Bright orange streaks of sunlight beamed through the gigantic sandstone outcroppings of Mount S’laya.  The enormous natural monoliths were carved over eons of desert winds sweeping across an ancient, dry potassium seabed.  Although the Planet Vulcan boasted many of these awesome structures, none were as beautiful as the ones surrounding this sacred temple hilltop.

Gathered on a flat, stone platform near the summit, six Starfleet officers were dressed in class-A uniforms with medical blue piping on the sleeves.  Also joining the officers were two Vulcan civilians donning ceremonial attire and Doctor Leon Cromwell dressed in a formal gray suit.  The assemblage stood in a half-circle around a raised, one-meter wide circular platform where a translucent hologram of Doctor Y’lair was active.  He was wearing a black burial robe, and stood with his hands folded at chest-height.  The emotionless face spoke in a straightforward tone.

“Greetings, my fellow crewmates.  By playing this message it is assumed that I have lost my life, most likely in the line of duty.  I ask that you each grieve as little as possible at my passing, for it is not the Vulcan way.  On our journey through life, we each strive to give back to the common whole of our societies.  Despite how we go about doing that, there is one logical conclusion: the journey eventually ends.  The longer we pause our journey to grieve the death of another, the shorter our paths become.  I chose the field of medicine so that others may extend their path, and I would prefer that others not shorten their own by taking time to mourn my passing.  Death is an inevitability that we all must face.  Know that if you have benefited somehow from my presence in this universe, then I consider my path fulfilled.  May you all continue your journey in peace and with long life.”

The projection of Y’lair raised its hand, and displayed the symbolic V-shaped finger-split of the standard Vulcan goodwill gesture.  “Live long, and prosper.”  With a soft electronic whisper, the hologram ceased.

Doctor Cromwell walked up to the platform and turned around to face the crowd with a mournful expression that betrayed no sign of joy at what he was about to say.

“My friends, thank you for coming.”  He looked at the six familiar faces of Doctors Yezbeck, Harris, Fernmoore, Ryda, Favuuk, and even Hudson who stared at the ground with humility regarding her past behavior as temporary Chief Medical Officer.  “I know this is not as large nor public as Ensign Brooke’s burial-at-space this morning at The Hill.  But Y’lair’s parents have assured me that his wishes were to share this with only his closest colleagues.”  Leon looked at the two Vulcan attendees with a sorrowful smile.

“Doctor Y’lair was with us for only a short time, but during our tenure together, I quickly learned that he was a person whom I would trust my life with.  He was the most efficient and reliable medical officer I have ever had the pleasure to serve with, and the rest of us can only hope to come close the level of proficiency and professionalism that he displayed on a daily basis.  It is people like Y’lair that make it worth being a doctor; knowing you have a colleague like him at your side. 

“I don’t think I will ever truly be able to get over his loss, but it makes it bearable to recall Y’lair’s words to me when we went on our first away mission.  During the rescue of the Starship Zurich, Y’lair, ten others, and myself were on way to the shuttle deck to be part of the rescue team.  It was my first away mission in two years, and when I told him in the corridor that I was really nervous about the mission, he replied, ‘it is illogical to expect you to do your best work while allowing your emotions to run rampant.  Since lives are at stake, perhaps you should put them aside for now.’  From this moment forward, whenever I doubt myself as a doctor, his words will always put me at ease.”

With that, Leon turned around and placed a Starfleet issue communicator on the hologram platform where Y’lair’s image had been moments earlier.  The Vulcan visitors began chanting in their native tongue as the traditional prayer cymbal sounded nearby.  The deep metallic resonance brought the group of Starfleet officers to the position of attention.  Each rendered a rare, quaint military salute with the exception of Doctor Cromwell, who held his hand to his heart.  With Y’lair’s parents completing the ceremonial dirge, the cymbal sounded one last time before the officers dropped their salute.  Leon pivoted around to face the crowd and announced, “dismissed.”  With that, the gathering dispersed as Doctor Cromwell turned to the Vulcan visitors.

