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From: "Colin J. Wynne" <cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu>
To: asc <jfy@cis.ksu.edu>
Subject: GhostsFromThePast.1
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:50:35 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

This story was begun the summer after second season, before much technical
material for TNG was available, so most of the tech herein comes from
semi- or less-official quarters, along with the Paramount Second Season
Writers'/Directors' Guide, which seems to since have been forgotten. 
Also, the third season episode, "Yesterday's Enterprise" kind of does
nasty things to the continuity that I've presented, but what the hey! 
It's not like this is canon or anything!  Enjoy, and feel free to email me
with any comments you have.

					--CJW

================================================================================

"Ghosts from the Past," Prologue through Ch. 2:
-----------------------------------------------


                             PROLOGUE


     "Starbase 67 to U.S.S. Enterprise."
     Captain Valeriy Alexandrovich Romanov turned to his 
Communications Officer.  "On speakers, Lieutenant."
     "Aye, sir."
     "This is Captain Romanov; we are receiving."
     "Captain, this is Admiral Grissom.  I'm afraid I just 
returned to the base and discovered that I had missed your 
layover."
     "I fear that fate has conspired against us once again, 
Admiral."
     "Either that, Valeriy, or you've been avoiding me since that 
last furlough on Shore Leave Planet."
     Romanov allowed a brief laugh at that.  "Well, Admiral, I 
believe it was your idea to conjure a-"
     "Yes, well, that's all in the past now," the flag officer 
said hurriedly, with a glance around the Enterprise's bridge.  
Duty officers began to concentrate very hard on not eavesdropping 
- which, of course, meant they were.  "It seems, Valeriy, that we 
shall have to wait until you return again after this mission 
before I shall see you.  Good Luck."
     "Thank you, Admiral.  Enterprise out."
     Romanov flicked his hand in a gesture that the Communications 
Officer interpreted, correctly, to mean 'close channels'.  Grissom 
was Valeriy's superior in rank, if not age.  Grissom had been a 
successful captain, but had completely lost the desire for front 
line command.  Three years before, his ship had come very near to 
destruction while on a routine patrol, and only his skill had 
saved most of the crew. 
     That act earned him a commendation, and, very soon 
afterwards, chance for promotion.  Karl Grissom had eagerly taken 
that opportunity, deciding that a desk assignment was a much 
better alternative for nerves that had been made unbelievably 
tense after eight years of starship duty.
     Valeriy had turned down the same promotion not three months 
after.  He liked command, and didn't want to give it up.  That 
left him as one of the most senior active captains in Starfleet.  
That, in turn, led to the fact that Romanov pulled some very 
choice assignments.  For the past two-and-a-half years, as a 
result, he had been commanding the Alaska class battlecruiser for 
the first part of its ten-year Survey Mission.
     Transwarp technology was coming to the fleet slowly, mostly 
due to the initial bad reputation received after a certain Fleet 
Engineer's tampering with the prototype model.  So now,  with the 
galaxy mostly at peace and the Federation-Klingon war over, the 
Exploration Fleet's Constitution II Class (or, more commonly, 
Enterprise Class, after Romanov's ship's namesake and once 
Starfleet flagship) heavy cruisers were being refitted for the new 
technology, and E-Fleet had borrowed ships from the Planetary 
Defense Fleet for its missions.
     Romanov was an exploration captain in the truest sense, but 
he had also been a captain during the War (and God let it be the 
last, he added to himself) and liked the extra protection afforded 
by a battlecruiser, the very same class of ships that had pulled 
many a destroyer captain's fat out of the fire - out of Klingon 
disruptor fire.  He shuddered minutely as a few very personal 
examples of such things raced through his mind. Valeriy reached 
his arms out and gripped the arms of his command chair, not sure 
whether he was paying his ship a compliment, or seeking 
reassurance from - from what?
     The captain was brought away from his thoughts and the 
captivating starscape on the main viewer.  He was surprised at how 
fresh and invigorating he could still find that view, after 
eighteen years in space.
     "Captain," repeated the Science Officer, her voice not quite 
belying an uneasiness that she felt.
     "What is it?"
     "Sensors indicate some sort of a disturbance ahead.  It's an 
area effect.  Contact in thirty-eight seconds."
     "Elaborate."
     "Unable to, as of yet, sir.  Thirty-two seconds."
     "Helm, full stop."
     "Aye, aye, sir.  Full stop."
     He turned his chair again towards the Science Officer.  "Now 
you have time.  Details,  mister."
     "Yes, sir.  Long range sensors show an unknown energy 
reading, several million kilometres distant.  It is apparently 
some form of hyperspace energy, sir."
     "Meaning?"
     "It registers, for lack of a better description, as a 
distortion in space-time, sir.  Meaning, that I cannot determine 
precisely what is happening inside the zone."
     "Hmmm.  How large is it, Lieutenant?"
     She peered intently at one of the readouts.  "Approximately 
fifty billion cubic kilometres in volume, sir."
     "Helm bring us to within one hundred thousand klicks.  Warp 
3."  
     "Aye, aye, sir.  Warp 3."
     For the next two minutes, Enterprise dashed through space, 
ending up within detailed scanning range of the affected zone.  
Valeriy focused his attention entirely on the main viewer, and he 
saw what he thought was an unrealistic sheen to a small area ahead 
of them.  "Almost looks like a cloaking device effect."
     "That big?" asked the navigator.
     "I said 'looked like'.  Now pipe down, and put it at maximum 
magnification."
     The globular shape suddenly filled half of the viewer.  
Against the blackness of space, Romanov could see only a faint 
rippling motion passing through the stars, like looking close to a 
tarmac on a hot day.
     "Sensors?"
     "Inconclusive, sir.  Same energy pattern, but attempts at 
detailed scanning are reflected off of the zone, as though the 
disturbance creates some form of barrier."
     "Prepare a probe."
     "Aye, sir."  Pause.  "Ready for launch, sir."
     "Fire."
     The main viewer switched, now.  It became a noseview from the 
probe.  While his Science Officer made sense of the heiroglyphic 
telemetry readings coming at her station, Valeriy took in the 
visual.  The shimmer soon eclipsed the entire view, and someone 
announced penetration.  The probe bucked slightly, but held its 
course, moving for the center of the disturbance.  
     The captain thought he saw something briefly at the view's 
periphery, as though the star pattern changed abruptly, but it was 
too fleeting a look to be sure.  Then the screen became static.
     "Contact lost, sir."
     "Reason?"
     "The strange energy reading jumped off the scale, and then 
contact was just completely severed."
     "Replay the visual, slowly."
     The replay picked up moments before the probe's demise.  
There was nothing out of the ordinary, until suddenly the screen 
went completely blank, and the stars jumped.  A blinding white 
flash immediately preceded the end.
     "Sir, look!"
     He did.  Valeriy snapped his head up and saw it.  All 
throughout the zone, the stars were making instantaneous 
kaleidoscopic changes.  The entire disturbance collapsed back in 
on itself, but before the captain could give the next order, the 
Science Officer announced, "New disturbance forming, Captain, dead 
aft and expanding."  She looked up.  It will overtake us!"
     Valeriy addressed the Helm.  "Emerge-"  Romanov didn't finish 
the sentence.  The ship bucked hard, and Valeriy's teeth cleaved 
into his tongue as his body bounced off the chairback.  The ship 
had automatically gone to Red Alert.
     "Shields activated, weapons coming to power.  Torpedoes 
ready."
     "Damage reports coming in.  Casualties on decks twelve 
through sixteen."
     "How bad?"
     "Four dead, a dozen wounded.  Damage minimal."
     "Stand down weapons; save the power for manoeuvring."
     "Captain, sensor report."
     "Yes, Lieutenant?"
     "Strong energy disturbances in the local continuum are 
causing distortions of space.  This area is highly unstable."
     The ship lurched again.  "Sir!" shouted the navigator, almost 
hysterically.
     "Calm down, everybody," said Valeriy, his tone between 
lulling and ordering.  Then he saw what had so disturbed the 
navigator.  
     Directly in front of the ship, there was a growing patch of 
black.  It spread, and as its size increased, so did its pull on 
the ship.  Then, through the blackness, he could see stars.  Not 
the same stars that the malign growth was blocking, though.  They 
were different stars.
     "Full reverse!  Get us out of here."
     Enterprise slowed, then stopped, relative to the maw that was 
trying to swallow her.  Finally, she began to move backward, 
gaining speed.  But the opening was still getting bigger, and more 
powerful.  Enterprise was slowing again, and now it was all the 
Helmsman could do to maintain her position.
     "Full power, now, sir.  Escape appears to be impossible."  He 
was visibly and audibly more calm than the officer to his right 
who had been near a breakdown moments before.
     "What is it?"  he asked the Science Officer.
     "The extreme effect of the energy, sir.  A total breakdown of 
the local continuum, a sort of 'rip' into...somewhere else."
     "Where?"
     "No recognisable place, sir.  The star patterns are not on 
record.
     "Wait!  The rip is shrinking again, sir!"
     "Thank God," Valeriy breathed, for the ship was starting to 
be dragged forward again.
     An intercom tone beeped at Romanov's arm.  He punched the 
button.  "Captain here."
     "Engineering.  Sir, engines are under terrible strain.  The 
ship's structure can't physically take much more of this."
     "It's almost over, Chief.  Out."
     But even as the first rip was sealing itself off from what 
Romanov knew as his reality, another opened close abeam.  Valeriy 
knew they were in trouble.
     "Communications, send a distress signal to Starbase 67.  Let 
me hail."
     "Channel open, sir."
     "Starbase 67, this is U.S.S. Enterprise, Romanov commanding.  
We are being buffetted by strange energies that-"
     The Communications board exploded in a shower of sparks, and 
the operator barely had time to roll free as the console drove 
into the headrest of his seat.  Simultaneously, the bridge blacked 
out, and red emergency lighting came on.  Fans whirred to clear 
the acrid smoke.  
     The Chief Engineer called again.  "Severe system overloads, 
sir. Structural stress too.  The drives are going to give out as 
well."
     "Can't help it, Chief.  We're in trouble.
     "Helm, situation.?"
     "Just barely holding, sir.  Oh, no!  All power gone!"
     Even as he finished the sentence, U.S.S. Enterprise shot 
forward into the rip.  There was a tremendous white flash, and, 
although the ship wasn't slowed at all, every crewmember felt as 
though they had run straight into a bulkhead.  Dazed, Romanov 
looked up through red-tinted eyes.  
     He realised he was starting to get tunnel vision, but was 
helpless.  Valeriy's chest was feeling tight, and, just before he 
fell unconscious, he realised that all his senses had failed him.  
He was in a complete void.





                            CHAPTER I


     "Starbase 42 to U.S.S. Enterprise."
     "On screen," ordered Captain Picard.
     The majestic stellar flow on the main view screen was 
suddenly replaced by the features of the commanding officer of the 
Enterprise's destination starbase.  He was a jovial looking man, 
well along in years, but the wrinkles of age were clearly 
distinguished from the deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.
     "Starbase, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. 
Enterprise.  It is an honor to meet you, Commodore Blackwell.  How 
can I help you?"
     "Ah, Captain Picard.  My staff is in final preparations to 
receive your passenger.  They are hounding me as to the exact time 
of your arrival, and it would seem that the burden for answering 
that must fall to you."
     Picard joined him in a laugh.  "I understand perfectly, 
Commodore.  Our current ETA is four hours, twenty-three minutes.  
Perhaps now they will stop nipping at your heels."
     "Indeed, Captain.  Thank you, and I look forward to your 
arrival.  Starbase 42 out."
     The screen returned to its usual pattern.  First Officer 
William Riker inclined his head slightly towards Picard.  "I have 
no difficulty empathising with their anxiousness for the arrival 
of 'our passenger'."
     "Nor do I, Number One."
     Just then, the main turbolift door slid open.  The passenger 
was standing in the doorway.  "Permission to enter the bridge, 
Captain?"
     Picard rose to walk over to his guest.  "Of course, Dr. 
Crusher.  You need hardly ask!"
     The Enterprise's former Chief Medical Officer beamed a wide 
smile. "Dr. Pulaski just chased me out of sickbay.  I suppose that 
after all the time I've been spending down there preparing my 
presentations, I can't blame her."
     "Nonsense.  I can't think of a reason to shun your company 
after you have been so long absent from us, Doctor."
     "Well, if you feel that way, Captain, then why don't you join 
me for a while in Ten-Forward?"
     Taciturn Captain Picard opened his mouth to decline.  "There 
is just too much that-"
     "Mr. Data," said Riker from his bridge chair.  "Anything on 
long range sensors?"
     "No, sir."
     "Any sign of trouble with the ship?"
     "No, sir."
     "Are we still on course?"
     "Hint taken, Number One.  You have the conn."
     Riker smiled up at his Captain.  "Thank you, sir."



     Picard and Dr. Crusher had found a seat near one of the 
lounge's huge viewing ports, a clearsteel section of wall 
extending from floor to ceiling.
     The stars rushed at them, appearing to pass only narrowly 
away from them down the side of the ship.
     "You know, Captain, that despite my years of duty, I still 
have hardly had time to appreciate the beauty of this."
     "Yes.  Having myself been practically weaned in the 
atmosphere of a starship's bridge, I have always been in a 
position to take in the view."
     The Doctor nodded agreement.  "The sickbay does not afford 
the best view aboard ship."
     The two of them sat in relative silence for a few moments, 
until the Doctor spoke again.  Despite the fact that, as Chief of 
Starfleet Medicine, she outranked him in both appointment and 
grade, neither had ever thought of referring to the other as 
other than 'Captain' or 'Doctor'.  It just didn't seem quite 
right.
     "Captain, I confess that I had ulterior motives in asking you 
here.  I have a favor to ask."
     Picard found himself slightly disappointed by this 
revelation, but he wasn't sure why.  "What may I do for you, 
Doctor?"
     She chose now to address him by his first name.  "I haven't 
seen any of the crew since I took my promotion.  More 
importantly, I've not seen my son since then, either.  
     "Jean-Luc, he won't ask you this, because he thinks that it's 
contrary to his responsibilities as an officer, but could you 
grant him a temporary reassignment as my aide for the duration of 
my stay at the Starbase?"
     Picard looked at her, stared intently at her soft blue eyes.  
It was obvious that this was important to her.  Of course, 
Starfleet couldn't dismiss every officer from his duties whenever 
his family was in the same sector, but there were several reasons 
why he was not planning on refusing this request:
     1) This was the Chief Of Starfleet Medical making the 
request.  2) Acting-Ensign Crusher had not taken any leave since 
his appointment, and was not going to be unduly necessary during 
the ship's next assignment, and 3) How could he disappoint her 
when she was looking at him that way?
     "Doctor, I would be more than happy to offer Ensign Crusher a 
choice of temporary reassignment."
     "Thank you, Captain!"  Her face practically glowed, and 
Picard, too, smiled at her joy.



     "Acting-Ensign Crusher, please report to the Captain's ready 
room."
     Wes looked up from the tech-manual he was studying for his 
Advanced Warp Engineering Theory class, thankful for the reprieve.  
He was at the turbolift almost before the display had faded from 
the viewer.
     Thirty seconds later, he was at the ready room door.
     "Come."
     "Acting-Ensign Crusher reporting as ordered, Captain."
     "Mr. Crusher, I have here the latest report on your studies.  
You are doing very well in classes, I must say."
     "Thank you, sir."
     "Well enough, in fact, that you may have earned yourself a 
bit of a break.
     "I am offering you a temporary posting to Starbase 42 as 
personal aide to the Chief of Starfleet Medicine who, as you know, 
will be lecturing and making several presentations there."
     This took Wes slightly by surprise.  He was, at the same 
time, both happy for this chance, and angry that his mother had so 
obviously interfered in this.  It was the latter that prompted his 
reply.
     "Sir, I think it would be selfish of me to accept such a task 
in light of my duties to this ship and to you."
     Picard had expected as much.  He didn't know whether to 
commend the youth for his tenacity, or shoot him with a phaser on 
stun for being so stubborn.  "Your loyalty is appreciated and 
noted.  Yes, you are duty-bound to the Enterprise, but, as an 
officer in training are you not, in a larger sense, responsible to 
Starfleet?"
     Wes could see that the Captain was trying to cajole him, and, 
even worse, manipulate him through his own sense of duty, but he 
wasn't sure where the Captain's line of argument was headed.  
"Yes, sir..." he said, hesitantly.
     "Then, as an officer of Starfleet, is not your responsibility 
to familiarise yourself with as much of its workings as possible?
     "I am not simply offering you a vacation, Mr. Crusher.  There 
would be no sense in that.  However, to offer you the 
responsibility of both being aide to a ranking Starfleet officer 
and familiarising yourself with normal Starbase procedures, that 
is worth your while."
     Wes found himself unable to argue.  "Sir, under those 
conditions, I accept assignment to Starbase 42."
     "Excellent.  I expect you to report to either myself or Cmdr. 
Riker before your departure.  Dismissed."    



     Dr. Crusher had not unpacked a great deal of her belongings 
for the five day journey from her last stopover.  For several 
months, she, with a small entourage of medical specialists, had 
been lecturing at various bases and outposts concerning the latest 
in Federation medical advances.  She had taken on a great deal of 
this work herself, because, as a corollary, the recent events of 
alien parasites taking over human hosts was being handled top 
secretly.
     So there was very little for her to be doing in these last 
few hours before her departure.  She suspected that Jean-Luc had 
somehow arranged for the Enterprise to be the most available ship 
to transport her on this latest leg of her journey, an found that 
she didn't mind that at all.  If only the Captain - she still 
thought of him as such, despite her promotion - weren't so damned 
stoic!  The exchange shortly before in Ten-Forward was about the 
most loquacious she had gotten him since she had been aboard.
     But, she could tell, in his own way, he was trying to be as 
accomodating and, well, friendly, as possible.  She was certainly 
sorry to be leaving the Enterprise again, but perhaps she would be 
able to visit again, someday soon.
     The doorchime sounded.  "Come in," she said pleasantly.  The 
door slid open to reveal Wesley standing in the corridor.  "Hi, 
Wes.  Come on in!"
     Wesley walked forward with an offhand, "Hi, Mom."  He was 
waiting to see if she would bring up the reassignment.
     "Want to help me with my packing, Wes?"
     "Looks like there's not much left to do," he replied, after a 
cursory glance around the room.
     "Well, there's some last minute things that need doing," she 
said, securing a spare uniform in her carrying case as an example.  
Isn't he going to say anything?  I heard the Captain page him. 
     Several more minutes of smalltalk passed between them, before 
the doctor queried, "Didn't I hear the Captain calling you 
before?"
     As if she didn't know!  "Yes, Mom."
     "What was it about?" she asked, innocently.
     Wes had had enough.  He had decided to go, but it still 
bothered him about his mother's blatant interference.  "I think 
you know," he snapped.
     Uh-oh.  "Wes, I only made a suggestion to him.  I knew you 
weren't going to-"
     "Why can't you let me handle my own life, my own career?  I 
do have my own responsibilities, as much as you have yours!"
     Wesley realised that he was yelling and changed his tone 
suddenly. "I'm sorry, Mom.  I didn't mean to-  It's just that," 
and as he finished, he looked up at his mother with much the same 
look she had given Picard but an hour earlier, "as much as I've 
missed you, I don't want you to try and..."  He didn't have the 
words to finish.
     Now the doctor could finally get a word in edgewise.  Her 
tone was somewhat forceful.  "Look, Wes.  As much as we both have 
our separate duties, I still have trouble with us being apart, 
with my son living a life without me.  And I don't see anything 
wrong with trying to get you into my life when I can, for whatever 
time I can.
     "And besides, this isn't neglecting your duties!   It's just 
another facet of them.  Oh God, sometimes your just as stubborn 
as-"
     "As Dad?" offered Wes, thoroughly cowed.
     She took her son into her arms.  "Yes, as your dad."
     "I'm sorry."
     "I suppose I am, too.  Now do you want to help me pack?"
     Wes smiled.  "You bet!"



     Enterprise's viewscreen was now filled with the looming shape 
of the Starbase, a tremendous disc thousands of metres wide with 
spherical hangars placed in a regular hexagon around it.  Starbase 
42 was an early model Starbase, placed when the Federation-Klingon 
border was relatively unknown and definitely hostile.  Its massive 
shape was layered with defence grids and practically bristling 
with phasers and photon torpedo batteries.  Picard knew that at 
least one of the modules was probably filled with fighter-
shuttles.
     The functional grey thermal-coat exterior hearkened back to 
days a century before, in the age of the original Enterprise.  It 
was such a far cry from the graceful elongated top shape in pearl 
and soft blues that characterised more modern fixtures, such as 
Terra's very own orbiting Spacedock.
     Mr. Crusher was preparing for his departure, so it was 
another helmsman that Picard now addressed.  "Hold position for 
final docking instructions.  Mr. Worf, hail the Starbase."
     "Starbase 42 welcomes Enterprise.  We now have control of 
your ship for docking.  Enjoy the ride."
     It was the standard phrase, showing both courtesy and the 
fact that Starbase was now fully responsible for the ship, like 
handing someone an axe and having them say 'thank you'.  The ship 
hovered in space for half of a rotation, then, from the third 
module, a tractor beam grabbed the Galaxy class starship, and 
gracefully tugged it along.
     Orbits matched, the leading edge of the dock swung open.  The 
tractor beam increased its pull on the ship, easing it in front of 
the doors, and, a minute later, the hatch was sealing and an 
umbilical was connecting with Enterprise's main dorsal.
     "Docking complete."
     "Not a bad docking for an old station," mused Riker.
     "Indeed, Number One.  Take the conn.  I'm going to escort our 
passengers aboard the station."
     "Of course, Captain."
     Picard detected a hint of something in Riker's voice.  It 
came up whenever the captain had dealings with the medical 
delegation and...Dr. Crusher.  As the turbolift doors closed, 
Picard pondered its meaning.



     Wesley was in the middle of telling his mother all that had 
happened since she had left the ship, when the Captain announced 
himself at the door.
     "Enter," said Dr. Crusher.
     "Hello, Doctor.  Mr. Crusher, all prepared for your new 
assignment?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "Very good.  Well, Doctor, we've arrived and it appears that 
the base medical staff is eagerly awaiting your arrival."
     "We'd best not keep them waiting then.  I'm going over first 
to break the diplomatic ice, and, after I've found out where we 
can store our equipment, I'll call for the rest of my team.  Is 
that all right, Captain?"
     "Yes, Doctor.  May I offer to join you?"
     "I'd be delighted, Captain.  Come on, Wes."
     "Okay, Mom," he said, jumping to his feet.  All the thrills 
of potential new experiences were running through his mind now.
     The trio walked the corridors of the Enterprise, headed for 
the main gangway, Picard with a Crusher on either side.
     "So, Doctor, are you looking forward to your visit on the 
Klingon border?"
     "Yes.  This stop should prove most interesting.  My research 
staff has made some wonderful advances in treating Klingons, and 
I'm very happy to introduce them someplace where they may well be 
used."
     "That's outstanding news for both the Federation and the 
Klingons, isn't it?"
     "Yes," she agreed.  She had thought they would have more 
interesting things to talk about before she left, but all too 
soon, they were at the ship's outer hull, ready to leave.
     The gangway  slowly receded into the ship's hull, revealing a 
long telescoping corridor to the inside of the station proper.  
Using an old and well-practiced trick, the end of the corridor 
nearer the base had a lower pressure, so that the three 
practically floated across the distance.
     At the other end, they were met by Commodore Blackwell and 
several of his officers, dressed in medical blue.
     "Commodore Blackwell."  Picard extended his hand.
     "Ah, Captain Picard I presume?"
     "Yes, sir.  A pleasure.  May I present to you Dr. Beverly 
Crusher, and her personal assistant, Ensign Wesley Crusher."
     "Indeed?  Is there-"
     "Yes, sir, he's my son."  She too extended her hand, as did 
Wesley.
     Greetings thoroughly exchanged, the Commodore offered, "We 
had best show you your accommodations, Doctor.  Then we can go 
about getting the rest of your staff aboard.
     "Of course, sir."  She turned her attention to the Captain.  
"Well, Jean-Luc, I guess this is good-bye for now.  I'll see you 
in a week when Enterprise comes to pick me up."
     "Yes, Doctor.  I'll look forward to it."
     The Crushers' departed down the corridor with the Commodore's 
officers.  "Oh, Captain."
     "Yes, sir?"
     He handed Picard a sealed envelope that one of the departing 
officers had handed him.
     "I have your new orders for you, courtesy of Starfleet."
     Picard was curious about the actual orders packet.  Normally, 
mission orders were sent by subspace directly to the ship's 
computer.
     "Thank you, sir."
     "Well, good luck Captain Picard.  I must be seeing to my 
guests."
     "Of, course, sir.  Good-bye."
     Picard pivoted and returned to his ship.





                            CHAPTER II


     "Captain's Log, Stardate 42914.3:  The Enterprise has 
received rather an interesting assignment, and it is now apparent 
why we were asked to bring Dr. Crusher to Starbase 42 near the 
Klingon border.
     "In an effort to integrate the operation of Starfleet and 
Klingon ships, the Enterprise is to be the referee in a series of 
joint training exercises over the course of the next week.
     "The first test simulates a standard exploratory patrol in 
which the two patrols, one commanded by a Klingon, the other by a 
Starfleet officer, each commanding a mixed group of starships, 
must analyse a new star system.  All results will be coordinated 
and simulated by the Enterprise."
     "Mr. Worf, have the two groups reported in yet?"
     "Aye, sir.  They are both prepared to begin the exercise."
     "Very good.  Patch me through to the Federation commander."
     "Channel open, sir."
     "This is Starfleet Command to U.S.S. Anubis.  You are to 
divert from your assigned patrol immediately to explore a recently 
charted star system.  Coordinates to follow.
     "Mr. Worf, transmit coordinates and close channels.  You know 
your part."
     "Aye, sir."
     Behind the captain and his first officer, Lt. Worf was 
repeating the exact same speech in Klingonese to the Klingon 
expedition commander, pretending to be Admiralty, Klingon Grand 
Fleet.
     Riker leaned to his captain.  "I do believe our Mr. Worf has 
a flair for the dramatic."
     Picard smiled.  "It would appear so, Commander."
     Mr. Worf announced, "Both forces approaching this system, 
Captain.  The Klingon force is proceeding slightly faster."
     "Being a little hasty, wouldn't you think, Captain?"
     Before Picard's open mouth could speak his response, Worf 
countered, "Or, perhaps a Klingon takes a specific mission order 
from his superiors more seriously, sir."
     The Captain heaved an exaggerated sigh.  "Mr. Worf, are you 
allowing prejudices to creep into your duty or just simply rooting 
for one of the teams in a highly undisciplined style?"
     The Klingon security officer brought himself to his full, 
imposing height.  "Neither, sir.  Simply offering rationale from a 
Klingon perspective."
     Riker grinned.  "Thank you, Lieutenant.  That will be most 
helpful in this operation."
     Captain Picard spoke for the benefit of the crew.  "Each 
group should scan the system and find that the second planet shows 
traces of technological developments, but no life."
     "Both squadrons have now arrived.  They are conducting 
preliminary scans."
     Riker contemplated his knowledge of Klingons, having served 
under one as part of an exchange programme, versus what he himself 
would do.  "Captain, I bet that the Klingon group will go straight 
for the planet while the Federation commander orders a more 
detailed scan of the system."
     "Incorrect, sir," said Worf from almost directly overhead.
     "Federation commander is proceeding, Klingon commander using 
tactical scanners."
     Riker was taken aback.
     "Lieutenant," asked Picard, "has either group reported yet?"
     "The Human commander announced the find and his intention to 
explore it more closely.  The Klingon is looking for potential 
tactical dangers."
     Riker still didn't like his completely incorrect appraisal of 
the situation.  "What next, Captain?"  he asked by way of changing 
the subject.
     "There are automated defenses in orbit, on the ground, and on 
the moon.  They are quite powerful, but can be overcome."
     The Enterprise was below the plane of the star system, 
looking up at planet two and the approaching ships.  Although the 
Federation commanded group arrived first, they held back at quite 
a distance.  They were launching a probe.
     The Klingon's group, however, put a scout ship in the point 
and decelerated directly into a standard orbit.  That was a 
mistake.
     "Sir, Klingon Commander's lead ship has been struck by a 
volley of fire from the moon.  And again."
     Riker walked to the upper level of the bridge and to the 
Sciences Console recessed into the aft wall.  "They're not 
retreating.  Ah!  He's ordered a globe formation, with the 
flagship in the middle.  Performing a life scan on the moon.  
Results negative.  They're firing.  Moon base destroyed."
     Now Worf was reporting on the other group.  "Moon defences 
have destroyed the probe.  The remaining ships are analysing the 
defences."
     "The satellites have fired on the same ship.  Simulated heavy 
damage.  They are responding.  Other ships are conducting a 
surface scan."
     "It would seem that Commander Krond has gotten into a bit 
of trouble," observed the Captain.
     "Not entirely, Captain," said Worf.
     Riker looked up.  "Krond's force has downed the last 
satellite and is working on the ground forces right now.  But his 
scout appears to be crippled."
     Worf spoke.  "Captain D'Arby's ships have sent a computer 
override signal.  The defences have been deactivated."
     "Hardly an even exchange," commented the Captain.  "A probe 
for a scout ship."
     Presently, both forces were moving into orbit for a planetary 
survey.



     The Klingon scout ship Sentinel lay in simulated chaos.  Most 
of the bridge stations had been shut down by the computer to 
simulate damage.  Although the secondary Tactical Sciences Monitor 
was still nominally functional, its operator, Technician First 
Class Kevar wore a bright red battle casualty symbol on his 
breastplate.
     Through the computer induced snow and static on his screen, 
there was visible a small target on the long range set, somewhere 
in the next solar system.  He was sure it hadn't been there 
previously.  It puzzled him.
     Momentarily forgetting himself, he turned to his commanding 
officer.  "Sir, contact bearing three-"
     "Kevar, have you forgotten that you are dead, or do you 
simply not know how to behave properly in such a situation?"  His 
tone was not forgiving.
     "Sir, I-"
     "Shut up, Kevar!  Guard, remove the Science Officer to the 
brig until the end of this simulation, so that his resurrection 
will not interfere in this training.
     "And, Lieutenant, do you not even know how to tell an anomaly 
on a damaged unit from an actual sighting?"
     The Commander suddenly longed for the days when all Klingons 
carried agonisers to facilitate immediate discipline.
     "Ensign!"  The Second Class Tech jumped.  "Man tactical.  
Now!"



     The landing parties quickly located the place of interest on 
the planet:  an ancient, temple-like building containing a 
computer system that held vast amounts of knowledge.  The 
remainder of the task for the two commanders was to somehow secure 
the knowledge therein for return to their respective home 
territories.
     "Easier said than done, Commander Riker.  The scenario for 
this training mission states that any attempt to retrieve all of 
the data at once could be...disastrous."
     "How so, Captain."
     "I think, Number One, that we will probably see for 
ourselves."
     "Reports coming in now, sir," announced Lt. Worf.
     "Starfleet Command, this is Captain D'Arby of the Anubis."
     Picard assumed his role again.  "We are receiving, Captain.  
Report."
     "We have discovered an extensive data bank on the second 
planet of the system.  We are about to beam the information aboard 
my flagship's computers.  Oh my God! <static>"
     "I see what you mean, Captain."
     Worf spoke again.  "Report from Krond, sir."  For several 
minutes, Worf and Krond's voice exchanged guttural syllables of 
Klingonese.
     "Captain, Commander Krond reports information stored in the 
several Federation ships under his command.  They are ready for 
departure."
     "Tell him the simulation is over and standby for analysis.
     "How is Captain D'Arby faring?"
     "Signal from U.S.S. Mitchell, under D'Arby's command."
     "Starfleet, Anubis has been crippled.  Total computer systems 
failure occurred when the data was transmitted.  We have broken 
the information down and recorded separately among the remaining 
ships.  Standing by to evacuate the flagship.  Request a fleet tug 
to return Anubis to nearest Starbase."
     "Mr. Worf, respond and inform them that the simulation is 
over.  Have the two commanders come aboard for analysis."
     "Aye, sir."



     Several hours later, Picard was able to at last retreat to 
his quarters.  He had spent the last two hundred and forty minutes 
going over, in minute detail, the entire simulation with Captain 
D'Arby and Commander Krond.
     The amusing part was that the end result was virtually a tie.  
Only on Starfleet's numerical grading system did any actual 
difference show up.  Both groups had lost a ship, and both had 
retrieved the data as necessary.  Only because the Anubis was a 
flag ship and a cruiser, as opposed to the small scout ship 
Sentinel,  was Krond declared the 'winner'.
     What Picard found most interesting was his First Officer's 
complete misreading of the two groups' tactics.  It was 
simultaneously humourous and disconcerting.
     As Picard laid himself down for a night's sleep, he decided 
that it didn't matter, and looked forward to administering the 
next exam to the two commanders.



     The collection of ships had moved to a nearby star system for 
the second simulation.  It was an odd system, possessed of only 
one blue giant sun - no planets, asteroids, or anything.  It was 
an unnaturally sterile place.
     This day's game would be a true test to the two officers, 
thought Picard.  They were to play a game of hide and seek, each 
group with its own mission kept secret from the other group.  
Whoever made contact and achieved their goal first was the winner.  
Krond's group was supposed to gather scientific information on the 
system and the other ships, while D'Arby was told that he was to 
establish diplomatic contact with a hostile force.
     To begin the game, Krond's group broke for the other side of 
the system's star.



     
     Lieutenant Technician Kevar was on duty again, having been 
released from death at the end of the previous day and the brig at 
the beginning of the present one.  The computer was allowing his 
equipment to function perfectly.  Perfect, by Klingon standards, 
meant that everything that hadn't yet fallen into disrepair 
appeared to be working.
     The Sentinel was once again taking the point for Krond's 
squadron, the proverbial bloodhound leading the pack.  There were 
other ships out here, and it was Kevar's job to find them, so that 
his commander might revel in glorious victory over the Federation 
Captain.
     As the scout cleared the blinding effects of the primary's 
corona, a shape materialised on his viewer.  His knobby fingers 
focused the delicate equipment, and he made very sure before 
reporting his find.
     "Commander."
     "Yes, Lt. Corpse?"  The rest of the bridge crew thought this 
uproariously funny, and barks of laughter reverberated off the 
steel decks.  
     "Contact, bearing one-three-nine Mark two-two."
     "What do you make of it?"
     "I'm not sure, sir.  It appears to be the same as..."  The 
commander was about to question his hesitation when Kevar 
finished. "As the contact I reported yesterday before being 
detained."
     "Is that so?"
     "Comm, inform Commander Krond."



