Just being prepared

Stardate: 21.0521

Scene: USS Athene, shuttle bay

I guess returning here time and again is the sign of  a guilty conscience, “Fast Ricky” Spagnoli thought as he looked at the technicians who had taken much of the plating off the shuttle Sabatini 3.  Its long-range warp pods had been removed and Sabatini looked naked without them — ordinary, no different than the Athene’s own Danube … and far different than Lt. Pellew’s sexy Chimera.

“I don’t know what kind of slack-jawed, numb-skulled idiot of a pilot did this,” a red-shirted engineering officer said to one of his technicians.  “Not only will we have to work on those” — he thumbed a gesture at the shuttle’s warp pods, hoisted out of the way — “but we’ll also need to install all new conduit and a command console to boot.”

“But,” said the technician, a young Andorian, antennae twitching in agitation — Spagnoli extended his Betazoid senses and realized that the techie was whining — “That will take all night.”

“And you had someplace else to be, laddie?” the officer turned away and saw Spagnoli eyeing him.

“I’m Ricky Spagnoli,” he said, “the slack-jawed numb-skull.”

“Lt. Phineas McGuffin, acting chief engineer,” the man said. “I hope you’ll not be taking my comments personal-like.”

Spagnoli laughed.  “No, I freely admit that I can be an idiot.”  His Betazoid senses detected a mix of caution and cordiality in the engineer, and he decided on an impulse to try and forge a tighter bond.

“I was wondering if you had a moment,” he smiled. “As chief security officer, I had a few notions I’d like to run by you about this Arium III business … just wanting to be prepared.”

The engineer looked at his crew. “They’re all on task,” he pronounced. “Miracles be praised. So what’s on your mind?”

“Well, mind you, I haven’t gotten the XO’s stamp of approval on any of this,” Spagnoli said, “but I was wondering if you could rig up some explosive charges that could be hidden inside the Arium dilithium deposits…”

“Explosive charges? Are ye daft? Don’t you know that they could cause a cascading effect and set off the whole she-bang? D’ye have any idea of the size of such a blast?”

“That’s the idea,” Spagnoli said, noting that McGuffin’s cordiality was fading fast. “No one conquers who does not fight.”

Wrong note, Rick-head. The engineer looked like he’d been carved of stone, and his mental aspect matched.

“Let me back up a step, keeping it theoretical,” the security chief said hastily.  “If someone’s making a play for the dilithium, then having it blow up in their faces might be our last resort.  We’ve pretty much an untested crew here, most of whom haven’t worked together for any great length of time, and the Athene doesn’t pack the mightiest punch in the fleet.

“So I’d want two triggering options, one automatic, say, if the dilithium is transported without authorization, and a manual trigger with override capability, if the situation changed.”

“Hmm,” McGuffin said, and Spagnoli could tell he had the man hooked on the technical challenge. “Refined dilithium rods, or the raw stuff?”

“Either. Both,” Spagnoli said.

“Well, it would be easy enough to do with the raw ore,  a wee bit of camo-alloy” — the engineer held his fingers about an inch apart — “wrapped around a subspace trigger, with a modulating power source. That would be hard to detect, if someone was even looking. The refined stuff is a bit harder … would need shielding… perhaps replacing an end panel on the carrying container and using the dilithium’s natural radiation as the power source …”

Got him! Spagnoli smiled. Might as well ride the wave.

“I was thinking, too,” he said, waving at the spacecraft. “If you have any theories on arming these shuttles. Perhaps  sharing some of Chimera’s technology?  We’re only one ship against five, so having some other offensive options could help keep the ‘fast’  in ‘fast response.’ “

“I don’t know,” the engineer said, chewing his lip. “Chimera was put together with a purpose, and ‘twould be a shame to carve her up.  I’d need the captain’s express orders, or I suppose, the commander’s…”

“Just theoretical,” Spagnoli said, sensing he had pushed far enough.  “No need to involve the higher-ups just yet. They’re busy running ships and getting spines. By the way, I was going to open a rare old vintage later and would be glad to offer a taste, or three.”

“I’d be honored,” McGuffin said. “I’ll work up some sketches, then,  and come by — at about 1800 hours? — and I’ll even bring haggis. Best stuff a man ever wrapped a lip around.”