“Thank you for sparing the time for a holo-transmission,” offered Leon.  “I’m sorry about your son.”

“We place no blame,” replied the taller, male Vulcan.  “Y’lair was one of six out of our entire progeny.  We are thankful that we still have the other five.”

“Our son died doing what he felt was the logical course for his life,” added the female Vulcan.  “His death was in the line of duty, and he did no more than his appointed task.”

“We must now take our leave of you, Doctor,” concluded Y’lair’s father.  “We are appreciative of your efforts to fulfill our son’s funerary requests.  Peace and long life, Doctor Cromwell.”

With that, the male Vulcan dialed an invisible keypad that could not be seen on the receiving end of the transmission.  In the blink of an eye, the images of Y’lair’s parents dissipated, and the long-range holographic communiqué ended.  As he stood alone among the reddish rock backdrop of the Vulcan landscape, Leon announced, “computer, end program.”  The fabricated environment faded at the sound of his voice, revealing only the black and yellow cubic matrix of the inactive holo-grid.  Leon paused briefly in hopes to rid his mind of the dread-filled gloom that manifested in the wake of these recent deaths.  After realizing that it was a futile attempt, he turned and exited the holodeck.

 

<location: U.S.S. Republic, main bridge, captain’s ready room>

Captain Marshall sat behind his desk reviewing the repair logs of the Republic.  The engineers and technicians of Starbase Delphi were working diligently to prepare the saucer section for the eventual re-mating with a new stardrive section from Utopia Planitia.  Although the Republic crew had been granted extended shore leave, Jim remained aboard for the time being with a skeleton crew to ensure that repairs went to his specifications.  It was actually rather peaceful without the continuous hustle-and-bustle of an active-duty ship.  Since non-Republic personnel were doing most of the repairs and modifications, those still aboard had a light duty schedule.

The quiet atmosphere of the ready room was broken by the warble of the door chime.  “Come,” announced Marshall without removing his eyes from the computer screen.

As the doors whispered open, Leon walked into the room.  He was wearing a brown leather jacket, and slung his cylindrical boarding bag over his shoulder.  Realizing that the captain was still in his duty uniform, the doctor asked, “working late?”

“Not really,” the captain replied.  “I’m just enjoying the Republic while she’s in port.”  He squinted at Leon’s attire after looking aware from the screen.  “It looks like you’re headed somewhere.”

“Just taking some time away,” he replied with a shoulder shrug.  “I’ve lost a couple of my best people in sickbay, and I could use some time away.”

In conciliatory tone, Marshal offered “I’m sorry about Y’lair.  He was a good doctor.”

“Thanks.  I only hope we can find a replacement that comes close to his level of proficiency.”

“Speaking of replacements,” interjected the captain.  “I’ve been thinking about Doctor Hudson along with a lot of the other junior officers B’Rell put in charge of departments.  Her behavior put the ship in danger, you know.  I’ve been thinking of demoting her to Lieutenant Junior-Grade and requesting she be transferred.  What’s your take on it?”

With a sigh, Leon explained, “well, I don’t really think she deserves that, Jim.  Nor do the officers B’Rell reassigned.  After all, the counselor was a psychiatrist who knew about behavioral patterns.  He pumped them up to believe they were ready for leadership positions when they weren’t.  In all actuality, I think Hudson is already suffering though the humility of her actions, and that in itself is a good punishment.”

“Then you still want her on your staff?” he asked straightforwardly.

“I didn’t take her premature acceptance of my death personally, and we’re in need of a head nurse now with Ensign Brooke gone.  Yes, I think she would benefit from remaining aboard.  Demoting her would only put salt into an already stinging wound.”

“Alright,” conceded Jim.  “I’ll let it slide.  But she better not slip up again.”

“What about B’Rell?” the doctor asked, changing the subject.

“He’s in detention on the Starbase.  I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with him yet, but he’s definitely not going out on another cruise with us.  His Starfleet civilian contract will probably be terminated.”

“Can’t say I’m sad to hear that.  Will we get another counselor?”