     Worf looked up from his console.  "Message from Commander 
Krond, sir.  He reports a possible ship contact, at one-three-nine 
Mark two-two.  Directly away from Captain D'Arby's ships, sir."
     Picard raised an eyebrow.  "Really?  Mr. Worf, focus our 
sensors on the contact."
     "Scanning.  Metal, manmade materials, minimal energy 
readings. Appears to be a derelict of some sort, sir."
     "Tell Commander Krond to halt his forces.  Send out a message 
to delay the tests."
     Riker turned to his Captain.  "Not part of the simulation, 
sir?"
     "Definitely not.  Mr. Byng."  He addressed the oriental 
manning the Helm in Wesley's absence.  "Close in on the contact, 
Warp 2."
     "Aye, sir.  Warp 2."
     The Enterprise shot forward and across the solar system, 
arcing around the sun in a parabolic turn.  As she closed in on 
the contact, the ship slowed, allowing the Enterprise's scanners 
to assimilate more detail.
     The main viewer on the bridge was centred on the derelict and 
Picard ordered it to maximum magnification.  The bridge crew 
watched, startled, as the picture began to clarify.
     They saw soon enough that it was a ship, some distinctly 
manmade object, about five-hundred metres long.  This was only 
slightly less than Enterprise's own six-hundred and ten.  In fact, 
it took on a shape very much like Picard's own vessel.
     "It's Federation!" exclaimed Riker, seeing the distinct 
combination of saucer and twin nacelles.
     "Lt. Worf, identify that vessel."
     "Starfleet vessel, Alaska class battlecruiser, circa the era 
of the Federation-Klingon War."  Picard took note of the 
objectivity with which the Lieutenant spoke of that event.  "Hull 
registry reads-"
     "Well, what is it, Lieutenant?"
     "Sir.  Registry is NCC 1701-C, U.S.S. Enterprise."



From cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu  Tue Jan 12 15:52:12 1993
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Subject: GhostsFromThePast.2
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:51:23 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 3 through Ch. 7:
--------------------------------------------



                           CHAPTER III


     "Permission to lead an away team aboard, sir."
     "Lt. Worf, scan that ship."
     "Complete life support failure, toxic substances, apparently 
engine waste."
     "Any signs of life at all?"
     "None, sir."
     "All right, Number One.  But be careful.  Mr. Data, what do 
you know of that Enterprise."
     Data at the Ops module seemed to look inwardly for a moment, 
then responded.  "NCC 1701-C was launched on Stardate 11692, the 
first of the Alaska class transwarp battlecruisers.  The ship 
served with distinction during the Federation-Klingon War, for 
which it was built.  On approximately Stardate 15500, she was 
loaned to the Exploration Fleet for a ten year survey mission.  
Less than three years later, she sent a distress signal to 
Starbase 67 and was never heard from again."
     "Starbase 67?  That's toward the galactic centre!  Over..."
     "Ten thousand light years away," offered the android.
     "Yes..."  Picard was now absorbed in thought.  He had hardly 
noticed Riker and Worf leaving.  Moments later, the intercom 
chirped.
     "Captain, I am taking Mr. LaForge and Lt. Worf along with a 
small science team.  Prepared for departure."
     "Good luck, Number One."



     The small group materialised near the engineering section of 
the battlecruiser.  Their phasers were at their side, for they did 
not expect to have to use them, and their mouths were covered with 
small respirator devices.  Each had a concentrated supply of 
oxygen clipped at their waist.
     "Geordi, what do you make of this?"
     The Engineering Officer was already at the control panels, 
reactivating them to call up system displays.
     "Barely any power left in the system, Commander.  Transwarp 
engines completely degenerated, batteries minimal.  The ship is 
almost completely shutdown."
     "How about life support?"
     "It took some heavy damage.  Looks like she was in a fight.  
They couldn't have repaired it by themselves."
     "And the toxic residue?"
     "The waste systems around the intermix chamber were ruptured.  
All of the stuff that should have been vented to space flowed into 
the circulation system."
     "All right, let's head for the bridge."



     While the away team was being assembled, the Enterprise, NCC 
1701-D, sent word to all of the training ships.
     Kevar was at his console, still, scanning the rest of the 
system, despite the fact that the games had been suspended.  He 
heard Krond's voice address the squadron.
     "This is Commander Krond to all ships.  Pull back from the 
target to a position behind Enterprise.  Do not interfere."
     Kevar heard the rasping breath of his own commander behind 
him.  "All right, Kevar.  Now just what the hell have you gotten 
us into this time? I should have left you in the brig."
     Kevar had had enough.  "Or listened to my initial contact 
report," he growled back.  Even as the last word left his lips, he 
realised that a mere twenty years ago he would have been shot on 
the spot for that remark.
     As it was now, though, the commander simply hauled him by his 
collar out of his chair.  "You dare be insubordinate?"  The 
backhand sent Kevar sprawling back over his chair.
     "Guard!  Remove this scum to the brig until further notice!"



     Without power for the turbolifts or artificial gravity, the 
away team had to climb several decks worth of ladders in freefall 
to reach the bridge.  The last ladder terminated in a hatchway 
directly in front of the command module, that is, the helm and nav 
stations, on the bridge.  Geordi was through first, and he used 
his VISOR to allow him to find the controls for the emergency 
lights.
     Riker emerged from the hatch into a large compartment bathed 
in eerie red lights which illuminated several very dead corpses.  
He heard a gasp from one of the scientists.  Worf moved to the 
security monitor station, and the technicians moved to various 
consoles around the bridge.
     Satisfied that everyone was doing what they could, Riker 
tapped his insignia communicator.  "Riker to Enterprise."
     "Picard here.  Report, Number One."
     "No sign of the crew, Captain, except on the bridge."
     "What did you find?"
     "Sir, the bodies of a dozen officers are scattered about.  
Request that you beam them to the Enterprise for autopsies."
     "Standby."  There was a brief pause, then the bodies 
shimmered and disappeared.  "Oh my..."
     "Yes, Captain.  Mr. LaForge is attempting to restore some 
power, and the tech crew is trying to recover the ship's log."
     "What exactly is the status of the ship, Number One."
     "Warp engines are unpowered, phasers almost completely empty 
and photon torpedoes depleted.  There are signs of battle all 
over."
     "Very well.  Let me know when you have the log recordings."
     "Understood, sir.  Riker out."



     Dr. Pulaski wasn't told why she was being summoned to 
sickbay, so she was more than slightly taken aback when she was 
led by a technician to a quarantine room in which she found 
eleven dried and hardened bodies in old-style Starfleet maroon 
tunics and black trousers.
     "What is this?" she asked, after collecting herself.  Picard, 
who had met her in the sickbay, explained.
     "Doctor, that is all that remains of the crew of the 
Enterprise."
     She, currently unaware of the nature of the discovery, did a 
not very exaggerated doubletake.  "The Ent-"
     "Allow me to explain, Dr. Pulaski."
     Five minutes later, the doctor was nodding gravely, now fully 
informed.
     "Since I wanted you to perform an autopsy on the bodies, I 
thought it best to bypass normal decontamination procedures."  
Usually, the transporter would automatically cleanse returning 
bodies of all forms of disease of microorganisms.  "That's why 
they were beamed straight to the quarantine room."
     "Very well, Captain.  I'll let you know as soon as my 
examination is complete.



     "Any luck with the logs yet, Commander?"
     Riker looked up from his position underneath the 
Communications station where he was assisting one of the techs
in repairing the top of the console, which looked like a rushed 
jury-rig job to begin with.
     "We've accessed the computers, Captain, but the memory has 
been horribly scrambled.  We're trying to piece things together.  
Only one log entry appears to have been made after the ship docked 
at Starbase 67, and there's nothing out of the ordinary in it."
     "I see.  What else can you do then?"
     "Geordi?"
     "The problem right now is in sorting out the memory.  We 
think we have all the pertinent log entries, and that there just 
isn't anything that we're looking for.  So now we have to sort out 
the flight recorder visuals and see what they tell us."
     "Fine.  I'll check in with you later, then."
     "Oh, Captain."
     "Yes, Mr. LaForge?"
     "There is one important thing that we do know."
     "And what is that?"
     "There are definitely logs and recordings extending for quite 
some time after the distress signal.  We just can't sort them out 
yet."
     "Interesting."



     Captain Picard was pacing.  He didn't realise he was doing it 
until he noticed Data swinging his had back and forth in study of 
his captain, as though there were a tennis game on the bridge.  
Picard stopped near the railing on the upper level of the bridge.  
     "Mr. Data, access the computer and find out everything about 
the Enterprise-C."  He actually pronounced the 'dash C'.
     "Aye, sir."  Soon the android was a short distance directly 
behind Picard, calling up information at the Science station.
     "There is not that much usable information on the vessel, 
Captain.  Mostly technical information, background, et cetera."
     "Give me some of that, then."
     "The Alaska class battlecruisers were the second ship type 
outfitted with Transwarp drive.  They were designed as firepower 
platforms for the Federation-Klingon War, but, in keeping with 
Starfleet practice, they were provided with more than adequate 
research facilities, hence, the reassignment of some of them to 
the E-Fleet when their own ships were being upgraded to 
Transwarp."
     "Mr. Data, you mentioned before that they sent out a distress 
signal.  Was there a voice report that went with it?"
     "Searching.  Ah, here it is.  Indeed, sir, there was a 
message from the ship's captain, one Valeriy Alexandrovich 
Romanov."
     "Now we have something!  Do you have the text?"
     "Yes, sir.  But it's incomplete.  The message was cut off at 
the source."
     "Give me what you have."
     "It says only, 'We are being buffeted by strange energies 
that-' and it cuts off."
     "Pulaski to bridge."
     "This is the Captain.  Go ahead, Doctor."
     "I'm afraid I have no real news, Captain.  You did say there 
were poisons in the atmosphere of the ship?"
     "Yes, Doctor."
     "Well, that is what killed these men and women.  Poison and 
oxygen deprivation.  There is no indication of any sort of disease 
or bacteria."
     "Thank you anyway, Doctor.  Would you please see to it that 
the bodies are prepared for proper burial?"
     "Of course, Captain.  Out."
     "Sir, signal from the away team."



     "Commander Riker, any success yet?"
     "A partial one at least, sir."
     "Meaning?"
     "We know why Captain Romanov sent out the distress signal, 
but not what happened to the ship and the crew.  We're 
transmitting the flight recorder now."
     Riker watched the main viewer of the battlecruiser's bridge 
as Picard stared intently at his ship's own viewscreen.  They both 
saw Enterprise-C leave Starbase 67 on a routine patrol.  The ship 
received a transmission from the base, and shortly thereafter 
encounter an area of 'strange energies', Picard thought, quoting 
the distress message.
     The flight recorder replayed in every detail the fateful day 
in which the last Enterprise came so close to escaping sure 
disaster, only to be sucked down into the vortex of a rip in the 
fabric of space.  The last thing recorded was a brilliant flash of 
light.
     Geordi spoke into his communicator as the screen faded to 
black.  "Whatever happened when they went through that...rip," he 
said, coining the word used by the battlecruiser's Science 
Officer, one of the bodies beamed back to the Enterprise, "is what 
fouled the memory.  The images after the breakthrough are 
scrambled even worse.  It's going to take a lot of time to figure 
out just what happened."
     "Captain," interjected Riker, "our life support belts are 
running low.  We're going to return to the ship before continuing 
over here."
     "Very good, Number One.  Good work.  I'll see you for a 
personal report after you return.  Picard out."
     Riker tapped his communicator.  "Enterprise, away team to 
beam back.  Energise."





                            CHAPTER IV


     "Captain's Log, Stardate 42916.1:  After several hours, the 
training simulations remain suspended, due to the fact that our 
discovery of the previous starship Enterprise still is foremost in
consuming our time.
     "I have sent a dispatch to Starfleet informing them of recent 
events.  I await their response, but, in the mean while, Commander 
Riker will go back aboard the battlecruiser with an engineering 
team to work on the ship's life support systems.  Lt. LaForge's 
assessment is that, although the original crew would have been 
unable to repair the damage, with the technology available aboard 
the Enterprise, that is Enterprise-D, repairs are possible.
     "With any luck, by the time that Starfleet takes action of 
its own, we shall have the ship functional."
     Picard switched off the log recorder as the First Officer's 
form was suddenly standing in the doorway to the Captain's Ready 
Room.  The look on his face was akin to that of a child with a 
brand new toy.
     "Commander, I've just finished my log entry."
     "Heard from Starfleet yet?"
     "Not yet, Number One.  Return message should come within the 
next hour, though."
     "Well, I'm here for the report you wanted."
     "I think we can make this brief.  You look anxious to 
return."
     Riker smiled broadly.  "Yes indeed, Captain."



     Forty minutes later, Riker materialised on Enterprise-C's 
engineering deck, where a dozen technicians were already hard at 
work on the fused and melted life support machinery.  At random 
intervals, parts were beamed over from Enterprise-D to replace the 
destroyed equipment.
     It had taken Riker about a half an hour to recap the away 
team's findings to the Captain, during which he had been at pains 
to keep still while Picard pressed him for every trifling detail 
that he could remember.  Of course, none of it was very important, 
but Riker guessed that the Captain was jealous of not being able 
to go aboard her himself.
     Riker, not being an engineer, really did not belong back on 
the ship overseeing the repair crew, but, as Picard had so easily 
noted, he wanted to be back aboard.  So, while the technicians 
worked, Will Riker, along with Data and Geordi, began a full 
inspection of the rest of the ship, starting, of course, in 
Engineering.
     "What is it, Geordi?"
     "Well, Commander, it's just that most of my training has been 
with more modern technology, Ultrawarp systems."
     "What exactly are you saying?"
     "I'm not the person to be working on this sort of equipment."
     "So, who do you suggest?"
     "Commander, there are two people I know of who have an 
excellent knowledge of Transwarp technology."
     "And who would that be?"
     "Wesley and Lt. Argyle."
     "Interesting combination there.  I suppose Mr. Crusher is 
available, but..."
     "We can at least put in a request to Starfleet."
     "I suppose."  He tapped his communicator.  "Riker to 
Enterprise."
     "Picard here.  Yes, Number One."
     "Captain, I have a request to make.  Actually, two requests."
     There was a brief pause before Picard responded, made curious 
by the almost whimsical tone in Riker's voice.  "And what would 
they be?"
     "I need two officers with knowledge of Transwarp engineering, 
Acting-Ensign Crusher and Lt. Argyle."
     "I'll see what I can do, Number One."



    Captain Picard folded down the comm panel on the arm of his 
chair.  He turned his head to address Counselor Troi.
     "That's quite some request that Cmdr. Riker has made."
     Troi was a little distracted.  "Yes, I suppose.  But, 
Captain, may I suggest that you keep an eye on him."
     "What do you mean, Counselor?"
     "It's just that he's so eager to be on the other ship that he 
might work himself too hard, to exhaustion."
     "I know what you mean.  I wouldn't mind taking a visit 
myself."
     Troi smiled.  "Well, it would be the Captain's prerogative to 
inspect the discovered ship after the first officer has made his 
tour."
     "It is at that.  Thank you, Counselor."
     "Sir."  Worf's bass rumble caught the Captain's attention 
immediately.  "Message from Starfleet."
     "Excellent.  On screen, Lieutenant."
     A face swam onto the screen.  "Captain Picard, this is 
Admiral Syltek of Starfleet Command."
     Syltek's pointed ears were almost hidden behind his cropped 
dark brown hair.  Though he appeared as cool and dispassionate as 
any Vulcan, his eyes somehow seemed softened through years of 
contact with humans.  Syltek was a rather famous persona in 
Starfleet, having commanded the deep space explorer Intrepid 
(third all Vulcan crewed ship to bear that name) on a fifteen year 
mission towards the center of the galaxy.
     "Yes, sir."
     "The Operations Council has reached a decision concerning the 
discovery of U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701-C.  The ships currently 
engaged in training exercises with your ship are to be released, 
whereupon they will resume normal operations.
     "A support ship is being dispatched to provide a skeleton 
crew for the battlecruiser and to repower its Transwarp engines.  
You will proceed at best speed to Starbase 42.  You will try to 
complete as much in the way of repairs as possible before 
arriving.  Would you like an officer assigned to command the 
ship?"
     "I don't think that will be necessary.  My First Officer, 
Cmdr. Riker, will be more than happy to fill that role."
     "You recommend him, then?"
     "I do indeed, sir."
     "Fine.  Do you have any questions, Captain?"
     "Just one, Admiral.  The previous Chief Engineer aboard the 
Enterprise, one Lt. Argyle, I have just been informed is rather 
adept at Transwarp engineering.  Could he possibly be assigned to 
assist my crew?"
     "Just a moment, Captain."  Syltek looked aside for a moment, 
apparently checking something.  He turned again to face the 
viewer's pickup.  "Captain, it would appear that you are in luck.  
Mr. Argyle is the Chief Engineer assigned to the supply ship.  He 
is the best Transwarp Engineer in the sector."
     "Excellent.  And when will they arrive?"
     "ETA is thirty-eight hours, Captain Picard.  Good luck."
     "Thank you."
     The screen returned to its usual white-speckled midnight.  
"Lt. Worf, would you please get me Mr. Crusher at Starbase 42?"
     "Aye, sir."
     It took several minutes, because Wesley had to be called from 
one of the Dr. Crusher's seminars.  Eventually, though, he arrived 
at the comm center of the Starbase.
     "Yes, Captain?"
     "Mr. Crusher, a rather interesting situation has come up."
     Picard explained.
     "Wow!  That's amazing, sir."
     "Mr. LaForge has informed us that you are well versed in 
Transwarp technology."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Cmdr. Riker has requested your presence on his team aboard 
Enterprise-C to assist the engineering team."
     Although it was only a voice message, Picard could still tell 
that the youth was debating with himself.  By this time, though, 
his mother had finished her lecture and arrived in the comm room.  
Picard could hear a tech giving her the lowdown in hushed tones.  
Picard could picture the selfless Dr. Crusher telling her son to 
go, that she would still see him when they came back to the 
Starbase.
     "Captain?"
     "Yes, Mr. Crusher.  Have you decided?"
     "Is the next available shuttle soon enough?"
     "That it is, Mr. Crusher."



     The trio was still walking the corridors of Enterprise-C, 
taking note of everything as they went.  It was obvious the ship 
had been in a battle.  It wasn't that the ship was badly damaged, 
just that there were signs of damage all over.  Electrical and 
circuit damage, scorch marks on the hull and breaches in some 
places that had been sealed off or covered over.
     "This is a very well designed ship," commented Geordi.  "I 
mean, look at this!  We've seen almost a dozen tears in the outer 
hull, and it's hardly affected her capabilities.  Why, I'll bet if 
that one lucky hit hadn't taken out the recyclers and the waste 
disposal, the ship would have easily been able to make it back to 
base."
     "But none of that helps explain what happened to her."
     "Sir," interjected Data from the door of a nearby cabin.
     "What is it, Data?"
     "Look at this."
     The other two showed up.  Data, with his android strength, 
easily shoved the door open despite the lack of power.  They were 
using portable lights because there was hardly enough power in the 
ship to run the portable machinery the engineers had brought 
along.  Gravity was something else entirely.  The ship was in 
freefall.
     Inside, the cabin was untouched.  A few objects had floated 
free of their resting places, but, otherwise, the quarters looked 
as though they were waiting for their occupant to return from a 
normal day's work.
     "Interesting."
     They continued through the ship, finding the same thing 
everywhere, evidences of a rather sudden departure.  By the time 
they reached the lower levels of the ship, the two humans were 
ready to bounce their heads off of bulkheads in frustration, and 
Data just kept mumbling,  "Curious...fascinating...puzzling," et 
cetera.
     Finally, they found what they were looking for.  Rather, Data 
found it while Will and Geordi were searching through the cargo 
modules.
     "Commander, I believe that I have an answer for us."
     Riker and LaForge propelled themselves from the module that 
they were examining and sailed across the large, wide-open space 
of the cargo deck.
     "What'd you find, Data?"
     He was standing next to an access panel (without power, of 
course), one of dozens around that level, the ones above and 
below, and the hangar decks.
     "Sir, these portals open up to the ship's lifeboats.  This 
one would appear to have been used, as were the rest of the ones 
on this level."
     "Geordi, let's check this out.  I'll take the hanger area;  
Geordi, you go up, Data, down."
     "Aye, sir," they said as one.
     Ten minutes later, they reconvened.  "All gone, sir."
     "I found the same, Commander.  But there were six left."
     "Me too.  So, now we know where they crew went, or, at least, 
why they aren't here."
     Geordi was slightly confused.  "You know, for all the brain-
racking we've been doing, this is a pretty obvious answer.  How'd 
we miss it?"
     "When the Enterprise approached, we came in from the top, so 
we didn't notice the boats' absence.  All the lifeboats are on the 
bottom of the hull.  And this is the first time anyone has been 
down towards the keel."
     "But what about the bodies we found?" asked Geordi.
     "If I may, sir?"  asked Data.  Will nodded.  "It would seem 
that the life support failure forced the evacuation of the crew.  
Since the ship was almost entirely intact, and in such close 
proximity to the Klingon border which was probably still suffering 
from post-War disputes, the captain found it necessary to self-
destruct."
     "How do we know that the ship came here that close to the 
time of departure?"
     "We do not, sir.  However, if we assume that the officers 
stayed behind to initiate destruction, then it can be reasoned 
that they at least thought they were in disputed territory."
     "Circular logic, Data."
     "Yes, sir, but we don't have much to go on.  But if they 
stayed behind to activate destruction with hopes of escaping 
afterward, then the sudden release of poisonous engine waste could 
have killed them before they could reach the computer."
     "Well, it makes sense.  If so, Starfleet will have to send 
out a survey mission to look for survivors or their descendants."
     "That is up to Starfleet to decide."
     "Hmmm, yes.  All right, let's report to the Captain."





                            CHAPTER V


     "Captain's Log, Stardate 42919.3:  We are currently awaiting 
the arrival of a Starfleet supply vessel to assist in the 
restoration of Enterprise-C.  Before it gets here, though, I have 
one very sad duty to perform - the burial at space of that ship's 
officers.
     "Although none of the crew of the present Enterprise knew 
these men and women, nor, am I aware, are any of their descendants 
aboard, this most unwelcome of shipboard services serves as a 
profound reminder of the dangers of exploration.  Indeed, the 
ships that we use have become more and more advanced, but every 
mission that we undertake only firms up my conviction that the 
dangers have also."



     Wesley looked up from his work.  Geordi had put him in charge 
of repairing the dilithium reactor, which was necessary to 
restoring power to the ship.  Dilithium crystals more than doubled 
the energy output of an anti-matter reaction, and allowed the 
efficiency of the process to become greater than 100%.  That was 
how a ship could regenerate its power.
     He secured the top of the housing and then waited patiently 
for the revolving airlock to cycle.  When he was outside he tapped 
his communicator.  "Geordi, this is Wes.  I'm done here."
     "Okay.  Come on into the vertical intermix compartment.  
We're ready to try a startup."
     Wes jumped and sailed up one deck to the main engineering 
level. Having not had much practice with weightlessness, Wesley 
found himself scrambling for the handrails at the top of the 
ladder.  After finally recovering himself, he managed to float 
through to the main engine room.
     Geordi was standing over the control panel located at the 
base of the vertical intermix shaft, a tall crystalline looking 
tube that stretched up several decks towards the impulse deck.  
Aft from the console was a similar structure, running back along 
the ship's axis where it eventually split to connect the two huge 
Transwarp nacelles.
     The whole setup was similar enough to a Galaxy class ship 
that Geordi could recognise everything, but the specifics were 
different enough that he found himself riddled with doubts about 
everything that his crew had done.
     He caught Wesley out of the corner of his eye.  "Is 
everything ready?"
     "I think so, Geordi.  We took a few of the crystals out of 
the Enterprise and brought them over here."
     "Well, between the two of us, I hope we haven't forgotten 
anything."
     Wes did a mental checklist, comparing it against everything 
that had been done, and he also gave a quick look around the 
engine assembly as well.  "No, nothing forgotten.  Are they all 
set up at impulse?"
     "Yeah.  Those backup fusion reactors have really come in 
handy supplying power for all of our equipment.  I'm beginning to 
wonder if Starfleet shouldn't still be incorporating them into 
ship designs."
     "Well, recommend it to them after we have this ship running," 
said Wes with a smile.
     "All right.  LaForge to impulse deck."
     "Yes, Lieutenant?"
     "Begin final checklist and countdown to ignition."
     "Counting down."
     Geordi's hands moved across the board.  The motions were not 
as smooth and fluid as they would have been on the controls he was 
used to working.
     Five minutes passed, and all the while Geordi's eyes were 
riveted to the system displays.  He breathed in sharply, and 
said, "Everything ready?"
     "All set, Lieutenant."
     "Here goes."  A final series of switches and things started 
happening.  The few shipboard systems that were operating dimmed 
almost to blackness.  The effect was then broken as lightning 
coursed through the intermix shaft.  After several seconds, it 
happened again.  Then again and again, until the center of the 
hexagonal glass tube was a pulsating stream of light.
     The silence was pierced by the whine of the energisers.  
Geordi exhaled the breath he had been holding as the lights came 
back on again.  Wesley smiled as well as he felt his weight settle 
to the deck.  Consoles all over the room were starting to come to 
life.
     "Ignition is go on main impulse units."  Geordi's smile now 
beamed from his face.
     "Enterprise, this is Lt. LaForge.  We have main power start-
up on both engines."
     Picard's voice answered almost immediately.  "Excellent, 
Lieutenant!  What comes next, then?"
     "Well, sir, we're going to restore power and life support to 
critical areas, as well as some living spaces for the skeleton 
crew.  Other than that, we have to wait for the supply ship."
     "What exactly for, Mr. LaForge?"
     "You see, although we restarted the matter/anti-matter 
reaction in the nacelles, we simply can't restore power above 
bare minimum levels.  The supply ship will be able to recharge 
the ship to 100% capacity."
     "Very well.  Picard out."
     Meanwhile, Wes was walking - thank god for the gravity - 
around the compartment.  "This ship is in great shape for 
something almost eighty years old."
     "I'll bet I know what happened.  After they all either 
abandoned ship or died from the poison, the ship probably shut 
itself down.  You know, put itself into mothballs, sort of.  All 
of the computers get shut down, all the doors sealed."
     "Makes sense.  Let's finish up around here, okay?"



     Riker, Data, Geordi, Wes, and others from Enterprise-C's crew 
were gathered in the forward photon torpedo room on the 
battlecruiser.  They stood silently as the magnetic loading track 
carried eleven coffins into the firing chamber, four on each 
outboard, three on the center tube.  A viewscreen at the aft end 
of the room showed Captain Picard standing on his bridge, looking 
quite sombre.
     When he spoke, his voice was carried all over both ships.  
Despite the informality that had come to represent Starfleet crew 
interactions in preceding generations, shipboard funerals remained 
stiff and, to some extent, military, in nature.
     "Attention.  It is my sad duty now to lay to rest the senior 
officers, and, in a larger sense, the entire crew as well, of NCC 
1701-C, U.S.S. Enterprise.  This ship, which possesses the same 
name as our ship, also possessed a crew very much like yourselves.
     "They were explorers, as are you, and their loss reminds all 
of us of our own mortality.  They are kindred in soul if not in 
lineage, and that is why I feel this loss more than perhaps would 
be expected.
     "I do not say all of this to make you in any way fear the 
exciting and necessary work that we do.  Rather, I want to give 
you inspiration for all that lies ahead.  It is people like this 
who we help with our work.  The unending quest for knowledge helps 
to prevent recurrences of these such happenings.
     "I now ask all of you to give a moment's silence in memory of 
these brave souls."
     Riker, standing at attention, heard only the faint hum of 
machinery, the air vents, the cooling units for the torpedo tubes, 
et cetera.  After several minutes of reflection, the Captain spoke 
again.  "Orders, up!"
     One by one, the photorps were fired from the battlecruiser's 
bow, balls of orange light hurtling toward the nearby star.
     On his bridge, Picard was standing next to Troi.  "Company, 
at ease and resume your duties."  
     The main viewscreen tracked the receding fiery orbs.  The 
Counselor said to Picard, "They were very moved by your words."
     "I am glad for that.  I have not had to do this very often, 
fortunately, only for..."
     "You are upset.  Were you thinking of Wesley's father?"
     Picard shook his head, not in negation, but to physically try 
and clear the thought from his head.  "Never mind.  Lt. Worf, 
begin final preparations for the arrival of the support ship.  
Inform Commander Riker to do likewise."



     A few hours later, Riker was on the bridge of the 
battlecruiser.  The supply ship had just come out of warp and was 
manoeuvring towards the two Enterprises.  It had hailed first 
Captain Picard and then Commander Riker, under the name of 
Kaibatsu.
     The Kaibatsu moved close abeam of the battlecruiser, slowly, 
using reaction control thrusters.  It was an ungainly looking 
ship, short, wide nacelles straddling an ovular secondary hull, 
only half the length of Enterprise-C's own.  The primary hull was 
thick and relatively short, a very squashed sphere resting on the 
fat end of the oval.
     "U.S.S. Kaibatsu calling Commander Riker.  Permission to 
attach a tractor beam to your ship?"
     "Go ahead, Kaibatsu."
     From the bottom of the converted freighter's primary hull 
emerged a small ball mounted device.  The beam connected to 
Enterprise-C's main dorsal, and the two ships moved slowly 
together, starboard to the battlecruiser's port.  Most ships' 
gangways are located on the port side of the primary hull, so the 
supply ships are modified to house the facility starboard.
     Kaibatsu's gangway hatch extended and affixed itself to 
Enterprise-C's.  The computer's confirmed the linkage, and the 
tremendous doors were pulled open into the ships' hulls.
     "Docking complete, Enterprise.  Standing by to connect power 
couplings."
     Riker answered.  "Let's just get the crew settled first.  If 
I'm not mistaken, the connection will require extravehicular 
activity?"
     "Yes it will, Commander."
     "Just so, then.  We'll move the people first."



     Picard had most of his crew back aboard now, although Riker 
had retained a few leading ensigns to serve aboard the prize ship.  
That was how it was being treated, really, like captured territory 
with Riker as prize captain.  Will didn't mind that at all.
     Right now, he was in the ship's observation lounge near the 
top of the primary hull facing aft.  Small spacesuited figures 
danced about the two ships, fastening dozens of wires, hoses, and 
other connectors between the two ships.
     Captain Picard had just completed his inspection of the ship, 
and had ordered Data back aboard Picard's own ship to take the 
conn in his absence.  That thought caught Riker by surprise, 
because if he thought of Enterprise-D as Picard's ship, then he 
was starting to think of the other vessel as his ship.
     "Well, Number One, as soon as they're finished, we'll be able 
to proceed toward Starbase."
     "It's not quite that simple, sir.  Lt. Argyle has informed me 
that it will be about six hours before the impulse drives are 
usable."
     "I thought that the engines were already operational."
     "The engines, yes.  They're producing power.  But there isn't 
enough power yet to activate the drives and actually move the 
ship."
     "Ah.  I see.  Starfleet Command needs someone to be put in 
charge of this crew.  After all, this has now become an actual 
command, and not just an away team."
     Riker almost succeeded at masking his disappointment.  Seeing 
the barest of changes in his First Officer's face, Picard allowed 
a devious smile to cross his.  This only served to turn Riker's 
ill feelings toward anger.  "I see," he managed at last through 
clenched teeth.
     "Admiral Syltek asked me to recommend someone."
     Picard still sported that grin; that and his tone of voice 
served to pique Riker's curiosity.  "And what did you say, sir?"
     "I told him that there was no need to send in someone, 
because I have an outstandingly capable officer more than willing 
to serve in that capacity right here already."
     "Thank you, sir."
     Picard's smile widened further.  "Ensign Crusher."
     "What!"
     Picard broke into laughter.  "On behalf of Starfleet, I would 
like to inform you that NCC 1701-C has been temporarily 
recommissioned, and offer you command of her and the restoration 
crew."
     "Sir, I know I've been offered command of my own ship before, 
and that my loyalty to you and the Enterprise eventually made me 
decide to decline, but for a temporary assignment, I'd be proud to 
accept this offer.  It will be an honor to serve alongside you and 
the Enterprise."
     Picard extended his hand.  "Which Enterprise would that be, 
Number One?  You, too, command a vessel of that name."
     "I don't think that we'll have trouble telling the two ships 
apart, sir."
     "I must return now, I think.  Is there anything I can do to 
assist you in this assignment?"
     "Yes.  I will be needing some officers over here."
     "Who did you have in mind, Commander?"
     "With your permission, I'd like to retain Wesley to assist 
Lt. Argyle in Engineering."
     "Of course."
     "I think that Worf might find a chance to indulge himself in 
his warrior background by helping aboard a battlecruiser.  Besides, 
he has trained as a helmsman, hasn't he?"
     "Yes, indeed.  I think we could spare him.  Anyone else?"
     "I think that I should have Mr. Data, because of the amount 
of work that will have to be done on the computers."
     Picard debated the last.  "Who will that leave me to serve as 
first officer in your absence?"
     "I thought you might bring that up, and I think I might have 
an answer.  As Chief Engineer, Geordi is in the chain of command.    
He would do well to serve as a bridge officer for a while.  As 
more than a helmsman, that is."
     "What about his duties as Engineer, though?"
     "I think that he could serve for the required week or so on 
the bridge without compromising his post."
     "All right, then.  Since this is a decidedly low-risk 
mission, I'll send Data and Worf over as soon as I return.  Do you 
have your crew settled in yet?"
     "Aye, sir.  They're working round the clock in standard 
watches.  General repairs right now, until we have power for 
anything else."
     "Good, good.  Let me know when you can be underway, and we'll 
be moving."





                            CHAPTER VI


     "Captain's Log, Stardate 42920.4:  We have been underway for 
twelve hours now at half impulse power, and I am pleased to say 
that no unforeseen problems have arisen.  The Kaibatsu is still 
transferring power aboard from her special Transwarp reactors.  I 
am told that because of the different nature of the systems, 
Transwarp and Ultrawarp energy are not interchangeable.
     "By keeping the unused living quarters without power, we are 
able to run the ship at some semblance of normal operations.  
Although it will take less than a day to completely recharge the 
ship, our orders from Starfleet insist on proceeding at impulse 
for three more days before beginning warp field dynamics 
simulations.
     "Otherwise, the Enterprise runs smoothly, and I am content to 
be her captain for as long - or short - as necessary."
     Riker clicked off the log recorder just as Argyle was 
stepping out of the turbolift.  "Enjoy doing that, Captain Riker?"
     Will returned the playful smile.  "How are things in 
Engineering?"
     "The mains are on standby.  That means we could use them, but 
the supply officer insists on putting off warp tests; if we 
started now, we'd be ready to go to warp by the time we're 
repowered."  The engineer saw the look on Riker's face.  "But I 
guess you don't want me to rush them, now do you?"
     "Lieutenant, after all this ship is eighty years old!  What 
will another three days matter to her.  And we should be as 
careful as possible."
     "Of course, sir."
     "Argyle?"
     "Yes, sir?"
     "Shouldn't you be doing something in Engineering?"
     "Yes, sir."