Haggis? Spagnoli thought.  I’ll have to look that one up.  McGuffin certainly is enthused. Must be good stuff.

Hailing frequencies are open, but …

Stardate: 21.0520

Location: Main Bridge, USS Athene

Ensign Klak’s sixteen fingers danced across the console. Readouts flashed, but the news was not good.

“Commander Martin,” she said, turning her saucer-shaped eyes toward the big chair. “I am still unable to hail Arium III.”

Martin spun around to look at her. “We should be close enough now. Is there an interference source? A nebula or something?”

“No, sir,” Klak said. “By all indications our equipment is working. But I get no response from Arium III.”

“Damn,” Martin said. “Keep trying, ensign.” He turned toward the viewscreen and stared at it, as if willing it to provide more information than was possible at this distance. The screen showed him only stars, zipping past.

One man’s musings: Klingons, Ferengi and maternity

Stardate: 21.0520

Scene: Private quarters, Lt. Enrico Spagnoli

[Chief security officer's personal log]

I have started to compile background data on Arium III, to try and understand what we’re facing, both tactically and strategically.  The Federation liasion officer is Krooje — Klingon origin? Must remind myself to check what faction, if any, he’s aligned with: Not all Klingons have fully embraced the reality of Federation-ness — and it’s worrisome that his presence has become so crucial to the relatively star-ignorant Arium native population.  It’s a lot of responsibility on one envoy’s shoulders — even one who is part-Klingon and no doubt loves the challenge — to be the only interstellar-saavy being around, the one everyone will depend on in these crucial moments of preparation before Athene arrives.

It occurs to me, too, to check on known Ferengi whereabouts.  Dilithium-snatching sounds very much like something they’d go after with their precious Rules of Acquisition.  It would be worth my weight in gold-pressed latinum to find out if they have an iron in this fire.

[End log entry...]

[Addendum]

Maureen is still missing.  I’ve been doing some research, though, and if I can’t find a xenozoologist on board, I’ll ask Doctor Severn his opinion — I think she’s pregnant. Or was.

If she laid her eggs and then was confined in my quarters and couldn’t get back to them, that might explain some of her behavior.  And I found out that Kerrvasian dragonferrets lay clutches of eggs, usually 6 to 8 groupings, each with up to 3 dozen eggs.

[End log entry]

On the merits of good personal hygiene

There was nothing more she could do here.

Satisfied with the Athene’s course and progress, Pellew scooted back from the helm control panel, signaling a subordinate to take her place. She didn’t really want to give up the chair. In all the universe, she had never found any spot so comfortable as a seat at the helm.

But as flight control officer, actually flying the ship was only a small part of her duties. She had duty rosters to maintain, a staff to train and countless other administrative chores.

She’d wasted precious hours aboard the Chimera, reviewing technical specifications for the old Tecumseh-class Athene. The new Athene had an entirely different control system, the finer points of which would require days of study and experimentation. She’d already blocked out some holodeck time for some helm simulations. Pellew had a hunch those new auxillary thrusters might be particularly useful, particularly if one rerouted the…

No. It had been more than 30 hours since she’d last slept, aboard the Chimera. She’d had a difficult day and…

Amadrene suddenly noticed the other occupants of the turbolift were staring at her with undisguised interest. Even the women.

Ferd-paffers! She hadn’t bathed in hours, either.

Humans generally assumed they were attracted to her because of her exotic good looks. But the real… danger… was her sweat. Amadrene’s green skin exuded a powerful pheromone that males of most humanoid species found irresistable. In strong enough concentrations, it attracted women, too. Even, on occasion, other species. In extreme cases, it provoked a reaction so strong as to incite violence.

How long had it been since she bathed? Mortified, Amadrene focused her gaze on the floor and tried to remain calm, which of course made her heart pound all the more. She was only making matters worse. Two of the crewmen were unconsciously edging closer to her. This had to be the longest turbolift ride in history.

Finally, the door swooshed open and, with a sigh of relief, Pellew stepped forward.

She heard a strange, reptilian hiss before the thing leapt at her: two feet of lithe, love-struck Kerrvasian dragonferret.

