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. Viacom owns Paramount and Paramount owns Star Trek. I've tried to rely on my good intentions, but my brain's doing things that I can't mention. Copyright 2003. 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 "Bast Intentions" BY ANTHONY BUTLER Captain's Log, Stardate 56766.3. We're on course, it seems, to rendez-vous with a Bast ship. I would like to state for the record that I did not set this course, neither did any of my crew. As absurd as this may sound, my wife's cat set this course, and I'm damned sure going to find out how. Cat's aren't supposed to be able to do that. Captain Baxter stared idly out at the stars blazing by the conference lounge window as Peterman, Richards, and Vansen sat before them, eyes red-rimmed, faces a little sallow, and wills all but broken. Oddly, he didn't seem to care. He just looked out the window. "As you all may be aware," Federation President Bradley Dillon said, standing at the front of the room, near the display screen. "This ship is on course for a Bast vessel, presumably the same one we encountered a day ago. Counselor Peterman's cat," he nodded in the direction of Peterman, who sat on the other end of the conference table from Baxter, "was the one who sent us there." "We're aware," Richards said. "Yeah," Vansen muttered, her face covered with scratches. "The damn thing nearly ripped my eyes out." "Yes," Bradley said. "That was unfortunate. Luckily, though, we've captured the creature and put it in an observation chamber in Science Lab Two. As soon as Lieutenant Commander Tilleran is well, she'll have an opportunity to study--" "She's in a coma," Peterman snapped. "Along with our Chief of Security. And thanks to the Bast, neither of them may ever wake up again!" "Because of Fritz," Baxter said quietly, still looking out the window. "Well then," Bradley said. "I'm sure there are other science officers on this ship. We must move forward. There is much preparation to do before we meet up with the Bast." "You sound like we're going to a social mixer," Richards said. "When, instead, they put a hostile being on our ship to study us for the last six years. Then it got into our computers and took over the ship, sending it God-knows-where so the Bast can do God-knows-what to us. Do you really think they would have done all that if all they wanted was a meet and greet?" "I can't gauge their intentions at this time," Bradley said. "Until I do, we have to prepare as if we're entering a typical diplomatic situation." "Well, then," Peterman muttered. "I'll break out the fancy silverware." "There's no need for sarcasm, Counselor," Bradley said. "This is an historic occasion. The beginning of diplomatic relations with one of the most ancient and storied cultures in the universe. And you're here to witness it." "True," Peterman said. "Now that Fritz let go of the control he had on my brain." Vansen stared at her. "Do we have any proof that he has let go? I mean, for all we know, you could still be controlled by him. You should be kept under guard." "That's ridiculous," Peterman said. "I'm back to myself. Janice gave me a full brain scan. Andy...tell her." Baxter looked quickly at Peterman, then looked away, and stood up. "We have work to do." "Glad to see we're on the same page," Bradley said, rubbing his hands together. "Now then, Lieutenant Madera tells me that the Bast starship is on the edge of sensor range. We should be there in three hours. I expect a report on our readiness in one hour." "You'll get a report all right," Baxter said, turning for the door. Bradley touched Baxter's arm. The Captain stopped, looked over his shoulder. "What." "Captain," Bradley said with a conciliatory smile. "It goes without saying that you and your crew have been through a lot in the last couple days. I completely understand that you may have ...some animosity toward the Bast, and perhaps toward myself as well. But I must order you, explicitly, to do nothing to derail this mission. Do I have your word on this?" "Sure," Baxter said. "Cross my heart and hope to die." And he walked out of the room. "So...how do we get my ship back?" Captain Baxter asked, fifteen minutes later, hunched in a Jefferies tube outside computer core 2, next to Lt. Commander Hartley, who was busy zapping at an interface module with a protoplaser. "Aside from you standing up to President Dillon and putting him in the brig once and for all?" Hartley asked wryly as she worked. "Aside from that." "We have to get into computer core two and disable it." "We can't even get in?" "Hence being in the Jefferies tube." "What, is there a forcefield up?" "Yes, and I don't even know where the power is coming from. Captain, whoever crosswired these circuits is working on a level of intelligence I can't even begin to understand. Every effort to get through is headed off at the pass. It's like the computer is anticipating my moves and adapting to counter them. And the worst part is, it's our own computer that's doing it!" "And to think, it was all done by a cat," Baxter said, patting Hartley's shoulder. "Keep working. You're the only shot we have at evading the Bast. If we can't get computer control back before we get there..." "We're cat food," Hartley muttered. "Something like that," Baxter said, and squirmed out of the tube. "Keep me posted." "Where are you going?" "To see a woman about a coma." "Give them both thirty cc's of somnaline," Browning said, moving from one comatose patient to the next, blowing her hair out of her face as she checked readout after readout, and crosschecked them with the readings on her medical tricorder, sparing a breath to bark an order to Nurse Chadway, or her other medtechs, in between. "What's the status, Janice?" Captain Baxter asked from the doorway to sickbay. "The computer connection that was modulating the telepathic bond between Tilleran and J'hana failed. Now we're losing them both," she said, as she scrambled to plunge hyposprays into the necks of Tilleran and J'hana, who was now spread out on the biobed beside the Betazoid. "Isn't there something you can do for them?" "Uh...yeah," Browning said breathlessly. "Everything I'm doing." "Of course," Baxter said. "I didn't mean..." "Andy, there isn't anything you can do to help right now. I'd appreciate it if you just got out of here and let me work. Check on Plato for me. He should be getting ready for school about now. I'll let you know as soon as I know something. Damn it! Neurotransmitter levels are bottoming out. Cordical