     Picard gazed at the viewscreen.  It was fixed on the mated 
forms of the two other ships.  The battlecruiser had elegant lines 
that he found very pleasing to just look at.  
     The primary hull was smooth, a cross between the disc shape 
of older designs and the newer style like on Enterprise-D.' The 
dorsal was a triangle, with the base near the impulse engines on 
top.  It was an odd looking arrangement, but not ugly.  The 
secondary hull was shaped like a ducks body, wide and shallow, 
tapering at the back.
     The engines were long and thin, almost doubling the length of 
the ship, as opposed to the wide, flat, and short nacelles on a 
Galaxy class.
     Picard smiled inwardly as he also noticed the ugly duckling, 
the Kaibatsu, moored alongside the beautiful swan.  The captain's 
reverie was interrupted by the science officer's voice.
     "Captain, I'm getting some strange energy readings."
     "What is the source, Ensign?"
     "I can't quite tell, sir.  It seems to be...all around us."
     "It's just there?"
     "Aye.  All around for approximately seventy-five thousand 
kilometres."
     "Analysis."
     "Is appears to be some sort of disturbance in the local 
continuum."
     "Any idea what it is?"
     "No, sir.  I've never seen anything like it before."
     Before Picard could say anything else, Enterprise-C was 
hailing.
     "Go ahead, Commander."
     "Captain, we've picked up a space-time distortion in our 
vicinity."
     "Same here, Number One.  It's something new, not in the 
memory banks."
     "New for you, sir, but not for us.  The energy pattern 
matches the one preceding Enterprise-C's disappearance."
     "Captain!  Look!"
     The viewer showed a spreading blank spot in the starfield.  
More were appearing all around the trio of ships.
     "Helm, keep us away from those!"
     "Trying, sir."
     The ship was now barely under control, lurching in constantly 
changing directions.  The reason she had yet to fall through one 
of the rips was due more to the fact that they were being pulled 
in too many directions at once, than because of any conscious 
effort on the part of the crew.
     "Commander Riker!  What's your status?"
     "Bad and getting worse.  We're scarcely holding station and 
the forces out there are getting worse."



     Riker's knuckles turned white as he tried to dig his hands 
into the armrest.  "We simply don't have the power to hold up 
against these tides, Captain."
     "I wish we could help, Number One."
     "Thanks anyway.  Riker out."
     Argyle was already at the bridge engineering station, having 
run at full speed from the lower decks when all hell broke loose.
     "Mr. Argyle, what's the status on the warp engines?"
     "Sir, they haven't been used in eighty years!  We can't-"
     "We don't have time for unnecessary caution, Argyle.  Can you 
bring the mains online?"
     The Lieutenant swallowed hard.  "Aye, sir."
     "Worf, prepare for full power.  Data, get me Kaibatsu."
     The ship heeled hard over, and it was all Riker could do to 
keep from being thrown.  The main lights went dead, and by the 
time the emergency lights came on, Riker knew what had happened.  
"Viewscreen aft."
     Sparks leapt from the ship's hull where the power and 
support trunks had been ripped clear.  Kaibatsu was being pulled 
away from her charge, and it was obvious that Enterprise-C would 
soon be following if something wasn't done.
     "Argyle, I want you down in engineering."
     "Aye, sir," he said simply, and hit the door at a dead run.
     "Number One, what's happening over there?"
     The supply ship began to tumble, faster and faster into the 
rip.  A wave of helplessness washed over Riker as Kaibatsu was 
swallowed whole.  Riker began to foster the hope that maybe she 
could return, as had the battlecruiser under Captain Romanov, but 
it was dashed.  Instabilities in the breakthrough ripped the 
vessel into a million glowing shards that were engulfed in fire as 
the magnetic containment on the anti-matter failed.
     "Enterprise," said Riker flatly, "we've lost Kaibatsu."
     But now Riker's ship was plummeting for that gaping maw in 
space.
     "No!  You can't have this one," he seethed at the viewscreen.  
"Full power, now!"
     "Aye, sir."  Worf touched the button over which his hand had 
been hovering for what seemed a very long while, indeed.  
     The whine of the energisers rose from its usual subsonics to 
a scream.  Riker and the others were almost hauled forward out of 
their chairs, and again power dimmed.  This time, however, the 
loss of power signified good.  The full power of Enterprise-C's 
transwarp engines came into play, dragging the ship out of the 
abyss.
     Argyle's voice was barely audible above the engine's noise.  
"Commander, we can't keep the warp drives online much longer.  The 
mix is highly unstable!"
     "Just a few minutes more ought to do."
     Argyle was almost frantic.  "But, sir!"
     Just then, another hole opened up in space, but it was one 
that they all recognised.  Data was the first to react.  "A 
wormhole!"
     Byproduct of an imbalanced warpfield, wormholes are 
impossible to avoid once they are created.  The ship shot forward 
into the swirling orange vortex, much to all their relief.  
This they could handle.
     "Worf, sublight now.  Argyle, disengage the warp drives."



     "Captain Picard, I've lost the battlecruiser on sensors.  
Picking up a new energy pattern, though.  A wormhole."
     "They must have tried the warp drive.  Helm, take us out of 
here, full speed, on their last known heading."
     "Aye, sir."
     The intensity of the disturbances had relaxed to an extent, 
and it was now feasible to warp out and avoid the remaining rips.
Enterprise galloped out of hell, leaving behind a multitude of 
rips in the fabric of reality.  Hardly a second later, she dropped 
out of warp, ready to scan for her comrade, but that turned out to 
be unnecessary.  The helmsman had managed to put her within a 
thousand kilometres of Enterprise-C.
     Picard opened hailing frequencies.  "Number One, I'm glad to 
see you escaped.  We were worried when we saw the wormhole."
     "Kaibatsu wasn't so lucky, Captain.  But I think that 
wormhole may have saved us."
     "What do you mean, Number One?"
     "It pulled us out of there.  I don't know if we would have 
survived by just blindly warping out of there."
     "I know what you mean.  We had quite a time skirting those 
dimensional chasms, even after some of them started to dissipate.  
I have a question, Number One."
     "What's that, sir?"
     "You mentioned tides before.  What exactly do you mean by 
that?"
     It was Data who responded.  "These rips seem to be an 
unnatural curve in space-time.  Since gravity is a function of 
normal curvature, these sudden changes result in abnormal 
gravitational tides."
     "What Cmdr. Data means, sir, is that it's part of the nature 
of these rips to suck in things like ships."
     "I see,  Then I guess-"
     "Wait a minute!  We have something on sensors, something in 
the rip zone."
     Picard whirled to face the upper half of the bridge.  "Do you 
have it?"
     "Sir, I don't-  Hold on.  There it is.  One...no, two.  
Three!  Three objects moving away from the center of the zone at 
high sublight velocity."
     "Commander, what's your status?"
     "We're only at sixty percent power, and we don't dare try to 
engage the warp drive again."
     "Not good."  The young woman at the tactical station, Ensign 
Hathoway, was waiting for something to do.  It came her way.  
"Open hailing frequencies to those vessels."
     "Aye, sir.  Channel open, Captain."
     "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise to 
unknown vessels.  Please identify yourselves and state your 
purpose.  Our intentions are peaceful; we wish only to establish 
communications with you.
     "End message.  Send on all frequencies, all known languages."
     "Aye, sir.


          
     "Commander Riker, Enterprise is trying to hail the 
unidentified ships."
     "What's the range?"
     "Two hundred thousand kilometres and closing."
     "Can you tell me anything about those ships?"
     "They do have warp capability, much like the pre-Transwarp 
engines used by Starfleet."
     "That makes their maximum speed about what?"
     "Assuming same efficiency, Ultrawarp factor four point four."
     "Not that fast."
     "Sir, this ship can only do Ultrawarp five point three."
     "Right now it can't even do that, Mr. Data.  What's going on 
out there?"
     "Still no response.  Range, one hundred seventy thousand 
kilometres."
     "Commander, this is Picard.  Can you raise shields?"
     "Mr. Worf?"
     "Aye, sir, but only main shields, not reinforcements.  And we 
can power primary weapons, the megaphasers."
     The battlecruiser mounted eight very heavy phasers of a 
calibre which was usually reserved for Starbases and stationary 
defense platforms.  Four were mounted forward, on the beam of the 
primary hull and also alongside the engineering hull mated to 
their aft firing counterparts.
     "Did you get that, Enterprise?"
     "Indeed, Number One.  I am ordering Yellow Alert."
     "Same here.  Mr. Worf, shields on standby."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Range is now closing through one hundred thousand 
kilometres."
     "Shields up."
     "New energy pattern, sir.  I believe they're arming weapons."
     "Red Alert.  Charge weapons.  Open a channel.
     "Unknown vessels, this is Commander William Riker of the 
Enterprise.  You are taking hostile action without provocation.  
Cease at once; we do not mean to harm you.  We-"
     "They're firing!"
     The three ships, moving as an equilateral triangle, fired a 
combined volley.  Energy lashed out in bright red beam across 
Enterprise-C's bow, striking hard against her partner ship.
     "Captain!"
     "They breached shields, Number One.  We're damaged."
     "Captain, get the civilians out of here, now!"
     "I can't leave you alone."
     "You have no choice, sir.  The civilians are more important.
     "Cut channel.  Worf, all shield energy forward.  Put us 
between them and the Enterprise."
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Prepare to fire."
     "Locked on to lead ship."
     Riker swallowed hard, wondering how things had come to this!  
"Fire all phasers."
     All four green lances converged at a single point on the 
target's hull.  Explosions ripped through the ship, breaking it in 
half before the individual pieces shattered into nothingness.  
Riker stared wide-eyed at the power unleashed by his ship.
     The two remaining hostile ships, which had begun pursuit of 
Picard's ship, now changed their minds and salvoed on the 
battlecruiser.  The ship lurched and the shields strained under 
the impact.
     "Shields critical, sir."
     "Fire one phaser to disable only."
     Another megaphaser shot burned through the blackness, slicing 
through the aft end of its new target, presumable near the 
engines.
     "A hit, sir.  She appears to be dead in space."
     The third ship was circling in, readying for a shot that 
would certainly have ripped through what was left of Enterprise-
C's shields like tissue paper.  But at the last minute, the Galaxy 
class ship moved in behind, a single photon torpedo striking the 
unknown vessel dead aft.  It, too, ceased hostilities.
     "This is Captain Picard to unknown vessels.  We would like to 
offer you any assistance needed.  We have room to take aboard 
survivors and facilities for your wounded.  Please let us help 
you."
     The answer came moments later.  The viewscreen automatically 
polarised against the blinding flash of one of the ship's self-
destruction.  Then the other followed.






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Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:52:05 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 7 through Ch. 9:
--------------------------------------------



                            CHAPTER VII


     Picard had seen ships self-destruct before, but it didn't 
help to ease the emotions that he felt.  He couldn't understand 
anyone, or any race, that viewed death as the only way out of a 
bad situation.
     Even worse, he didn't know why they had been attacked in the 
first place!  Perhaps his hailing message had been misunderstood, 
and then when the ships put their shields up, they interpreted the 
action as hostile.
     "Captain," announced Hathoway, one of Worf's leading security 
ensigns, "Dr. Pulaski on the intercom."
     "Yes, Doctor."
     "I have the casualty report, Captain."
     Picard sighed.  "How bad?"
     "Fourteen dead, all civilians, and twenty-eight wounded."
     "My god.  I'm sorry, Doctor.  Please get me a list of the 
fatalities, so I can try and offer some consolation to their 
families."
     Picard snapped off the intercom.  That piece of news was 
worse than anything that had happened so far.  The Captain decided 
that he was now in a suitably bad frame of mind that he might as 
well get all the bad news over at once.  "Captain to Engineering."
     "LaForge here, Captain."
     "Give me a damage report, Lieutenant."
     "Not too bad from an engineering standpoint, Captain.  The 
hit was in the saucer, port aft.  Some stored water bled off and a 
few batteries were destroyed.  One more thing, though.  The 
docking mechanism was damaged, so we can't separate the two hulls 
until that's repaired."
     "All right, then.  We have to close the breach in the hull 
first.  The docking equipment is second.  Then, use your 
judgement."
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Ensign Hathoway, get me Commander Riker."
     "On screen now, sir."
     Riker's bearded face appeared on the screen.  From the 
details visible, it appeared as though he was in Engineering.  
"Yes, sir?"
     Picard detailed the damage and casualty report for his ship, 
then inquired about the battlecruiser's status.  Fortunately it 
hadn't been damaged.  But there was still a problem somewhere in 
the ship.  It wasn't regenerating its own power, and the beating 
that the attackers had done the shields had drawn off a lot of 
energy.
     "So, if this sort of thing happens again, this ship might 
become a derelict again."
     "Commander, you have fifty of the best engineering techs in 
all of Starfleet aboard that ship.  They must be able to do 
something."
     "We're doing our best."
     "Number One, those ships quite obviously came out of one of 
those rips."
     "Yes, sir.  We reached the same conclusion over here."
     "Mr. Data's team is going to have to start working round the 
clock.  I need to know what happened after your ship went through 
the rip.  We have to be able to deal with a recurrence of this."
     "They're already on it, sir."
     "One more thing, Number One.  Regulations call for me to 
convene a Board of Inquiry into your destruction of the lead 
attacking vessel."
     "I understand, sir."
     "Fine.  Then we'll convene at 1200 hours aboard my ship."
     "Aye, aye, sir.  Riker out."
     


     Wesley was entering just as Riker signed off.  "Gee, 
Commander, I hope it's nothing really serious."
     "Wes, I have an assignment for you."
     In the manner of any proud boy being given some measure of 
responsibility, Wesley straightened himself to his full height, 
giving himself a tremendous inward smile.  "Yes, sir?"
     "Until we can find out why the energisers aren't working 
properly, we need an alternate means of powering this ship.  Now, 
as I understand it, Transwarp and Ultrawarp energy are not easily 
compatible, but it can theoretically be done?"
     "Yes, sir.  And you want me to figure out a way to do it?"
     Will smiled.  "That's exactly what I want you to do, Wes."
     "I'll get right on it."
     The commander left Wesley to his new task, and took several 
ladders up to the main computer deck, at the very heart of the 
saucer section.  The turbolifts were shut down to conserve power.  
That and other measures had rendered the ship effectively blacked-
out.
     Data was hard at work in the main memory banks when the 
Commander arrived.  "How's it going, Data?"
     "Not very well, sir.  The memory is badly scrambled.  Even 
worse than I at first thought.  The individual bits of information 
have been deposited through random memory locations."
     "What does that mean, Data?"
     Data, who had been working and talking at the same time, now 
turned his full attention to Riker.  "Imagine, sir, that you have 
hardcopies of ten letters, each of them ten pages long, in ten 
separate piles.  That is how the memory is supposed to be 
organised. What we have here instead is that the pages of the 
first letter are in the wrong order, and each page has been 
randomly placed in one of the piles, maybe the correct one, but 
more likely not.  Each letter has been similarly displaced, in a 
completely random fashion."
     "Is there any way to recover all of the information?"
     "Without a doubt, it can be done.  But it will take time.  I 
will have to break down all stored memory and rebuild it, bit by 
bit."
     "How much time?"
     "At best, maybe a week.  Probably more."
     "Can't you do any better?"
     "It's not the process, sir.  It has to do with the processing 
speed of the computers that we use to rebuild the memory.  The 
computers on Enterprise-D are the best, short of Starfleet 
Command's."
     "I see."
     "We're downloading the memory from the primary banks into the 
backup, then to the Enterprise a piece at a time for processing, 
and back into the main memory."
     "How can the Enterprise rebuild the memory with only a little 
bit to work on at a time?"
     "It's like a jigsaw puzzle.  The Enterprise figures out where 
each bit originally was, assigns it back into that location, and 
sends it back."
     "I'll make a report of all of this when I see the Captain."
     "Yes.  I heard about the Board of Inquiry.  Good luck, sir."
     "Thanks.  I hope I won't need it."



     "This Board of Inquiry is now declared open.  Commander 
William Riker, we are convened here to examine the recent 
destruction of an unidentified ship by your direct orders.  Do you 
deny the event?"
     "I do not, sir."
     The entire atmosphere of the Board was much too stiff and 
formal compared to the close and relaxed style with which they 
were all familiar.  Even Captain Picard seemed rather ill-at-ease 
about the whole situation, but he was required to conduct the 
meeting.
     Picard was at the head of the table in the briefing room, the 
flowing stars just over his right shoulder.  At the opposite side 
in the proverbial hot seat was Will Riker.  On either side of the 
Captain were Troi and LaForge, serving alongside Picard as the 
Board.  Worf was next to Riker as a prime witness.
     "To review for the record, when confronted with three unknown 
vessels, and communication had not been established, you employed 
excessive force in dealing with them, resulting in the total 
destruction of one of the ships.  Is this true?"
     "It is, sir."
     "You are aware that Starfleet policy requires all ship 
captains in crisis situations to disable hostile ships, and that 
the deliberate destruction of such vessels is contrary to all that 
for which Starfleet stands?"  
     "Yes, sir."
     "For the record, what have you to say in your defense?"
     "The situation was quite demanding, sir.  The hostiles had 
attacked and damaged, without provocation, another Starfleet 
vessel," (Although everyone in the room was more than aware of the 
events, having lived through them, everything had to be clearly 
stated due to the fact that the transcript would eventually end up 
in front of a Starfleet Review Board).  
     "That vessel contained civilians, and it was necessary to 
defend them.  My own ship did not have the power to fight a 
sustained battle, so decisive action was necessary.  Although I 
had not intended to destroy the target, my unfamiliarity with the 
heavy weapons of an Alaska class battlecruiser resulted in the use 
of greater firepower than I had expected."
     "Commander, you are admitting lack of control over your 
vessel.  That does not speak well of your command abilities."
     Riker swallowed hard.  "Aye, sir."
     At this point, Worf spoke up.  "If I may, sir?"
     "Yes, Lt. Worf."
     "Sir, the very appearance of those ships justifies their 
destruction."
     Picard was piqued by this bold statement.  "How so, 
Lieutenant?"
     "Since those ships are obviously hostile, the battlecruiser's 
logs must be preserved."
     "And that is sufficient grounds for excusing these charges?"
     "Aye, sir.  The ship's memory must have information about 
those ships, where they came from, how to-"  Worf paused for a 
moment, enough to catch himself from saying 'destroy', which was a 
suitable response that his non-Klingon shipmates would not be able 
to appreciate.  "Control," he continued, "these aggressive ships."
     "I see."
     Worf continued.  "Besides, this is all a moot point, sir.  
Had the ship been disabled, it would have self-destructed anyway."
     "Anything you would like to add, Cmdr. Riker?"
     "No, sir."
     "Fine, you may take a ten minute recess while the Board 
makes its decision."



     Worf and Riker exited across the bridge and into the 
Captain's ready room.  Worf was the first to speak.  "I do not 
believe all of the...nonsense surrounding a simple combat reflex."
     "Worf, Starfleet tries to protect life.  What we should have 
done is prevent those ships from harming us, then find out why 
they attacked and resolve the situation.  Peacefully."
     "Yes, that is Starfleet policy.  But how do you feel about 
the situation?"
     Riker smiled.  "Worf, you do get right to the point, don't 
you?"
     "It serves no purpose to do otherwise, sir."
     "Okay.  I feel guilty about having destroyed that ship, and I 
have been racking my brains trying to figure out how it could have 
been avoided.  But I keep running into the same thing:  they would 
have self-destructed anyway!  What bothers me the most is that 
they took their own lives when they didn't have to."
     "And about this 'Board of Inquiry'?"
     "It's a formality.  I had to save the Enterprise.  Both 
Enterprises!"
     Worf looked pensive for a moment.  "I have been trained by 
Starfleet, and I know its policies and its rationale.  But as a 
Klingon, I understand your position very well, and...I sympathise, 
sir."
     Riker was taken aback.  He always knew that Worf was a 
fiercely loyal officer, and would go far in Starfleet, but this 
was the most outward show of personal loyalty that the Klingon had 
ever made.  Will had earned the respect of Klingons before, as a 
temporary first officer aboard one of their ships.  But somehow, 
that hadn't meant all that much.
     Will put his hand on Worf's shoulder.  "Thank you.  It is 
very important to me to have your respect and your loyalty."
     This exchange had by now made Worf uncomfortable.  He was 
standing quite rigidly.  "Of course, sir.  Ten minutes is up."



     "The Board will now deliver its findings," announced Picard.
     "Commander, due to the extreme stress of the situation, and 
your unfamiliarity with your command, the Board has decided that 
no punitive measures are in order."  Picard looked to his right, 
where Troi was seated.
     "I can tell that the destruction of the attacking ship was 
not purposeful, and that your remorse is genuine.  It is my 
opinion that, now that you know the capabilities of your ship, 
nothing like this will happen again."
     Seeing that the Counselor was finished, Geordi made his 
comments.  "Commander, the phaser cannons, or 'megaphasers', that 
your ship is armed with are powerful.  Two of those weapons have 
more destructive capacity than this entire ship."  He gestured 
around him while he talked.  "You couldn't really have been 
expected to know what a full volley like that could do."
     Picard spoke last.  "Commander, I have had well over twenty 
years experience as a starship captain, and have faced situations 
like this one.  It is my personal opinion that you did what was 
necessary to save both of our ships, their crews, and countless 
civilians.  I would have done the exact same thing had I been in 
your position.
     "Number One, you are hereby cleared to continue your duties 
as commanding officer aboard the Enterprise."
     There was a collective sigh of relief around the table.  They 
all rose and passed by Riker on their way out.  Troi passed by 
first, pausing to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.  "Will, 
you're doing a great job over there.  This really wasn't all 
necessary."
     "Thanks, Deanna."
     LaForge was next.  "I knew there wouldn't be any problems for 
you, Commander.  Good luck with your ship."
     Worf was still standing next to him.  "Sir, congratulations.  
I am glad you will return as our captain."
     Picard caught a look in Riker's eye as he responded that 
hinted at something deeper, more profound, than he thought he had 
seen before.  "Thank you, Worf.  I'll need you back aboard right 
away to do some computer simulations on those megaphasers."
     "Of course, sir.
     Picard was loitering conspicuously behind.  "Number One, I 
hope you understand that I had to do this.  Regulations and all."
     "Certainly, Captain.  I appreciate all your support."
     "I really meant that.  I would have done the same."  There 
was a brief pause.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  You've got a 
ship to run.  Get going!"
     Riker's face glowed.  "Aye, aye, sir!"



     It was well into third watch, a time that Picard was glad he 
had free, because the day had been a tremendous drain on him, when 
the Captain was awakened from his much needed slumber.
     A faint pinging noise roused him, and as he noticed the 
clockface, which read 23:26 hours, a voice accompanied it.  
"Message from Starfleet, Captain."
     "Give me five minutes; I'll be right up."
     Picard dragged himself to sitting position.  He paused to 
count to ten, forcing himself to wake up.  It worked.
     "Lights," he ordered, and, four minutes later, was on his way 
to the turbolift.
     He just finished patting a few stray strands of hair into 
place as he was disgorged onto the bridge.  He wasn't used to 
being on the bridge this late, and the contrast between the bright 
worklights there and the diffuse midnight of the corridors was 
slightly painful.
     "On screen."  The familiar features of Admiral Syltek 
coalesced.
     "Captain Picard, we have received your most recent report.  
We all regret the loss of the support ship Kaibatsu.  However, the 
recovery of the battlecruiser remains of prime importance.  A 
support group has been dispatched to assist you.  The group 
includes a scout, a tug, and a light cruiser.  They will signal 
you for your ETA.  Any questions, Captain?"
     Picard searched his still slightly sleep-clouded mind.  "What 
about the rest of this sector?"
     "A squadron from the Planetary Defense Fleet is due in your 
sector for a standard patrol later this week.  We have moved up 
their arrival.  It is the decision of the Council that a heavy 
cruiser, two light cruisers, and four destroyers will suffice for 
local defence in case of any more attacks.
     "You are, of course, in command of the support group, Captain 
Picard.  Anything else?"
     "No, sir.  Thank you."
     "Good luck, then."
     The screen went blank.





                           CHAPTER VIII


     "Captain's Log, Stardate 42924.2:  The ship is running 
smoothly, and with the new support ships due in fifteen minutes we 
have already completely repowered the ship.  Acting-Ensign Crusher 
has successfully developed a method whereby the Ultrawarp power of 
our companion ship can be transferred into our own systems, and, 
with miraculous timing, the engineers have just finished repairing 
the main energisers.
     "Unfortunately, we're still not set to run at warp speed yet.  
The computers are having some difficulty balancing the anti-matter 
reaction.  We are therefore preparing to be taken in tow on the 
tug's arrival."



     The basic design of the fleet tug had remained unchanged for
over one-hundred years:  a saucer with a dorsal connector, and the
two warp nacelles angled down and to the side.  Where another ship
might have had a secondary hull, the tug would attach its payload.
Before the connection was made, however, there were numerous
supplies, spare parts, and extra crew members to transfer aboard
Enterprise-C.
     Since the battlecruiser was now in almost perfect working 
order, she needed more than a mere skeleton crew aboard to
run all of her systems, especially since she was supposed to help 
the scout and Enterprise-D conduct a detailed scan of local space 
on the return to Starbase.
     Also brought aboard were raw materials for the ship's 
synthesis vats, warheads and casings for the photon torpedoes, and 
anything else that was needed by the crew.  Riker left the bridge 
to Worf while he was overseeing the loading procedure, which, 
unfortunately, took several hours.
     It took two more hours after that to assign duties and 
watches, and to otherwise integrate the new crewmembers.  Riker 
decided that the administrative side of captaincy was far less 
rewarding than the action and adventure side.
     Finally, the tug linked up to the battlecruiser's primary 
hull, and the group moved off.  The Enterprises, along with the 
scout Cassandra, were making very detailed scans of the space 
around them, in hopes of giving the defense squadron sufficient 
warning of attacks.



     Data had been making it his habit to check on the memory 
every three hours, and knew that the check he was about to make 
would reveal that they were very close to a breakthrough in some 
area.
     He walked over to the screen that was monitoring the rebuild 
process, and his estimates were confirmed.  "Commander Riker," he 
said to his communicator.
     "Yes, Mr. Data?"
     "I believe I have something for you, sir."
     "I'll be right down."
     True to his word, the door was sliding closed behind Will 
only minutes later.  He looked eager.  "All right, Data, what can 
you tell me?"
     "I have some information for you from the computers about 
these rips."
     "Great.  How'd you do it so fast?  I thought you said it 
would be at least a week."
     "I put a new priority into the reorganisation program in 
Enterprise-D's computer."
     "What did you change?"
     "Instead of organising the information in chronological 
order, the order in which it was recorded, I told the computer to 
look for certain information, specifically, scientific data on the 
rips."
     "And so you have all of that now?"
     "Not all, sir.  There are still gaps, but we have some 
important information.  Would you like me to put it on screen?"
     "Fine, fine.  Let's take a look."
     Riker's eyed bored into the display as information began to 
flow across.  The rips, as scanned, best matched something known 
as a dimensional interphase, a passageway between two normally 
separated points in space that made them temporarily connected.
     What wasn't obvious, however, was whether the interphase 
doorways led to another dimension, as had some previously recorded 
examples, another universe, or simply somewhere else in this 
universe - maybe even somewhere else in the Milky Way galaxy.
     As a natural phenomenon, the rips were apparently almost 
entirely random, but, more importantly, they could somehow be 
controlled, even induced.  The Enterprise had in some manner 
created its own rip to return to Federation space after it had 
been pulled through.  But the random element had caused the ship 
to reappear so far away from its point of departure.
     "Data, this is great.  I have to get in touch with the 
Captain and tell him-"
     "Captain to the bridge immediately," announced the computer, 
and the klaxon droned a Yellow Alert signal to accentuate the 
point.
     "Data, on the bridge, now!"



     "Status," ordered Riker as he and the android entered the 
bridge.
     Worf answered.  "Rip zone detected, one five three mark four, 
range, six hundred thousand kilometres."
     "Sir," interrupted Data, "Captain Picard hailing."
     "On screen."
     "Number One, how's your ship?"
     "I have everything except warp speed, Captain."
     "Good.  I want you to undock, then accompany the Halifax for 
a close investigation of the disturbance."
     "Understood, sir.  Riker out.  Data, get the Van Maanen.  
Have them release all moorings.  Worf, plot a course for the zone, 
and engage as soon as we're free."
     "Aye, sir."
     First, the tractor beam was deactivated, and then the 
physical connections were released.  Before the ship could drift 
more than a hundred feet, the small reaction thrusters hissed, 
turning Enterprise toward the target zone, and she and the light 
cruiser headed off.



     Ultrawarp technology was a relatively new development for 
Starfleet, though not so new that all of the front-line ships in 
the fleet, especially the Planetary Defense Fleet, hadn't been 
replaced with Ultrawarp.
     Transwarp had kept Federation ships marginally ahead of their 
competition, but a completely new breakthrough in warp technology 
had created Ultrawarp, first used in the Galaxy class starships, 
then used to upgrade the ships of the PD-Fleet, while their old 
ships were retired to mothball service.
     Of course, the PD-Fleet hardly had the duties it did when the 
galaxy was a generally more hostile place, but there was always 
need for routine patrols, anti-piracy, neutral zone patrols, and 
other such missions.
     This all made Starfleet the most advanced collection of ships 
in space, with Ultrawarp Defence ships and Galaxy class 
exploration cruisers.
     Halifax was a beautiful ship, possessed more of the graceful 
lines of an Ultrawarp ship than of the lethal silhouette of the 
battlecruiser that accompanied her.  Her primary hull was more 
elliptical than circular, and the aft end was decorated with the 
two nacelles that curved up and abeam of the saucer.
     The two ships halted around the edge of the zone, moving into 
perpendicular orbits for maximum sensor efficiency.  For several 
minutes they recorded in minute detail everything their sensors 
could glean from the affected region.  But the routine scan was 
interrupted, as Riker feared it might be.
     Data announced it.  "Sensor contact, sir.  Three ships in the 
middle of the zone, heading three six two mark zero."
     "That's straight for Enterprise-D.  Signal the Halifax to 
interpose herself at the fringe of the zone.  We'll join her."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Worf, make it so."
     With a few quick moves of his hand, the ship took off in a 
smooth curve to intercept the new ships.  While they were en 
route, Riker tried to contact the arrivals.  Despite all his 
efforts, they would not respond.  Will had hoped against reality 
that the attack that had resulted from the first meeting with 
these unknown beings was just a horrendous misunderstanding.
     So much for hope.  "Vessels are charging weapons, Commander."
     Worf added, "We are being scanned, sir."
     "How?"
     "Fire control.  Halifax is being targeted as well."
     "Red Alert."
     The computer picked up his words and automatically sounded 
the klaxon.  "Weapons charging, shields at full power," reported 
Worf.
     "Target the lead vessel.  Do they have shields?"
     "Some sort of an energy field does surround the vessel, sir.  
That is interesting, considering that the initial trio of ships 
encountered did not have any apparent defenses to-"
     "Later, Data."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Worf, I want you to disable the lead ship."  Then he added, 
his recent experience returning to him, "And only disable it."
     "Of course, sir."
     This time, with the ship at full power and all weapons 
working, there was no need to rely solely on the megaphasers.  
Three of the ship's saucer mounted phaser banks spat lightning.  
The bolts struck the alien defense shielding and were absorbed.
     Riker leaned forward in his chair.  The phaser fire simply 
disappeared into the invisible alien shields.  "Megaphasers, now!"
     Two of the heavier weapons struck the same place.  There was 
a flash, and it was soon obvious that the shots had scored.
     The attacker was now dead in space, her weapons quickly 
losing power, but with what she had left, nine missiles were 
propelled from her hull.
     "Target has launched missiles," said Worf.  Other ships are 
firing."
     "Evasive!"
     Both of the attackers' beam weapons converged on the 
battlecruiser's flank shields.
     "Shields penetrated, Commander.  Minor damage lower decks."
     "My god, that's powerful.  Take out those missiles, phasers 
on rapid-fire."
     The ship's phasers, firing in small, low power bursts, 
swatted at the incoming flies.  Scanners had trouble picking out 
the small targets, and the Enterprise was only able to shoot down 
seven.  The remaining two hit the same part of the shields, which 
had only had slight power restored to it.
     The ship lurched, and Riker felt the explosion through the 
deck.  Data reported on the damage, all traces of his usual 
longwindedness gone.  "Hull breached.  Integrity destroyed on 
decks eighteen to twenty-three.  Electrical fires."
     "Get damage control on that right now.  Mr. Worf report."
     "Remaining ships split off after attacking.  Circling around 
for another pass."
     The first ship detonated to punctuate the reality of Worf's 
statement.  Unleashed energy washed across Halifax's shields, but 
not enough to penetrate.  "Damn!  Why...?"  But Riker's question 
hung in everyone's mind.  Who were these mysterious attackers, and 
what did they have to hide that they would always destroy 
themselves when damaged?  But there were more pressing matters.
     "Worf, you saw that last ship.  Do you have an idea how much 
it will take to just puncture the shields on one of those ships?"
     "I think, sir, that a full salvo from the phaser cannon would 
disable the ship without destroying it."
     "Fine, prepare to fire on the nearer ship as they come 
around."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Data, do you get lifeform readings on that ship?"
     "Yes, sir, but very different from anything that I know of.  
They do appear to have an oxygen based atmosphere, however."
     "Excellent.  Transporter room?"
     "Transporters, aye, sir."
     "As soon as her shields are down, I want you to beam as many 
beings as you can off of her."
     "Understood, Commander."
     "Have Halifax take the other ship when we make our move."
     "Yes, sir."
     The two ships completed their opposite circles and joined up 
again, bearing down on the Federation vessels.  "Tell Halifax to 
swing around.  They're after us."
     The light cruiser shot off in a wide arc away from Enterprise 
around the attackers' flank.  Worf waited as long as he dared and 
fired.  As calculated, the salvo crumpled the ship's shields, in 
the same bright flash as before.
     Halifax, meanwhile was circling around on the last ship.  The 
running battle had brought the group of ships treacherously close 
to the rip zone.  Bright misplaced swaths of stars were visible in 
the background.
     Having seen its fallen comrade, though, the last ship turned 
around and headed at full power into the rip zone.  The light 
cruiser couldn't follow into the area without too much danger to 
itself, and with the distance rapidly increasing, the parting 
salvo from her two saucer mounted phaser rings couldn't deal out 
any damage.
     The mysterious ship skirted all of the rips, until it dove 
back into one of them, right in the middle of the zone.  "Worf, 
give that crippled ship a wide berth.  Data, transmit help 
messages."
     The answer was no less than Riker had expected, unfortunately 
- a glowing fireball against the blackness.
     "All right.  Let's head back to the rest of the group."
     "Sir," said Data, "we took some casualties in Engineering."
     "Engineering?"
     "Yes, sir.  There was no one on the lower decks when they 
were hit."
     "Data, take the conn.  I'm going to have a look for myself."



