanham said, tugging at her above-the-
middriff tube top, knee-high leather boots and short, short skirt.  "Sure it's
not too...?"
     "You appear to be a prostitute, but an expensive one."
     "Refined space trash!  Exactly the look I was going for," Lanham
said, slapping