stimulators!" "Right," Baxter said. "I'll just...be outside. Somewhere." And he backed out of the door. "I know I don't know the captain very well," Ensign Koltz said, as he leaned over Tilleran with his tricorder, scanning her brain. "But I'd say he's acting a little strange." "He's been through a lot," Browning said, tapping on the emitter controls on the cordical stimulator on Tilleran's forhead. "We all have. Stimulators ready. Hit it, Chadway!" Tilleran and J'hana both twitched suddenly. "Hit them again!" "Doctor," Koltz said, looking up at Browning. "What if we can't bring them back?" "That's not an option," Browning said, as she watched J'hana's eyes rapidly moving underneath her eyelids. Tilleran's were doing the same. Briefly, she wondered what was going on in their minds. Were they conscious of what was happening? Browning decided there was no way to know, and just kept working. "We are lost, Imzadi," J'hana said, standing on the edge of a rocky outcropping, overlooking a white desert landscape, complete with a gleaming bright sun shining above in an azure sky. The Andorian and the Betazoid were at the edge of the outcropping, holding hands, looking out over the miles and miles of empty terrain that lay spread out before them, a hundred meters below. "Lost is just a state of mind, Jan," Tilleran whispered. "Isn't this a lovely view?" "It is a construct, taken from one of our minds. It must be yours, as I have never been to Vulcan." "I have," Tilleran said. "And this isn't Vulcan. It's the Mojave desert. On Earth." "It's not very attractive." "It's beautiful," Tilleran said with a sigh. "I guess my brain wanted to treat me to one more beautiful sight before it gave out entirely." J'hana looked at Tilleran. "Is that what's happening? Are we both just going to fade out of existence?" "It seems that way. We've lost control of this hallucination. That must mean that there's some kind of malfunction in the world out there." She pointed up at the sky. "Wherever there is." "Don't you think there's something we can do to help?" J'hana said. "I mean, it is our lives that we're fighting for. We cannot just give up." "That's precisely what we should do," Tilleran said. "What's the point? There's only hurt and anger out there in the real world. At least here we're safe here." She walked toward J'hana and grabbed her hand. "Together." J'hana cocked her head and stared long and hard at Tilleran. "You're still not right, are you?" "Right?" Tilleran said, and smiled. "I'm more right than I've ever been." "Stop talking like that!" "J'hana," Tilleran said, and faced the Andorian, taking both her hands. "You're still attached to that world out there. You've got to forget about it. Let go." "Never!" J'hana shouted, and pushed Tilleran's hands away. She backed away from the Betazoid. "I cannot just end my existence. Not when there's so much else to do." "What else is there to do, hmm?" Tilleran asked, raising an eyebrow. "Haven't you already done enough?" "What do you mean?" "You've done nothing but fight all your life, J'hana. Don't you want to rest?" "I don't need to rest. I need to help the Captain. Help the Explorer. I can't do that if I'm dead!" "But what if you had to leave me here?" Tilleran asked. "What if you had to live the rest of your life without me. Would it really be worth it, then?" "You're not Tilleran," J'hana said flatly. "The real Tilleran would want me to live. You seem to be convincing me to die." "It would be easier," Tilleran said, smiling wide and stepping toward J'hana. "You know, it's so much easier to absorb you humanoids when you're comatose. The brain doesn't fight it. You just slip in, like one of your toddlers slipping into a pair of footy pajamas. Isn't that a pleasing thought?" "You are the Bast!" J'hana shouted, charging Tilleran and knocking her to the ground. "That's a pedantic name for a proud species whose accomplishments predate the existence of your race!" Tilleran said, clawing at J'hana's face as the Andorian pinned her to the ground, gripping her wrists. "But let's not fight," Tilleran cooed. "Wouldn't you rather...take me? Right here. Right now? I can provide you with a millenium of pleasure. Just give up your puny hold on the real world. It's not all it's cracked up to be, you know." "Never!" J'hana spat, wrapping her hands around Tilleran's throat and choking her. "You're killing your Imzadi!" Tilleran giggled playfully as J'hana choked her. Then, with a blnk, the Betazoid's black eyes became yellow and slitted, and with unbecoming strength she pushed J'hana off. J'hana rolled onto the ground, sitting on her backside, astonished. She stared at Tilleran, as she flipped her body up into a crouch with inhuman flexibility. She smiled, letting out a long, luxurious purr as she stretched out, and her hands became clawed, and her long,dark hair turned orange. Triangular ears poked out at the top of her head, and she sniffed at J'hana with a wriggling pink nose that sprouted whiskers, as she edged forward, a long, orange tail swirling behind her. "Do you like me this way?" she cooed. "Yes, but that's not the point!" J'hana said, rising to her feet. "I do not know what your plans are, but you will assuredly fail!" "What if I told you we've already won?" "I wouldn't believe you." Tilleran inched even closer, running one taloned finger along the side of J'hana's face. "What if I told you I could promise you a most honorable death?" J'hana stared long and hard at the catlike Tilleran, and her expression suddenly softened. "I would...listen to you." "I knew you would," Tilleran giggled. "Bitch!" a voice called out, and J'hana was startled to see Ariel Tilleran, without cat features, rise up behind the other Tilleran and clobber her in the head with a large rock, sending her in a heap to the ground. The cat-Tilleran struggled to rise up, but Tilleran knelt in front of her and brought the rock down repeatedly on her head. "I...hate it...when...the...bad guys...look... like me!" she cried as she smashed the rock repeatedly into the other Tilleran, until finally it just disappeared...leaving nothing but a faint grey scorch mark behind on the sandy ground. "Ari..." J'hana said softly, grabbing Tilleran's arms and lifting her to her feet. "Where have you been?" "Looking for you!" Tilleran said, tossing the rock down to the ground. "Can I just tell you, my brain is huge! It took forever to get through it." "I agree," J'hana said. "Have you any idea of how to get out of here?" "I've been working on it ever since I lost consciousness. Have you been here