     The turbolift door parted to admit air thick with the stench 
of burned circuitry.  Riker stepped into a room filled with a 
slight haze of smoke.
     "What the hell happened down here?  Where's Lt. Argyle?"
     "Over here," said a distant voice.  Riker squinted through 
the mist and saw the Engineer's gold uniform standing near a 
medical team.
     "Argyle, are you hurt?"
     "No, not me.  It's the shield crew."
     Riker was relieved.  He couldn't afford to let anything 
happen to Argyle.  Suppressing a strong urge to cough, Riker 
crossed the room.  All around, techs were going over the monitors, 
checking for damage, and generally being as efficient as they 
could.
     In the corner of Engineering, the space devoted to shield 
generating and monitoring equipment, a med team was speaking in 
low and urgent voices.  Before he could see what was happening, he 
managed to pick up that four people had been injured, two badly, 
by an equipment malfunction.
     Then he leaned over Argyle' shoulder and-
     "Oh, no..."
     "I was going to tell you, sir, but I didn't want to panic you 
all up on the bridge."
     Four bodies were sprawled on the floor.  Nearest the aft 
wall, Wesley lay unconscious.  His uniform was covered in scorch 
marks, and the sleeves were burnt off.  His arms were burned and 
bloody, and one of his legs was at an odd angle.
     "How bad is he?"
     The doctor that had come over with the second group of 
crewmen looked up from where he was attending a more serious case.  
"Burns and scratches, broken leg, maybe a concussion.  We have 
more serious things to take care of now."
     The doctor, an older man with a thick head of grey hair, 
returned his gaze to a tech who was laying face down.  Riker 
gasped.  His uniform, too, was scorched, as were, Riker now 
noticed, those of the other two.  But the one with the doctor was 
bleeding from his ears, and his left shoulder blade was visible 
under shredded skin.  
     One more didn't look physically injured, but was twitching 
horribly.  He looked like he had taken a strong dose of 
electricity.  The fourth, the only conscious one of the 
casualties, was sitting in one of the operator's chairs, looking 
dazed and bleeding from a gash in his leg.
     Argyle removed himself from the compartment, tugging at 
Riker's elbow as he did so.  Will followed the other man to the 
Engineer's office, off to the side of the intermix chamber.
     "I, uh, have some bad news for you, Commander."
     "And that wasn't bad enough?"
     "It was his fault."
     "What?  Whose?"
     "Ensign Crusher's."
     "You've got to be joking.  Argyle, what-"
     "I'm sorry, Commander, but I was monitoring shield control 
when it happened."
     A good captain needed to be objective.  Riker willed himself 
to sit still and listen.  "Just after our first shot, Wesley was 
saying something about having just thought of a way to increase 
output to shields.  He said something about recalibrating the coil
microscanners to repeat density output.
     "I'm sure you don't know what that means, but anyway, the 
shield control officer told him to forget about it, because we 
were in the middle of combat and he had duties to attend to.
     "Then after that first hit that punched through the shields, 
he started trying to do it.  Jumped up and said that we needed the 
shields, and it would only take a minute to do.  The lieutenant 
told him to return to his post, ordered him, but he kept at it.  
Then we took that second hit and the generators overloaded, 
because of what he was doing."
     Riker sighed and put his face in his hands.  "Yeah.  That's 
just like him - once he gets an idea, he goes into it head first.  
I have to make a report to the Captain.  Tell the doctor to 
prepare to medivac the wounded.  They have better facilities over 
there."
     "Aye, sir."





                            CHAPTER IX


     Footsteps reverberated off of the Starbase's metal corridors.  
Riker and Worf had left the battlecruiser to attend to the 
interrogation of the aliens that Riker had had beamed aboard 
during the last battle.
     At least, that's why Riker told himself he was going along.  
His presence really wasn't necessary, but he couldn't stand just 
now to be aboard Enterprise-C, because the order had come down 
from Starfleet Command that, after its arrival at Starbase 42, the 
ship was to be formally decommissioned and turned over to a team of 
Starfleet specialists that would continue the work that Riker's 
crew had started.  As soon as his crew had started deactivating 
systems and packing their belongings, Will had decided that it was 
time to leave.
     But he didn't really want to think about that now.  He had 
yet to see the aliens.  They had been beamed directly to the 
sickbay stasis fields.  Stasis was used normally to prevent the 
deterioration of critical patients, because, once inside of a 
stasis field, time stopped.  The technology had been used by some 
race of beings who used to control, or at least populate, all of 
known space, and the occasional discovery of pieces of their 
technology had found fruitful application in Starfleet.
     After arrival at Starbase, the aliens had been transferred 
directly to a holding area, so none of the crew had ever actually 
seen them.  The Chief of Base Security met Worf and Riker in a 
small briefing room adjoining the interrogation area.
     "Ah, I'm glad you two are here."  He turned towards the 
Klingon.  "You must be Lt. Worf, and you, of course, Capt. Riker."
     "It's Commander."  The Security Officer noticed Will's rank 
insignia, apparently for the first time.
     "Yes, so it is.  My apologies.  They simply told me that you 
were the battlecruiser's commanding officer, so I assumed-"
     "Of course.  No harm done."  Will did not like the man's tone 
of voice.  He was a captain himself, and it sounded like he felt 
more than a touch of snobbery that one of a lower rank should hold 
a command position.
     "Shall we get started, then?"
     The trio moved through a security door to the room where the 
detainees were being held.  Having served most of his time in 
Starfleet with humanoid aliens, like Worf and the Andorian that 
now accompanied them, Riker was more than a bit surprised by the 
sight of the three aliens that greeted his eyes.
     They were not humanoid.  Riker tried to assimilate what he 
was seeing as a first impression, to think of something of which 
these creatures reminded him - but there was no such thing.  The 
largest part of their bodies was the midsection.  It was 
triangular, each point serving as a hip joint for one of the three 
legs, with the apex at the back.  The waist area was thick, and 
carapaced in a mottled green exoskeleton.  The legs were short and 
thick, with ball joints at the knees giving their stances a 
bowlegged appearance.
     Riker did a double take as he noticed that the beings had 
three eyes - one atop each hip joint, which were themselves 
covered in the same exoskeletal material.  Above the midsection, 
though, they appeared to be a completely different creature.  
Instead of the chitin-covered appearance of the lower half, the 
top would have been formless, had it not been held up by a few 
pieces of carapaced armour.
     The torso was held to a sort of egg shape, with a long piece 
of armour covering what would have been a spine.  Three tentacle-
like arms protruded, one each from the front and sides, with the 
shoulder joint partially reinforced by exoskeleton.  Each arm 
ended in a tripartite division, the single large tentacles 
breaking down into three smaller finger-like ones.  The tip of 
each finger was armoured.  The slit at the top of the body was 
probably a mouth.
     "Yes, it is.  At least, that's what they eat through."
     "What about talking?"
     "We don't know.  They've been absolutely silent so far.  So 
the first thing that needs to be done is getting them to talk for 
the universal translator.  Then we can get some information."
     Riker looked again at the three aliens, perfectly still over 
in the corner.  "Uh, where do we start?"
     "Leave that to us," answered Worf.



     An hour later, Riker was again wandering aimlessly in the 
Base's corridors.  The aliens simply refused to say anything (the 
partial logs on the battlecruiser made mention to the fact that 
the aliens had some means of verbal communication, as loathe as 
they seemed to be to demonstrate that now) and there was nothing 
that Will could do to help things along.
     He soon found himself at the gangway leading back to his ship 
-  his former ship, that is.  If nothing else, there was a load of 
paper work that he was expected to do, the standard forms 'upon 
completion of a starship cruise of less than six weeks duration'.  
Simple enough, but there were twenty pages, at least.
     The sight of the empty corridors, dark and quiet, sent a wave 
of depression over him.  Riker had always viewed command as a goal 
to look forward to - several years down the line.  He had already 
turned down one command because of two things:  he wanted to stay 
on the Enterprise, and he came to the decision that he wasn't 
experienced enough for an extended command.
     The worst thing was that Riker couldn't understand why he was 
feeling the way he was.  He didn't want a command right now!  At 
least he didn't think that he did.
     By now Will had reached the bridge.  He stepped out of the 
turbolift and crossed the room - which was larger than that of a 
Galaxy class ship's - to the center chair.
     "Captain's Log, Final Entry, Stardate 42932.3:  Now that the 
ship has been successfully transferred to Starbase 42, my duties 
here are finished.  I am proud to say that I leave this ship much 
better than I found her, and I share that pride with the excellent 
crew I've had for these past weeks.
     "As a first command, I am content with the job that I have 
done here.  For the most part, I feel ready to return now to being 
Capt. Picard's First Officer, but I also..."
     Riker clicked off the recorder without even thinking why.  
Deep down in his mind, in the very basic responses that made Will 
Riker his own person, something said that he had no right to 
finish that sentence, and that he also shouldn't show the weakness 
to which he was about to allude.
     "Computer, delete the last sentence of previous log entry."
     The computer thought momentarily.  "Acknowledged.  Action 
complete."
     Just then, the turbolift opened, and a group of technicians 
emerged to finish up work on the bridge.  Riker decided he'd 
rather be somewhere else.
     "Riker to Enterprise-D."
     "Enterprise, sir.  Hathoway here."
     "Get me Counselor Troi, please."



     Shortly thereafter, back aboard the Galaxy class ship 
Enterprise, Will and Troi entered the sickbay.  Riker was now all 
but officially removed from command of the battlecruiser - he had 
no more duties aboard her now.  He figured it was best for him to 
get back to his duties as exec as quickly as possible.  
Surprisingly, there was no backlog of things that needed his 
attention.  Geordi and the Captain must have been working pretty 
hard. 
     One of the first things that he had to do was to deal with 
Wesley.  There were two problems there.  First, he could be 
brought up on charges for disobeying direct orders under fire, a 
serious offense, and Riker would, having been commanding officer 
at the time, have to decide on appropriate punishment.  Second 
(and the reason for the Counselor's presence), Riker had to inform 
a sixteen-year-old boy that his actions almost caused the death of 
four people, including himself.  There was no telling how Wesley 
would take something like that.
     Dr. Pulaski was present as the two entered her sickbay.
     "I assume you two are here to speak with Wes?"
     "Yes, Doctor.  Is he awake?" asked Troi.
     "Yes, just.  He was out for three days recovering from that 
concussion, and he wasn't entirely coherent after that, so I put 
him back under to give the regenerators a chance to work on his 
burns."
     "Then I guess we have good timing.  I didn't really want him 
up and around too much before we came by," commented Riker.
     "Not all timing," responded Pulaski.  "I din't exactly rush 
the treatment, for that very reason."
     Riker allowed a smile.  "I beg your pardon.  Excellent 
foresight, Doctor.  Can we see him now?"
     "Of course.  Right through here."
     As the Doctor started to leave, the intercom started 
announcing Will's name.
     "Just a second, please.  Riker here," he said after tapping 
his communicator.
     "Commander, this is Worf."  As though he couldn't tell by the 
voice.
     "What is it Lieutenant?"
     "The interrogation has been completely unsuccessful.  The 
prisoners refuse to speak."
     Riker realised that, even without the command of a ship, he 
was still in charge of things that he had started, like the 
situation with the aliens.  
     Will looked at Pulaski while he spoke.  "How does the 
security captain feel about a full medscan on the detainees?"  
Riker made the emphasis simply because he didn't feel the term 
'prisoners' to be appropriate.
     "He had suggested just that."
     "I'm glad he agrees.  Doctor, would you mind?"
     "Not at all, Will."
     "Excellent.  I'm sure Dr. Crusher will want in on this as 
well.  Mr. Worf, the doctor will be making a housecall."
     "Of course, sir.  Worf out."
     Pulaski laughed.  "Well, I'll get my things together.  Wesley 
is right through that door."
     All levity vanished as Riker and Deanna walked through the 
door.  It was obvious that Wes knew that he didn't know something.  
"At last!  Are you going to tell me what's going on around here?"
     Riker was the first to speak, after the two officers took a 
seat near the boy's bed.
     "Wes, tell me what you remember."
     "That's easy.  It's all I've been able to think about since I 
woke up."  He began walking around the room and gesticulating as 
though he were talking to himself, or thinking out loud.  "We were 
under attack, and the shields weren't holding.  All I needed to do 
was recalibrate the microscanners - "  He turned towards Troi and 
Riker, "That's the part of the shield generator that creates the 
matrix for the shields."  He turned in on himself again.  "I was 
working on it and then I think we took a hit in Engineering, 
because that's when I blacked out.  The ship wasn't damaged badly, 
was it?"  The last was to Riker.
     He ignored the comment and stayed on the subject.  "Wes, 
weren't you ordered to leave the generators alone."
     He was back kneeling on the bed now.  "Yeah, I guess so.  But 
it had to be done!  The shields just weren't powerful enough."
     "So you were given a direct order by your superior and you 
disobeyed it."  Deanna face's looked like she had just seen Will 
run the boy through on a sword.  He ignored it, for now.
     "But -"
     Riker's voice took on a harsh edge.  "Did you or did you not 
disobey a direct order, Acting-Ensign Crusher?"
     "Will!"
     He silenced Deanna with a flick of his hand.  Of course Troi 
was right that Wes would need to be handled with care - after he'd 
been made to realise what he had done.
     There was a long silence.  Wesley responded in a voice heavily 
laden with formality, as though he were insulted to have to admit 
to the fact.  "Yes, sir, I did."
     "Why?"
     "Because it was obvious that the shields couldn't take 
another hit from the attackers as they were, and I saw no harm in 
what I was doing."
     "No harm?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "And what do you call four casualties?"
     Surprise replaced the emotions on Wesley's face.  "What?"
     Riker's tone of voice softened accordingly.
     "Everyone in shield control was injured, two of them pretty 
badly.  While you were working on the microscanners, the ship took 
a hit, which caused the generators to overload completely."
     Wesley was visibly staggered.  "Because..."
     Riker tried his best to sound fatherly and understanding.  
"Because of what you did."
     Wes fell back to a prone position.  "It's all my fault," he 
said, half unbelieving, half in frustration.  Almost immediately 
he sat back up.  "I've got to see them, to say something!"  He 
started to jump up.
     "Wait!  They're not on board.  The other three are on the 
Starbase."
     Finally, Troi jumped into the conversation.  "I don't think 
you should see them just yet.  I think, Wes, that maybe we should 
talk.  After all-"
     Wes wasn't taking it at all well.  "Talk!  About who I want 
to try and kill this week?"  Troi started towards Wes, who was 
almost in tears now, and still raving.  Riker held her back.  
Again he felt that Troi's brand of helping Wesley deal with his 
actions could wait.
     "Mr. Crusher!"  It was the closest Riker had ever come to 
yelling at Wes, and it easily caught the boy's attention.
     "Yes, sir," he said meekly.
     Again, Riker's tone softened.  "I'm afraid I can't say that I 
know how you're feeling.  But I think I can say that I know you 
should have someone help you deal with this.  I could order you to 
undergo treatment with Counselor Troi, or I could have Dr. Pulaski 
prescribe it to you.  But I think it would be wise of you to be 
mature enough to make your own decisions."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Look, Wes, I'm only trying to help you."
     "I know.  I'm sorry, sir, about the way I acted."
     "Do you want to talk to Counselor Troi now?"
     "Not right now."  Riker started to interject something.  
"Don't worry, I will, I just want to be alone right now.  Please?"
     "All right."
     "It's okay, Wes.  I'll come and see you later."
     "Thanks."



     Starbase 42's Operations Room was a large place.  Commodore 
Blackwell entered the room on large strides, and several junior 
officers scurried to keep up.  There was a huge viewscreen on the 
opposite wall, and almost every other inch of the room was filled 
with consoles and their operators.
     "What's going on around here?"
     A captain quickly crossed the compartment from one of the 
forward stations.  "Sir, we're getting reports from all of the 
sector.  Unidentified warships have been sighted.  They could be 
the same as reported by the Enterprise."
     "How many reports?"
     "Over one-hundred and fifty."
     "Oh, boy.  Have you done anything yet?"
     "There have been no attacks as of yet, so no, I haven't."
     "Very well.  Put the Sector on Yellow Alert."
     "Aye, aye, sir.  Anything else."
     "Have all system defense fleets scramble and put on alert 
status.  Request backup units from Starfleet Command."
     "Aye, sir."
     The Commodore scratched his greying beard.  "We could have 
ourselves one hell of a problem."



     Late that afternoon, Riker was on the bridge, at his post 
next to Captain Picard.  Will was being rather quiet, sullen in 
fact, but the Captain had refrained from saying anything; after 
all, the First Officer's duties hadn't been impaired by his 
moodiness.  In any event, it would pass.
     Picard turned towards his exec.  He opened his mouth to say 
something just as the turbolift doors opened.  The two doctors 
emerged onto the bridge.
     Dr. Crusher spoke first.  "Captain, we have some very good 
news for you."
     "Indeed.  What is it?"
     Pulaski answered, "We finished the medscan on the subjects, 
and managed to adapt one of our standard hypo sprays to be used on 
them."
     Crusher continued, "We gave them an injection to loosen their 
tongues, so to speak.  Mr. Worf should be up soon to report on the 
results."
     To accent the point, the Klingon's bulky frame appeared 
behind the lift doors.
     "Excellent, all of you.  Doctors, would you care to join me 
in the ready room?"
     The three of them headed for the adjacent compartment.  Riker 
watched the receding figures but what he saw instead was the two 
rather comely women following the distinguished Picard.
     This brought a smile to his face.  "And it's always ready."
     Data turned from his console.  "Sir?"
     "Never mind."
     Picard turned, his voice filled with sarcasm as he turned.  
"Commander, would you and Lt. Worf care to join us?"
     "Of course, sir."



     The five officers were seated about the ready room.  
"Interesting," noted the Captain, as the doctors finished their 
analysis of the aliens.  "They're really that different."
     Pulaski answered.  "Indeed.  They breathe oxygen, and some of
the basic biochemistry appears to be the same as most known races, 
such as humans or Klingons for example, but beyond that..."
     Dr. Crusher added, "Their chromosomes come in triplets, 
instead of pairs, and their gene structure is wildly different 
from anything I've even heard about."
     "Lt. Worf, what were you able to learn from them?"
     "Some very important things, Captain."
     "Such as?"
     "The prisoners' ship was one of many scouting groups from a 
very large fleet."
     "An entire fleet?  How many?  A few hundred?"
     "Several thousand, sir."
     There were gasps around the room.  Beverly Crusher gave their 
mutual fears voice,  "Oh, my God..."
     "Are you sure?" asked Riker
     "Yes, sir.  And, more importantly, they are massing for an 
invasion."
     "Into the Federation?" asked Picard.
     "They do not know of the Federation.  The target is this area 
of space, but they do not now where or when."
     "Number One, I want you to relay this information to the 
Starbase and to Starfleet Command.  Immediately!"
     "Yes,sir."  Riker rose to leave.
     "Anything else, Mr. Worf?"
     "Yes.  They are all some sort of engineers, from what they 
call a 'breach-drive'."
     "Does that mean-"
     "That they can control these rips.  Yes, sir."
     "Add that, too, Number One."
     "On my way."




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This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 10 through Ch. 12:
----------------------------------------------


 
                            CHAPTER X


     The Kzinti had at one time been considered a problem.  Dozens 
of years ago, when the United Federation of Planets was young and 
weak, and just beginning to expand, they encountered the race of 
giant felinids.  The resulting brief war was a victory for the 
Federation, which then proceeded to expand around and past the 
Kzinti Hegemony.
     Since the Federation was now much larger, they no longer 
considered the Kzinti a threat, because they were always too busy 
dealing with factional infighting.
     Outpost 63 was, therefore, one of the most boring assignments 
in the Federation.  Outpost 63 was one of the dozen stations 
around Kzinti territory, put there to make sure the Kzinti never 
came out.  In the last  few years, they had acquired a more 
important mission, that of keeping the Ferengi from entering and 
trading military equipment to the Kzinti.
     The station occassionally supervised inspections, to make 
sure that the Kzinti remained relatively disarmed.
     There wasn't a day when Cmdr. T'prill, the base commander, 
didn't have these thoughts somewhere in the back of her Vulcan 
mind.  There also wasn't a day when she estimated the chance of 
something serious happening to be more than 1.64%.  Unfortunately, 
this was the day for the improbable.
     "Commander, the sensors are picking something up."
     T'prill's left eyebrow arched.  "Indeed?  Can you elaborate, 
Lieutenant?"
     "Ships, three of them.  Looking for a match."
     "Yellow Alert.  Charge shields and weapons.  Do the ships 
exhibit any Kzinti design techniques?"
     "No, sir.  Nor Ferengi, as far as I can tell.  Wait - I have 
a match now.  Similar to a type reported recently near the Klingon 
border."
     "Similar?"
     "Same basic shape and energy patterns, but bigger."
     "When were they last reported?"
     "About two weeks ago."
     "Communications, hail those ships, then send a message to 
Starfleet."
     "They're attacking!"  The base's shields came on 
automatically as a concentrated salvo lashed the base.
     "Severe strain on number three shield, Commander."
     "Reinforce number three. Phasers, return fire on best 
target."
     "They're launching missiles.  One-hundred fifty inbound!"
     T'prill realised just at that moment that Academy simulations 
never really taught about tactical defense.  She would suggest 
that to the Commandant - if she had the chance.  "Fire phasers 
rapid-pulse on the missiles.  Full power photons on the nearest 
target, narrow salvo."
     "Aye, aye."
     "We've been hit again!  Number three down; fires in the 
hangar bay.  Casualty reports coming in."
     "Rotate the station.  Bring a new shield to bear."
     "One-hundred twenty missiles left, closing fast."
     "Activate countermeasures.  Fire photons."  The eight orange 
balls of fire disappeared into the target's invisible shielding.
     "Forty missiles still active, impact in sixteen seconds."
     "All systems to passive, and launch a decoy."
     All detectable emissions were switched off, so that the 
missiles would lose their lock-on.  A decoy, a small electronic 
generator which simulated the base to the small electronic minds 
of the missiles, was launched away from the base, to attract the 
warheads.
     "Six still tracking.  Impact!"
     The explosions went off in rapid succession.  "Shields four 
and five down!  Heavy damage in outer hull area."
     "They're circling around again, Commander.  We're wide open 
to them."  Despair was evident in the Science Officer's voice.
     "I see.  Prepare to eject the log buoy and order abandon ship 
on my command."
     The communications officer swallowed hard.  "Aye, sir."
     "Prepare to fire again."
     "Unable to, Commander.  Fire control systems are down."
     "Sir!  More missiles on screen.  At least - two hundred!"
     "How many can we jam effectively?"
     "They're not targeted on us.  They are going after the 
hostiles!"
     "Fascinating...  Can you identify the missiles?"
     "Trying now, sir.  Yes - they're Kzinti combat drones."
     "I thought as much."
     The waves of drones overran one of the attackers, completely 
obliterating it.  The other two, damaged, turned to face their new 
opponents.  They found themselves face-to-face with a dozen Kzinti 
battlecruisers, their own battle scars jagged on their dull red 
hulls.  Disruptor bolts lashed out on one of the remaining alien 
ships, scattering its atoms to the stellar winds.  The last ship 
began to turn tail and run, but was swallowed by another swarm of 
drones.
     The Science Officer stared at the screen dully.  "Where did 
the Kzinti get all of those ships?"
     "Kzinti admiral hailing, Commander T'prill."
     "On screen."
     The station's main viewscreen crackled a bit, then coalesced 
into the form of a seven foot tall, two hundred-plus kilogram cat 
with little pink parasol-like ears.  Huge carnivorous teeth jutted 
from his mouth when he spoke.  "Federation base, this is Admiral 
k'Rzaal of the Patriarch's Grand Fleet."
     "Admiral, this is Commander T'prill, of Starfleet.  We are 
very grateful for your assistance.  If there-"
     "Spare it, commander; it was not a favor.  These ships are 
all over the Patriarch's territory.  I have come here, as a 
representative of the Patriarch to ask the Federation for 
permission to leave the boundaries of the Hegemony in dealing with 
this threat."
     "Admiral, I have no jurisdiction in-"
     "Commander, I have a sizable battle force here.  If, for some
reason, there were no outpost on the border, we may not be able to 
remember where it was anyway."
     "It would be logical to preserve this station if your threats 
are to be taken seriously."  The Kzinti bared his teeth in a 
ferocious smile.  "I see that they are.  I will contact my 
superiors."
     "Your cooperation is appreciated, Commander."



     Starfleet Command was in a panic.  After twelve days of 
apparent calm, all hell had broken loose all over the place.  The 
President of the Federation was trying desperately to maintain an 
air of calm about him.
     "Mr. President, I have an intelligence report from the 
Romulan border."
     "Yes?"
     "They seem to be under attack, too, at least near the 
border."
     Another runner came across the room.
     "Mr. President, report from the Kzinti sector.  They, too, 
are under attack.  They want us to allow them outside of their 
territory."
     "We need as many ships as possible.  Agree to their request."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Mr. President!"  The Klingon ambassador's hoarse bellow cut 
through all the other noise in the room.
     "Yes, Ambassador Krondai?"
     "The Klingon Empire is being invaded.  By order of my 
government I am too inform you that we are completely mobilising 
all of our forces."
     "I see, Mr. Ambassador.  What is the extent of this invasion, 
and will your forces be crossing the neutral zone?"
     "Numerous ships in the spinward section of our territory, 
near our mutual border - and what if they do cross?" he asked with 
traditional Klingon arrogance.
     The President was nonplussed.  "Then we would appreciate any 
help you could lend us in dealing with similar problems of our 
own."
     Krondai was not expecting this answer.  "Yes, I suppose that 
when we have eradicated our own problems we could help you."
     "Thank you, Krondai."
     The President raised his voice over the confusion in the rest 
of the room.  "I want your attention everyone!"  They quieted 
down.  "As of now, Stardate 42943.4, I declare all territory of 
the United Federation of Planets to be on Full Invasion Alert.  
Admiral Heirok?"
     The Chief of Starfleet stepped forward.  "Yes, Mr. 
President?"
     "I want you to upgrade all active ships to war status, 
constant Yellow Alert."
     "Yes, Mr. President.  We're already in the process of 
mobilising the rest of the Planetary Defense Fleet."
     "That won't be enough.  Make sure all local system defense 
fleets are on alert status as well."
     "Aye, aye."
     "And pray, Admiral.  Pray."



     "Mr. President, this is the forty-third sighting in the last 
three hours.  The PD-Fleet is spread much too thin, and the 
situation is only getting worse."
     "How are the local fleets doing?"
     "Not very well against these new heavy units, but they've 
held their own against the smaller ships so far."
     "I see.  How is the build up going?"
     "We're getting mothball ships on-line as quickly as we can 
get crews for them.  That's not that much right now - cancellation 
of leave, transferring base and ground personnel to ships, and 
some reservists.  Within a day, we should be getting a steady flow 
of reservists."
     "This is terrible!"  The President glanced at his watch.  
"We've been on alert for nine hours already.  How many invaders in 
our territory, Admiral?"
     Heirok looked toward a small hand-held computer he was 
carrying.  "Two-hundred sixteen light units, and one-hundred and 
two of the big ships."  The screen flashed, and the Andorian 
scowled. "One-hundred and five."
     "I see."



     "Dr. Crusher?"
     Beverly turned towards the call.  It was Starbase 42's Chief 
Medical Officer, Dr. Grul, a pig-nosed Tellarite.  "Yes, Grul, can 
I help you?"
     "What do you think of our preparations?"
     Beverly had never before had to operate under war conditions, 
but was, of course, trained in them at Starfleet Medical School.  
"Very commendable, Doctor.  Since these are the largest facilities 
in the sector, you'll probably be handling a lot of casualties 
here."
     "Yes,  I thought so, too.  Will you be staying here?"
     Here, thought Crusher, on the nice safe Starbase, while Wes 
was still on board the ship - the ship where he was already 
wounded.  He was fully recovered now, and back on duty on the 
battlecruiser, out in the middle of all of this!  "Yes, I'm 
staying aboard," she answered, somewhat meekly.
     Grul issued a short grunt.  "Must be bad for all of this."  
His gesture took in all of the bustle of preparation going on all 
around them.  "Eh?"
     "Must be," she agreed, shivering slightly.



     Almost as soon as the Council declared the alert, Enterprise-
C was ordered back to active status.  Her crew had not yet been 
entirely dispersed from the Starbase, and she was the first ship 
recommissioned for defense duty.
     Also, even though she was a research vessel, Picard's ship 
was sent out to intercept the invader ships as well.  
     Picard had noticed Riker's eagerness to return to his 
command; his zeal easily overpowered whatever ill fellings he had 
on the situation.
     Picard had no such distractions.  As a completely peace-
oriented officer of Starfleet, whose primary interest lay in 
research and knowledge, Picard was having great difficulty in 
accepting what was basically a war mission.  There were ships in 
Starfleet that existed only for such situations as the one now.
     But Starfleet had decided that they needed as many ships in 
service as soon as possible.  And as soon as possible meant that 
there was no time to evacuate the civilians from the Enterprise.  
Picard had a problem with that.
     He suggested that they just leave the saucer section at the 
Starbase, but Starfleet Command told him that that action would 
degrade the ship's combat performance too much.
     So now Picard had a ship with hundreds of despondent - he 
paused on his next word - noncombatants aboard.  They were 
despondent because the Federation hadn't been on an Alert since 
the Fed-Klingon War, almost a hundred years ago.  And there was 
nothing that they could do about it!  Picard had had words with 
Starfleet Command previously regarding the subject of shipboard 
civilians.  He couldn't deny the positive effect that the presence 
of family had on the crew of an extended voyage, especially after 
his twenty year mission on the Stargazer, but, more often than 
not, they simply were in the way or in unnecessary danger.
     If the ship got into a bad situation fighting the invaders, 
Picard could not even rely on separating the saucer then, because 
the attackers always operated in threes.  The saucer, going on 
sublight power, would be helpless against even one of the light 
units.
     As these thoughts permeated the Captain's mind, he stared out 
the viewport of his ready room, hoping to find an answer in the 
stars.  There had to be a peaceful resolution to this conflict.  
After all, these were intelligent beings.  There must be some way 
to reason with them.  Every fibre of Picard's being cried out for 
a sane alternative to this awful violence.





                            CHAPTER XI


     For several days, the two Enterprises had been extremely busy 
trying to keep up with the increasing rate of the invaders' 
attacks.  Fortunately, neither vessel had been damaged badly, nor 
their crews suffered any serious injuries.  The attackers' tactics 
were becoming somewhat predictable, and this made Riker's job of 
intercepting them that much easier and somewhat less dangerous.
     Data and his team of computer techs had moved to the backup 
memory banks, and were trying to access the battlecruiser's hidden 
knowledge by that route.  It was the android's hypothesis that the 
information might be more easily accessed by this indirect method, 
since the main computers, it seemed upon detailed inspection, had 
born the brunt of whatever it was that damaged the system in the 
first place.
     The log entries from the starship's journey through the rips 
had been mostly reassembled, but there were still some key pieces 
missing, and, although they could determine the content of most of 
the memory bits, they were still having trouble accessing the 
data.
     So, despite the fact that they now had sorted out most of the 
log entries and restored them in order, they couldn't actually 
watch them, yet.
     Riker had taken advatage of a quiet moment on the bridge to 
visit the engineering section.  He had a lot on his mind and 
needed some time away from the bridge.  Argyle, too, was using the 
lull to kick his feet up and rest for a while.
     Will walked into the engineer's office.  "How are things, 
Argyle?"
     The engineer could tell that his captain was somewhat 
distracted by more important considerations than how Argyle was 
feeling.  "Not bad, right now, Commander."
     "I know what you mean."  He paused, and then continued more 
emphatically.  "I just wish we could do something more than- than 
chase these damned invaders all around space!"
     "We do what we can, Commander.  Right now, we don't have a 
way to take the fight to them."
     "Well, we need one.  If we don't go on the offensive soon, 
we'll be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.  Those ships are piling up 
faster than Starfleet can come up with ships to deal with them."
     Argyle looked momentarily pensive, then offered, "Well, they 
know how to control those rips, to a degree."
     "Yes, yes.  That they do."
     "If we could find out how..."
     "You mind telling me how you plan on doing that?
     Argyle shifted the subject.  "You know, I'm having trouble 
seeing exactly how much of a problem all these ships are.  After 
all, they're so spread out, and-"
     "Argyle, Starfleet is at least as spread out in dealing with 
them, and we have less ships.  Just imagine a trio of those enemy 
battleships sailing into an undefended, populated system."
     "Oh."
     The klaxon wailed and the ship turned a deep crimson.  "Red 
Alert, Red Alert.  Commander Riker to the bridge."
     "I've got to go," said Will, and was out the door.



     Riker practically leaped out of the turbolift.  "Status!" he 
ordered.  Worf answered him.
     "Starbase 42 is under attack by nine enemy ships, six scouts, 
three battleships."
     The battlecruiser and Enterprise-D had been scanning reported 
rip zones in between bouts of combat, such as now.
     "Are we the nearest ships?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "How far at max speed?"
     "Thirty-four minutes, sir," answered the Helmsman.
     "Get me Captain Picard."
     "On screen."
     "Yes, Commander?"
     "The Starbase is under attack.  We are the closest help they 
can get."
     "I see, Commander.  Transmit an intercept course and we'll 
follow."
     "Yes, sir."  He turned towards the helm.  Worf was there.  
Wesley was at navigation, and Data was at the Science station.  
They were the most necessary of the bridge crew right now.
     "You heard him, Worf.  Let's go."
     "Aye, aye, sir."