“Hard to say,” Jim said, sitting back in his chair.  “I’ve put in a request for one, but we may have go on our next mission without one.  You’ll probably have to promote someone out of your current staff to take the position for now.”

“Speaking of promotions,” the doctor started while placing a datapad on the captain’s desk.

“What’s this?” Marshall asked with curiosity.  He leaned forward in his chair and picked up the item.

“Promotion recommendations,” stated Leon flatly.  “With the recent upheaval in the sickbay’s chain of command, I was hoping to establish who my senior people are.  I think they’re very deserving, especially with the past events.”

Marshall scrutinized the list.  “Yezbeck, Fernmoore, and Harris . . .”  In a moment of thought which had him flipping through the various pages of personnel records on the pad, Jim continued.  “Well, Yezbeck and Fernmoore are definitely up for a promotion, but I don’t know about Harris.  She’s awfully young to be holding rank as a Lieutenant Commander.  It’s a senior officer rank, you know.”

“Well, she’s not much younger than our executive officer,” replied Leon.

The captain thought for a moment, remembering that Carter was in his late twenties, and one of the youngest people in Starfleet to have achieved such a rank at his age.  From his point of view, Jim felt it wasn’t a fair comparison since Carter was a well-decorated flight, tactical, and security officer.

“I’ll consider her for promotable status,” Marshall finally said. “That should give her the seniority you want her to have in sickbay, but I can’t see a rank change in her near future.  As for the others, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Leon replied.  He was about to turn and leave when Marshall stopped him.

“While you’re here, doctor,” the captain said while reaching into a lower desk drawer.  He produced another datapad which he paced on the counter and slid towards Leon’s direction.  “I’d like you to look this over.”

“What is it?” the doctor asked while examining the appliance.

“It’s just some standard forms.  The first is a request to take the Starfleet bridge officer’s course, and the second is an SF-4187 . . . a request for change of duty status . . . to active Starfleet.”

Leon closed his eyes and grimaced with frustration.  “Damn it, Jim!  How many times do we have to go through this?”

“Before you fly off the handle, Leon, see it from my point of view.”

“And that is?” replied the doctor with exasperation.

“I prefer to have a certain formality on the bridge, as well as with my senior officers,” explained Captain Marshall.  “Before we left port for the first time, I was told that I was to have a Starfleet civilian as my chief medical officer.  That mildly annoyed me, but felt that I would let you stay for the first cruise before submitting a request for an active duty CMO.  Now that we’ve actually spent some time working together, not to mention through life and death situations, I don’t want anyone else to fill your shoes.  You’re the best, and I want to keep you aboard.”

“But . . .?” Leon chided, knowing there was something else.

“But,” Jim continued, “if I keep a civilian as one of my senior staff members, it puts me in an odd position if I have to hand command over to you in an emergency situation.  Having a civilian in charge without bridge experience upsets the crew, no matter how much they trust either of us.”

“Jim, I’m just a physician,” admitted the doctor.  “I’m not a starship captain, nor do I plan on being one.”

“I’m not asking you to be.  All I’m asking is to have one of my officers be an officially sanctioned senior leader.  With everything that’s happened on this ship recently, not to mention at the Kreltan base, I need you to seriously think about this.”

“Jim, are you deaf?” explained Leon.  “I told you that my career is my business and I . . .”

“Most people would give anything to be a Starfleet officer,” interrupted the captain.  “And you’re practically having it handed to you on a silver platter.  You’re lucky, most divisions in Starfleet only want people who’ve been through the academy.  Fortunately, Starfleet Medical accepts direct civilian transfers to active duty.”

Leon pursed his lips before turning to leave the ready room in aggravation.  As the doors opened, he paused at Marshall’s last words.

“Think about it Leon.  I don’t want another B’Rell incident.”

With that, the doors slid closed as the doctor left the room.

 

<location: Shuttlecraft Slayton, docked at berth 12 shuttle port, Delphi Station>

Carter was dressed in black boots and slacks, with a gray, long-sleeved jersey underneath a sage-green flight jacket.  The coat was of ancient military-style, designed during Earth’s information-age a few centuries earlier.  They were issued as team icons by Carter’s first flight squadron after the academy, and had the emblazoned logo of his first ship assignment was on the upper left breast.