long?" J'hana wasn't sure. "It feels like it," she said. Tilleran tiptoed out to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the rocky ground hundreds of meters below. "Jan, I hate to say it, but I think I may have an idea of what my subconscious has planned for us." "Please, do clue me in," J'hana said. "I think we have to jump." "Pardon?" "Down there," Tilleran said. "Don't you see? It would be a symbol of ending this existence. We'd splatter on the ground, and, for all intents and purposes, leave this existence." "With a splat," J'hana emphasized. "Right. But, after the splat, we'd wake up." J'hana nodded, looking out at the still, white, desert landscape. "What is the alternative?" Tilleran put her hands on her hips. "We stay here and have a picnic." "Fine." J'hana grabbed Tilleran's hand. "Then we jump, Imzadi." "I knew you'd see it my way." She inched toward the edge of the outcropping, J'hana beside her. "Are you ready, J'hana?" "Are you sure about this Ariel?" "No." "Then I'm ready." "No regrets?" Tilleran asked softly. "I regret nothing!" J'hana shouted and lept, dragging Tilleran behind her. And Tilleran and J'hana fell, and fell. Then, splat. J'hana and Tilleran sat bolt upright at the exact same time, causing Koltz to shriek in dismay, and causing Dr. Browning to choke on her ham sandwich. "Urk!" Browning coughed, swallowing hard and staring at the readouts as she put her sandwich down on a nearby tray. "J'hana, Tilleran... how?" "How is not important," J'hana said. She looked around Sickbay. "We are alive, and that is what matters." Koltz stared at the two of them blankly. "Are you two...all right?" "No," Tilleran said, and slid off the biobed. "But it doesn't matter. We have to talk to the Captain. The Bast are yet to come, and we've got to stop them." Browning held up her hands, stopping Tilleran and J'hana in their tracks. "Wait a minute. I need to look you two over before I let you out of Sickbay. Make sure there are no lingering aftereffects of your...mind trip." "But we have to act before it's too late!" Tilleran pleaded. "I'm afraid it already is," Browning said. "Where are we going, Uncle Andy?" Plato asked, as he and Baxter walked down the corridor. "To find a place to hide out for a while," Baxter said simply. "Hide out from what?" Baxter knelt beside Plato, looking in the shorter boy's eyes. "The Explorer is on a very special mission. It could get dangerous. I need you...where I can call on you, in case things get to hectic." "You're going to hide me so I don't get hurt," Plato said. "You're getting too damn smart," Baxter sighed. "You could have at least humored me." "Don't you think that's a little childish?" Plato asked. "Touche," Baxter said. "So where are we going?" "The safest place I know," Baxter said, walking up to a door and pushing the call button. The door slid open to reveal Chaka'kan. "Ah, Captain," the Jem'Hadar said. "Are you here to retrieve your child? I was just about to wake her and check her diaper." "I'm afraid not," Baxter said. "I need you to take Plato and Steffie and go somewhere safe." Chaka'kan nodded. "The tactical situaton onboard ship is getting dire." "Glad you're keeping up." "I've been watching the intraship news feed," he affirmed. "And I believe the safest place to hide would be on Deck Forty-Two near the latitudinal impulse generator. It is not one of the more sensitive areas on the ship, and the interference put out by the engine should afford some sensor coverage." "I see," Baxter said. "I'm glad the Dominion left a little Jem'Hadar wilyness in you." "Mostly for the purpose of cowering and running, Captain. I also have a terrific new recipe for mushroom casserole I would like to share with you, at the appropriate time." "Yum," Plato said. "And this is obviously not that time," Baxter said, pushing Plato toward Chaka'kan. "Go, then. Get to that hiding place. Take whatever supplies you need. You might be there for a while." "And where will you be, sir?" Chaka'kan asked, taking Plato by the hand as Baxter walked off. "Thinking," Baxter said flatly. Baxter stood in his quarters, staring out the windows, as he'd been doing a lot recently, trying to make sense of the stars streaming by. He almost didn't hear the doors open. His hand rested comfortably on the phaser holstered on his hip. "Don't shoot," a voice said behind him. "I think that goes with 'love and honor,' don't you?" Baxter turned to find Counselor Peterman in the doorway. She stepped forward, and the doors closed behind her. "Well?" she asked. "Are you going to put your phaser down, or what?" He hadn't noticed. He was aiming his phaser right at her, and it was set on maximum stun. Slowly, Baxter put the weapon down. "You can't blame me for being cautious." "Janice explained to me about the way I've been acting," Peterman said. "I even remember some of it." "I figured," Baxter said, putting the phaser back in its holster and sitting down on his recliner, swiveling it to face the windows. "Where's Steffie?" Peterman asked. "Shouldn't she be up from her nap by now?" "I took her to Chaka'kan. He's taken her to an out-of-the-way place on the ship." "Good idea," Peterman said. "Keep her out of harm's way as long as we can." "Yeah," Baxter said hoarsely. "Something like that." Peterman walked to the couch and sat down, facing Baxter. "You know, Andy, some might say you're taking this a bit too hard." "My ship's in jeopardy, Kelly." "As it's been a million times before. There's more than that. Something's wrong with you." Peterman leaned forward, touched Baxter's arm. "And I'm sensing it has something to do with me." Baxter resisted the urge to pull away. He turned a little to face her. "You have some telepathic abilities left over from your mind meld with the cat?" "No," Peterman said. "I have a mind meld with you. It's called marriage, remember?" Baxter's face softened. "I...read your book." "My...? Oh, yeah. The book I was writing, when Fritz first started controlling me." She blinked thoughtfully. "I can't remember much of that." "Let me refresh your memory," Baxter said, turning fully to face his wife. "You called it 'Falling Out of Love: The Quarter Life Crisis and the Modern Twenty-Fourth Century Woman.'" "Not a very catchy title," Peterman said, rubbing her chin. "I'd have come up with something better than that. Then again, what do you expect? My cat wrote it." "You talked about how you weren't happy with this marriage," Baxter said. "That you were stuck in a rut. That your career was all just based on following me around. You were