     "Message from Starbase, Commander.  Six attackers remaining.  
ETA is two minutes."
     "Riker to Picard."
     "Yes, Commander.  What is it?"
     "When we are in range, we will identify and prioritise the 
targets.  First heavy units, then scouts.  Is this acceptable?"
     "Perfectly, Number One."
     "Okay.  Here we go."
     The two ships slowed as they approached the base, dropping 
down through the speed of light rapidly.  In front of them, the 
base was swapping shots with six of the invaders' ships, two 
battleships and four scouts.  A full salvo from the base tracked 
one of the lighter vessels then made contact, obliterating it.
     One of the battleships  was moving away from the base, 
directly towards the Enterprises, preparing for another attack.
     "There's your first target, Mr. Worf.  Data, offer them 
surrender first."
     "Aye, aye, sir.  They're scanning us right now."  Data sent 
his message.  "No response, sir.  And their weapons are charging."
     "Make sure the Enterprise is with us.  Prepare to fire, on my 
mark."
     Riker had received the intelligence reports on these heavy 
units, these battleships, but neither Enterprise had had to fight 
one yet.  The proverbial moment of truth was upon them.
     "Still no response?"
     "No, sir.  I think they're trying to jam communications.  
Very ineffective, however."
     "Open fire."
     Red fire lashed out from both starships, slamming into the 
battleship.  The target jolted hard from the strain, but the 
invisible shields held.  Then she spat an answer.
     For a split second, Riker felt as though a giant hand were 
squeezing his chest.  The straps on the chair held him, however, 
from catapulting through the viewscreen.  "Damage Report!"
     Worf wheezed slightly, while Riker realised he had to gasp 
for breath.  "Shields at minimal power.  Electrical Fires on decks 
twelve through eighteen."
     "Full torpedo spread, max power.  Fire the megaphasers!"
     The orbs of energy completely surrounded the invader before 
detonating, washing it in a white burst of energy.  The phaser 
cannon bored through the globe of light, the shields, the ship, 
and kept going.  The attacking vessel was no more than an 
expanding cloud of vapor.
     "Worf, how are the aft shields?"
     "Approximately half power, Commander."
     "Riker to Picard."
     "Picard here."
     "Our forward shields are almost down.  Suggest you and the 
base concentrate on the other battleship."
     "Understood, Commander.  Good luck.  Picard out."
     "Worf, full stop.  Turn us around and back into one of those 
scout ships."
     Worf's voice belied the fact that he was genuinely impressed 
by Riker's choice of action.  "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Prepare all aft weapons."
     The battlecruiser, aft end first, charged down on one of the 
scout ships busily engaging a squadron of the base's fighter-
shuttles.  It started to respond to the new threat, but it was too 
late.
     "Fire!"  The megaphasers split the void once more, turning 
their target into a twisted mass of skeletal deckwork and cables.
     At that moment, the starbase's spin was carrying fresh 
weapons into range of the invader battleship.  Simultaneously, 
both phaser rings on Enterprise-D and a battery of phasers from 
the base took the attacker, fore and aft.  The shields gave, and 
the vessel took heavy hits at the bow and stern.
     As expected, the ship self-destructed, the energy release 
carrying the battlecruiser's shields dangerously near collapse.
     "Cmdr. Riker, the remaining three vessels are turning away 
from the base and accelerating."
     "Pursuit, now!"
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     As Riker's ship closed on the fleeing vessels, Data noticed 
something.  "New energy reading, Commander, from all three ships."
     Just then, the three ships each produced a beam of pale blue 
light.  Where the beams all met, a shape, blacker than the space 
behind, began to spread.
     "They're starting a rip!  Data, scan that."
     "Scanning and recording.  Sir, the computer is attempting to 
identify the pattern."
     The rip was bigger now, and was starting to pull the ship 
towards it.  The invaders were already moving through.  "Full 
stop, hold position."
     Almost immediately, the hole began to close.  Data continued.  
"There is no direct match, but there are several similarities in 
the pattern to the readings associated with transwarp travel."
     "Is that so?  Very interesting.  Get me the Captain."
     


     Secured from general quarters, the ships remained at 
Starbase.  Riker's crew was repairing damage to the ship, and the 
few casualties were being treated.  Argyle was pondering the bit 
of information that Data had uncovered, while reviewing the sensor 
recordings again and again to see what he could make of it all.
     Argyle could only keep telling himself how thickheaded he 
must be not to see some sort of connection.
     Data was back down with his computers, Wesley was sleeping in 
his cabin, Worf was on the bridge, and Riker was pacing in the 
rec-room.  The ship now had a complete crew and was fully 
operational, so the rec-room had been opened up.  There were not, 
however, many people there, since most of them were taking their 
free time on the starbase.
     Will went back to his table and sat down.  The data he had 
been studying was still on the computer screen there, intelligence 
reports on the invaders' ships.
     There was a full set of external views, extremely detailed, 
showing clearly a flattened cigar shape with a rectangular box 
covering most of the aft section.  Gun turrets, missile launchers, 
sensor apparatus, all labelled for easy identification.  Something 
that looked like a huge intake of some sort.
     Those heavy vessels, the battleships, were truly awesome, 
extremely huge ships, much bigger than an Alaska class.  
Fortunately, only a very few of them had been seen so far.
     All the technology was very different from anything ever seen 
before, some not even identifiable.  And Riker had to learn how to 
deal with it all, because the whole Federation was in the hands of 
Riker and other captains just like him.  It was an imposing 
thought.
     Data's voice broke his reverie.  "Commander Riker, please 
report to the auxillary computer room."
     Riker stood up, switched off the screen, and headed for the 
nearest turbolift.



     Data stood patiently, hands clasped behind his back, waiting 
for Riker.  As Will walked through the door, Data said, 
"Commander, I have some very good news."
     Riker's face broke into an expectant smile.  "You've got it?" 
     "We can now access all of this ship's log entries and flight 
recordings."
     "Wonderful!  Can you patch it through to the main viewer on 
the bridge?"
     "Indeed, sir."
     "Let's go then.
     The two moved briskly toward the lift and were on the bridge 
just moments later.  "Worf, call Wesley and Argyle up here.
     "Riker to Picard."
     There was a brief pause, then Geordi's face appeared on the 
viewscreen.  "He's off the bridge right now, sir.  Shall I get 
him?"
     "Yes.  Tell him we've accessed all the logs on the 
battlecruiser."
     "That's great!  All right, hold on a minute."
     The screen blanked.  Wesley and Argyle emerged from the lift 
together and stood behind the bridge railing.  Moments later, 
Captain Picard was hailing.
     "Captain, did Geordi tell you?"
     "Yes, Number One.  Good work, all of you.  Can you patch us 
in to watch?"
     "Data?"
     "Already set up, sir."
     "Perfect.  Here we go, everybody."
     Riker sat back in the command chair.  Picard's image was 
replaced by static, then the picture cleared up.  It showed the 
bridge of Enterprise-C, bathed in combat lighting and filled with 
smoke.  The officers, dressed in old style Starfleet uniforms, 
were dazed, but the Captain was speaking, his voice hoarse from 
the fumes wafting through his bridge.





                           CHAPTER XII


     Romanov was out of breath; his eyes stung from the smoke of a 
dozen small electrical fires, and his throat was raw.  He reached 
for the log recorder controls at his right armrest.  Flipping the 
toggle, he looked towards the small video recorder just above the 
main viewscreen.
     "Captain's Log, Stardate 15246.4:"  Romanov coughed, 
unsuccessfully trying to clear his rasping voice.  "My ship - 
pulled through a rip in - fabric of space itself.  Computers 
unable to match to-"  Valeriy's lungs heaved in a fit of choking 
and coughing.  Several more bridge officers were trying to rouse 
themselves, blinking their eyes repeatedly to bring themselves 
back to reality.  The captain continued.  "To match any known star 
patterns.  I must tend to damage and casualties now, but I think - 
ship still operational."
     The Science Officer, Lieutenant Karapos, apparently more 
coherent than the rest, had started to bring the ship's systems 
back to life.  "Captain."  Her voice gave away the pain she must 
have been controlling.  "Damage is mostly superficial, circuit 
damage.  Repair parties are on the way to the bridge and other 
essential areas."
     Romanov was feeling noticeably better by now.  "Good, good.
Casualties?"
     "Report from sickbay now.  A lot of minor injuries, only
about a dozen seriously injured, and two fatalities in
engineering."
     "Damn.  Alright, let's get this bucket back in shape and find
out where the hell we are."
     "Captain!  Sensors picking up three vessels, type unknown,
closing at high sublight velocity."
     "Range?"
     "One-hundred thousand kilometres.  They just appeared there,
sir."
     "Red Alert, try to hail."
     "Too late!"
     Romanov couldn't manage any words as the little flattened
cigar shapes spat electric death at his all but crippled starship.



     "Captain's Log, Supplemental:  We have had a very tense 
moment.  Three unknown vessels fired on my ship.  However, after 
we attempted to contact them, they broke off and began orbiting 
the ship.  No extra damage was sustained.  After several hours of 
communication with these beings, the universal translators are 
functioning very well.
     "I am attaching this log just prior to communicating with a 
representative of this previously unknown race of aliens, who call 
themselves the Jhonkai, as closely as I can pronounce it.
     "Transmission to follow."



     "Captain Romanov, I presume?  I am honoured to meet you.  I 
am Marshal Lerhok of the Third Scouting Fleet.  I apologise for 
the reception you were given.  My field commanders acted 
irrationally, to be sure."
     "No harm done, Marshal.  I am glad that a worse situation was 
avoided.  Perhaps you may be able to assist us.  We are 
somewhat...lost."
     "Ah, yes, Captain.  We noticed your vessel as soon as at 
appeared through one of the voids."
     "The voids.  Then you have seen these before?"
     "Unfortunately so, Captain.  I must now appeal to you for 
help.  But you must first know why.
     "The voids have existed for as long as anyone can remember, 
several generations back.  At first they were a mere astronomical 
curiosity.  But they became worse.  At first, some of our 
scientific vessels disappeared through them.  They were never 
heard from again."  Lerhok paused.
     Valeriy looked at the tripartite alien on the screen.  "I, 
uh, assume there's more."
     "You needn't have all the details, Captain.  Our space, as 
far as we can explore, is being torn apart by the voids.  And the 
worst of the effects are moving towards our civilisation.  
Already, a few of our farthest planets have been ripped apart, 
completely and without warning.  And two stars have been forced 
into a nova stage prematurely.  They were, fortunately, unoccupied 
systems."
     "I am glad for that, Marshal Lerhok."
     "Captain, our time is running out.  Our most optimistic 
forecasts show that our entire civilisation will be obliterated 
within-"  Lerhok calculated the conversion, "-one hundred years."
     "Oh my God...  And you've already been exploring for-"
     "The oldest ships in our fleet are three hundred and fifty 
years old. My people have put every available resource into 
building ships to find us a new home, but without success.  As far 
as we can explore in every direction, the voids are there."
     Romanov thought of something that the alien had said earlier.  
"How is it that you expect us to be able to help you?"
     The Marshal seemed genuinely surprised by this query.  
"Captain, you came through the void.  That means it is possible to 
survive travel through the voids, and we now have an almost 
limitless expanse of new territory to explore.  I might also add, 
that you have alluded to the fact that you have never seen these 
voids before?"
     "I understand now.  You now possess the knowledge that there 
are other places in the universe where you can be safe."
     "Or other dimensions.  We do not know enough about the 
phenomena to be certain."
     Romanov spread his arms in front of him, a gesture of 
futility.  "But Marshal, we do not know how to move through the 
voids, even if we can get back.  Our presence here is an 
accident."
     Lerhok made a gesture to kill the audio pick-up, and 
conversed silently with several of his officers.  After almost a 
minute, he returned his attention to Romanov.
     "Captain, I have been authorised to extend an invitation for 
you, your ship and your crew to accompany us to one of the Jhonkai 
Concordium's planets.  Will you accept?"
     "I would be most honoured, Marshal."


     "Captain's Log, Stardate 15246.7:  My ship is currently in 
orbit around one of the Jhonkai's planets.  Our long range scans
indicate that the inhabited, or, at least industrialised, planets 
make up a group of fifteen core star systems all within thirty 
light years of one another, and several dozen other colony 
systems.  This region of space has an extremely high stellar 
density, average distance being 1.2 light years.
     "I have been invited to partake in a dialogue with the 
Jhonkai Sector Governor on the moon of this planet.  He says he is 
interested in hearing about the place from which we have come.
     "Following my first officer's advice that we allow these 
still mostly unknown creatures limited knowledge of our 
technology, I shall take a shuttlecraft to the meeting, instead of 
the transporter."



     The Enterprise's executive officer, Cmdr. Geoffrey
Bainbridge, twisted uneasily in the command chair that Romanov had
left him with.  The captain had taken a small transmitter along, 
and the Comm officer was broadcasting the meeting over the bridge 
speakers.  Some inner voice had told Geoff to put the ship on 
Yellow Alert, and he hadn't even for a minute thought of 
dismissing that advice.
     "They're getting really nosey down there," commented the Exec 
to Karapos, who he had ordered to keep a constant scan on Romanov.
     The Jhonkai representatives were pressing for details about 
the Federation - size, population, military, industry, etc.  The 
captain was doing his best to answer in generalities.
     Bainbridge stood up to pace.  On his third circuit around the 
bridge, Lt. Karapos did a double-take at his screens.
     "Sir!"
     "What is it?" queried Geoff as he moved towards the science 
console.
     "Large numbers of Jhonkai ships appearing."
     "Range and bearing?"
     "Range, about a million kilometres.  Bearing - all."
     "What do you-"
     "They're completely surrounding us!"
     "Red Alert, now!  Charge weapons and shields."
     The klaxon filled the air while the computer droned out its 
general quarters alert.
     "Are they maintaining position?"
     "Yes.  No, wait.  They're moving now.  Accelerating towards 
us and closing formation."
     Just then, the viewscreen lit up.  "Enterprise!"
     The Captain was surrounded by several heavily armed Jhonkai 
warriors, all their weapons aimed straight at Romanov's 
midsection.
     "Your captain chooses not to oblige us, Commander, so it is 
now up to you.  Your vessel is to lead our fleet through the void 
back to your Federation.  Refuse and Romanov dies.  Refuse us 
again and you all die!  Make your decision, but do it now."
     Fury welled up inside of the First Officer, and he screamed 
at the viewscreen.  "Well your just goddamned out of luck, you 
barbarians!
     "Transporter, emergency recall, now!  Close communications 
and prepare for battle."
     "Captain safely recovered, sir.  Shields at full."
     "Report, Mr. Karapos."
     "They're moving in faster.  Seven hundred thousand klicks, 
and closing."
     Romanov's form burst onto the bridge.  "Thank you for your 
timely assistance, Commander.  Now let's get the hell out of 
here."
     "What was that all about?" asked Bainbridge, his anger 
somewhat settled.
     "Seems they'd like to conquer the Federation, Geoff.  All 
those exploration vessels they said they were building, well 
they're armed to the teeth, each and every one.  Guess they were 
just waiting for an opportunity like this one."
     "Oh, god..."
     "Yeah.  And they know that rip-travel is possible now, so the 
best we can do is warn the Federation, make sure they're prepared 
when it all comes down."  The captain gestured at the wall of 
ships on the viewscreen.  "That's what they want to stop us from 
doing."
     Valeriy punched an intercom button.  "Engineering, bring the 
mains up to full power.  We'll be needing them."
     "Captain," responded the Engineer, a Vulcan named Sympak.  "I 
would have to advise against using the Transwarp engines, sir.  
If this transition through the rip has already put us into a 
dimension not our own, then Transwarp travel could be unduly 
dangerous."
     "Look, Chief, we don't have many alternatives.  I may have to 
use them anyway."
     "Understood, sir."
     "Mr. Karapos, find us the weakest spot in that globe and give 
us a course towards it."
     "In the computer now, sir."
     "Outstanding.  Full impulse, Helm."
     The ship leapt like a tiger, freed from its cage, straight at
part of the Jhonkai armada.
     "We're being targeted, sir.  Oh my god, they're firing!"
     "Geoff, fire at will."
     Phaser fire pierced the dark space, ripping through the 
hostile ships with ease.  Three fell to Enterprise's first full 
salvo.
     "Keep it up, XO."
     "Captain, they're moving all around us."
     The ship lurched under return fire.  "Damn.  They're 
following us.  We can't outrun them at sublight."
     "I doubt it, sir.  And we can't take much more of this, 
either."
     "We're out of choices.  Engage Transwarp engines, full 
speed.  Cross your fingers everyone.
     "Engage!



     "Captain's Log, Stardate 15247.3:  Fortunately for all of us, 
Chief Sympak's concerns were unfounded, and the ship is safe.  We 
are still however, lost in whatever part of the universe fostered 
this race of beings called the Jhonkai.
     "The successful operation of the main engines has given us 
some hope, however.  Lt. Cmdr. Sympak has hypothesised that, due
to the nature of Transwarp travel, the main engines might be 
recalibrated to allow us to return to Federation space.
     "I have authorised him to go ahead with this work while the 
rest of the crew stands down to Yellow Alert.  The Jhonkai might 
return any time, now."
     Romanov switched off the log recorder.
     Geoff was suddenly standing behind him.  "Well said, 
Captain."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Sensors just picked up a Jhonkai scout at long range.  He 
hasn't seen us yet, I don't think, but he's headed this way.  And 
with the mains down for these alterations..."
     "I see.  What are our chances to avoid detection?"
     "Slim to none.  He's headed almost straight for us."
     "Engineering, how much longer do you need?"
     "I estimate thirty-four minutes, sir."
     "Geoff, as soon as that scout is in megaphaser range, take it 
out."
     "Isn't that being a little hasty, sir?  Starfleet regulations 
say that no Federation vessels may initiate-"
     "Damnit, Commander!"  Bainbridge flinched noticeably.  The 
Captain relaxed his tone, but not entirely.  "Look, if we get 
destroyed, it won't matter whether we followed regs or not.  And 
if that scout gets off a contact report, we've had it."
     "But-"
     "No buts!  Mr. Karapos, analyse the Jhonkai ships' propulsion 
systems."
     "Yes, sir.  A form of conventional warp drive, and plasma-
fusion sublight engines."
     "What speeds?"
     The lieutenant peered at one of her monitors.  "When those 
ships started to appear all around us, I took some readings.  They 
had to be moving at at least Warp 15."
     A whistle of incredulity escaped the exec's lips.  "Point 
taken, Captain.  I withdraw my protest."
     "Thank you, Geoff.  Believe me, I don't take this decision 
lightly.  But Starfleet made me a captain because they trust my 
decisions, even ones like this.  I hope we're around long enough 
for you to heed that advice.  Range?"
     "Three-hundred thousand kilometres.  Shot in twenty seconds."
     "They're moving slowly," mused the Captain.  "We've never 
actually seen them manoeuvring in warp, have we?"
     "No, sir," answered the Science Officer.  "They may only be 
able to warp at such high speeds in a straight line."
     "Interesting."
     Geoff gestured at one of the screens and raised his voice.  
"They're changing course."
     The Comm officer added, "That ship is sending off a message, 
Captain."
     "Full impulse, intercept course.  Prepare to fire."
     The giant hunter shot across the velvet background towards 
the little Jhonkai vessel.  The prey tried to escape, but was 
quickly overrun.  Blue lightning speared from the saucer weapons 
pods on the battlecruiser, igniting the fleeing scout.  Seconds 
later, the target obliterated in a shower of molten metal.
     "Helm, get us as far away from here as you can.  No telling 
how soon their fleet will be here."



     "Captain, my work will be complete in twelve minutes.  
Assuming, of course, I am not unduly delayed by your continual 
requests for that piece of information."
     "Of course, Chief.  Bridge out."
     Romanov was getting very edgy.  There was nothing for him to 
do so long as the engineers did their work, and the scanners were 
monitored.  He was getting to the point where his tension was 
starting to rub the crew the wrong way - and that could be bad. 
     "Sir!  Ships appearing, bearing two-five-two mark seven, 
range, six-hundred thousand kilometres."
     "That close?"  Romanov was more than slightly surprised by 
that.  They didn't get that scout in time after all...
     "Yes, sir, and closing rapidly."
     "Helm, bows-on to the hostile ships, and full impulse astern."
     "Yes, s-"  He paused.  "Did you say 'astern', sir."
     "Yes, and I don't mean later mister.  Full power astern!"
     Romanov was thinking of his Academy combat classes.  The 
retrograde manoeuvre - a hypothetical tactic allowing a captain to 
move his ship away from an enemy while keeping his strongest 
weapons to bear.
     "They're charging weapons."
     "Fire at will, Geoff.  Keep them away from us."
     At least three dozen Jhonkai warships - for certainly Romanov 
no longer regarded them as 'science vessels' - bore down on the 
damaged starship.  Their formation created a huge square wall on 
the main viewscreen.
     It was a strange picture, the backwards fleeing Federation 
ship swapping shots with the huge squadron of Jhonkai vessels.
     "Mr. Karapos, maximum power to countermeasures.  Weapons, 
take your shots carefully."
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     The Enterprise's technological superiority was paying off.  
Despite being so badly outnumbered, she was taking no worse than 
she was giving.  The small armada was having a difficult time 
hitting their target, and the starship's shields held while a 
half-score of the armed research vessels winked out of existence 
under the impact of phasers and torpedoes.
     Then things changed for the worse.  "Captain!  Multiple 
missile launch.  All hostiles have launched - tracking over one 
hundred inbound!"
     "All systems to passive!  Launch decoys, and reserve power to 
jammers!"  Romanov's finger stabbed the intercom.  "Mr. Sympak, 
hurry the hell up, and I mean it!"
     "Sir, the calibrations will be finished momentarily," 
responded the Vulcan, unfazed by the Captain's irrational tones.  
"Computer simulation will, however, require several more minutes."
     "Damn your eyes, mister! I will be activating the mains in -"  
The captain glanced at Karapos, who pointed at the missile tracks 
and mouthed the time to impact.  "- less than two minutes.  You 
had better be ready!"
     The shields, already weakened by combat and the power drain 
to the electronic defenses, took the full impact of a lucky salvo 
from one of the attacking ships.  On the bridge, Romanov felt a 
strong thump through the decks, and all the displays momentarily 
showed static.  The damage control station suddenly lit up with 
large swaths of red through the engineering section.
     "Captain, we've been hulled near life support control."
     "How bad."
     "Unable to ascertain at the moment, sir.  I'm checking."
     "Time to impact?"
     "Forty seconds."
     "Captain Romanov, this is engineering.  The Transwarp engines 
are ready for activation."
     "Helm, activate, now!"
     Power drained from all over the ship, rerouted through the 
massive Transwarp nacelles astride the ship's hull.  The bridge 
emergency batteries kicked over, enough to bring up the main 
viewer and red lighting.  
     Energy sparked and danced in space immediately in front of 
the ship.  A glowing orb of black swallowed the minor pyrotechnic 
display, and disturbances in the very fabric of space rippled out 
like waves.  The ship bucked and heeled, while several inbound 
missiles detonated, triggering a chain reaction of explosions 
through their ranks.
     Then, like a startled animal, Romanov's ship leaped into the 
void, and an unseen hand began to squeeze the consciousness out of 
the captain's body.



     As the bridge crew sluggishly came to, and things returned to 
some semblance of normalcy, the Engineer's voice was the first 
heard.
     "Captain, this is Engineering, Chief Sympak.  The main 
engines have lost all power, and the energisers appear to be 
damaged beyond repair.  I must look more closely."
     "Understood, Chief.  Excellent work.  You are to be 
commended."
     "Mr. Karapos, where are we?"
     "We are back in our own space.  I can't be sure exactly 
where, though.  We are either in or near Klingon territory."
     "That could be bad, in a crippled starship."
     "Yes, sir," agreed the Exec.  "There's worse news."
     "Uh-oh."
     "Life-support is very badly damaged.  Toxic waste is being 
pumped into the air supply, and we can't stop it."
     "Can it be repaired?"
     "Not in time.  We have less than twenty minutes of good air 
left."
     "Then we don't have much choice.  Comm, put me on shipwide."
     "Circuit open."
     "Attention all hands - this is the captain speaking.  I want 
to commend everyone on their excellent performance during this 
crisis.  We are now back in our own space, however, our ship is 
crippled, and must be evacuated.  You have ten minutes to collect 
and stow one bag of personal effects.  The lifeboats will be 
launched in fifteen minutes.  Good luck to you all."
     Romanov sighed despair, and added, "All senior officers to 
the bridge."
     Valeriy gestured for the circuit to be cut.  "Do we have 
power for a transmission, to find out if there are any starbases 
around?"
     "Negative, sir."
     "Very well, then.  Put out a low power distress signal."  
With that, Valeriy went to his center chair and activated the log 
recorder.
     "Captain's Log, Final Entry, Stardate 15247.7:  I include 
this entry to warn the Federation of the danger that the Jhonkai 
present.  I sincerely hope that the sum of the recordings made by 
my vessel will be helpful in protecting the Federation, and all of 
our friends and families throughout.
     "With my ship crippled, and so near - perhaps in - Klingon 
territory, I have no choice but to abandon and scuttle the 
Enterprise.  I give this order with a heavy heart, but at the same 
time I recommend the following members of my crew for the 
Federation Citation of Gallantry, posthumously if need be...
     "Lt. Commander Sympak, Chief Engineer; Commander Geoffrey 
Bainbridge, Executive Officer; Lieutenant Karapos, Science 
Officer; Lieutenant Juergen Wasserman, Tactical Weapons Officer.
     "Attached to this transmission is the programmed course for 
all of the lifeboats, so that our survivors may be rescued."
     "Prepare the log buoy for launch right after we set the self-
destruct."
     By now, all of the senior officers were present.  The oxygen 
was getting noticeably scarce, and the engine waste in the 
atmosphere stung at their throats.
     As the fifteen minutes ticked away, the group of officers 
felt and heard the lifeboats dropped away from the ship.
     "Ladies and gentlemen, we will set the destruct sequence to 
go when all lifeboats are clear, then we will go to our boats."
     "Aye, sir," they all responded.
     Romanov was beginning to feel extremely dizzy as he 
concluded, "Let's get this over with."




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Subject: GhostsFromThePast.5
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:52:56 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ghosts from the Past," CH. 13 through Ch. 15:
----------------------------------------------



                           CHAPTER XIII


     "Things are suddenly much clearer, Number One."
     "Yes, yes..."
     "They need new territory, and badly," continued Picard.  "But 
why must they come bearing arms?  They never even tried to 
negotiate or anything.  It doesn't seem rational."
     Riker thought, then responded, "They're too desperate to be 
rational, Captain.  They must think that if we turn down their 
request, then they loose the element of surprise in trying to take 
our territory by force.
     "Look at it from their perspective.  They've been hitting 
dead ends for four-hundred years now.  They just jumped at this 
opportunity."
     "Indeed.  This must look like salvation to them."
     Argyle, from the bridge of the battlecruiser, took advantage 
of the lull to insert a comment of his own.  "Well, we've got them 
now.  Commander Riker, you remember you wanted to take the fight 
to them?  Ask and you shall receive."
     A smile broke across Will's face.  "Yes, we certainly can."
     Picard glanced curiously at the exchange, and recalled a 
comment from the flight recordings.  "What, exactly, did they mean 
by 'the nature of Transwarp', Mr. Argyle?  Please forgive me for 
not being an engineer."
     "Of course, sir.  You see, Transwarp engines are really just 
normal warp engines.  They don't go any faster than conventional 
warp ever did.  They just...do it somewhere else."
     "That doesn't make anything any clearer."
     "Yes, sir, sorry."
     Riker helped out.  "Captain, when we first encountered the 
rips and tried to research them, we found information about 
something called a dimensional interphase."
     "Yes, Number One."  
     "I looked a little closer.  It seems that the phenomena 
recorded by one of the former Enterprises is the basis for 
Transwarp travel."
     Argyle continued, "The interphase universe is completely 
devoid of matter and time there flows at a slightly faster rate."
     Picard made the connection.  "So starships could travel in 
that dimension and make the journey much shorter, subjective to 
our universe."
     "Right.  The engine nacelles have a subatomic transporter 
matrix that induces an interphase just big enough for the ship, 
and off they go."
     Riker added, "What Engineer Sympak did was recalibrate the 
transporter matrix to find our space."
     Picard smiled, belying the full realisation that came to him,  
"So with all of the readings we got on the space on the other side 
of those rips, we could calibrate the engines to send a ship into 
Jhonkai space."
     Argyle frowned at that.  "We could send a transwarp capable 
ship there.  And only if we refine the process.  The last time 
this ship went through its own rip, it completely blew out the 
warp drive."
     "Yes, that does pose a problem, Captain."
     "Good work, Number One."
     "Not my work, sir.  I suggest nominating Lt. Commander Data 
for official commendation.  This is all because of his efforts."
     "Mr. Riker, you are Data's commanding officer.  You send a 
nomination to Starfleet."
     Will smiled, and his cheeks flushed.  To forget his duties as 
a starship commander!  "Yes, sir."
     "I'm going to report to Starfleet.  We have some big news for 
them."
     "Yes, we do, Captain.  Enterprise out."



     Picard was still not used to Lt. Worf's bulky presence being 
absent from the console behind his command chair.  Seeing the 
small lithe form of Hathoway when he was expecting a Klingon 
warrior was just not fair to do to his mind.
     "Mr. Hathoway, get me Starfleet.  Priority A-1."
     "Yes, sir."
     Troi had quietly watched the entire playback from her own 
chair at the middle of the bridge.  She was now watching Picard 
pace back and forth as he waited to talk to Starfleet Command.  At 
this distance from Earth, the communique would take several 
minutes at best to get through.
     "Captain," she began, "you are very upset.  Over what you 
expect Starfleet's response to be?"
     He paused his track at the end of the bridge railing.  
Resting his hands on its polished wood surface, he answered 
without facing her.  "Yes, yes.  I know what they are going to 
say, and it doesn't please me at all."
     "It is good for a man to stand by his principles so strongly.  
But don't you think that this situation is beyond one man?"
     "Counsellor, if it weren't for each 'one man', there would be 
no one at all to deal with this situation.  The fact that those 
other men will see this merely as a chance for vengeance frightens 
me.  I'm sure if we just sent a negotiating team, offering to help 
the Jhonkai with their problems, to arrange territory for them...  
Space is big enough for all intelligent beings to live without 
bumping elbows - or waging war."
     Troi smiled.  "Indeed, Captain Picard.  And you are just the 
man to make a difference in that, aren't you?" she asked 
rhetorically.  "It still doesn't help to get so worried about it.  
Nerves are not going to help your arguments to Starfleet at all."
     It was the Captain's turn to smile.  "I guess you're right."
     "Sir," interrupted Hathoway, "Starfleet Command."
     "On screen, Ensign."
     The starscape shifted to the bust of a greying, broad chested 
man in Starfleet uniform, admiral's marks visible near his throat.
     "Captain Picard, this is Admiral Gruber."  Picard recognised 
the man; he was top dog at the Planetary Defense Fleet.  His tone 
was pleasant, but forceful.  "Captain, I'll assume you have good 
reason for contacting us on Priority.  We are very busy over 
here."
     "Of course, Admiral.  I have, in fact, some very important 
news for you.  The crew of the battlecruiser Enterprise has 
completed the decoding of the ship's log entries."
     "Excellent," responded the older man, his face practically 
beaming. His grumbling bass voice was almost undetectably 
brighter.
     "Our Commander Argyle has determined that Transwarp drive 
starships can be recalibrated to enter the home space of our 
invaders, who call themselves the Jhonkai.  It has been done once, 
by the original crew of the battlecruiser, but with decidedly less 
than perfect results.  They almost destroyed the Transwarp 
engines.  Some time will have to be spent perfecting the process."
     "Less than you think, Captain."
     "Sir?"
     "Since day one, we've been making contingency plans for 
everything we could think of, including if we were somehow able to 
counter-attack.  This is the break we've been waiting for.  I'll 
need more information from Commander Argyle to get our Engineering 
staff working on it."  The Admiral glanced downward, apparently at 
a computer screen of notes.  "I'll also need Commander Riker to 
transmit a complete copy of those logs to Starfleet Command for 
analysis."
     Picard cleared his throat, and continued.  "Admiral, there is 
more.  These beings are in trouble.  Their home space is self-
destructing into these rips, and they've been looking for a new 
home for four-hundred years.  They are desperate, Admiral, and 
they have resorted to violence out of fear that we wouldn't help 
them.  Obviously, however, we must."
     "One moment, Captain."  Gruber turned off the sound pick-up, 
and spoke to someone out of view for almost seven or eight minutes 
before returning his attention to Picard.
     "That is quite an interesting piece of information, Captain.  
I must admit, that's one contingency we haven't planned for.  It 
doesn't change much of our operational plans, however, just our 
purpose.  We still want to force the Jhonkai into negotiations.  
We now have something different about which to negotiate.
     "The Jhonkai seem a fairly advanced and industrialised race.  
They need territory, which we can give them access to: for a 
price."
     Picard commented in a flat voice, "That's rather...mercenary, 
isn't it, sir?"
     "Picard, they invaded us!  We're not going to just let them 
move in next door - unless we get something out of it: guaranteed 
trade status, industrial concessions, commercial shipbuilding 
quotas and disarmament, complete, unconditional and verifiable."
     The Captain scowled.  "Yes, Admiral.  Whatever Starfleet 
Command thinks best."
     "Exactly, Captain.  That's why we are Command.  Your specific 
orders will be transmitted later."
     The screen blinked back to the serene black velvet, speckled 
with beautiful, twinkling spots of light.
     "Damn!"



     Riker sat impatiently on his bridge, drumming his fingers on 
the armrest of the command chair, much to the consternation of his 
officers.  At least he wasn't pacing.  After hearing about 
Picard's conversation with Starfleet, he was on pins and needles 
waiting for their orders, which were, supposedly, to follow 
shortly.
     Three hours ago.
     "Commander."  Worf's voice brought Will's head around with a 
snap.  "Encoded transmission from Starfleet, commanding officer's 
eyes only."
     Riker stood abruptly.  "Excellent, Lieutenant."
     "Shall I transfer it to your quarters?"
     "No, Worf.  Get me Captain Picard."
     The burly Klingon looked slightly quizzical.  "Of course, 
sir.  On screen."
     The Captain's hawklike features swam onto the screen.  "Ah, 
Mr. Riker, I've just received-"
     "Aye, sir.  So have I.  Permission to board your ship, sir?  
I believe we have similar business..."
     "Of course, Commander.  I'll be waiting in my ready room."



     "Come."
     Riker's form appeared on the other side of the door.  Picard 
looked up from his desktop monitor.  "Have a seat, Number One."
     Will sat across from the older man, turning another screen 
towards himself.  Sparing a glance towards the captain, Will was 
suddenly struck by his own almost boyish excitement.  He was about 
to decode a set of Starfleet orders directed to himself - and his 
ship.  
     What made him realise this was Picard's own look of nervous 
expectation.  He knew what he was going to find, something that he 
wasn't going to like, but hoped wouldn't be there.  Riker 
swallowed, and suddenly felt ashamed of his exuberance.
     The Captain cleared his throat.  "Shall we proceed, 
Commander?"
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     The two men fed authorisation and decoding sequences into the 
terminals.  Waiting patiently, they watched as information flowed 
onto the screens.  Exhilaration seeped into Riker's body as he 
read his - his - mission orders.  Picard stared unblinkingly 
through several readings, at last allowing a raised eyebrow, but 
no more.
     Riker turned his attention towards that small gesture.  
"Something interesting. sir?"
     "Extremely, extremely."
     "Let's hear it."
     "Certainly, Number One.
     "NCC 1701-D U.S.S. Enterprise is to proceed at best speed to 
rendezvous point to be announced shortly, whereupon the vessel 
will dock for an indefinite period of time.  Senior officers will 
transfer for duty aboard NCC 1701-C U.S.S. Enterprise during that 
same period.  Captain Picard is to be transferred aboard squadron 
flagship to head Starfleet diplomatic party after contact with 
Jhonkai homeworlds.
     "What do you think, Commander?"
     "A Starfleet diplomatic envoy?  Not from the Federation 
Council - that surprises me."
     "Me as well."
     "They must think highly of you at Starfleet Command."
     "Indeed; I'm flattered, but for Starfleet to have bypassed 
the Council-"
     "They must have invoked wartime powers and overridden the 
Council."
     "Yes.  Still, I'm glad to be able to have a hand in this 
after all.  Now, Mr. Riker, what, if I may ask, are your orders?"
     Riker beamed a smile.  "Well, most of that was mentioned in 
your orders, but there was a little something more..."
     "Yes?"
     "I'm to receive a brevet appointment to Captain for the 
duration of our operations in Jhonkai space."
     Picard stood and held out his hand.  "Congratulations, Will.  
Captain Riker, that is."
     "Thank you, sir."