Doctor Cromwell sat in an acceleration chair next to the viewport while Carter packed his vacation bag.  Outside the viewport, the metallic interior walls of Starbase Delphi’s huge starship berthing complex stood in sharp contrast to the normal star-sparkled backdrop of space.  Several other ships were moored in various states or repair, as well some that stood by awaiting launch orders.

“Shall we hijack a runabout to the Sol system and visit the newly-promoted Lieutenant Commander Virtus?” said Leon with the voice of a salesman.  “I’ll bet Vic would like to hear about our recent Kreltan adventure over a nice cup of frappuccino.”

“I think he’s a little busy with his new position right now,” said Carter.  “Besides, I’d like to do something that would take my mind OFF the Kreltans.”

“Where then?  Riza?”

“No, a bit too spicy for me.”

“How about Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet?” Leon offered with a hint of humor in his voice.

John chuckled.  “Not only is it all the way over in the next quadrant, but I think we’re both a little too old for THAT place!”

“Well, where do you want to go?”

John Carter leaned back in the acceleration couch of the small craft's cockpit as he thought. "Tell you the truth Doc, this SHOULD be a no-brainer for me. I mean, I usually just go back home to Mars, but . . ."

"Is that important to you? It's not like I have any . . ."

John held up a hand. "Whoa Doc, it's ok. Believe me, after the week we just had, the farther I am from a sun baked desert, the better."

"Yeah," Leon agreed, "I see your point." Leon stood up and stepped slowly to the replicator. "You want anything?" he asked John.

"Anything but raktagino!" John answered, "I don't understand why anyone can handle that stuff!"

Leon smiled and turned his attention to the replicator's audio pick-up. "One shot of Glenfiditch scotch, one shot 'langrinaq'."

John quirked an eyebrow, he didn't recognize the last word of the Doctor's request. Carter watched as the replicator fashioned two shot glasses out of a swirl of light and a soft hum. One of the glasses was filled with a mellow yellow liquid, the other with an iridescent blue. Leon took the glasses from the replication pad and made his way back to his seat, handing the 'blue' glass to John on the way.

"Grozit, Doc," Carter blurted out, "what's that?"

"Rule number one John . . ."

"You have rules now?"

Leon chuckled, but kept his train of thought. "You can't ask what it is. You can only ask what it was."

John held the small glass up to the light and watched the blue liquid sparkle. "Right...this is gonna end well."

"But since you asked," Leon said simply, "It's blue."

Carter downed the shot and then smiled as the blue drink warmed its way down his throat, seeming to spread through his whole body. "Wow."  He said, almost in shock. "That wasn't bad."

"Glad you like it." Leon said. "It's Andorian, and no, you don't want to know how they make it."

John checked the helm controls one more time, then set the controls into the computer. "All I want to do Doc is find a beach and smell some nice sea air." John offered.

"Well if that's the case, we should head to Betazed. Wonderful beaches, and the scenery isn't bad either." Cromwell said with a twinkle in his eye.

"You old dog!" John shouted. "Betazed it is." Carter set the shuttle's autopilot then took a seat across from Leon in the cabin. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at the older man who'd so quickly become a friend. "When do you take the test?"

"What test?"

"You know what test Doc," John said firmly. "Didn't he ask you?"

"Yes," Leon finally said after some consideration, "Captain Marshall did ask me about the command test. Told me it was for the good of the ship and all of that."

"It is."

"I don't care!" Leon shot back. "I took off the uniform for a reason John."

Carter leaned forward, looking Cromwell in the eyes. "You want to tell me what that reason is?"

Leon got a self-satisfied look on his face. "I'm sorry Lieutenant Commander, but I CAN'T."

"Yeah," John responded, "guess there's a lot of that going on. Okay then, but that still doesn't explain why you won't take the test now."

"I'm a civilian, and I like it that way."