Prognosis: Pain

Stardate: 21.0520
Location: Dr. Severn’s office, USS Athene

“It’s been a few years since we discussed the procedure, captain.” Severn sat back and stared across the desk. “Let me outline the details.”

“Please do, doctor, but don’t try to talk me out of this.”

“I won’t, sir. We’ve let duty prevent us from completing this operation in the past, so I understand your eagerness.”

Simms nodded. “Go on, then.”

“We could do it almost immediately, sir.” Severn tapped a keypad, and a holographic image of a human spine floated above his desk. “We’ve built the assembly already, using an organic matrix and your genome as a guide. Having already done this in the past saved us considerable time. Once you are prepped, we can begin.”

“I remember the prep. Not fondly,” Simms said.

“A necessary medical step, sir. You will be in the transporter pattern buffer for a considerable amount of time. We will have to medicate you first, or you will not recover mental capacity.”

“I know.”

Severn nodded. “Good. When you are ready, we beam you into the pattern buffer and hold you there. We beam your new spinal assembly, plus all the neurons, new muscle tissue, etc., into the buffer as well. Then the real surgery begins … I integrate your new organic spinal assembly into your body, removing the defective one.” An image of Simms appeared in the hologram, which illustrated the procedure. Simms watched intently as mmall portions of Simms image blurred, then faded, to be replaced with bits from the new spine asembly. “It will take a few hours, but once you are beamed out of the buffer, you will have a brand new spine and functional legs.”

Simms stared. “And it will work?”

“Yes,” Severn said. “The new spine will be identical to the spine you should have, if circumstances hadn’t robbed you of it. There is a slight chance of rejection, but it is very slight.”

“So get me on the table,” Simms said. “Let’s get this done.”

“Not so fast, sir,” Severn said. “I can do this in eight or nine hours, well within the window before our arrival at Arium III. But my job is the easy one. Your job is more difficult.”

“My job?”

“Learning to walk again,” Severn said. “You will be in pain, captain. Severe pain. I can ease it a little, with medication, but the only truly useful pain relief I could give you would render you temporarily unfit for command.”

“So I’ll deal with pain,” Simms said. “It won’t be the first time.”

“I’m sure of that, sir. Still, the pain will be intense, and may make command difficult.”

“I’ll decide that, doctor.”

“Actually, sir, I will decide that.” Severn made sure his gaze was as steady as his captain’s. “If, in my medical opinion, pain is obscuring your judgment and perception, then …”

“Yes, yes,” Simms snapped. “We both know all that. I will cope with the pain. You will do what you have to do. I wouldn’t want any less.”

“Very well,” Severn said. “Once the surgery is complete I can have you lucid — if somewhat drugged up — rather quickly. When you actually are able to get out of the chair, though, is mostly up to you. You may still be reliant upon that chair throughout this mission.”

“I know.”

“Very well, captain.” Severn turned off the hologram. “The remaining factors to consider are not medical. Do you wish to be incapacitated for several hours while Athene is racing toward Arium III? Do you anticipate action before we reach Arium III? Because, sir, one little hiccup in the power grid while you are in the buffer and I will never be able to reassemble you.”

“Understood. You’ve made the risks very clear, Doctor Severn.”

“Well, then, sir … what is your decision?”

The situation on Arium III

Stardate: 21.0520

Scene: Arium III, Planetary Prime Minister’s office

Prime Minister Dulovem watched the Federation liaison officer stroll across the wooden floor. The man’s Klingon blood lent fierceness to his eyes, and his measured steps sounded a steady cadence that echoed throughout the large chamber.

“Envoy Krooje,” Dulovem said, rising. “Have you heard back from the Federation?”

Krooje nodded. “I have. A vessel is en route. The Athene, a new ship, designed for rapid response. It will be here within a couple of days. More vessels will arrive afterward. I know no more than that.” Distance precluded direct back-and-forth communications. “At least, we’ve been able to get word through the subspace interference. Help is on the way.”

Dulovem sighed. “And the intruder fleet?”