                           CHAPTER XIV


     Jean-Luc Picard sat all the way back, pushing every square 
inch of his back into the comfortable simulated leather of the 
command chair.  Starbase 93 loomed large in the viewscreen, with 
only a small sliver of stars garnishing the bottom of the screen.  
A hint of bluish-red nebula played about the image's periphery.
     "Starbase welcomes Enterprise.  Admiral Wesley sends his 
compliments, and requests that Captain Picard join him on the 
temporary squadron flagship, dock fourteen."
     "Starbase, this is Captain Picard.  Please inform the Admiral 
that I'll be aboard presently."
     "Acknowledged, Captain.  Our crew will prepare a berth for 
your ship. Starbase out."
     At that moment, Geordi emerged from the turbolift.  "Mr. 
LaForge, you have the conn."
     Geordi stopped short, mildly surprised.  "Sir?"
     "I have to meet an Admiral.  Make sure they take good care of 
my ship."
     "Of course, sir."
     The ship's gangway deposited Picard in a corridor filled with 
spacesuited workers, going in and out of airlocks into the main 
docking bay.  The tiny monkey-like figures danced among the 
metallic leviathans on which they worked.  The battlecruiser was 
moored directly aft of Picard's Enterprise.  Walking to the 
nearest lift, Jean-Luc entered, and said "Dock fourteen, please."
     The captain was more than mildly surprised to find himself in 
a waiting lounge devoid of the huge clearsteel viewing ports to 
which he was accustomed.  Above huge double doors set into the 
nondescript wall, the number fourteen was printed in plain, 
standard Starfleet typeface.  The doors were just closing on 
Riker's back.
     "Commander!"
     Will turned around, causing the doors to slide open again.  
"Only for a few more minutes, sir."  Picard raised a querulous 
eyebrow.  "My appointment is about to be confirmed."
     "Yes, of course."  Picard stepped up to join his comrade.  "I 
must say, Mr. Riker, that I..."
     Picard's voice trailed off as he stepped onto the gangway.  
The top of the corridor was transparent, and through it, Picard 
was awestruck by beauty incarnate.
     "Impressive, isn't it sir?"
     Glistening pearlescent in the bay floodlights, the sleek form 
of an Enterprise class transwarp heavy cruiser - a ship three 
quarters of a century old! - sat like a watchful sphinx over their 
diminutive forms.
     NCC 1844, U.S.S. Ranger, perched at the end of the gangway, 
the starbase's umbilical connecting smoothly at the main loading 
doors on the portside of the saucer.  The two officers walked 
silently down the ramp, until the two large doors stood several 
feet over them.  They parted, and a boatswain's whistle piped them 
aboard.
     A yeoman stood crisply to attention.  "Admiral Wesley sends 
his compliments, and requests to see captains right away, sirs!"
     "Thank you, Ensign," offered Picard, "we would be 
delighted."
     Once inside, though, Picard realised that the sheer elegance 
faded quickly into stark, military functionality.  The corridors, 
much more cramped than Jean-Luc was familiar with, were floored in 
steel grating covering easily accessed systems, to accommodate 
damage control, and survival compartments in the bulkheads to 
provide for catastrophic damage survival.  Picard realised in the 
back of his mind that all this suited the purpose for which 
Ranger had been built, but it nonetheless made Picard feel 
uncomfortable.



     Admiral Garrett Wesley shook Riker's hand vigorously after 
formal introductions had been made.  "Commander, you have done 
some very good work, I've heard."
     "Thank you, Admiral, sir.  That means a great deal to me, 
coming from you."
     "I have something else for you, Commander."  The Admiral, a 
small round man with a full head of grey speckled hair, picked a 
small, black, gold trimmed box from his desk.
     "Attention!"  Riker and Picard, who hovered near the back of 
the room, both went rigid.  "Commander William Riker, as 
Commanding Officer of Task Force Odysseus, it is my pleasure to 
offer you a field promotion to the rank of Captain, with all 
accompanying rights and responsibilities, for the duration of this 
assignment."
     "Thank you, sir.  I would be honoured to accept, sir."
     Admiral Wesley removed a tiny gold dot from the box.  "So be 
it."  He fastened the insignia alongside the three pins which had 
indicated Will's rank as Commander.  "Congratulations, Captain 
Riker."
     Picard's smile was almost as wide as Will's own.
     "You know, Captain - or should I say Captains - this is 
rather nostalgic for me."
     "And how is that, Admiral?" inquired Picard.
     "My grandfather was a very good friend of James Kirk's, and 
he worked with the original Enterprise on several occasions."
     "Indeed," noted Riker.  "Commodore Robert Wesley has quite a 
reputation, and the Academy uses his accomplishments as examples 
for us all."
     "Now, Captain Riker, I must be on my way to the task force 
command meeting.  The Klingon and Kzinti force commanders will be 
there and we must establish some basic things."
     "Kzinti, sir?"
     "Yes... It seems they've been quite the busy little felines 
these past years.  Anyway, I'll expect you there in fifteen 
minutes, Conference Room Three."
     "Me, sir?  I thought you said task force command."
     "Just be there.  Captain Picard."
     "Yes, Admiral?"
     "The diplomatic detachment is meeting in Conference Room 
Eight. There are representatives from the Council and from 
Starfleet Command who need to see you and the rest of the envoy."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Gentlemen."  And with that, the stout little admiral turned 
and left the room.
     Both captains stood silent for some seconds.  Riker broke the 
silence first.  "Admiral Wesley moves rather quickly."
     "He doesn't have much time to waste, Captain Riker."
     "That sounds so..."
     Picard laughed.  "I understand completely.  It takes a while 
to get used to."
     "We have meetings to get to."
     "Yes.  I am most curious to find out who I'll be working 
with. And as for you, good Luck, Will."
     "Thank you.  And to you, Jean-Luc."



     Riker quietly entered the briefing room, realised that the 
Admiral was not yet present, and moved to a chair at the opposite 
side of the room where a name plate indicated he was to be.  Not 
even had his back touched the chair when the door opened again and 
a Marine honour guard called attention.  The group of officers at 
the table - of whom Riker was by far the most junior, the rest 
being admirals of various rank and one commodore - stood sharply.
     Garrett Wesley moved quickly and directly to the head of the 
table, and mumbled a terse "At ease," before sitting.
     "Ladies and gentleman" - for indeed the commodore was a 
female, and quite a pretty one at that, noted Riker - "I have been 
informed that the Klingon and Kzinti commanders have just boarded 
the station and should be here directly."
     To punctuate his words, the door opened again, and a truly 
impressive Klingon, larger even that Worf, standing close to seven 
feet, entered, resplendent in his shiny black dress battle armour 
and flowing shoulder-cape.
     "Admiral Krond?"
     "Yes, Admiral Wesley."
     Indeed, it was the same Klingon that the Enterprise had been 
with during the training manoeuvres that led to the discovery of 
the battlecruiser, and the start of all of this.  "It is an honour 
to meet you, Admiral.  Has your fleet arrived yet?"
     "My ships and I are at your disposal."
     "Please, have a seat."  The Klingon and the two officers who 
had accompanied him took seats near the opposite end of the table 
from Admiral Wesley.
     "Now, Admiral Krond, if I may inquire now, what size force 
have you brought with you?"
     "My flagship is the C-8 dreadnaught Reaver.  Under my 
command, I have a C-8 heavy shuttle carrier, a D-7 command 
cruiser, a D-7 shuttle carrier, eleven battlecruisers, eight light 
cruisers, and six battle frigates.  Twenty-nine ships with forty 
fighter-shuttles, all Transwarp capable."
     By the end of this recitation, the jaws of more than one 
Federation intelligence officer present, had dropped.  An 
anonymous low whistle floated through the air.  Krond inflated 
with pride.
     Wesley began in a very polite tone.  "Admiral, the Federation 
was unaware of the existence of two C-8 dreadnaughts.  How, might 
I ask do you come to possess these?"
     "The heavy carrier Vulture was an orbitting museum around 
Klinshai.  As for the Reaver, let us just say that the Klingon 
government has many...contingency plans."
     "I see;  and that is-"
     "And that is all I am authorised to or wish to say on the 
subject, Admiral."



     The major, but probably least significant, portion of the 
meeting, the diplomatic ice-breaking and verbal shows of force, 
was done in little more than an hour.  The Kzinti Admiral k'Rzaal 
had brought a smaller force than Krond, but one which caused 
even more eyebrows to be raised, and one that would precipitate a 
great deal more grumbling through the ranks of intelligence 
officers.  For the kzinti should not have had even had Transwarp 
technology, according to treaty, yet were able to field a space 
control ship, six battle cruisers, and nine smaller ships.
     Also participating in Task Force Odysseus was a small, but 
powerful, Gorn contingent, of two dreadnaughts, and three each of 
cruisers and destroyers, under Admiral S'Tyrrg.  The Gorns, always 
staunch allies of the Federation, maintained their own fleet, 
which was of very high quality.
     The largest force was, of course, Starfleet's own.  Wesley's 
flagship would be (when it arrived for rendezvous) the space 
control ship Ingram, whose sister ship Saipan would also take part 
in the operation.  Three of the venerable Excelsior class 
battleships, including the famous nameship of the class, which was 
a contemporary of the Ingram, formed the spearhead of the direct 
combat units, which also included twelve more battlecruisers, 
eighteen of the Constitution II heavy cruisers, ten destroyers, 
and a dozen-and-a-half heavy frigates.  Starfleet had also managed 
to assemble complete fighter groups and crews for two Essex class 
heavy carriers.
     But what that all amounted to was that the Gorn, Kzinti, and 
Klingons had modern front-line combatants, except for the SCS and 
C-8's, while all of the Federation ships ranged from twenty to 
ninety years old.
     After all of the logistics and unnecessary intelligence 
officers had left, the remaining, relatively small, group of 
officers, including Riker, settled into a tactics session to 
figure out what to do with those meager seeming resources.
     Wesley addressed the group.  "Starfleet now has a collection 
of over forty, shall we say, refugees, beamed off of Jhonkai 
vessels before they were able to self-destruct.  What we were able 
to determine from them after questioning, is that we need to make 
as direct an attack as possible to convince them to abandon their 
invasion.  As a side note, this data is fairly reliable, because at 
least eight of the Jhonkai are of officer status, some very high 
up at that.
     "Of course, we will have to offer them a chance to surrender 
before initiating any hostilities-"
     "Ridiculous!" scowled Krond, and the kzin growled deep in 
his chest.
     "If you will let me finish," bellowed Wesley in a voice all 
out of proportion to his diminutive size, "gentlebeings.  I have 
received authorisation to allow minimal response time after the 
ultimatum.  They will not catch my fleet with its trousers down.
     "I am sure that you have both been informed by your 
governments that you are submitting to my command authority for 
this operation.  However, Krond, k'Rzaal, and S'Tyrrg, you will 
all be immediate advisers, as members of my flagstaff.
     "This is clear?" he asked, in a completely non-threatening 
tone.  Various acknowledgements were given.
     "This assault will not be easy.  They will likely outnumber 
us greatly, so we must go straight for their largest collection of 
ships and defeat them before we can be attritted by numerous small 
battles.  Straight into the lion's den is how it must be.
     "You may all now return to your ships to begin final 
preparations.  Captain Riker, Commodore Mateo, please remain."
     With a dramatic turn that snapped his cape in a sharp arc 
about his muscular, armoured body, Krond strode from the room 
wordlessly, a trio of aides following in formation.  At the door, 
k'Rzaal met him, equally as large, if not taller, and definitely 
bulkier, even without battle armour.  With an arrogant 
graciousness, he allowed the Klingon to go first.  The Gorn 
followed them both, mixed in with the remaining human officers, 
until only three forms remained at the conference table.
     The Admiral addressed Will.  "Commodore Mateo will be your 
immediate superior, as commander of the entire battlecruiser 
detachment."
     Riker spared a long glance, taking in a heart shaped, dark-
skinned face with high cheek bones, and large hazel eyes.  A frame 
of wavy black hair came down to and over the shoulders of her red 
and black uniform.
     "The designation is more for a table of organisation than for 
reality, however, since the battlecruisers will be thoroughly 
integrated into the rest of the fleet."
     Riker nodded, and became curious as to the point of all of 
this.  "The fact remains, Captain, that you are presently the most 
experienced commanding officer we have who is both familiar with 
the tremendous capabilities of an Alaska class battlecruiser and 
of the foe that we will be fighting.  You have also demonstrated 
a keen understanding as to how to use that knowledge, and the 
proper disposition for this type of mission.  Do you disagree 
with any of this, Captain Riker?"
     Riker thought momentarily, then responded carefully, "Sir, I 
understand the tremendous importance of the mission that Odysseus 
is assuming, and I am willing to play as active a part in that 
mission as will be helpful.  And I agree that I have experience 
with the ship and the Jhonkai."
     "Good!  Because of that, the commodore and I have chosen you 
to command a small detachment of four battlecruisers:  
Enterprise, Groombridge, Caeser, and Lugal.  If I, as Task Force 
Commander, decide that I need those ships for anything--anything-- 
out of the ordinary, I will not hesitate to call upon you.
     "I don't exactly know what I may need you to do, but the 
collective firepower of four battlecruisers in some sort of tricky 
situation might very well be decisive.  Do you understand all of 
this?"
     "Sir, I do.  Thank you for your trust."
     "You've earned it.  Anyway, I have to be going.  My flagship 
should have docked by now.  At ease, both of you."
     In a blur, Wesley's compact figure breezed through the 
doorway, and was gone.  Mateo stood.
     "Captain, you come with some good references.  I know you 
won't let me down."
     Will allowed a nervous smile.  "With all this at stake, I'd 
better not."






                            CHAPTER XV


     "Task Force Commander's Log, Stardate 42952.8:  Thirteen 
ships are yet to arrive, but otherwise preparations are going as 
well as can be hoped for under trying conditions.
     "Lt. Argyle and his assistant, Ensign Crusher, are still 
finalising calculations for the 'rip' travel, based on their own 
research, and on information from the Jhonkai we have questioned.
     "I have met all of my commanding officers, and I feel 
reassured.  They are all of very good quality and I know I will 
not have to assume any more worries than necessary on this most 
important of missions.
     "The diplomatic contingent is secure aboard the Saipan.  My 
decision not to put them aboard the flagship was not an easy one, 
but I have my rationale.  If a diplomatic opportunity arises 
before hostilities are finished, the Ingram and myself must needs 
remain with those ships that are still fighting.
     "So, for now, I have naught to do but wait, and has there 
ever in history been a naval commander who enjoyed waiting?  The 
more men he commands, the worse the waiting..."



     "Come."
     The door parted to admit Worf, who entered and took a seat.  
Riker was relaxing in his cabin, where Data had already arrived.  
Will had invited his friends to come and join him, since only the 
engineers had anything to keep them busy for the while.
     "Captain," said Worf, his way of greeting his host.
     "Worf, you've finished what you've been doing?"
     "Yes, sir.  The Tactics Board has completed briefing all the 
fleet weapons officers."
     "Good, good."  Riker's voice trailed off, and his eyes 
assumed a faraway look.
     Data cocked his head to one side, and spoke.  "If I am not 
mistaken, sir, something is troubling you."
     "Hmm?  No, it's-  Actually, you're not mistaken, Data.  
Something is."
     "I had thought that you were very content to command this 
ship.  Has something changed your opinion?"
     "No, certainly not!  The ship is wonderful, and my crew is 
exemplary.  It's just..."  He was silent for several long moments.  
"Data, when was the last war involving the Federation?"?
     "Searching.  The Federation Council last declared war in 
response to aggressions by the Klingon Empire, on Stardate 9932.3.  
Since that time, three major border skirmishes with the Romulans, 
the most recent of which was eighteen years ago, and-"  Data cut 
himself off, before continuing.
     "I believe I understand now, Captain.  You believe that the 
Federation is, to use a phrase, 'out of practice'?"
     "Somewhat, but I think that what's really bothering me is 
more personal.  I've fought maybe a dozen little encounters with 
these Jhonkai, and now I'm being treated like I'm some sort of 
expert.  Me, with a first command--not even permanent--and a 
little luck.
     "But you're right, too, Data.  The whole Federation!"  Riker 
rose abruptly and walked towards the viewport.  "We shouldn't be 
fighting this war.  This or any; it's crazy.  War is-"
     "A fine tradition, sir," interrupted Worf.  "Many of my 
ancestors found their glory in warfare, and there is no reason why 
it should take on any less meaning today."
     "Worf, I appreciate your background, but it's this simple.  A 
civilisation as advanced as the Federation should not be fighting 
a war."
     "I disagree, Captain.  Two civilisations as advanced, as 
you call it, as the Federation, should not fight.  But if one side 
is determined to have a war, it cannot be avoided."
     "I believe that Lt. Worf is correct, sir.  The Federation had 
much the same beliefs that you express before the war with the 
Klingons.  History shows that because of unwillingness to accept 
the fact of the war, the Federation did very poorly the first year 
of the conflict. And-"
     Riker nodded.  "And only after we realised the Klingon point 
of view were we able to finish the war and establish the 
negotiations that brought us to where we are today.  Yes, I see 
your point.  Thank you both for helping settle my mind.  I still 
am going to worry about myself, though, if you don't mind."
     Data said, "But you will do very well, sir."
     Worf grunted.  "You are no Klingon, but I agree."
     Riker couldn't help but laugh at Worf's statement.



     The Saipan was tremendous, even compared to his own ship, 
thought Jean-Luc Picard, as he walked the steel corridors towards 
his stateroom.  Alongside him were Dr. Crusher and Counsellor 
Troi, whom he had asked to accompany him as advisers.  They had 
readily accepted.  As the door closed behind them, he offered 
chairs, and took one near a viewport himself.
     "Seeing as how Starfleet has already spelled out the terms it 
is willing to offer, I have only one real duty to perform here.  I 
have to exploit, perhaps even create, some opportunity to open 
negotiations.
     "And it seems like Starfleet plans on giving me little chance 
to do that before the Jhonkai have been crushed completely."
     Troi pointed out, "But we do have some opportunity, sir.  And 
you will figure out how to take advantage of it, before it is too 
late."
     "Yes, we have to come to terms with these poor beings before 
they have nothing left to save."
     "Poor beings!"  Dr. Crusher exploded.  "Excuse me, Captain, 
but have you been to the Starbase sickbay recently?  Have you seen 
all of the mangled bodies that have been in and out of there?  My 
God, these 'poor beings' have wiped out almost a million 
civilians, scattered around this sector alone.
     "The Jhonkai cannot be treated any less harshly than 
they have treated us if they are ever to be dealt with safely.  
After all the damage they've wrought; on innocent people, on 
Starfleet officers, and equipment, on Wes-"  Beverly threw her 
hands to her face, and turned quickly, hiding the tears that were 
starting to form.
     "Doctor," said Picard compassionately, rising quickly.
     Troi waved him to stop, and herself moved towards the doctor.  
Picard didn't want to leave, but was forced to concede the 
Counsellor's expertise.  With a dejected mood and a scowl, Jean-
Luc turned wordlessly and stalked out of the room.
     When she heard the sighing of the closing door, Crusher 
turned back around.  "Oh, Deanna!  I've got to apologise to-"
     "The Captain understands.  Don't worry about him right now."  
Biting her bottom lip, she reluctantly reseated herself.  
"Beverly, Wes is doing much better."
     "Is he?  I mean really?"
     "I would not try to deceive you, you know that."
     With that reassurance, and the listlessness of having 
released a terrible emotional burden, Crusher leaned back in the 
chair, somewhat relaxed, and wiped a last tear from her cheek.
     "I have been with him almost every day, helping him deal with 
what he has done, and it has helped.  He will always carry that 
remorse in him, but that will help him not to repeat his mistake.
     The last time that the doctor had seen her son, he was 
tremendously depressed, hardly speaking, eating little, and 
torturing himself by constantly thinking about the three other men 
who he had forced himself to go and see.  Two of them were still 
unconscious in regen baths.
     Since then, they had talked only briefly, on a few 
occasions, and that was not enough to tell how he was.  She had 
assumed the worse.  Damn the Jhonkai for creating the havoc which 
had kept her too busy to see her son.
     "You were told that he is back on duty, at my 
recommendation?"
     "Yes, I had heard, but not what he is doing."
     "He and Lt. Argyle have been working on the problem of moving 
through the rips.  I don't think he will be back in his old 
posting, however."
     "I have to see him before the fleet departs."



     Newly promoted Lt. Cmdr. Argyle tapped one last sequence into 
the computer, and shut it down, leaving it for the briefing he 
would be conducting in a few minutes.  He stood, stretched 
dramatically, and turned to where Wes sat, staring at the screen 
he was using.
     "What's the matter, Wes?  Aren't you finished yet?"
     "Yeah, I guess so."
     "You guess so?  Well did you finish the programming, or 
what?"
     "Yes.  I just don't know if..."
     At Captain Riker's suggestion, Argyle had assigned Wes, after 
the two of them had done the brunt of the work on the Transwarp 
algorithms for rip travel, to complete the programming to increase 
shield output on the older ships.  As Riker had put it, "back in 
the saddle" as soon as possible.
     The boy's work was superb, and the computer simulations 
backed up his theories, but he was apathetic about the problem,
even as he had been completely absorbed by the warp field 
recalibration.
     Argyle was no psychologist, but he had to put back together a 
few younger officers in his time, after they had done something 
they thought they could never be forgiven for, by themselves or 
anyone else.
     "What's eating you, Wes?"
     Crusher's head turned, a mildly insulted look on his face.  
"You have to ask?"
     "Look, you made a mistake."  He winced.  "And you don't like 
it. And you don't like the fact that you weren't the only one hurt 
by it.  Well, take that as a lesson.  As a Starfleet officer, you 
are responsible for more than just yourself.  That probably doesn't 
make it any easier, but you just have to face it.
     "Now, what have all the computer simulations said about your 
reprogramming?"
     "It will increase shield power by 70% in all diburnium-osmium 
coil based shielding systems."
     "That's fantastic!  Nobody has ever been able to do that 
before."
     Wesley dismissed it with a sharp shake of his head.  "It was 
obvious.  Anyone could have-"
     "Obvious to you, maybe, but not to anyone else who ever 
tackled that problem.  With this advantage, think of how many more 
men will be saved when we fight the Jhonkai.  Did you think of 
that?"
     A realisation dawned across the youthful visage.  "No...All 
those people."
     "Who will be safer because of your improvements.  Now I ask 
you again, are you finished yet?"
     "Yes, sir!"
     "Good.  The briefing starts in ten minutes.  Let's get this 
place cleaned up."



     Dr. Crusher watched the doors open and saw dozens of officers 
in Engineering gold move purposefully from the briefing room.  
They had some serious work to accomplish in the next fourteen 
hours before the Task Force departed.
     When the room was almost empty, she walked in.  The two 
occupants noticed her.
     "Good afternoon, Doctor."
     "Hello, Mr. Argyle."
     "Mom."  Wes crossed over to the doctor.
     "Argyle, do you need him right now?"
     "No, ma'am.  He's yours."
     "Thank you.  Wes?"
     "All right.  Where are we going?"  he asked as the door slid 
shut behind the two of them.
     "Just for a walk," she answered.  "Wes, you know I'm going 
with the task force, don't you?"
     He stopped short.  "Why?  You shouldn't be-"
     "Yes, I should.  I'm acting as personal advisor to Captain 
Picard, and as an extra surgeon aboard the Saipan."
     "But mom, what if something, you know, happens?"  She could 
see that he was very, very concerned.  After all, he had lost one 
parent already.
     "And what if something happens to you?  You've already given 
me enough of a scare."
     Now he saw the worry in her eyes, too.  She had already lost 
one of the important men in her life.  "Mom, I did something 
stupid, and I know it.  But I'll be alright.  I just mean...I'll 
be alright."
     Beverly took her son and embraced him.  She heard, more than 
what he said, how he had said it, and she believed him.  When they 
separated, she said, "Now don't you tell me that I shouldn't be 
going. We both have duties to perform."
     He grinned sheepishly.  "OK."
     "If I don't see you before departure, good luck."
     "You too."



     The bridge of the Ingram class Space Control Ship was 
enormous.  Admiral Garrett Wesley's command chair was behind and 
above the Captain's chair at the center of the circular room, and 
was itself surrounded by seats for the Admiral's staff, as the 
captain's was by his first officer's and tactical officer.
     The klaxon was off, but the pulsing amber alert lights still 
played about the reflective surfaces of the room.  At least twenty 
stations sat about the perimeter of the room, parting only for the 
three turbolift doors.  The main viewer was, of course, fore, with 
secondary and only slightly smaller viewers port aft and starboard 
aft, so everyone could always see clearly what was going on.
     Under the main viewer, the Tactical Weapons Officer ran 
simulations with her crew.  Behind her, the helmsman and navigator 
cycled through their own checklists.
     Though he had been in this very room too many times to 
recall, all of these details played at the back of the Admiral's 
mind while he crossed towards the Communications Officer, under 
the portside viewer.
     "All right, Commander, on screen."
     The viewscreen directly above shifted, and the view of the 
starbase disappeared.
     "U.S.S. Ingram, Admiral Garrett Wesley receiving."
     "This is Admiral Gruber, Starfleet Headquarters.  Admiral 
Wesley, when is your fleet set for departure?"
     "We are leaving Starbase in nine hours, twenty-three 
minutes."
     "Can you speed up that time at all?"
     That question unnerved Wesley.  "Not without seriously 
jeopardising our preparations, sir.  May I ask why?"
     Gruber looked as though chewing on something distasteful.  
"The Jhonkai forces has stepped up their invasion schedule, it 
seems. Numerous heavy units are being reported all over Federation 
space. An outpost on the Romulan border was attacked and destroyed 
twenty minutes ago.  The situation is becoming critical."
     "We'll do our best, sir."
     That didn't seem to appease him.  "Starfleet out."



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This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 16 through Ch. 17:
----------------------------------------------



                           CHAPTER XVI


     Admiral Heirok looked up from the sector status board he was 
studying.  The aide stood patiently, a small databoard held in his 
hand.
     "Yes?"
     "New reports, sir."
     Heirok read over the screen, blinked read it again, then a 
third time.  Without a word, he shoved the board back at the aide, 
who almost dropped it, and shot across the room at a dead run.
     "What the hell!" muttered the aide, then looked at the data 
himself.  A knot of fear tightened in his stomach.
     The President looked up at the approaching Chief-of-Staff.
     "Mr. President!"
     "What is it?" he asked, worry seeping into his voice.  He had 
already been two days without sleep and wondering how things 
could get worse.
     "New reports.  Best estimates give us 1500 enemy heavy units 
in Federation territory."
     "Oh my God."  The sweat was noticeable on his brow.
     "They're concentrating in one of our weakest sectors, at 
least six-hundred of them.  Right here."  His hand pointed towards 
a nearby strategic plot.
     "How many ships do we have there?"
     "Sixty cruisers, and about one-hundred smaller units.  For 
the entire sector.  And..."
     "What is it Admiral?"
     "The Transwarp Strike Fleet is the closest force."
     "I see.  What is your recommendation, Admiral?"
     "Mr. President, if that is any indication of the total force 
that the Jhonkai possess, Wesley doesn't stand a chance.  Even if 
he does manage to win, what good will it be if there's no 
Federation to come back to."
     The President all of a sudden felt incredibly burdened.  
Wesley's force appeared to be the UFP's only chance.  But Heirok 
was a good officer, and the President had come to trust the 
Andorian's advice.  "What does Gruber say?"
     "One minute, sir, and I'll find out."
     Heirok spoke to a nearby intercom for several minutes, then 
returned.  "He concurs."
     "I see.  Prepare to recall the Strike Fleet.  Log the order 
on my authority, Stardate 42954.0."



     In defiance of everything that Wesley had been told, the 
fleet was ready almost two hours ahead of schedule.  With a 
queasiness of anticipation in his gut, Admiral Garrett Wesley 
surveyed the bridge of his flagship.
     "Status."
     "Sir, all engineers report alterations complete and 
simulations positive.  Shield refits are all completed and full 
tests conducted.  Shuttles and small craft have been recovered from 
starbase, and the fighter-shuttles are all armed and ready.  All 
ships at yellow alert, all supplies aboard, and awaiting departure 
order."
     Wesley took in a fateful feeling breath and prepared to give 
the order, when the Communications Officer announced, "Admiral, 
priority Flash, Starfleet Command to Task Force Commander."
     "On screen."
     The starfield turned into a blue UFP shield, and Wesley heard 
the voice of Starfleet Chief-of-Staff, Admiral Heirok.
     "Admiral Garrett Wesley, Commanding Officer, Task Force 
Odysseus.  As of Stardate 42954.0 you are ordered, by authority of 
Starfleet Command representing the President of the United 
Federation of Planets, to cease all preparations for entrance into 
Jhonkai space.  Your force will engage a reported six-hundred 
Jhonkai heavy units in your sector.  Interception co-ordinates 
have been transmitted to your ship's computers.  Acknowledge this 
order."
     A stunned silence clamped down on the bridge crew.  
"Acknowledge this order," repeated the screen.
     "Commander, get me the admirals."
     In moments, the shield was gone, and the screen split to show 
k'Rzaal, Krond, and S'Tyrrg.
     "Admirals, I have just been ordered to abandon Odysseus 
because the invasion has begun in this sector.  I need opinions."
     "Bah!" snarled Krond.  "We will do nothing here.  We must 
strike into these usurpers' homeland before we will accomplish 
anything."
     The Gorn nodded his scaled, dinosaur-like head gravely.  
"Admiral Wesley, he is right.  The purpose of this force must not 
be sacrificed for a victory of one battle, only to lose the war."
     The kzin's only response was a piercing, shrieking warcry, 
and a mouthful of carnivorous teeth.
     "I see your opinions.  I will let you know of my decision 
shortly.  Wesley out.
     "Captain, maintain your ship."  Wesley left through the 
central turbolift.  Out of sight, it rotated, and deposited him in 
the viewing lounge just aft of the bridge, and above a docking 
port.  He went to the intercom.
     "Fleet Admiral to Captain Picard."
     "Picard here."  His hawklike nose and thinning white hair 
became visible.  "Jean-Luc, I have a problem."
     Two minutes later, Picard said, "I see.  It is your decision, 
Admiral.  Not much of one, because it was quite clearly a direct 
order.  But my people will not get a chance to do their jobs while 
we're still here."
     "But all the people in this sector.  What are we condemning 
them to by leaving?  Don't answer, Captain.  It's not your 
problem. I must return to the bridge."
     The doors parted and Wesley was back on the bridge.  The room 
was dead quiet, without even any of the normal intercom chatter.  
The energisers rumbled faintly through the deck, and all eyes 
followed Wesley as he walked carefully to his seat.  It seemed a 
monumental task to climb the two small steps to mount it.
     Taking in every face in the compartment, thinking of them, 
whatever families and friends they were leaving behind, thinking 
of everything, he finally settled his eyes on the main viewer, out 
of contact with anything and anybody but the blackness of space.  
What am I condemning them to? 
     "The die is cast."
     He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes.  "All ships to Red 
Alert.  Prepare to cast off, and move to predetermined departure 
point.
     "Communications, -"
     The Comm Officer interrupted the Admiral with a cleared 
throat.  "Sir, that last transmission was too garbled to be 
clearly understood.  I don't think we really need to log 
reception.  Will that be alright, sir?"
     "Just fine, commander.  Just fine."
     Wesley felt the relief wash off of his crew in waves, felt it 
seep reassuringly into himself.  Low voices took to their tasks, 
and the entire room came back to life.
     "All ships report ready sir, waiting for your command."
     "Go!"



     William Riker sat nervously in his command chair.  Data was 
at navigation, Worf at weapons, and Wesley Crusher at the helm.  
Geordi stood over his shoulder, waiting patiently for anything 
that required his duties as Exec.  Argyle was at the engineering 
station.
     Familiar faces to comfort him, but he was on pins and 
needles. They all were.  Even Data was unnaturally quiet.
     A beep sounded from the Comm console.  Geordi moved quickly 
to it, pushing a button, and listened to his earpiece.
     "Signal from flag, Captain.  Red Alert, and prepare to cast 
off."
     "Red Alert," ordered Riker.  The bridge was bathed in 
crimson.  Mr. Crusher, make preparations to depart."
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Geordi, report ready."
     "Yes, sir."
     Geordi spoke briefly, then listened again.  "Go."
     "Mr. Crusher, cast off."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Data, lay in course for first rendezvous."
     "Course laid in, sir."
     "All moorings clear."
     "One-fourth impulse, helm."
     "Aye."  Wes's hands moved over the board, and his eyes watched 
several displays.  "We are clear of the station and free to 
navigate."
     "Data, engage."
     The ship accelerated, then the viewscreen made the slightest 
shift as warpspeed was achieved.  In less than five minutes, all 
of Odysseus's ships were at the rendezvous, and the Admiral 
ordered them into formation.
     "Mr. Crusher, make it so."
     Hours of computer simulation had told the tactics officers 
just where every ship should go to provide the best coverage and 
interlocking fire.  The three SCS's and six battleships were 
spread as evenly as possible, each with an accompanying complement 
of battlecruisers.  The heavy cruisers formed a forward line, and 
the smaller ships were scattered seemingly randomly.  The carriers 
were in the middle.
     "We are now in formation on the flagship," announced Data.
     "Argyle, power up the rip generator."
     "Yes, sir."
     The viewscreen shifted again, revealing the Admiral.  "This 
is Admiral Wesley to all ships.  We are here on the threshold of 
the unknown.  This will probably be the most important mission of 
many of your careers.  You will not let me down.  Good luck to you 
all.  Begin countdown...NOW."
     "Thirty seconds," announced Data.
     "Rip generator at full power and holding."
     "Worf, load all torpedoes to maximum."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Twenty seconds."
     "Torpedoes loaded.  Preparing to divert power to phasers at 
breakthrough."
     "Good.  Standby."
     "Ten seconds."
     "Data, bring shields to full power."
     "Yes, sir.  Shields at full.
     "Five seconds."
     "Argyle, go."
     The engine pitch rose to a scream, as if the nacelles were 
trying to rip themselves free of the hole.
     "Three, two, one.  Engage."
     "Minimum magnification on the viewer."
     Riker took in a view of the entire fleet from his position at 
the top of the right flank.  In the very center of the tremendous 
formation, a small jet black orb appeared, crackling with white 
lightning.  It expanded, swallowing up the stars.
     Crusher announced, "Reversing thrust to compensate."
     The engine noise became even louder, and Riker felt a small 
trembling in the deckplates.  The void continued to grow.  
Presently it expanded past the fringes of the fleet.
     "Inform the flag that we now have clear passage, Geordi."
     "Yes, sir," answered the temporary Exec and Comm Officer.  He 
sent the message, and then repeated the reply.  "Ingram says to 
standby for transition."
     "Increasing reverse thrust."  The bulkheads were vibrating 
noticeably now.
     "Engines standing by."
     "Signal to fleet from Ingram.  Complete transition in ten 
seconds...MARK."
     Sweat poured down Riker's forehead.  The engines were now 
shaking his teeth.  He was glad that this ship had chairstraps, 
else he would have fallen on the deck already.
     At two seconds, the lightning exploded into one ferocious 
instant of light, leaving an oval shaped swath of misplaced stars.
     At one second, Wes put the engines to full power ahead.  
Everyone squashed back into their seats before the acceleration 
dampeners could compensate.  At one-half second the ship bucked 
incredibly, and Riker felt tunnel vision setting in.  His body had 
turned traitor, and he couldn't move a single muscle in his body.
     Then at T minus zero seconds it really got bad.  Will heard 
someone grunt, as though hit in the belly, realised it was 
himself, and wheezed.  He could feel the blood coursing through 
his temples, and the veins on his neck bulge.  His neck ached, but 
so did everything else.  He thought he heard the engines shut off 
automatically, and either lights went out, or he became 
unconscious a moment before he thought he did.