losing your identity. You needed to branch out. Get time to yourself." Peterman nodded. "I also carried on long, meaningful talks with a cat. I wasn't altogether with it, Andy!" "So there's no basis of truth in any of that?" "Well," Peterman said, leaning back. "Maybe there's...a teeny little bit of basis." "Uh-huh," Baxter said. "But you didn't bother to talk to me about it." "Because it wasn't enough of a problem to matter. I'm happy with you, Andy, I..." "You wouldn't have written all that if you were happy. Damn it, Kelly, I can't do anything to help you if you don't tell me what's wrong with you. And you picked a fine time to pour your feelings out." "Maybe you shouldn't have read the book," Peterman said. "If I recall, I told you it was private. I was revising it. I was probably going to do something about that title." "If I hadn't read the book, I'd never know how you were feeling." Baxter stood up and headed for the door. "But I'm glad I know now. Now I won't be surprised when you leave me. When it gets to be more than you can bear. Where you actually have to physically leave the ship to get some perspective, some direction." "Now when did I ever say that?" Peterman said, standing, moving to follow Baxter. "Chapter Fifteen, page two hundred and four," Baxter said, and walked out. J'hana paced back and forth in front of the specimen chamber that sat atop Tilleran's worktable, as the Betazoid sat a nearby station and reviewed the information on her monitor screen. "When will it wake up," she snapped. "When the stabilizing drugs run through its system," Tilleran said. "Are you in any hurry to deal with that thing? Look at what it's done to us." "It almost killed us," J'hana said, sneering at the cat. "Not to mention the number of times it clawed at my face. I've been doing battle with that cat daily for six years. Now I find it's being controlled by a nefarious alien race. And you don't expect me to be itching for some payback?" "Commander Richards was very specific," Tilleran said. "All we're supposed to do is interrogate it. Gather information." "Then vaporize it." a voice said smoothly, filling the Andorian's brain. She whirled toward Fritz, yanking her phaser out and aiming it at the cat in the specimen tank. "It speaks!" "Yes," Tilleran said, turning toward it and pulling out her tricorder. "On a purely telepathic level. It's like a telepathic all-call." J'hana walked toward Fritz, pointing her phaser at it. "Tell us everything you know, or I'll kill you." the cat replied, though his mouth didn't move. It merely stared at J'hana, looking curious. "Why can't you inhabit a person?" Tilleran asked. "You seemed to only be able to influence Counselor Peterman, and block my telepathic abilities. But couldn't you have taken any of us over with your...consciousness?" "And when you work out the kinks?" J'hana demanded. "How old are the Bast?" Tilleran asked. "Fifteen million, twenty million years old?" "And what plight would that be?" Captain Baxter asked, walking into the science lab. "Captain," Tilleran said with a nod. "Tilleran, J'hana. Good to have you guys back with us," Baxter said, taking a deep breath. "Fritz. Glad to speak with you at last." the cat replied. "I understand that you're trying to destroy us," Baxter said, edging nearer the specimen case. "And I want to know why." Fritz said. "He mentioned something about the annihilation of the human race," Baxter said, looking uneasily at Tilleran and J'hana. "I just assumed that was crazytalk." Fritz said. The cat actually grinned, its ears perking up and its tail swishing. Baxter chuckled dryly at Fritz, then turned around. "Not a chance, furball!" he cried, smashing his fist through the clear specimen tank and yanking Fritz out through it. He held the cat aloft, screaming at it. "You tell me how to get my ship back! You tell me how to stop these Bast! I'm through f***ing playing around!" Fritz's voice calmly echoed in Baxter's mind. "Yeah." And the cat swiped a paw across Baxter's face, causing him to drop it. Then it scurried across the floor toward the doorway as Baxter turned towards it, phaser drawn. But J'hana was already on top of the cat, wrestling it to the ground. "SHHHEeeeeeeeeeeeeearrgh!" J'hana growled, rolling on the ground with the cat as it hissed and scratched at her. "I will kill you, evil feline!" Suddenly a phaser blast arced over J'hana, and she looked up, her hands wrapped around Fritz's neck. Baxter just shook his head. "Like he said, it's not worth it. Just put him in a containment field. We have bigger cats to fry." Fritz' voice echoed in each person's mind as Tilleran placed him in another specimen chamber. "We'll see about that," Baxter said, and headed out of the science lab, leaving Tilleran to clean up the mess. "Captain," J'hana called after Baxter. "How do you expect to stop these...things?" "Simple. We let them catch us." Fifteen minutes later, Counselor Peterman walked into the observation lounge, where the whole senior staff was gathered. Baxter, Richards, Vansen, Browning, Hartley, Tilleran, and J'hana. She was somehow heartened to see everyone back together, since recent events had seemed to be working to split the crew apart. "Now then," Baxter said, standing at the front of the table. "You know the Bast want to somehow absorb our species. Take it over. And it very well seems they're going to use our ship as a means to do that." "When you say species, do you think that just means humans?" Hartley asked. "No, I'm saying species as in plural." "Species is the plural of species?" Browning asked. "Yes," Baxter said. "But that's not important right now. What is important is that we let the Bast succeed." "Oh, brilliant," Vansen said. "Why don't we invite the Borg to come join in while we're at it? And what's the Dominion up to lately?" "Look," Baxter said. "Hartley has figured out a way to unlock the computer, and give us access of that ship back. I'm going to have her do that. But we're going to stay on course. What's the alternative? We run away, and hope they don't come to finish the job they started? Isn't it likely they'll just try again, with some other ship? Do you really want to be responsible for that?" "Um...no?" Richards offered. "That's right," Baxter said. "So we get inside that Bast ship and do as much damage as we can. We're good at that, right?" "Damn straight," J'hana growled. "I for one am with the captain. We destroy the Bast, by whatever means necessary, even if it means destroying ourselves as well." She smiled. "Especially if it means