Krooje brushed back the longish dark hair from his head. The skull structure showed only a small hint of his partial Klingon heritage. “The five vessels are still moving in at subwarp speeds. They are  too far away yet for us to make out much detail, but unless they speed up, the Athene will arrive before they do.”

“And if the intruders go to warp?”

Krooje’s eyes narrowed. “Then we will be attacked in force, and soon.”

“Why the slow approach, Krooje?”

“I do not know.” Krooje gazed at the ceiling in thought. “Perhaps, they are scouting, gathering information before pouncing. Overly cautious, perhaps, from a Klingon perspective, but the Romulans and others are known to move slowly, and then strike decisively.”

Dulovem sat as Krooje took a seat across the desk. Dulovem shut his eyes tightly and muttered a barely audible curse. Then he looked at the Federation officer. “This assault … such large vessels. They have to be after our dilithium. Just as we are joining the interstellar community, all our work … sometimes, I wish we’d never developed warp capability.”

Krooje shrugged. “We may find ourselves in battle, but do not underestimate Starfleet.”

“One ship! One! Against five, of unknown origin. This Athene, can it handle that?”

“I do not know,” Krooje said. He did not add that, as near as he could tell with Arium’s long-range sensors, each of the five vessels was five times the size of the new Mercury class Athene. “But valor and resourcefulness can do a great deal.”

Dulovem rose again. “I hope you are correct, envoy. In the meantime, I want you closer at hand.”

“There is much to do, securing the mines …”

Dulovem raised a hand. “I know you’ve been busy, running from here to there ever since these intruders arrived. Indeed, it’s been difficult for me to keep up with you. But you are the only person on this planet with any real experience at interstellar matters. I need you close.”

“I understand,” Krooje said. “Let me see to one matter, in the mines, and then I’ll be in the situation room. It will take me only a few moments.”

“Thank you, envoy.

Missing: One surly, female Kerrvasian dragonferret

Stardate:  21.0519

Scene: Private quarters,  Lt. Enrico Spagnoli

“Fast Ricky” Spagnoli woke with a start.  He’d been having the most marvelous dream… green-skinned girls, romping in the cyan sands of Spangler’s Planet’s nudist colony, where smiles were optional and clothing forbidden…

Maureen.  His Kerrvasian dragonferret was missing!   She had been acting strange for the past few days, but he thought the holodeck exercise had calmed her.  Two feet of lithe, scaled muscles, claws and fangs, she could worm her way into improbable places. And the metallic camouflage properties inherent in her scales — plus a heartbeat that she could speed or slow on will — might make her tough to find.

After their holodeck romp, she had been curled on his bed.  And now she was gone. While she was loyal to him, partially because his Betazoid abilities no doubt provided a calming influence, she could be … difficult with strangers. Like the hundreds of strangers aboard the Athene.

He remembered the first time he’d looked into her golden cat-like eyes, and shuddered. No wonder the creature reminded him of his ex-girlfriend.

He thumbed the communicator switch.

“All hands. This is security chief Spagnoli. Be on the lookout for a Kerrvasian dragonferret.  Approach with extreme caution.”

Oh, brother, Spagnoli thought. Wait until Martin hears this.

Tying loose ends; opening cans of worms

Stardate: 21.0519

Scene:  Medical Bay, Shuttle Deck

“Hey, Doc,” Lt. Enrico Spagnoli was already talking as the Medical Bay door slid open and he almost ran into the  green-skinned lieutenant who swayed through. He stopped dead in the doorway.

Their eyes met briefly and the woman nodded coolly.   Do I detect more than professional interest here?  Darn the Orions and their “always-on” libido! It sure interferes with my Betazoid abilities to pick up her thoughts.

The feedback   he got was jumbled: sexual tension, to be sure, but mainly star charts, vector mathematics — which gave Spagnoli a bit of a headache — and …  strawberries?

“You  m-must be Lt. Pellew,” he said, cursing himself silently for stuttering like a oxygen-starved Mogadorian magpie.  He felt himself blushing; imagined his skin tone was approaching the hue of his uniform shirt.

“Must I?”  She had a great smile, Spagnoli noted, a little crooked, but her verdant skin tones set off the dazzling white teeth well.