     Admiral Wesley croaked into his log recorder.  "Task 
Force...Log, Stardate 42594.2:  The Ingram is through the 
interphase."  He paused to inhale very deeply.  One of the 
helmsmen, rousing himself, tended to his partner, who had slammed 
his head into the console and was bleeding badly from a large 
wound.  "Will now check status, other ships."
     The Science Officer coughed, and said, "No enemies, sir."
     He sat upright, and waited until he felt in control of his 
body again.  There was a generally increased level of activity on 
the bridge, and the injured helmsman had been removed by an 
emergency medical team.
     The Ingram's captain, Fanek, a dark-skinned Arab, barked a 
few quick commands.  "Damage report, casualties, now."
     Wesley said to the Comm officer.  "Get reports from the other 
ships, and find out how we did."
     In a few minutes, they had their answers.  The flagship had 
sustained no damage, and a few minor injuries on breakthrough.  In 
the entire fleet, one ship had been crippled coming through, a 
Klingon frigate.  The turbulence had sheared one engine nacelle 
completely off, killing the engine room crew.  Wesley ordered an 
evacuation, and the ship was scuttled.  The Vulture took her crew.
     Otherwise, there were twenty odd fatalities, and no 
significant damage.
     However, the fleet had been tremendously scattered by local 
tides in the transition, and it would take some time to 
reestablish formation.
     The fleet was on minimum power, so as not to broadcast its 
position.  Wesley went to the flagship's Science Officer.  
"Commander, I want you to assemble a long-range sensor picture, 
using microsecond bursts from the sensors, on the lowest power 
setting.  Just enough to figure out where we are.  You have at 
least two hours while the fleet reassembles."
     "Aye, aye, Admiral."
     Wesley and Fanek toured the ship, and after two hours, 
returned to the bridge.  According to the records extracted from 
Enterprise's logs, they had arrived in very good position, in one 
of the biggest empty pockets in Jhonkai space, but still near 
inhabited systems.  And the fact that it only took two hours at 
impulse power to reorganise meant that the transition had gone a 
lot better than Wesley had privately thought possible.
     With everyone and everything back in order, the engine room 
reported ready to manoeuvre at warp speed.
     Of course, they were still at Red Alert, with weapons and 
shields ready, so they set off as soon as possible.
     "This is Admiral Wesley to all ships.  Our first target has 
been selected, and information is in your computers now.  We will 
proceeding at ultrawarp factor 1.5.  That is conventional warp 
factor 2."  Analysis of Jhonkai technology, what little had been 
recovered or captured, said that at that speed they were below a 
dangerous chance of being detected.  Wesley hoped so.  "From now 
on, all courses and speeds will be in conventional warp.  Upon 
arrival, we will analyse the situation, and then engage as 
necessary.  Flag out.
     "Comm, transmit 'go' signal."
     The Ingram accelerated.  The ship had a tremendous saucer, 
connecting to a secondary hull that looked not quite like a 
pregnant guppy.  But that pregnant guppy held thirty-six fighter 
shuttles, and a dozen heavy attack shuttles.  Each one, not very 
significant, but all together, an impressive amount of firepower.
     The huge transwarp nacelles glowed faintly blue, illuminating 
the main hangar that sat astride their junction on the ship's 
dorsal.



     At Warp 2, the target system was 110 minutes distant at a 
little over half a light-day.  They were moving 'blacked out', 
meaning no active sensors or scanners, nor any major power using 
systems shipboard which could be identified and tracked.  Each 
ship's computer realised when it had arrived and shut off the warp 
engines accordingly, as no living being could be precise enough to 
keep the formation at 2.4 million kilometres per second.
     "All ships have reported in, sir.  The formation is tight."
     "Good, good.  All right, Commander, take a look out there.  
What do you see?"
     The Science Officer peered into his scopes and monitors.  "No 
major collection of ships.  G-2 primary, three planets.  The 
middle planet is Class M, and inhabited and industrialised.  Two 
moons, one of which is inhabited, the other may be a shipyard.  
All together, maybe forty ships in system."
     "Have the fleet maintain minimum profile.  Comm, get me an 
indirect beam to the planet, laser only."
     "Aye, sir.  Established."
     "Good.  Send the following in local language."
     "Attention Jhonkai.  This is Admiral Garrett Wesley of the 
United Federation of Planets' Starfleet.  You have invaded our 
territory and we are here in response to your hostility.  If you 
surrender willingly, we will not attack.  We are ready to 
negotiate your needs.  Otherwise, we will be forced to take 
actions in protection of our government and our territory."
     "Message sent."
     "Good.  I want the fleet to move at full impulse towards," he 
consulted a navigation screen, "two-seven-five mark zero."
     "Aye, sir."
     "And let's all hope for a good response."






                           CHAPTER XVII


     "What's the count?"
     "As far as I can tell from this distance, three hundred and 
growing."
     After the Admiral's signal, Jhonkai ships had appeared out of 
almost nowhere, gathering at the other end of the system.  Wesley 
had said let them, because they wanted to achieve their objective 
as soon as possible, in as few battles as possible.  The Klingon 
and Kzinti admirals agreed, because they wanted a good fight.  
S'Tyrrg had agreed, but with some reservations.
     Besides, the waiting made the diplomats happy, because it 
gave the Jhonkai a chance to respond peacefully--while their 
entire warfleet gathered.
     Theoretically, the Federation had a major advantage, in that 
the Jhonkai didn't seem to be able to fight at warpspeeds, while 
Wesley's ships could.  Realistically, though, no commander could 
even hope to manoeuvre a fleet of this size in complex tactical 
warp manoeuvres.
     Theoretically, then, a few of the Federation's warp capable 
ships would be able to run rings around the entire Jhonkai fleet.  
But again, with this many hostile ships, it would just be too 
crowded, and the ships would probably collide with something else 
anyway.
     So, the fleets were meeting at roughly equal status.
     Another fifteen minuted passed.  "Admiral, the rate of 
appearance is dropping."
     "How many now?"
     "Three eighty, give or take."
     "Let me know when five minutes passes without an arrival."
     Wesley took a leisurely walk around the bridge, nodding 
approval at the officers' screens and panels, offering a little 
technical chit-chat along the way.  He was just returning to his 
chair when the Science Officer announced what he was waiting for.
     "Sir, five minutes and no new vessels.  Current count is four 
hundred and two."
     "Very well."  Wesley looked to the officer seated immediately 
to his right.  As a captain needed his executive officer, a flag 
officer was equally dependent on his Chief-of-Staff and Flag 
Lieutenant.  "Captain DiSanto."
     The fragile looking woman responded immediately.  "Yes, sir?"
     "In your opinion, are our interests better served by an 
offensive posture, or by waiting for the Jhonkai to make the first 
move?"
     DiSanto called up a tactical display on the flag console.  
"Sir, as deployed, the Jhonkai forces are making very good use of 
terrain, with this asteroid clump here," she pointed, "and the gas 
giant's moon system over here.  If we wait, they have nothing to 
lose, and their position is just too good to throw away.  I don't 
think they will even make a first move."
     "Good point.  And if we go straight for the planet..."
     "They will clearly outflank us."
     "Comm, send the ultimatum once again.  Tell them they have 
fifteen minutes to respond, or we will attack."
     To nobody's surprise, the Federation forces listened to 
interplanetary static for a quarter of an hour.  Admiral Wesley 
reluctantly admitted that his last chance to avoid bloodshed was 
gone, and he was out of options.
     With a lump in his stomach, he barked orders.  War orders.
     "Flag to task force.  All carriers deploy sub-units.  Prepare 
for engagement plan Alpha.  Right flank will engage enemy forces 
concentrated at one-one-one mark zero; all other ships will engage 
the enemy near the asteroid field.  Report Ready."
     "Aye, aye, Admiral.  All units report ready.  Carrier 
deployment underway."
     "All units, ahead three-quarters impulse.  Godspeed and good 
luck."



     The multi-layered formations of the Federation armada rolled 
through the narrow asteroid belt.  During the earlier, more 
warlike history of the Federation, large fleet engagements had 
occasionally been fought.  They paled in comparison.
     One-hundred and eighteen allied ships, among them forty three 
capital ships, mingled in a giant deepspace 'furball' (a term used 
by fighter-shuttle pilots to describe large complex dogfights) with 
four-hundred and two Jhonkai warships, fielding some seventy 
dreadnaughts of their own.
     Dozens of shuttles boosted to warp speed, moving aft of TF 
Odysseus, and circling far around to come up from behind the 
asteroid defenders.  With the range between fleets still at some 
tens of thousands of kilometres, Admiral Wesley gave the order to 
fire.  Federation ships began to volley proximity fused photon 
torpedoes, whose high yield warheads began to pound the giant 
rocks into small free-floating debris.
     Dozens of small drive flames winked on near the Kzinti ships, 
guided missiles dancing in crazy, unpredictable patterns toward 
the defenders.  The Gorns, who had learned a thing or two from 
decades of border skirmishes with Romulans, loosed over a dozen 
plasma torpedoes.
     Klingon disruptor fire washed across half hidden ships, then 
half of their battlecruisers went to cloak.  True, they would 
reveal their position every time they fired, but with all the 
sensory clutter, a few ships lost track of would be very nice for 
the allies.
     Jhonkai ships near the system's one gas giant boiled out in a 
wedge shape, seeing a flanking opportunity.  Suddenly, a mixed bag 
of Klingon and Federation ships (which also carried cloaking 
devices, though they were, until now, almost never used) appeared, 
diving straight down on them from above the plane of battle.  A 
wave of attack shuttles completed the hammerblow from underneath.
     The flankers, now themselves outflanked, fell to chaos.



     Riker watched the tactical display with intent eyes.
     Wesley Crusher was doing an outstanding job of combat 
manoeuvring.  Even Riker was getting a slight tinge of vertigo 
from the top down orientation of the attack.  Crusher apparently 
didn't notice, staring at his screens instead of the viewer.
     "Mega-phasers in range, sir."
     "Right, Worf.  Open fire, and target to cripple."
     "Aye, sir."
     Lightning blazed from the four huge pods on the ship's beam, 
converging on the scattering Jhonkai scoutships.  Blooms of light 
were testimonial to Worf's accuracy.
     The subspace chatter told Will that the fighters had achieved 
surprise.  The Jhonkai sensors were not good enough to target such 
small ships, and the formation of the attack wing was wide enough 
to make blanketing fire very inefficient.
     "Damage?"
     "Slight, sir.  Shields are holding very well."
     "Good, Mr. Argyle.  Keep it up, everyone."
     


     The forward engagement was beginning to overwhelm the allied 
forces.  Bearing the brunt of the Jhonkai heavy ships, Wesley's 
forward units had fallen out of formation, and were being harried 
by waves of the enemy scoutships.  To reinforce the situation, 
Admiral Wesley ordered the battleship Simonov forward with one of 
the Gorn dreadnaughts and a handful of battle- and heavy cruisers.
     Following a wave of max-powered photon torpedoes that 
annihilated six Jhonkai vessels, the small group entered the fray 
directly.  Plasma torpedoes hounded the Jhonkai like hunting dogs, 
dragging their quarry ferociously down.
     Simonov's mega-phasers carved a swath through four 
scoutships, two of them igniting in silent pyrotechnics.  Then, 
from every Jhonkai ship within range, hundreds of missiles 
appeared, filling the black sky with menacing intent.  The 
Carnisaur fired phasers on rapid-pulse, swatting the incomings as 
well as they could.  The alliance ships filled space with 
electronic jamming, all the while firing phasers and anti-
missiles.
     Simonov's captain ordered his detatchment to close with the 
Jhonkai, to get as close as possible.  They lumbered forward, 
swapping shots with each other, hurling deadly energy in 
tremendous quantities.  Simonov's primary shields failed as a 
nearby Jhonkai battleship flashed into energy.  Fire and death 
punched through the primary hull, blowing the port side into a 
jagged display of destruction.
     Carnisaur dropped a plasma torpedo directly on top of a 
nearby enemy.  The Jhonkai unloaded its weapons all at once into 
the shimmering ball of death, killing what turned out to be a 
decoy. Then the real torpedo engulfed the now defenseless ship, 
breaking it in two.
     A wall of Avenger class frigates closed on the swarm of 
missiles, trying to knock them down, but there were too many.  The 
heavily damaged Federation battleship struggled under the killing 
rain, her captain watching as one nacelle blew up, taking a good 
portion of the secondary hull with it.  His ship was gutted as 
forty missiles struck the now pitifully weak shields and hull.
     A badly damaged Carnisaur limped away with a small protective 
screen to the safety of the inner formation.  Drifting apparently 
without power, the Simonov floated through the reforming Jhonkai 
ships.
     And then the Federation fighters coming from behind salvoed 
half a thousand missiles at the tightly packed Jhonnkai.  Lost in 
the midst of this new threat, the Simonov jettisoned a few dozen 
lifeboats moments before  she exploded with the fury of total 
conversion.  The Jhonkai battleships that didn't die outright 
coupled lethally with the missile wave.
     Their main defensive positions shattered, their flanking 
force gutted, the Jhonkai began to spasmodically withdraw.  The 
alliance destroyers swept thoroughly through the Jhonkai 
stragglers, making sure none of them were able to fight.



     "Admiral, they're out of effective range."
     "Cease fire.  All units reconverge.  I want a fleet damage 
assessment ASAP, and prepare units to recover all lost fighters 
and lifeboats."
     "Aye, aye, sir!"
     The fleet pulled itself back into shape, as reports were 
processed and compiled.  Wesley looked it over.  Not as bad as 
he'd feared, but not as good as he'd hoped, either.  Sixteen 
allied ships were destroyed, along with about sixty percent of 
their total crews.  Several ships were crippled as well.  For 
that, they'd destroyed or knocked out of action over a hundred 
Jhonkai warships.  Percentage-wise, they were just barely behind 
expectations.
     "How about Simonov's crew?"
     "Sir, the rescue shuttles picked up a hundred and twelve 
survivors."
     Out of over six hundred, Wesley mentally added.  But given 
the kind of punishment that the ship had taken, it was more than 
he would have expected.
     "Okay, split them up between Excelsior and Ascension.  How 
soon until we're ready to fight again?"
     "About a half an hour."
     "Hmmm.  Alright, in five minutes, I want to send another 
offer of terms to them.  Again, fifteen minutes to respond.
     "What's their deployment now?"
     DiSanto answered, "They're gathering around the planet and 
the moons.  That second moon is definitley shipyards.  And we've 
identified a second group of ships here."  The Flag Lieutenant 
indicated the planet's trailing Trojan point.  "No signals from 
them whatsoever.  We're lucky to have noticed them."
     "What are they doing there?"
     "Sir, they appear to be transports."
     "Ah, I see.  Yes, if I wanted to get out of a star system 
quickly I suppose I would keep the transports very nearby.  
They're not defended?"
     "Nothing detectable, Admiral.  They probably don't realise 
that we know where they are.  Passive defenses are likely, 
however."
     "Minefields?"
     "Aye, sir."
     One of Wesley's staff was the CFG, or Commander Fighter 
Group, who was in charge of coordinating all of the fighter and 
attack shuttles.  "Captain Stant, I want you to organise a small 
secondary mission.  Two squadrons of fighters, and one fleet scout 
of your choice.  They're going to go and destroy those transports.  
The scout will serve as a minesweeper and electronics warfare 
platform.  Understood?"
     The Vulcan nodded gravely.  "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Excellent.  Report to me in eighteen minutes."
     Wheeling his stocky frame towards the turbolift, the admiral 
was interrupted by the Comm Officer.  "Admiral, Captain Picard is 
on the line or you."
     Garrett pushed a button on the armrest of the command chair.  
"Admiral Wesley here.  What is it Jean-Luc?"  Although friendly, 
his tone of voice belied his sense of urgency, something that 
Picard completely expected.
     "Admiral, has there been any sort of reaction to our 
communiques?"
     "None at all, Captain.  Not even acknowledgement."
     "Could it be that they're not even receiving our 
transmissions?  Is that possible?"
     "Jean-Luc, I understand your position.  You are here to 
negotiate, and I have no doubt that you sincerely hope to be able 
to end this conflict as quickly and cleanly as possible.  But the 
Enterprise-C's records clearly indicate communication with the 
Jhonkai, and we are following Captain Romanov's methods precisely.  
Also, our electronic warfare capabilities are more than suficient 
to make ourselves be heard over any sort of jamming they may be 
employing.  They are just not interested yet, and we have to 
convince them to be interested."
     "Of course, admiral.  I didn't mean to imply dissatisfaction 
with your methods, only with results thus far."
     "Yes, Jean-Luc, yes.  If it would be preferable, I can have 
all diplomatic communications with the Jhonkai handled by your 
party from the Saipan. Is that acceptable?"
     "Yes, very much, sir."
     "Fine.  Wesley out.
     Admiral Wesley quickly contacted the captains of as many of 
the ships as he could, trying his best to spread encouragement and 
to keep morale from falling.  True, the fleet had done well, but 
they had lost a battleship.  That could have a terrible effect on 
the men.
     As Commodore Mateo's visage faded from the screen, Garrett 
noted Stant's lanky figure standing over him.
     "Yes, Captain?"
     "Final preparations subject to your approval, sir?"  The 
Vulcan indicated a viewscreen displaying the plans for attacking 
the transports.
     "Excellent, Captain Stant.  Very impressive for such short 
notice."
     Wesley and his staff spent several more minutes finalising 
tactics for the next attack.  When they were all duly satisfied, 
Wesley ordered the command frequency open.
     "Flag to all units.  Acknowledge receipt of revised battle 
plan."  Less than a minute later, he continued.  "The Jhonkai 
still show no sign of responding to our overtures for a cease to 
hostilities.  We have no choice but to continue the attack.  
Captains, do not allow yourself to be distraced by the yards or 
support ships.  We must fight the Jhonkai warfleet until the 
either fallback or offer no further resistance.  Then we can 
concentrate on the logistical support.
     "Any questions?"
     There were none.
     "Very well.  Commence engagement plan Beta-two, and good 
luck.  All units ahead, one-half impulse power."
     Ingram surged smoothly forward.  "Here we go again."



     Captain Kjell warily watched the enemy ships sitting unmoving 
around their two moons while his small group moved slowly towards 
the transports.  Sentinel had been chosen to escort the fighter 
squadrons, one Klingon and one Kzinti.
     Kevar's eyes had practically melted onto his console, so 
intently was he scanning for the first signs of a minefield.  The 
Tactical officer was holding back the fighters for the moment, 
waiting until they could attack in safety.
     The main body of the fleet was waiting just inside of maximum 
range of the Federation photon torpedoes, which was quite large 
indeed. They were sniping from safe distance, waiting to see how 
the Jhonkai would react to Kjell's attack on their transports.  So 
far, they had made no move.  Kjell couldn't understand why; they 
certainly had almost nothing in the way of terrain advantage now.  
The cowards should be attacking to defend their homeland.  
Obviously the cowering fool Jhonkai had no insights into the way 
of a true warrior.
     Kevar's voice barked out, "Full stop, now!"
     Kjell watched with interest as the helmsman hurriedly obeyed.  
"What is it, Kevar?"
     "Definitely a minefield, sir."
     "Any active sensors."
     "Six, equally covering a sphere.  Nearest is one-nine-seven, 
mark two-two."
     "Analysis."
     "Deadman mines, tracking the rest of the field."
     "Then we must take them out first."
     "Aye, sir."
     Kjell switched the officer of his attention.  "Weapons!  Time 
on target missile salvo, two drones on each of those mines.  
Understood?"
     "Clearly, sir."  The weapons officer operated his console 
quickly and efficiently.  "Pattern set, captain."
     "Open fire!"
     A dozen missiles came off of two launch racks aft, near the 
impulse drive.  The first ones arced around the minefield to hit 
the deadman sensors away from Sentinel.  In perfect unison, six 
explosions dotted the edges of the field.
     "Scan?" inquired Kjell.
     Kevar responded, "No active emissions."
     "Good, good."  The captain didn't bother to remind Kevar that 
if he had missed even one deadman mine, the entire minefield might 
have been set off at once.  He didn't have to.  The sensor tech 
was already sweating.
     "Launch the shuttles, and divert power to the tractor beams."
     Sentinel moved forward, beginning the tedious and dangerous 
work of disabling individual mines.  As her tractor beams tossed 
some mines out of the way, a triplet of shuttles mounting small 
defensive phasers knocked many more out of commission.
     "Sensors?"
     "About halfway through the field, captain," reported Kevar.
     "Maintain."
     Suddenly, Kevar sat bolt upright.  "Captain!  Lifeform 
readings, and power coming up in one of those ships!"
     Kjell growled low in his throat.  "Disruptors!  Target, and 
fire."
     Kjell knew what Kevar's report meant.  All any living person 
needed to do to wreck a minesweeper was to throw one switch, order 
one computer command.  And he couldn't do anything about it, 
except to kill any Jhonkai before they got the chance to do so.
     Even as the pale green beams licked at the new power 
readings, causing their target to bubble away into slag and 
vapour, Kevar spoke again.  "Active sensors all around us.  We're 
being targetted."
     And then Kjell, the mighty Klingon warrior, panicked.  He 
should have ordered full stop and blackout.  He could have 
clocked, or launched decoys.  Or any number of things.  Anything 
but move.
     "Full reverse, now!"  Kevar heard the tinge of hysteria in 
his voice.
     Energy blossomed all over the Sentinel.  Some explosions, 
some phaser fire, or missile launches.  A half-dozen different 
effects, in fact, none of which were good.  The impulse 
engineering section was ripped indelicately from Sentinel's spine.  
A burst of explosive force ripped the forward boom from the rest 
of the ship, and the increase in motion triggered even more mines.
     Watching from a safe distance, the Kzinti wing leader, 
k'Trrek, saw the scout engulfed in flame and debris.  As the nova 
bright light dimmed, he saw what was left of the command boom 
spiral crazily away from the center, in the general direction of 
the fleet.
     k'Trrek thumbed his radio.  "Leader to all fighters.  The 
minefield is down.  Attack.  Attack and avenge!  Attaaaack!"  The 
last word turned into a shrill scream of rage as k'Trrek jammed 
his throttle to full.  Two dozen heavily armed shuttles charged 
down through a chaos of twisted and still burning debris.
     Three minutes later, twenty-one fighters reformed to return 
to the fleet, leaving behind no piece of metal bigger than a 
deckplate.  The Jhonkai transports had been scrapped, and every 
being who might have been aboard killed to a man.



     As soon as Sentinel disappeared into that hellish ball of 
energy, Wesley spoke to his fleet.  "All ahead full.  All units, 
engage now!"
     Even as they leapt forward, the entire Jhonkai fleet began to 
volley missiles.  Every scout could launch six at a time, every 
Jhonkai battleship eighteen.  Space was quickly filled with small, 
deadly dots.  The massed firepower under Wesley's command took to 
their defense with a vengeance.  Hundreds of missiles were 
destroyed or electronically deflected, leaving less than a hundred 
and fifty to arrive in the midst of the fleet.
     Those ships which mounted them fired high-density kinetic 
kill weapons at close range detonating a third of those remaining.  
Had their tagets been spread out, the missiles could not have 
seriously harmed the fleet.  But the Jhonkai were getting smarter.  
Those missiles which got throuh were all aimed at two ships, the 
Federation heavy carrier Saratoga, and the Klingon D-7V Peregrine.  
Saratoga's fighters emptied their own missile racks to defend 
their mothership, and Saratoga took only minor structural and 
heavy shield damage.
     Unfortunately, Peregrine's fighters were with the Sentinel, 
and she had no extra defense.  After some fifty missile hits, 
Peregrine, and her four frigate escort, ceased to be.



     "Damn!"  Admiral Wesley swore emphatically as he watched the 
Peregrine's death.  Between the five ships, over one-thousand 
crewmen had just been lost.  "All units, engage closely.  Full 
impulse ahead, now."
     The image on the forward viewer sped by even faster as the 
armada gained speed.  The long-range photons and disruptors began 
to be answered by the Jhonkai heavy weapons.  They weren't 
accurate, but they were powerful.  If any one thing was 
maintaining the allies' advantage, it was electronic warfare.  The 
Jhonkai ships were powerful, but crude.
     "Captain Kant, what's the status on the fighter group?"
     "Sir, all fighter shuttles are formed up behind the main 
fleet, with the heavy attack shuttles trailing them.  They're 
prepared to follow up any major openings made by our assault."
     "Good."  Fighters had once been labelled 'attrition units'.  
Admiral Wesley was not about to use them in a direct frontal 
attack just to support that moniker.  After all, this mission was 
going to, and had already, cost enough in blood to just throw away 
those pilots.
     The allied fleet pressed on, the larger ships weapons 
pounding Jhonkai units, while frigates and destroyers laced 
defensive fire in all directions.  On the offensive were also the 
remaining fifteen Federation Avenger class heavy frigates, 
aggressively designed ships mounting two phaser-cannon pods of 
their own.  One of the earlier ships in that class, NCC-1864 
Reliant, had achieved infamy with those weapons.
     And the second battle against the Jhonkai raged on.





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Subject: GhostsFromThePast.7
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:53:50 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				cwynne@liberty.uc.wlu.edu

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 18 through Ch.19, and Epilogue:
-----------------------------------------------------------



                          CHAPTER XVIII


     "Captain Picard?"
     "Admiral, they still refuse to answer any communications.  
They are being irrationally stubborn, and they are suffering 
terribly for it."
     "You and I both know that, Jean-Luc, but neither of us has 
been able to convince them of that.  I'm still trying."
     "As am I, sir."
     "Flag out."  Wesley took the liberty of burying his face in 
his hands for a few moments.  With a heavy sigh, he faced reality 
once more.  DiSanto stood nearby, glancing over a report that he 
didn't want to have to look at.
     "Admiral?"
     "Yes, yes."  Wesley looked at the display screen.  From the 
original one-hundred and eighteen ships, he had left at his 
command all three space control ships, three carriers (with the 
loss of Peregrine), four battleships, eighteen battlecruisers, 
fourteen heavy cruisers, and eight destroyers and frigates.  He 
had made a decision to leave behind all those ships which were 
only crippled: Carnisaur, five battlecruisers, ten heavy cruisers, 
and twelve smaller ships.  All in all, forty ships completely 
destroyed.  And they had given themselves to neutralise almost ten 
time that number of Jhonkai.
     Even Ingram was damaged.  A fiercely concentrated volley had 
overloaded shields and hulled the secondary landing bay.  
Fortunately, no shuttles were being refueled or armed at the 
time.
     The mission needed to be accomplished, and quickly.  What to 
do?  "Flag to all ships, standby for new orders."
     "Captain DiSanto, we know the location of the Jhonkai home-
planet, do we not?"
     "Yes, sir.  Information from Enterprise's logs, along with 
our own sensor scans, indicate which system with an accuracy of 
about eighty-five percent."
     "How far is it?"
     "Just over a parsec, sir.  Under seven hours at maximum 
effective speed."
     Ingram's communications officer announced, "Fleet standing 
by, Admiral."
     "Thank you.
     "Ladies and gentlemen, we need to take decisive action 
immediately.  What I propose is this.  The main body of the fleet 
is going to the Jhonkai homeworld to increase the pressure.  The 
secondary Task Force"--he referred to the crippled ships--"will 
remain behind to mop up logistics and shipyards in this system.
     "Comments?"
     It was Captain Fanek who spoke up first.  "Sir, won't that be 
an open invitation for them to attack the damaged ships?  They 
won't be able to defend themselves."
     "A possibility.  But we've destroyed almost eighty percent of 
what they threw at us, and the rest turned tail and ran.  Now, 
we're going after their home planet.  I think that their 
priorities will not include TF 2.  We've got to be hurting them at 
least that much."
     Fanek admitted grudging agreement.  Their were a few more 
specific questions, but that was about it.
     "Fine.  We'll warp into the target system, and move toward 
the planet at one-half impulse to give them time to respond.  
Again, we need to let them mass, so we only have to fight one 
battle, instead of several dozen.
     "All units of TF 1, prepare for warpspeed in ten minutes.  
Flag out."



     TF Odysseus, at least what was left of it, had dropped out of 
warp near the edge of the Jhonkai home star system.  At one-half 
impulse, they would be within bombardment range in about thirty 
minutes. A planetary bombardment order would probably result in 
the quick and quiet retirement of Admiral Garrett Wesley, thrice 
awarded the Federation Superior Service Medal, and recipient of 
the Starfleet Citation for Bravery.  If he attacked the Jhonkai 
homeworld, he would be casting aside everything that represented 
the high moral pedestal on which the Federation liked to pride 
itself.
     And if he, Admiral Wesley, decided that that was the only way 
to prevent the Jhonkai from overrunning the Federation, he would 
do it.  And, technically, he would be within his orders, assuming 
of course, that he didn't get court-martialled outright for 
ignoring the recall order.
     Starfleet had been in a state of high anxiety when they 
drafted the orders for Odysseus, and so had allowed Wesley more 
options than would normally be expected, even for a commander 
under wartime engagement rules.  His two mission goals were to 
protect the Federation, and secondly to protect the Task Force, 
and towards those ends, he had allowed given 'broad discretionary 
measures'. That very technical term meant that Wesley could 
legally order anything which was not expressly prohibited 
elsewhere in the orders.  And planetary bombardments were not 
expressly prohibited.
     That didn't mean that he would give such an order lightly, by 
any means.
     "Admiral, Jhonkai forces are moving to intercept us."
     "Source, numbers?"
     "Looks like about eighty ships, half of them are 
dreadnaughts. And they're coming from all around us, sir."
     "Eighty, that's it?"  Wesley was frankly shocked.
     "Aye, sir."
     "If that's the best they can mount, why in hell are they 
still fighting at all, much less taking an offensive posture?
     "Comm, get me the other admirals immediately."
     In moments, the main screen split to reveal the Klingon, 
Kzinti and Gorn commanders.  Wesley filled them in, and posed the 
same question he had just asked himself out loud.
     Krond had an answer at once.  "Is it unclear to you, Wesley?  
They know they are doomed.  They wish to die gloriously in 
battle!"
     "Are you saying that our counter-invasion has done too well, 
and that they're just folding up?"
     S'Tyrrg snorted.  "I find that hard to believe."
     "I agree."  Wesley nodded emphatically.  "Captain Picard has 
been broadcasting our terms to them almost constantly.  They know 
we only want them to cease their invasion."
     Silence dominated for several long seconds.  Suddenly, 
k'Rzaal hissed angrily.  "They have a trick!  This pitiful attack 
is only to delay us.  What else makes sense?"
     The Klingon gestured his dismissal of k'Rzaal's thought.  
S'Tyrrg said, "Possible, but what-"
     Wesley cut the Gorn off abruptly, as he yelled a single word.  
"Reinforcements!"
     "What?" demanded Krond.
     "They must be recalling the invasion force--to deal with us."
     S'Tyrrg's hide turned slightly ashen.  "That was over one 
thousand of their heavy ships."
     Wesley agreed, looking pale himself.  "We'll be slaughtered.
     "Flag to all units.  Urgent!  Go to full impulse.  Task Force 
Mateo is to orbit the planet, and prepare for planetary assault.  
All other units must screen the battlecruisers.  All units 
acknowledge."
     They did so.



     The allied fleet hastily changed formation.  The four 
battlecruisers Enterprise, Groombridge, Caesar Augustus, and Lugal 
Zaggisi pulled out in front, escorted by Excelsior, Reaver, 
Commodore Mateo's Deneva, and the dreadnaught Ascension.  The 
remainder of the fleet formed into a hemisphere behind, the 
smaller ships surrounding the remaining carriers, SCS's and 
battleships; the whole formation looked like a solid parabolic 
dish, with the smaller group pointing forward like an antenna.
     Accelerating towards the Jhonkai homeworld, Riker felt a bead 
of sweat trickling across his brow.  There was a significant 
possibility that he and his four ship contingent would attack the 
planet directly.  It had, of course, been hoped that that 
particular end could be avoided, but circumstances were working 
against all of the Federation's hopes.
     "Captain," announced Data.  "Massive energy reading, zero 
zero zero mark four five, range approximately ninety million 
kilometres."
     "What's the pattern, Data?"
     "Rip zone, sir."
     "Damn.  Inform the Admiral."
     Even as the message was being sent, space split in twain, 
disgorging tremendous quantities of energy.  Gravitational waves 
rippled out from it, shaking the Federation ships like toy boats 
in a child's bath.  Through the storm of gravity and radiation, 
the battlecruiser's sensors picked out a few shapes appearing.  
Then more; dozens; scores; and still more.
     Riker's jaw gaped.  "Data, how..."
     "Six hundred forty-five Jhonkai dreadnaughts, sir."
     Suddenly Admiral Wesley's voice burst over the fleet channel.  
"TF Mateo, remain on course.  All other units, close and engage 
the new hostiles.  Repeat, close and engage.  Flag out."
     "Damn!  They're going to buy time for us, with the rest of the 
fleet!"  Riker was taken aback.
     Worf's bass rumble brought Riker back to the immediate.  
"Deneva advises a new enemy force approaching from behind the 
planet.  Battleships are moving to engage."
     "Worf, keep an eye on that new force.  Wes, stay tight with 
the squadron.