destroying ourselves!" "Of course you would say that," Vansen muttered. "You're suicidal and stupid. As for the rest of us..." "I say we do it," Richards said. "If for no other reason than nobody thinks we can do it. I mean, we are still the laughing stock of Starfleet, right?" "Last time I checked," Tilleran said. "Then let's show them otherwise," Browning said. She turned to Baxter. "We're with you, Captain." "Good," Baxter said, a little drily, and looked around at his crew. "Maybe I don't say this enough, but I think it's understood that I think a lot of all of you." His eyes passed over Peterman. "All of you. Let's go." The group poured out of the observation lounge, but Baxter didn't move. Peterman didn't move either. She looked up at the captain. "Andy..." "We don't have time to discuss this, Kelly," Baxter said. He stood and headed for the exit. "After all this madness is over, we'll get separated, if that's what you really want." "You can't believe that's what I want," Peterman said, standing up and walking behind Baxter. "Not by any stretch of the imagination." "That's what you put in your book," Baxter said, his back to her. "How many times do I have to tell you? My thoughts and feelings were warped, twisted, exploited." "They were still your thoughts and feelings," Baxter said, and walked out onto the bridge. President Dillon was standing there, at the center of the bridge, watching the senior staff take their positions. Peterman and Browning stepped up to the quarterdeck, and leaned against the railing that surrounded the command chairs. "Captain," Bradley said. "I trust you had a productive staff meeting?" "It was productive, all right," Baxter said. "Step aside, sir." Bradley graciously moved to the side to allow Baxter, Richards, and Vansen to take their seats in the command area. "Captain, let me be the first to extend the olive branch. I realize relations between us have been strained of late. But now that we are on a singular heading, on a unified course, I think it's appropriate that we...bury the hatchet, as it were. Don't you?" "We're going to bury the hatchet all right," Baxter said. "In the Bast," Richards affirmed. "I...don't understand." Hartley swung in behind the engineering console and sat down. "I've got all power systems under my command." "Loading torpedo bays," J'hana said. "Standing by on phasers and transferring all power to the deflector's emitter array." "We can also channel some negative ion energy out of the Bussard ramscoops," Tilleran suggested. "Good idea," Hartley said brightly. "I'll dispatch a crew to set that up." "What...what are you all doing?" Bradley asked, looking around the bridge. "Preparing to give the Bast a hell of a fight," Baxter said, steepling his fingers and putting them to his mouth. "You have any suggestions to add to the mix?" "Just that such an act would be pure folley on your part," Bradley said, his voice a little unsteady. "Not only are the Bast significantly more advanced than we are, they have total control over our computers..." Baxter looked back at Hartley. "Commander?" Hartley tapped a few controls on her panel. "Initiating core restart. We should have full computer control in another couple minutes. Weapons and tactical already at our control." "But Captain, how...?" "I have a good crew, Mister President. A crew that's going to defend this ship. And defend our quadrant. You may want to take a seat. This should be a good show." Bradley's fingers worked in and out of fists. "Captain, this is not a game. This is a once in a lifetime chance to make a connection with a vastly intelligent species. We can use diplomacy to..." "I think their intentions are already known," Vansen said. "But we have the advantage," Richards continued. "Because I doubt they'll be prepared for us to put up a fight." "We will be prepared," J'hana intoned. Baxter looked up at Bradley. "It was a very productive staff meeting." "You're all fools," Bradley said, walking up to the aft turbolift, where his entourage of security guards was waiting for him. "You're not going to stay around for the fireworks?" Baxter asked. "I am going to a secure section of the ship, like any reasonable person would do." "Have a great time," Baxter said, waving goodbye and turning back to face the viewscreen. "Bast vessel on sensors, entering weapons range in forty-two seconds," J'hana reported. She brought the image of the ship up on the viewscreen. It looked like the same ship they faced earlier. The one that was vacant, seemingly powerless. "Power readings?" Richards asked. "Off the scale," Tilleran reported. "This is not the ship we faced before. Then again, I'm not even sure that was a real ship we faced before." Baxter turned toward her. "What do you mean?" "Well, they were able to create an incredibly accurate hologram of an entire civilization. It's not unreasonable to assume they did the same thing with that ship." "Why would they do that?" Vansen asked. "To tease us, tantalize us. To pique our curiosity further," Baxter said. "That's been their game all along. They've lured us out there with rumors, tiny bits of evidence. They've reeled us in, feeding us clues the whole way." "And we took the bait," Richards said. "But they're going to be the ones getting hooked," Baxter said. "J'hana, don't do a thing till we're in the ship." "How can you even be sure they're going to pull us into the ship?" Vansen asked. "Hunch," Baxter said, looking at the viewscreen as the huge, copper-colored, saucer-shaped ship loomed on the viewscreen, getting bigger and bigger until it filled the screen. Suddenly, a pair of gigantic doors on the underbelly of the ship began to part. Baxter faced Vansen and smiled. "You were saying?" "Lucky guess," Vansen muttered. "Fritz's preprogrammed course is taking us right into that aperture," Madera reported from the helm. "We're slowing to one-quarter impulse." "That's fine," Baxter said. "Let them guide us in." "Can I shoot yet?" J'hana asked, her fingers trembling over the weapon controls. "Not yet," Baxter said. "Not till we get right in the middle of their belly," Richards said. "Like a tapeworm," Browning added helpfully. "Do any of you think we're being hasty?" Peterman asked. "I mean, what if we really can reach out, connect to these people, and make them understand that we don't mean them any harm?" "They want to obliterate our species, you imbecile," Vansen said. "I don't think we need a Betazoid to figure out what their intentions are." She looked at Tilleran. "No offense." "None taken," Tilleran said with