“I-I-I’m Lt. Spagnoli … Enrico … Ricky,” he blabbered, ignoring the polite beep of the Medical Bay door.  “I’m the new security chief, and I ch-ch-checked the crew roster.  Say, would you like …”  He lapsed into silence.

“What I’d like is to get to the Bridge,” Pellew smiled again. “I’m sure you’ll keep things secure, right, lieutenant?”

As she sashayed off, Spagnoli realized he couldn’t tell if she was being mildly supportive or slightly sarcastic.  It didn’t matter, he decided,  watching her rounded form disappear from view.

The door signal beeped again, and Spagnoli snapped out of his trance to see Doctor Severn eyeing him.  “Yes, lieutenant?”

Stepping into the room, Spagnoli noticed that Severn had been speaking to another doctor, a holographic Vulcan.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he said. “Perhaps I should I come back later …”

“Logic dictates that, since you’ve already intruded, and I have responded, that you finish what you came to say,” the doctor said.  Severn seemed a bit distracted, but Vulcans were even harder to read than Orion natives.  Spagnoli forged ahead.

“First, thanks for patching me up the other day,” he said. “Second, I understand that you will be operating on the captain.”

“The first was duty; the second is fact,” Severn said dryly. “And if the purpose of your visit is to give expression to irrelevant forms of etiquette or restate my medical agenda, then I must insist on returning to the tasks at hand.”

Jeeze. Who put a burr up your butt? Spagnoli caught himself. Yeah, yeah. Vulcans can’t help but be Vulcans.

“Actually,” Spagnoli said, “It’s the procedure on the captain that I wanted to talk about.”

Severn stared at him.

“You understand,” Spagnoli continued. “That under Star Fleet Directive 767-B, the proper security forms must be logged if you intend to introduce any cerebral-spinal enhancements of a permanent artificial nature…”

Severn continued to stare.

“… the whole Borg thing, you know,” Spagnoli said, feeling like a bug caught in bright light. He tugged at his uniform collar. “It might be knee-jerk, but there you have it. Regulations. What are you going to do? Anything that could be easily compromised, controlled, a conduit for Borg infilitration, after what happened  …”

“I am aware of Federation-Borg history,” Severn said. “And of Star Fleet protocol and regulations.”

“Alright then,” Spagnoli said, beating a retreat. “And thanks again.”  That went well!

He debated heading for the Bridge and another encounter with pistachio-skinned Lt. Amadrene Pellew, then hesitated.  “Computer,” he said, touching his commlink. “What is the current location of Cmdr. Martin?”

[Commander Martin is on the Bridge] the synthesized voice replied.

Spagnoli turned and headed for the farthest reaches of the Athene instead– the shuttle deck should do nicely.  Martin hadn’t yet brought up the manner of Spagnoli’s arrival and he wasn’t going to invite that encounter.

A few minutes later, he was staring at the scorched and slightly crumpled hulk of the long-range shuttle Sabatini 3. Yes, indeed, he could wait until some unspecified far-future moment to have that discussion with Martin.  He made a mental note to thank the quick-minded technician who had locked a transporter signal on the shuttle’s fused warp engine core and beamed it into space while depositing him in sick bay.  And snared the Sabatini with a tractor beam to boot.  Those manuevers bespoke a quick mind and nimble fingers.

And that thought brought Lt. Pellew’s image to his mind again.

Seeking to distract himself, he noticed that the newest arrival in the shuttle bay.  That gorgeous, dangerous-yet-sexy hunk of Star Fleet goodness  must be the USS Chimera,  piloted here by …  Lt. Pellew.

Spagnoli tugged on his collar again. This would be a good time, he decided, to visit the holodeck to work off some steam.  Might as well take along Maureen,  his Kerrvasian dragonferret named after the ex-girl friend who had given him the pet.  She had been acting strange lately, probably a combination of new surroundings, the after-effects of radiation sickness  and a lack of exercise.

Maureen loved chasing  Bucyran bats in zero gravity, but Spagnoli got bored.   Watching her absentmindedly, he punched in his security code to access the holodeck user log.  Might as well get some work done. He noted that Doctor Severn was logging quite a bit of time and called up a 3-D video view.  Fascinated,  he watched the miniature Vulcan fighting with … a lirpa? Pretty stiff at first, but his technique seemed to be improving in the newer sessions.