     Deborah Mateo swore inwardly at the tactical display facing 
her.  The original eighty ships were moving to support the 
reinforcements from Federation space, which was good for her, but 
there were those fifteen other ships...
     The Jhonkai obviously still underestimated Federation 
abilities. They hadn't expected Mateo to see the small squadron 
coming around the planet with all of the subspace clutter caused 
by the huge rip.  But her crew had seen them, seen the three 
battleships with their dozen escorts.  But these particular three 
battleships didn't match the rest of the Jhonkai heavy units, and 
she didn't know why.  All she did know was that they had obscenely 
large power curves.
     And that small group was heading directly to intercept her.
     "Computer, prioritise targets in Threat Group One.  Select 
all scout size targets."  A second later, threat numbers appeared 
on the tactical display.  "This is Mateo to task force.  Begin 
long-range fire on selected targets.  Be prepared for warp speed."
     Photon torpedoes and disruptors lashed out, all eight ships 
against one of the scouts.  Moments later, it veered off and fell 
out of position.  Mateo's ships shifted fire to the next target.
     The Jhonkai were getting closer and closer.  High-mag visual 
showed each of the heavy ships to have a huge open section at 
their bow.  Maybe they were special rip-generators, and now they 
were being forced into battle.
     That impression died almost as quickly as the Deneva.  
Mateo's force had just disabled a fourth scoutship when the 
heavens lit like a star gone nova.  The afterimage in Deborah's 
eyes recorded a beam of energy the size of a house bursting from 
the bow opening on the lead battleship.
     Commodore Mateo's eyes widened in horror.  The Romulans had 
once experimented with a weapon called a mauler.  Basically, they 
built a ship around a huge energy weapon which could draw directly 
on all ship's power.  It was a crude weapon, to be sure, and not 
accurate at long ranges, but it was powerful.
     "All ships!  Scatter and take evasive, now!"
     The second bolt hit Deneva, barely.  After blowing through 
three layers of shields as though they weren't there, it 
vapourised the hangar bay along with the aft third of the ship, 
and one end of the closed anti-matter intermix feed.
     As most of her bridge crew picked themselves up off of the 
floor, Deborah noticed that her ship was drifting, and in 
freefall.
     The Engineer's voice, as he spoke, was filled with fear.  
"Commodore, containment field integrity failing.  We have about 
two minutes."  Mateo added the conclusion:  until the ship 
explodes.
     "Not enough time for lifeboats."  An icy calm pervaded her 
system as Commodore Deborah Mateo issued her last order.
     "Weapons, lock on the lead mauler."
     "Aye, sir.  Locked."
     "Helm, slave the computer pilot to weapons lock."  About 
seventy seconds.  Would it be enough?
     The helmsman was puzzled.  "Sir?"
     "Do it, please."
     "Yes, sir."
     Mateo floated forward to the helm station.  The helmsman 
stepped aside, so didn't notice her set speed for maximum warp.
     "I've enjoyed serving with all of you," she said simply, and 
engaged the warp drive.



     Torrents of energy washed across the Enterprise's viewscreen.  
Riker thought that the ship was being fired upon, and that he was 
going to die.  He thought himself remarkably detached from that 
thought, sort of like the feeling one has on the verge of 
fainting.
     Then the light faded, and half of the enemy formation was 
simply gone.  He blinked and looked again.  Two maulers and two 
scout ships were all that he saw.
     "Data, what happened?  Did the middle ship self-destruct?"
     "Scanning," replied the android.  "Sensors show strong warp 
ionisation trail, originating at the Deneva's last position.  
Explosion too large for anti-matter explosion.  I conclude a high 
warp-velocity collision."
     Will knew that the Deneva had been badly damaged, but...   
Not knowing that their artificial gravity had failed, he assumed 
that all hands had been lost in the collision.  He was wrong.
     Without acceleration dampeners, they had all died the moment 
the engines had engaged with acceleration stronger than one 
hundred earth gravities.
     "Captain."  Data was still monitoring the sensors.  "The 
remaining maulers are entering optimal range."
     Riker nodded.  The squadron commanders, having just figured 
out the commodore's fate, were radioing back to the Admiral for 
instructions.  Somebody needed to take charge, and quickly, before 
the other two maulers ripped them to shreds.  As if to accentuate 
the point, the two ships fired on Reaver.  One shot landed, 
hulling her neatly amidships.
     Will glanced at the target designations on the tactical 
screens.  "Data, get me a channel to the squadron."
     "Open, sir."
     "TF Mateo, all units engage Target Delta-One.  Enterprise 
will engage other.  Acknowledge to Enterprise."
     Within moments, Data reported that they had.  He also said, 
"Sir, we're being targeted."
     "Mr. Crusher, tactical warp to within fifty kilometres of 
target, now!"
     "Fif-"
     "Now!  Worf, prepare to fire."
     In Starfleet Tactics classes, it was taught that when closing 
with an enemy at warp speeds, a ship would arrive before the light 
image from its previous position.  Thus, what the target's sensors 
saw was that a ship at point A would instantaneously appear at 
point B, very nearby, whose light track would then trace back to 
the original position.  And a battle computer would take precious 
seconds deciphering the strange data.  One Starfleet captain had 
made very good use of this tactic, and it had since been named 
after him.
     It was called the Picard manoeuvre.
     From forty kilometres away, four phaser cannon destroyed the 
maulers shields.  Individual phasers from the battlecruiser's 
saucer raked back and forth across the Jhonkai vessel.  A mere 
instant later, a narrow spread of half a dozen photon torpedoes 
tracked down the bore of the mauler weapon itself, even as the 
ship was firing at the Enterprise's previous position.
     Not oblivious to the likely results of his tactic, Riker 
already had his ship warping away as the Jhonkai mauler converted 
itself into hundreds of gigatons of energy.
     Enterprise dropped out of warp several thousand kilometres 
away, in time to see Excelsior and Lugal deliver the coup de grace 
to the remaining mauler.
     They now had a clear channel to the planet.  "Lugal, Caesar, 
Groombridge, form up on Enterprise.  Excelsior and Ascension 
return to main fleet.  Reaver, clear the area."  Riker waited to 
make sure his orders were carried out, then turned to Wes at the 
helm.
     "Good piloting, Mr. Crusher.  Now, get us around that planet.
     "Data, how's the Admiral doing?"
     Data reviewed the battle data he had been receiving on the 
rest of the fleet.  "Admiral Wesley's initial close destroyed or 
crippled twenty-nine Jhonkai units before they recovered from the 
rip transition, without any significant damage to his own ships.  
Since then, he has kept the engagement range open.  The smaller 
units have flanked the Jhonkai and are darting in and out at low 
warp speeds.  Fighters have entered the Jhonkai formation, and are 
attacking from within to maintain confusion, but have taken almost 
thirty percent casualties.  Also, warp capable shuttles have been 
laying mines through the Jhonkai ranks."
     "Data, how much longer can they keep it up?"
     "Sir, I estimate that they will be completely destroyed in 
under thirty minutes.  All ships have taken some damage, and after 
several of the space control ships and battleships are destroyed, 
the situation will quickly become untenable."
     Riker mused.  "Get me the Admiral."
     After almost forty seconds, Riker heard a curt, "Flag here."
     "Admiral, this is Riker on Enterprise."
     There was the sound of an explosion, a pause, and then, "Go 
ahead."
     "Sir, we'll be in planetary range in under five minutes.  
Withdraw your forces, and fight a retrograde action.  You got us 
the time we needed, now protect yourselves."
     The answer came immediately; the relief in the Admiral's 
voice was tangible.  "About time, Will.  We thought you had 
forgotten all about us.  Flag out."
     Suddenly, a thought occurred to Will.  "Data, the Saipan?"
     "Lightly damaged, sir.  No other reports."
     "Flag to all units.  Commence a fighting retrograde 
withdrawal away from the planet, repeat away from the planet.  
Maintain best formation possible."
     Riker looked at his screens.  "Data, scan the planet.  Target 
industrial centers and population centers.  Also, orbital and 
satellite industry and defenses."
     The seconds passed slowly.  Riker's squadron removed all 
orbital defenses with long range photon torpedoes before they ever 
had a chance to open fire.  Also, each ship, now stretched out in 
line abreast, launched an ESS, an electronic ship simulator, 
moving only marginally faster than the speed of light, to detonate 
mines in front of them.  This was good, because almost one hundred 
mines were set off that way.
     Several orbitting factories were destroyed out of hand, as 
they were uninhabited.  All the while, Enterprise beamed a demand 
for surrender.
     As soon as the main fleet started to retreat, the Jhonkai 
warships tried to return to the planet.  But the Admiral was still 
doing an excellent job, and he made it abundantly clear to them 
that he would reduce the Jhonkai to scrap metal if they turned 
their backs on him.  They didn't appear to be able to retrograde.
Garrett danced a fine line between allowing the Jhonkai a chance 
to return to their homeworld and scatter Riker's atoms to space, 
and getting his own ships butchered in a close combat.
     "Ground based missiles and lasers firing, sir," reported 
Worf.
     "Take them out, Lieutenant."
     At that moment, Riker noticed Geordi standing over him.
     "Yes?" prompted Will.
     "Damage report, Captain.  We're doing pretty well.  A couple 
of burn throughs in the lower decks.  Mostly cargo and crew 
quarters.  Caesar took a glancing blow from one of the maulers.  
The port side of her saucer is pretty mangled, but she can still 
fight. The other two are a little worse off than us, but not 
much."
     "Good.  We're better off than I thought possible.  Any 
response from the planet?" 
     Geordi frowned.  "Just the missiles, sir."
     "Alright, damnit.  I'm getting tired of this.  Have all four 
ships deploy shuttles.  I want low passes over their major 
population centres, five hundred metres or less.  I want those 
people to read the Fed logo on the wings.  Have the four 
battlecruisers spaced out, one polar orbit, one equatorial, two in 
between.  Any defense installations are to be destroyed, as 
precisely as possible.  Empty industrial locations likewise.  If 
they have people in them, then phasers on heavy stun, wide 
dispersion."
     Geordi moved to a console and started issuing orders.  He 
turned around and asked, "Shuttles to be armed, Captain Riker?"
     "Hmmm.  Air-to-air missile load.  How soon can they 
launch?"
     "Less than five minutes, sir."



     Coxswain Lieutenant (JG) Adalbert Schneider piloted his 
shuttle at mach four over the scurrying civilians below.  Intel 
from First Officer LaForge, up on the bridge, said he was over the 
biggest population center on the planet.  He smiled and watched 
the weird triply symmetric aliens hurry off the streets.
     Ensign Jones, in the second seat, heard the warning beeper, 
and stared at his screens.
     "Bert, atmospheric fighter closing from, uh, one four four."
     "I got him."  The sleek black shape locked onto the shuttle 
and fired three missiles from an internal weapons bay.
     "Hang on!"  Schneider popped three chaff charges while Jones 
cranked the jammer to max.  The throttle was cracked wide open, 
and as the pilot pulled back the stick the shuttle accelerated 
into a steep climb.
     The three missiles exploded into the chaff, but the Jhonkai 
pilot matched the climb.  Schneider figured he had some kind of 
cannon on that craft, and he didn't want to find out anymore about 
it.
     The two craft jinked back and forth in a twisting scissors 
pattern, and the civvies came back into the street.  After all, 
when was the last time they saw a high-speed dogfight over their 
fair city?
     "Jonesie, how's his infrared?"
     "Pretty cool, Bert.  Ain't gonna get a target out of him that 
way."
     "Alright."  He jammed the stick to port and reversed the 
pursuit again.  At this rate, they'd run out of fuel before either 
got a decent shot.  "Can you get me a passive lock-on with the aft 
missiles?  I don't want to go active and spook him."
     "Yeah.  Can you get a good shot?"
     Schneider laughed.  "You just leave that to me."
     Schneider throttled forward slightly and turned starboard 
again.  The bandit was on his high six, just about to get a really 
juicy shot, when the lieutenant rolled skyward into a barrel 
roll.  Schneider deliberately overthrottled coming out of the 
turn.  The Jhonkai, who had braked on vertical thrust, cruised 
around to the shuttle's level six.  Schneider grinned wide.
     The launch toggle on his stick was pulled once, twice.
     From racks in the belly of the shuttle two missiles launched 
straight back, fireballing its pursuer.  Burning wreckage crashed 
about the city.
     "You know," said Schneider, "that was too ea-"
     "Jesus Christ!  Air defense stuff, everywhere!"
     Warning receivers blared around the cockpit.  One smoke trail 
appeared right in front of them.  Schneider instinctively pulled 
high right.  As he crested the turn into an inverted dive, he 
caught puffs of several more missile launches.  He hadn't needed 
to tell Jones to jam anything and everything.
     On the ground, there was a large, impressive looking 
building, surrounded by defensive positions.  The layout of the 
roads and buildings around it told Schneider that that structure 
was one of two things:  the Jhonkai capital or their military 
headquarters.  Either way, that had to get back to Captain Riker.  
He noticed all that in the three seconds before his shuttle 
rolled level and went supersonic down a cavernous urban valley.  
The last pursuing missiles detonated into nearby buildings, and he 
went ballistic to get back to the Enterprise.



     LaForge felt frustrated, and rightly so.  "They haven't done 
anything yet, Captain.  The main fleet is still engaging, and they 
still aren't responding to us."
     Riker stalked back to the command chair, and contacted the 
squadron.  "Prepare for full-scale bombardment in ten minutes."  
He clicked off the channel and sat down heavily.
     "Hangar bay to Bridge."
     Geordi activated an intercom.  "Bridge, LaForge here."
     "Sir, this is Bosun Grel," announced a brusque Tellarite 
voice.  "I've got some good intelligence from Shuttle Four."
     Minutes later, Data narrowed the ships scanning radius and 
concluded that message traffic in and out of the building 
Schneider had found definitely indicated a planetary command 
centre.
     "Mr. Crusher," asked Riker, "how long until we orbit over 
that sight?"
     "Eight minutes, Captain."
     "Geordi, have the squadron standby on bombardment."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Wes, you and Mr. Data have exactly four and a half minutes 
to come up with the profile for an atmospheric dive to take us one 
kilometre over that city.  We will hold position there for as long 
as possible.  Worf, I want blanketing phaser fire on heavy stun 
all around, but not on, that building."  Riker paused to let all 
of that sink in.  "Clear?"



     The Strategic Command Bunker for the Jhonkai Concordium was 
quiet for the moment.  Since that one enemy shuttle had escaped, 
no further harassments had been made.  But electronic sensors 
still eagerly watched the sky.
     They found something.  There was a bright infrared source 
high over the horizon.  Tracking computers computed that it would 
pass over the city, but trained weapons anyway.
     Deeper in the atmosphere now, the object slowed and ceased 
burning.  It took on a trajectory indicating a powered vehicle, 
and more weapons were brought to bear.  They began to fire.
     Missiles were barely out of their launch racks when they, and 
the racks, were melted by spears of lightning from the intruder.  
Ground based lasers got off one shot, and no more before being 
likewise destroyed.
     Smaller vehicles emerged, diving straight for the city.  The 
larger object resolved itself into a wide flat body with a disc 
shaped projection forward, and twin nacelles astride its aft end.
     The shuttles crisscrossed the Bunker, destroying radars and 
missile launchers.  Within three minutes, dozens of fires raged 
around the Bunker, and now the large object was clearly visible, 
directly over the city.  It was big, bigger than a fleet scout, 
and almost as big as a battleship.
     The small boats, their destruction wrought, cleared the area, 
and beams of energy began to connect the big ship with parts of 
the city.
     The command personnel in the Bunker tried to contact those 
sections of the city, to receive no answer whatsoever.  The attack 
went on and on.  Every remaining camera was trained on the 
attacker, and its huge, menacing shape filled every eye that was 
left to watch.
     "We demand your surrender and the cessation of all 
hostilities in and against the United Federation of Planets..."



     Admiral Wesley had fewer than thirty ships left against the 
four hundred remaining Jhonkai.  All the space junk was scattering 
emanations from the planet, and he hadn't heard from Riker.  He 
feared the worst.  With all of his remaining ships damaged, many 
of them badly, he had few if any options remaining.
     Ingram was going to have to warp to the planet and bombard it 
with anti-matter.  How much longer could he wait?
     Just then, the ship's science officer said in a slightly 
puzzled tone, "Admiral, the enemy is slowing."
     "Damn.  Are they making for the planet again?"
     "No, sir.  They appear to be stopping.  Wait!  They're 
ceasing fire!"
     "What?"
     "That's right, sir," noted DiSanto, watching her own screens.
     Garrett mashed a finger and opened the fleet channel.  "Flag 
to all units, cease fire and hold position!"
     "Signal from the planet, Admiral."



     The bridge of the Saipan looked empty.  With half of her 
normal bridge crew dead or wounded from the hit that had melted 
the starboard bulkhead, it was amazing that it still functioned as 
a command center.
     Picard stood in the middle of the bridge, with the big ship's 
captain standing slightly behind and beside him.
     "On screen."
     An ugly tripartite alien appeared on the viewer.  "This is 
Second Marshall Jekhal of the Jhonkai Concordium.  I am prepared 
to offer the surrender of my people to a diplomatic detachment of 
the United Federation of Planets."
     "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starfleet.  I 
have authority to negotiate that surrender.  Do you understand 
that?"
     "Yes, Picard, I do, and I have since you destroyed our first 
fleet around J'chut.  Our former leaders were more stubborn, 
however. Understand that there has been a...very recent change of 
power here which has left me in charge."
     "Marshall, I am deeply sorry for the extent of force which 
had to be used to bring about this conversation."
     "Picard is not to be blamed, rather my predecessors who 
insisted on fighting against your superior strength.
     "But let us meet and discuss our situation more 
thoroughly..."






                           CHAPTER XIX


     Will Riker watched the slowly moving starscape through the 
viewing ports of the Galaxy class ship's main conference room, 
just off of the bridge.  He gave a long sigh.
     Presently, the door sighed open and shut again behind him, 
and, without turning to look, he took note of quiet footfalls 
approaching him.  "How's my ship, Will?"
     Riker half turned to note the shorter, balding form of 
Captain Picard beside him.  "Just fine, sir.  Not much can go 
wrong orbitting a starbase.  I'd say it's been a fairly boring two 
weeks."
     Picard, himself, had been in Jhonkai space with the 
negotiators, disarmament supervisors, logistics personnel, and 
numerous others, since the cease fire.  He was back at Starbase 93 
to resume his normal duties, his major work with the Jhonkai 
having been completed, and the follow-up passed on to others.
     Jean-Luc joined his First Officer, once again wearing the 
three collar pips of a Commander, in staring at space.
     "It was worse than I first thought, Number One.  Their whole 
economy had been tied up in three things:  invasion, transports, 
and defense.  To think, and to have seen, the amount of damage we 
did to those people..."
     Silence filled the air for several seconds.  Riker broke it.  
"What about Jhonkai civilian casualties?"  Will was afraid he 
didn't want to hear the answer.
     "Actually, they were quite minimal.  And I am very glad for 
that."
     Will breathed relief.  "So am I."
     "That's not all.  Those ships of theirs were highly 
automated.  The scouts had under a hundred crew, and the big ships 
scarcely twice that."
     Riker's voice turned bitter.  "And Starfleet?"
     Picard sighed heavily.  "Odysseus lost eighteen thousand 
people.  Logistics is still trying to figure out casualties from 
before that.  With all the civilians too..."  Picard's voice caught 
on the words.  "The preliminary estimates are a million and a half 
dead, half that many injured."
     Riker's face was stone, his eyes focused unblinkingly on some 
distant star.  A remote part of his brain latched onto an 
optimistic thought, or, at the very least, an outcome that might 
have been worse.  "And if the Admiral had acknowledged the recall?  
There are several trillion beings in the Federation."
     Silence filled the room for several minutes, the two men lost 
in their respective reveries.  Riker had watched ship after ship 
of fellow officers die.  Picard had wallowed in the devastation of 
the Jhonkai people for two weeks.
     Finally, Jean-Luc spoke.  "Three votes, number one."
     "Sir?"
     "Odysseus was approved in the Council by three votes."
     Riker turned away from the viewport, anger on his face.  
"That's ridiculous!  Those bastards let the Federation come within 
three votes of annihilation?"
     Picard was caught unawares by his exec's sudden vehemence.  
"Will, calm down.  They were only doing their job.  Their job-- 
ours too--is to keep peace."
     "Sir, with all due respect, there wasn't a whole bunch of 
peace to be kept three weeks ago.  I watched several of my friends 
die in that battle, people I knew serving on those ships.  I can't 
say they should have died, but at least they died serving the 
Federation, fulfilling their oaths.  Damnit, I don't believe all 
of Worf's talk about dying gloriously in battle, but at least they 
didn't just get wiped out because some politician decided that it 
was against some ethical principal to move their ships out of 
dock.
     "I'm not happy about what we did to the Jhonkai, but as sure 
as I am standing here, I don't regret it."
     Picard moved toward the table.  "Sit down, Will."  Picard's 
tone was not entirely an order.  Riker took a seat.
     Will Riker's face was still red, and tension gestated in the 
air for several long moments as the Captain thought about his 
words.
     "That was quite a bit of baggage you just let off there, 
wasn't it?"
     Will's mouth opened, but before he could speak, Picard 
continued.  "Will, would you give your life to save mine?  Or any 
other person on this ship?  Or maybe even somebody you had never 
met?"
     Riker was caught off guard.  Switching mental gears, but 
making sure to hold onto the core of the discussion, he said, 
"Yes, I would.  You know that."
     Picard leaned forward.  "Would you allow the entire crew to 
die if it would save a whole planet?"
     Riker concentrated harder, trying to grasp what his captain 
was getting at.  "Yes."
     "Would you allow one race of people to die to save another?"
     Riker didn't answer.
     Picard prompted, "Where do you draw the line, Commander?  
When does sacrifice, self-sacrifice, end?  And why?"
     Riker answered in a flat, emotionless voice.  "I don't know.  
I don't have all the answers, but I know there comes a point where 
my choice is us over them.  And this was definitely past that 
point."
     "Do you honestly think that the Council members who voted 
against it didn't consider that vote very seriously?" asked the 
Captain rhetorically.
     Picard stood and walked over to Riker's side.  "Will, I know 
how you feel.  Frankly, I was disappointed about that piece of 
news myself.
     "But I spent more time these past two weeks trying to curb 
bloodthirsty Federation personnel than trying to control the 
Jhonkai.  After Jekhal took over, they were very cooperative.
     "Obviously things could have turned out much worse, but they 
could have been better as well.  And there's plenty of blame to be 
spread around if that is what you really want to do."
     Riker shook his head.  "Of course not."
     "Will, you've done your part, and I've done mine.  What the 
Federation needs now is to start getting back to normal."
     Will leaned back in the chair and turned once again toward 
the viewport.  After a short while, he asked, "So how did the 
negotiations go?"
     "Not as badly as I feared," answered Picard, "but not as well 
as I had hoped."
     Riker allowed himself a wan smile.  "I believe I know the 
feeling."
     "Every ship that could still generate rips has already 
withdrawn.  The ones that couldn't surrendered.  We'll oversee 
their disarmament, of course.  The Federation is allowing them to 
settle coreward systems that we've never had time to develop, and 
after they get set up there they have to provide merchant ships to 
the Federation and give us an assured trade status."
     "That doesn't sound to bad," observed Riker.
     "Well, some pretty stiff reparations have been assigned to 
them, but they've also been offered Federation membership at some 
unspecified time in the future.  I am proud to say that the last 
was at my urging."
     Riker nodded.  "Good idea, sir."
     "So, Number One, are you getting used to being a Commander 
again?"
     Riker chuckled.  "I think so.  Just forgive me if I try to 
give you orders by accident, okay?"
     "I think I can manage that.  I am glad to have you back with 
me, Number One."



     "Mr. President, everything is going well."
     The President looked at Admiral Heirok, then looked around at 
the complete chaos which dominated Starfleet Command.  Here a 
group dealt with the surrendering Jhonkai, in that corner a team 
monitored rips, over there Logistics was trying to organise repair 
and refit for dozens of starships, Personnel was arranging for all 
of the reservists returning from duty, Planetary aid was in full 
swing...
     "Excellent Admiral.  And the stand-down?"
     Heirok nodded.  "All sector commands have acknowledged the 
stand-down order.  The United Federation of Planets is now 
officially off of Invasion Alert."
     The President knew how much work was left to accomplish, how 
much rebuilding would have to be done.  Nonetheless, he looked 
relieved, for perhaps the first time in over a month.
     "I am glad to hear that, Admiral.  What deployments are still 
in effect?"
     Turning towards a strategic display of Federation territory, 
the Chief of Starfleet said, "The local defense fleets have been 
put into service for relief efforts, and the PDF is overseeing 
Jhonkai transport and colonisation.  The remainder of Task Force 
Odysseus is in Jhonkai space, with some reinforcements, observing 
and aiding with disarmament."
     "Fine, fine.  Carry on Admiral, I have an appointment to 
attend to."
     "Yes, sir."



     "This Board of Inquiry is now in session.
     "Admiral Garrett Irving Wesley, you are accused of disobeying 
orders and mutiny.  How do you plead?"
     What an obnoxious formality, thought Wesley.  Garrett didn't 
exactly think himself a hero (although there were many who did), 
but he certainly didn't expect to get hanged for winning a war.  
Oh, there was no death penalty or anything, but the head of the 
board was an Academy classmate of Wesley's who had never really 
liked Wesley.  According to the strictest letter of Starfleet law, 
he would have every right to hand Wesley a dishonourable discharge 
and some time in a Starfleet prison.
     But he wouldn't.  Would he?
     Wesley's lips were forming around his answer when the door 
opened.
     The Chairman's face frowned.  "Damnit, this board is closed-"
     When he saw who had entered, the Chairman was too 
flabbergasted to speak, so one of the commodores announced, 
"Attention on Deck!"
     "At ease, gentlemen.  Mr. Chairman?"
     The presiding Admiral was at attention again.  "Yes, Mr. 
President?"
     "I am ordering you to drop all charges against Admiral 
Wesley. Do you understand?"
     "Yes, sir.  Perfectly."  His voice sounded disappointed.
     The President obviously did not appreciate that tone.  
"Admiral, no mutiny took place.  Admiral Wesley obeyed his orders 
perfectly."
     Everyone in the room, Wesley included blinked in surprise.  
"Mr. President?"  The Chairman lifted a transcript of the orders.  
"But Admiral Wesley's orders-"
     "-were to keep the main Jhonkai force from wreaking havoc in 
the Federation.  And he managed to force them all to withdraw.  
Every last ship.  That is all, Mr. Chairman.  The board is 
dismissed."
     The entire Board grabbed their papers and filed quickly out 
of the room.
     As the President watched them go, Wesley approached him.
     "Sir, thank you."
     The President turned to face him.  "Admiral, there is not a 
being in the entire universe who does not make mistakes.  My only 
wish is that they could all have someone as willing to recognise 
those mistakes as you.  You have done the Federation a great 
service."
     For the first time in his memory, Garrett Wesley blushed.



     As Picard strode onto the bridge, Executive Officer Riker 
turned and informed him, "All preparation have been made, Captain.  
We're ready to get underway."
     "Excellent."  Picard took his seat, surveying his bridge.  
"Make it so."
     Riker's large frame seemed to fill the centre of the bridge 
where he stood.  "Mr. Worf, open a channel to Starbase 
Operations."
     Worf was about to acknowledge when an indicator at his 
console activated.  "Sir, incoming transmission."
     Riker raised an eyebrow.  "What's the source?"
     "Starfleet Command, sir."
     "On screen."
     The viewscreen changed from anonymous stars to a UFP logo.  A 
voice announced, "Standby for the President of the United 
Federation of Planets."
     Picard and Riker exchanged glances, and Picard rose to stand 
beside his first officer.
     The President's features were suddenly looking down at them.
     "Greetings Captain Picard, Commander Riker."
     "Mr. President," they said together.
     "Gentlemen, you have both performed outstandingly in service 
of the Federation during the recent crisis.  I would like to 
extend to you both my personal thanks, as well as that of 
Starfleet Command and the Federation."
     Picard answered first.  "Thank you, Mr. President.  We are 
flattered."
     "Not at all.  Captain, I wish to congratulate you for the 
tremendous work you did with the diplomatic contingency.  I am 
sure that no one could have done a better job with the situation 
you faced.  In fact, let me know if you ever want a job with the 
Foreign Office."
     Picard laughed.  "Not for a while, yet, sir."
     "And Commander.  I am happy to be the first to inform you 
that you will receive both the Starfleet Citation for Gallantry 
and the Presidential Citation for Outstanding Service.  That's a 
very impressive combination, Commander Riker."
     Riker was well aware of that fact.  "Thank you, Mr. 
President."
     "And now, Captain, Commander, I have a special assignment 
that I think will please you both."





                             EPILOGUE


     Jean-Luc Picard stood in full dress uniform in the largest 
viewing lounge of an orbital museum which cruised slowly about the 
planet Mars.  Clustered near him, Beverly and Deanna showed smiles 
of happy expectation.
     The museum had been made out of the docking bay section of 
Starfleet's original Spacedock, salvaged when its replacement was 
built, and moved to its present location as a place to display 
with honour those ships whose names stood out most prominently in 
Starfleet history.
     And had survived...  The corridors were lined with memorial 
plaques to all the ships Starfleet had sent out never to return.  
Though all well kept, Picard couldn't help but notice the gleaming 
new sheen on the almost sixty recent additions.
     Picard looked around the tremendous enclosed space on the 
other side of the clearsteel windows.  Dozens of shuttles and 
fighters, small scout ships, several destroyers and even larger 
ships.
     Most conspicuous, by far, was the ship directly opposite the 
bay doors.  Shining bright white and blue under the powerful 
lights, her twin nacelles and fine lines designed to grab the 
admiration of all who saw her, the United Star Ship Enterprise, 
NCC 1701-A, sat majestically in the role of guardian angel of all 
about her.
     Several smaller ships had been moved from nearby, allowing 
technicians to construct a huge berth next to the angel.  The UFP 
anthem blared from hidden speakers suddenly.  Picard came to 
attention, as did all the other officers around him.  Civilians 
were in other lounges.
     The main monitor faded from the Federation flag to the 
Starfleet emblem--the curved arrowhead shape originally from the 
first starship Enterprise--to a view outside the museum.
     The Sol home fleet was in twin ranks, lining the approach 
trajectory to the museum bay.  They forced energy through their 
deflector screens, and the onlookers watched rainbows of colour 
ripple down the line.  Then, from the end of the line, two shapes 
began to move.
     Geordi commanded Picard's ship as she led the Alaska class 
battlecruiser Enterprise through the formation.  The two vessels 
crept down the line, their serene glide punctuated only by the 
bursts of the twenty-one gun salute:  a wash of bright phaser fire 
from Enterprise-D, followed scarcely seconds later from all the 
rest.
     Strobe lights pulsed red throughout the docking area.  The 
monstrous doors showed a sliver of dull red light reflected off of 
the planet's surface, which widened until most of the fleet was 
visible outside.
     Just before the doors, Geordi banked high, parking over the 
museum.



     "Wes, time to doors?" asked Riker.
     "Fourteen seconds, sir," came the answer from the helm.
     The glow of the last shot of the salute flashed from the 
museum's bright surface, and Geordi conned his ship into a climb 
and rotation.
     As the battlecruiser's bow light passed through the bay 
doors, the Galaxy class ship faced opposite, looking back down the 
assembled ranks of ships.
     Wes Crusher watched his controls intently, caressing the 
manoeuvring jets just so,making sure every move the ship made was 
perfect.
     A beep sounded from the comm panel.  Worf said, "Dock master 
is hailing, sir.  Tugs standing by for assistance."
     Riker considered that.  "Need the help, Mr. Crusher?"
     "No way, sir!"
     A playful smile crossed Will's lips.  "Mr. Worf, signal the 
dock master that, after we dock this battlecruiser, we'll be more 
than happy to assist his tugs."
     Worf let slip a soft bark that might have been a chuckle.  
"Aye, aye, sir."
     As the shadow of the bay fell across the ship's nacelles, 
Will called to an open hailing frequency, "Thanks for the escort, 
Geordi.  Good job."
     "No problem, Commander.  That's a fine looking ship you've 
got there.  Enterprise out."
     All too soon, scarcely minutes later, Riker felt the slight 
change in the humming which coursed through the deckplates that 
told him the thrusters had shut down.  The ship was motionless.
     Data confirmed this.  "Docking manoeuvres completed, 
Commander.  Dock workers are approaching with the gangway and 
permanent bracings.  Shall I begin powerdown sequence?"
     Riker sighed.  How many times had he thought he was about to 
give his last order aboard this ship?  But this was really it.
     Will was about to feel sad, but then he noticed the recently 
repaired battle damage.  He saw Deneva explode in his mind, and 
watched scenes from the whole final battle around the Jhonkai 
homeworld dance through his head.
     William Riker knew that he did what had been necessary, but 
now that was done, and he could get back to the Enterprise, the 
one that really mattered.  His home.
     "Power down all systems, Mr. Data."
     "Yes, sir.  Main engines are cold, impulse shutdown 
beginning, and storage routines are running."
     Riker nodded.  "That's everything, then?"
     Argyle spoke from his station.  "Everything for us, sir.  The 
museum will take care of the rest."
     "Let's go then."



     Riker watched the other four begin their way down the 
gangplank, then turned to close the airlock.  The computer 
confirmed that nobody was on board, and accepted the command.
     As he started to walk away, he pondered briefly whether this 
end of the passage was under low pressure, or if there were some 
other invisible force making it hard for him to go.
     He heard noise up ahead, some kind of commotion, and wondered 
what might be up.  Will brightened his pace.  He was deposited 
into the museum proper, and as he rounded a turn towards the main 
lounge, he ran straight into a wall of sound.
     Cheering, whistling, a torrent of noise, all directed at the 
officers of Enterprise-C, and, specifically, Will Riker.  As he 
threaded through the wall to wall uniforms, a melange of red, blue 
and gold, Will Riker's face was that of a little boy, jubilant at 
the praise he receives from those around him.  Hearty pats on the 
back thumped him continuously.  One short redhead in security gold 
planted a ferocious kiss on Riker's lips before retreating into 
the sea of uniforms.
     He was still pondering that when Picard and the others found 
him.  "Well, Number One," said the Captain, his voice swelling 
above the rest, "it seems your reputation precedes you."
     Riker threw his head back and let out a tremendous laugh.  
Every bit of tension that had collected in him since the whole 
Jhonkai crisis had begun abandoned him in one cathartic moment.  
His eyes on the verge of tears, Riker acknowledged, "It would seem 
so. I could use a good party."



     Riker walked onto the Galaxy class ship's bridge, at a 
moderate pace, and trying not to move his head very much.  He had 
a hangover.
     Kate Pulaski was also on the bridge.  "Will, are you alright?"
     Riker had deliberately forgone any hangover treatments, to 
remind himself not to do this again.  "I'm fine, Doctor."  His 
voice was just a little slower than usual.
     Deanna said, "Will-"
     He knew what she was going to say.  She was going to tell him 
he was not fine, and that he should let the doctor do something 
for him. She was absolutely correct.
     "I said I'm fine."  She took his word for it.
     The ready room door hissed, and Picard walked briskly to the 
centre chair.  He obviously noticed Will's slightly unnatural 
complexion, yet chose to ignore it.  Riker was glad.  If he had to 
tell one more person just how fine he was, he might very well keel 
over from the exertion.
     "We have our orders, Number One.  We're to finish the 
training games that were interrupted.  I'm rather looking forward 
to it."
     "Hmm."
     Even Picard couldn't resist after that pitiful response.  
"So, how did the party end last night, Will?"
     "I don't remember," he mumbled.
     Jean-Luc smiled--'Ah, youth', or some such sentiment--and let 
it be.  "Mr. Data, set a course for Starbase 42, warp four."
     "Aye, aye, sir.  Course laid in."
     "Number One?"
     Riker considered briefly, then answered.  "No, thank you, 
sir. Your ship, your prerogative."
     "Very well."  Picard's right index finger pointed forward.
     "Engage."