a nod. "Of course," Peterman said. "I guess I must just be a little delirious from all that brainwashing." "Should I take you back to Sickbay?" Browning whispered. "No," Peterman replied. "I want to be here. This is...this is all my fault." "It's not," Browning said in a hushed voice. "You had no control over what they were doing to you." "It's still my fault. And there's more..." "Really?" Browning asked. "Like what?" "There's no time to go into it," Peterman said, as suddenly the Explorer shook. "They're latching on with some kind of umbilical device," Tilleran said. "They're using magnetospheric struts to lock us into place." Richards leaned toward Baxter. "We're in," he said. "So we are," Baxter said. "J'hana, prepare to power up the weapons." "Prepared," J'hana said with a low growl. "Bring it on, Captain." "Wait for it," Baxter said, standing. Richards looked over at Tilleran. "Are they making any attempt to contact us?" "No messages coming in on any subspace or conventional band," she said. "And I'm not picking up anything telepathically. Then again, I'm still not quite at full strength." "That'll have to be good enough," Baxter said. "We don't want to give them a chance to hook into our systems." He looked back at J'hana. "Lieutenant..." "You mean it?" He nodded. "Hit them with everything you've got." And J'hana did. The Explorer let loose with a fury of quantum torpedoes and rapid- fire phasers. Beams lashed out of the deflector dish, and a red spray of ionizing radiation shot forth from the Bussard ramscoops. Plumes of explosions lit up the viewscreen from every angle. Every deck of the ship shook as it unleashed volley upon volley. The torpedoes were rigged to carve their way deep into the ship before exploding, giving maximum clearance from the ship so as not to damage it. J'hana'd already raised the shields. "Multiple impacts everywhere inside the ship," Hartley reported. "We're really running through our weapons supplies, too." J'hana was madly tapping at her panel. "Doing my best to unload the clip, Captain!" Baxter clenched his fist. "Let them have it, J'hana." "Phasers overheating. We're almost out of quantums," Hartley called out. "Switch to photons. Tap into the Escort's weapons supply if you have to," Richards said. "Phaser power draining rapidly," J'hana said. "Banks almost exhausted." "Ease off," Baxter replied. "I think we've gotten their attention, at the very least." Vansen turned to Tilleran. "Can you tell how much we bloodied their nose, Commander?" "Sensors are having difficulty penetrating their bulkheads," Tilleran said, running her fingers over her panel. "There's definite damage. Power fluctuations everywhere. But I can't tell where at, and how much of it. And I still can't read any definitive life signs." "Well, we've done what we can do," Baxter said. "Time to get while the getting's good. Madera, bring us full about, all ahead full impulse." Madera tapped on her console. "Captain, helm isn't responsive. We're still moored to their docking clamps." "Unmoor us!" Richards said, leaping out of his seat and running over to the helm. Hartley slapped her panel. "It's those damn magnets. They're using a polarizing field I've never seen before." "Can you take them out with the phasers, J'hana?" Baxter asked. "If we had any phasers left," J'hana said. Suddenly the Explorer shook again. "Hull breach on deck twenty-six!" Hartley called out. "Forcefields unresponsive." "What are they doing?" Vansen demanded. "Another hull breach," Hartley reported. "Deck thirty-seven. They're breaking through with some kind of tunneling conduits. Tapping into our power systems. Damage control, weapons and tactical...everything's getting overriden." "General quarters," Richards ordered. "Everyone but essential personnel report to your quarters and stay put!" "Mister Sefelt," Baxter said, looking to Lt. Howard Sefelt, who'd been gnawing on his fist most of this time. "Initiate security lockout, level one. Don't let them get into our systems!" "All hands, this is Commander Richards," the first officer called out. "Intruder Alert. Remain at general quarters. All security personnel report to positions immediately." "Maximum-level encryption initiated, sir," Sefelt reported cooly. "Howard?" Peterman asked. "You don't sound scared at all." "It's because I've become so frightened I've lost my grip on reality, Counselor," Sefelt said. "Please don't try to convince me any of this is real. I might really lose it then." "Keep dreaming, Lieutenant," Baxter said, then looked back at Hartley. "Well?" "We halted their advances into our systems," Hartley said. "But not before they got major control of the power distribution nets. We're losing power everywhere." As if on cue, the bridge lights flickered, then dimmed to emergency red. The viewscreen, which displayed nothing but smoke and sparks of the interior Bast hangar bay, suddenly blinked off. Baxter looked around as, one by one, each console went dark. J'hana slammed her fist into her panel. "We are powerless, Captain!" "No we're not, J'hana," Baxter said. "They've just changed the landscape of the war. Break out the phaser rifles." "Captain," Vansen said, walking up to Baxter. "You know I don't respect you. I think you're an idiot. And I really don't care if you live or die. But I care greatly if I live or die. And you're suggesting we go into man to man combat with...with a race whose physical nature is completely unknown to us. They don't even register on sensors. And you want us to just charge off this ship and take them on?" "No," Baxter said. "We've gone to them. It's their turn to come to us. We're simply going to defend this ship." He looked around. "Now everybody grab a weapon and clear the bridge. We're moving to a better location." "Is there such a thing right now?" Peterman asked, grabbing Baxter's arm as everyone poured into the nearest turbolift. "We'll see." "What's up?" Mirk Hartley said, as the bridge crew filed into the Constellation Club. "Did somebody reserve this place for a party without telling me?" "We need your bar as an emergency shelter and command post," Baxter said, his phaser rifle slung over his shoulder. "That going to be a problem?" Mirk scratched his head. "Emergency what? Command huh?" "Damn!" Lt. Commander Hartley said, stepping in front of Baxter to face Mirk. "I knew there was something I forgot to do." "You didn't tell Mirk about the Bast," Baxter said. "Nope." Hartley looked at Mirk. "Look, Mirk..." "Let me guess. We're being overtaken over by a Bast ship." "Essentially," Hartley