I wonder how he’d fare against an opponent using an old-style Terran half-pike … No,  a  Klingon bat’leth would provide an interesting contrast.   In null gravity, Spagnoli added mentally, watching the dragonferret. That would be a bit more fair, given the Vulcan’s strength and stamina. I’d like to try that… or perhaps just a holo-picnic with wine and strawberries and Lt. Pellew.

Duty, Ricky, duty, Spagnoli chided himself, turning back to the logs. He noted that Severn was among a full third of the crew behind in phaser training, and felt chagrined.  That’s my responsibility, and another black mark, no doubt, beside my name in Martin’s book.

He’d catch up to  Martin later and present him with full training schedules  — no need to bother him now. No need to bother the commander at all.

Green skin, green blood and broken spines

Stardate: 21.0519
Scene: Medical Bay, USS Athene

Dr. Severn closed off his conversation with Capt. Simms and returned his attention to the beautiful half-Orion, half-human patient before him. “Lt. Pellew, it seems the examination is complete. No ill effects from the Chimera, so at least its warp shielding seems to be up to specifications.”

“Thanks, doctor. I’ll get that thing working the way I like it eventually.”

Severn raised an eyebrow. “We’re keeping it?”

Amadrene smiled. “It’s in the shuttle bay now. My orders were to come here and take the helm … they didn’t say anything about returning the Chimera.”

“Surely, that was an oversight on someone’s …”

“Hey,” Amadrene said, “Orders are orders. If everyone is too busy dealing with stuff to remember the Chimera, well, it’s just up to me to take good care of it.”

Severn nodded. “I will not attempt to assail your logic.”

“Better not,” she said. “I have to go fly this thing now.”

Pellew hopped off the examination table and exited the Medical Bay. Severn watched her walk away — as men tended to do whenever Amadrene Pellew walked away. Fortunately, the captain had provided him a distraction.

“Dr. Sarba,” he said. The emergency medical hologram sprang to life. “Please state the nature of your medical emergency.”

Severn looked at the beautiful holographic woman, who suddenly seemed rather ordinary compared to his last patient. “Access my patient files, Project Clay and Demetrius Simms. Analyze and review, then report.”

“Aye, doctor.” Sarba closed her eyes and remained still for 37 seconds. “Analayzed. I am not programmed with all the parameters of Project Clay, but I detect no flaws in the procedure. We have sufficient materials and equipment on board.”

“Excellent. Dr. Sarba, let us go build a new spine for the captain.”

Live or Let Die

SD: 21.0519
Scene: Captain’s Ready Room

Demi sat in silence for a few moments. As he mulled over the mission orders and contemplated his involvement, the words Martin spoke kept ringing through his mind, ‘What is it? Are you scared or something?’

“Yes … I am very scared.”

For one of the first times in his life, Simms admitted his fear out loud. He was scared. Joseph Crenshaw had practically made it impossible for him to get out of bed. He had once been the classic starship commander; brazen, fearless. Crenshaw had stolen his spirit. Only one thing was clear to Demetrius Simms … it was time to live again.

~

As Simms’ antigrav chair burst out of the ready room, the Athene’s bridge crew simultaneously paused to look in his direction. Martin was sitting half lounged in the Captain’s chair with his hands folded across his chest.

“Our retreat is complete Simms.”

“That’s Captain Simms to you Mister Martin.”

“Does that mean you’ve -”

“Get out of my chair Sydney” Simms barely breathed before he continued, “Helm … set a course for Arium III, maximum warp. Simms to Doctor Severn.”

[This is Severn. Go ahead Captain.]

“I need you to make me walk as soon as possible Doctor.”

[There is little doubt I can make you walk Captain, but I am afraid the recovery time might be more than we have available.]

“Make me walk Doctor … leave the recovery to me. I’m on my way.” Simms launched his antigrav chair towards the turbolift, “Martin, the bridge is yours. Get your ass back in the chair … for now.”

“Aye Captain,” Martin eased back into the command chair with a wide grin on his face, “Good to have you back Captain Simms.”