said. "Only we're inside that Bast ship, and we tried to destroy it from within, but that seemed to only make them mad. And now they've locked our ship up inside theirs and are trying to take control of all our vital systems." "Figures," Mirk said. "How does it figure?" Hartley asked. Mirk pointed out the large, rectangular windows at the front of the club, which showed the vast inner hangar of the Bast ship, which currently was smoking and burning in ruins from the Explorer's weapons fire. "I can see everything through those windows." "We can use tables to barricade the windows," J'hana said, flipping a table over and slamming it against a pair of windows. Silverware, plates, and other table dressings clattered to the floor. "Yeah, like that's really going to help with anything," Vansen said. "You never know," Richards said, and helped J'hana flip over another table. "It doesn't hurt to be ready for anything in a situation like this." "I need a drink," Peterman said, heading to the bar. "Who's with me?" "Do you really think that's appropriate right now?" Baxter asked, watching Peterman step behind the bar. "This is a bar still, isn't it?" Mirk shrugged. "I think Kelly has an excellent idea," Browning said, joining Peterman behind the bar. "Considering how frayed our nerves are right now, we could all use a bit of loosening up." "Yes, I almost forgot Starfleet's seminar on combat drunkeness," Vansen muttered, flipping a chair around and squatting on it. "Somebody let me know when I can shoot something. Otherwise, I'm going to sit right here." "There's not much we can do for now. It's up to the Bast to make the next move." Baxter glanced around the dimly-lit, red-tinted club. In many ways, it reminded him of the evening's Mirk liked to call "Rave Night." Once tables had been pushed up against every window, Richards and J'hana returned to the center of the Club. "What if the next move is killing us?" Richards asked. "Then we will kill them back," J'hana said simply. "That's my J'hana," Tilleran said with a grin, folding her arms. "Hey, Counselor. Let me have some of whatever you're having." Dr. Browning emerged from behind the bar with a dusty bottle of orange-colored liquid. "There isn't much back here to speak of, and since the replicators are down we're going to have to go with the real stuff. I think this is Tellarite Sherry." "I have some kanar in the back," Mirk said, as Peterman set a row of glasses up on the bar. "And a little Vulcan Infinite Absurdity mix." "This'll do nicely," Browning said, pouring the murky brown sherry into the glasses. "Let's all drink to victory." Baxter paced in front of the bar, cradling his phaser rifle. "Isn't it a little early for the victory party?" Browning leaned forward against the bar. "Just being optimistic, Andy." "Yeah," Peterman said, sipping from her glass. "There hasn't been a lot of that around here lately." "I wonder why," Baxter harrumphed and walked away. Browning picked up her glass and downed it in one swallow. "Okay, Kelly. Story." "I sort of wrote a book about wanting to spend some time away from Andy," Peterman blurted out in one breath. "I can see how that might upset him," Browning said, scratching her head as she filled her glass again. "Guys have a way of overreacting about, you know, divorce." "I don't want to divorce him," Peterman said, filling her glass again. "Divorced people are pathetic, lowlife..." Suddenly she met eyes with Vansen, who'd walked up behind Browning. "You were saying?" she asked. "Um...I was going to say 'lowlife failures,' but I didn't really like the ring of that." Vansen grabbed the bottle from Browning and poured herself a glass of the thick, pungent sherry. "Maybe I just have the guts to admit when my marriage is over. Sometimes you just have to pronounce death. Am I right, Doc?" Browning smiled politely. "This sure is some good liquor." Lt. Susan Madera pulled up a seat at the bar. "I know it's a bad time to ask you all this, but have you guys decided yet if you want to be my bridesmaids?" "You know, I'd love to...but I think I'm going to be busy that night," Browning said quickly, and ducked out from behind the bar, heading over to a dark corner of the club. "Did I say something wrong?" Madera asked, glancing back at Browning. Peterman tossed back another glass of sherry. "Only everything, honey. Want a drink?" "Please." Baxter peered over one of the upturned tables and looked out over the expansive interior of the Bast ship. The vessel was strangely quiet. Occasionally, a chunk of debris would float by, or the ship would rumble slightly, as if the Explorer were just settling into its metal trap. The silence on the part of the Bast was beginning to drive Baxter crazy. There was nothing. No hostile takeover. No attempt at extermination by radiation or gas. No move to do anything. Baxter idly wondered whether or not they'd crippled the Bast more than he first realized. "Is it just me," a voice said from behind him. "Or does it seem like we've crippled the Bast more than we realized?" "It's just you, Chris," Baxter said, as Richards stepped up next to him. "You all right?" "I'm fine." "Want to talk about it?" "There's nothing to talk about. We've just got to hold our ground. Keep the ship safe. No biggie." "I wasn't talking about the Bast." "What do you know?" "I know you think you read something incriminating in Kelly's book. Which would be all well and good, if she hadn't been brainwashed by her cat." "It does seem to keep coming back to that, doesn't it?" Baxter asked. "It doesn't matter. All that is immaterial if we can't make it out of this mess." "There's no question we will," Richards said. Baxter looked at him. "How can you be so sure?" "Because I happen to know that fate looks out for us." "Fools, little children, and ship's named Enterprise?" Baxter asked with a small smile. "We're not little children, and this isn't the Enterprise," Richards replied. "But I think we'll find a way out of this, even if we have to fall ass-backwards into it." "Have you noticed something?" Baxter asked, looking back at Richards. "We haven't heard a peep out of our President." "Maybe he's trying to establish contact with them," Richards suggested. Baxter straightened. "You don't think he'd...." "Yeah, he would," Richards said, and was already heading for the door, grabbing his phaser rifle off a nearby table. "J'hana. Tilleran. You two are with us," Baxter called out. "The rest of you sit tight. Vansen: You're in charge." "Where are you going?" Peterman called after Baxter. "To hail the chief." "The President is busy right now," the voice of Gisele, Bradley Dillon's personal assistant, said over the comm unit outside the door to his suite...which occupied an entire deck of the Explorer. "I want to talk to him," Baxter said. "He's indisposed." "Well undispose him," Richards said. "And get him out here so we can speak with him." "Maybe I can relay a message for you..." Baxter leaned down toward the call panel. "He's not there anymore, is he?" "Your internal sensors are offline, Captain. I don't think you can make that determination without them." "Wrong," Baxter said. "I don't need internal sensors to know what Dillon did. That goddamn fool went off to that Bast ship to try to make contact with them, didn't he?" "I can neither confirm nor deny that, sir. You would do well, however, to speak of the President with more respect." "Yeah," Baxter said, turning around. "I'm going to respect the hell out of him as soon as I get my hands on him." "Talk to you later," J'hana said politely as the group headed back down the corridor. "Flirt," Tilleran said with a grin. "J'hana," Baxter said. "Take point. Take us to the nearest airlock. And be ready to blast the next thing that moves into smithereens." "Including our President?" "Especially our President," Richards muttered. "Well, I don't know about you guys," Vansen said, looking around the Constellation Club. "But I'm not comfortable with sitting tight." "You just hate following orders, don't you?" Browning asked. "When they don't make sense," Vansen said. "I for one would like to try busting out of this place." "And just how do you expect to do that?" Peterman asked. "Plowing out at full impulse would be my first choice," Vansen said. "How?" Madera asked. Vansen turned to Hartley, who'd been listening to the conversation thoughtfully. "Certain engineers come to mind." "I could do it," Hartley said. "I just need to tap directly into the systems and navigate a command path around the Bast technology. Technically, it's possible. Unless, of course, their technology is far beyond ours." "Which, by all accounts, it is," Browning said. "Well, we're going to try," Vansen said. "The Captain did something wise for a change and left me in charge. So we go. You need any personnel to help you, Hartley?" "Just an assistant," Hartley said, grinning back at Mirk. Mirk unbuttoned his dinner jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. "Till death do us part." "Let's hope we don't have to test that," Hartley said, as Vansen led them out of the Club. "And what the hell do we do in the meantime?" Peterman asked, standing in between Browning and Madera. Sefelt had taken up a fetal position behind the bar. "Probably gossip and whine about your relationships, but honestly I don't care what you do," Vansen called over her shoulder. "How do you like that," Browning muttered as the group left the Constellation Club. "She's totally wrong about us," Madera said testily. "That's not all we do." "Not at all," Peterman said, and grabbed another glass, filling it with sherry. "So... did anybody notice a weird vibe going on between Tilleran and J'hana?" "Is there some kind of vibe going on between you guys?" Baxter asked, as he and Richards led the way into the Bast ship. The corridors were empty, and according to Richards, looked much the same as the corridors of the vessel he'd investigated earlier, the one that now seemed to be only a holographic copy of the original. Yet there still were no lifesigns, no signs of beings inside. "I don't know what you mean," Tilleran said. "We're just really good friends." "Yeah, you used that one up about two years ago," Richards said. "We're all on to you." "Be on us if you like, Commander," J'hana chortled. "But you may not like the results." "I was actually talking about more recently," Baxter said. "You guys just seem...closer." J'hana took Tilleran's hand. "We went through a near-death experience. That does bring couples closer. Captain, I take it you are analyzing our relationship because yours is crumbling before your eyes?" Baxter's face seemed to deflate. "Um...no, I was just trying to make conversation." "Real smooth, J'hana," Richards said, as Tilleran's tricorder began to beep. "Picking up some strange power readings down the corridor," Tilleran said. Baxter looked down the dim corridor. "Ours or theirs?" "Indeterminate," Tilleran said. "We've got to get closer." "Great," Baxter mumbled. "I don't really want to get closer." "We must find the President," J'hana said. "Before he does something foolish." "No kidding," Tilleran said. "I wonder what he expects to get out of this whole thing." "Trade agreements," Baxter said. "Fame, fortune. He's risking all our lives for that. Boy, when I get my hands on him..." "You'll what, sir?" "I'll order you to beat him up," Baxter said, clearing his throat nervously, as he pressed on down the corridor. "Doesn't someone think it's a bit fishy that we haven't run into some kind of welcoming committee?" Richards asked. "No," Baxter said. "Fritz explained that the Bast want to absorb the human race. It's very possible that, at the moment, they don't have corporeal bodies." "What do they have then," J'hana asked with a chuckle. "Battle droids?" Baxter gulped. "Let's hope not." "Well, they've got to find some way to get to us," J'hana said. "So...who do you think is crazier?" Dr. Doug Leonardo leaned back on his bunk, staring at the ceiling of the brig as Dr. Jarvay Ranowat sat, crosslegged, on the floor and drew little shapes with his fingers into the carpet. "You, by a long shot, sir," Leonardo said. "If you were an animal, I'd have put you down long ago." "Aren't humans nothing but big, clean animals?" Ranowat asked with a smile. "You're insane," Leonardo said calmly. "Utterly insane." "Isn't it nice we can hang out together now that the forcefields have fallen?" "I don't think nice is the word," Leonardo said. "But it's convenient. Unfortunately, I can't think of anywhere I'd actually want to go at the moment." "Want to see what I drew? It's a cat!" Leonardo sat up. "You drew a cat?" "No. There's a real, live cat...right there! Ahhhhh...I'm scared of it!" Ranowat cried, and ran over to the security console, jumping on top of it. the voice of Fritz echoed in Ranowat's and Leonardo's brains. Leonardo drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around them. "I don't want to talk to you. I tried to get you to admit your true nature before, but you hid from me." Fritz padded up toward Leonardo's bunk. "Time for what?"