"That’s bull," John said with a bit of an edge. "You're hiding. Remember doc, I've played poker with you."

Leon couldn't decide whether to be furious or impressed with the Lieutenant Commander's assessment. Eventually, he decided on the latter. "It just doesn't stop," he finally said. "No matter how many people I put back together, no matter how many I really manage to HELP, the policies don't change, and you just end up doing the same old thing all over again."

John Carter let the words sink in for a moment. "At least in Fleet you can still make a difference." John wasn't entirely happy with the way the words came out.

Leon listened and leaned back to look at his friend again. "I would have said the same thing once. In fact, I think I did when I was your age."

John threw back his head and laughed. "Oh no! No you don't! No way am I letting you get away with this 'Old Man and the Sea' crap. Cut your losses and reel in the sprocking fish Doc!"

"It's not that simple John!" Cromwell protested.

"Yes Doc," Carter said firmly, letting a bit of his 'command voice' slip free, "It is that simple. Do it, or don't, but you have to pick one." Carter let his gaze slip down to the nameplate on his antiquated jacket, looking at the insignia of his first patrol squadron. "C'mon Doc, you talk like an officer, you act like an officer, and I KNOW you think like one. You might as well BE an officer. Just get it over with."

"I'll think about it, ok?"

"That's all I'm asking Doc." John sat back confident that what the Doctor really meant was 'yes, I'll take the sprocking test!'. That thought made him smile.

"Can I change the subject now?" Leon asked, exasperated.

"Feel free."

"What are your intentions towards my chief of staff?"

"Well gee 'Dad', I don't know. I thought about asking her to the prom, but I'm darn busy with the paper route and all."

Cromwell shook his head. "Why do you do that? You never answer a personal question straight. I'm just trying to figure out what I might have to deal with."

"Believe me Doc, when we figure it out, one of us will let you know, but after the whole Marshall/Taylor mess..."

"Right, right, just wanted to make sure you had your head on straight."

"No worries Doc." John said, not sure if he was telling his friend the truth.

 

<location: Starfleet Corps of Engineers Headquarters, Earth>

Victor looked over his Starfleet -Eyes Only- file for the third time.  While not 'entirely' against regs, it was considered poor form to read what the brass had to say about you.  Sipping from his cup of warm k'vass, Vic winced at the foul taste of the thick liquid.

"Computer, Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons' from the top."

The light strains of an ancient Terran orchestra filled the small compartment as Lieutenant Virtus turned his gaze back upon the screen.  His eyes quickly found the gaping holes where his current position and department should have been listed.

The weary lieutenant chuckled.  The recommendations file was what he had been looking for.  But the favor he had called in from Commander Chin back at 'Fleet Command was a one time deal.  Perhaps it was for the best.  Besides, after his brief stint in Sciences again, perhaps his next assignment would be back in his beloved Engineering.

=/\= “Incoming correspondence from Starfleet Command.” =/\=

"Think of the devil..."

=/\= “I do not understand the query.” =/\=

"Never mind."

Victor typed in his password, and waited for the computer to authenticate the informing information.  As the message scrolled down the screen, Vic leaned forward in his chair.  His new orders were short and to the point.  The wiry scientist-turned-engineer slowly lowered his head until his brows rest gently upon the transplast console.

"That's not possible... I've only been away from him for three point six weeks subjective.  How much trouble can he possibly have gotten into in ... 408 hours relative!"

Vic sat down at his desk's console, laced his fingers and cracked them over his head like a concert pianist.

"Computer, begin recording."

The standard warble of the computer dictation program sounded.

"Hello John, please excuse me for both not looking into the camera, and for my lecturing tone of voice."

Vic's fingers danced across the console, bringing up a hologram of the Alpha-7 supercluster.

"Space is big.  Compared to interstellar distances, the relative size of one person is infinitesimal.  Statistically, it should be functionally impossible to find one person in all of space."

Victor turned to look at the camera.

"But by those same statistics, it should be equally impossible to find your socks, an M class planet, or the rebellious daughter of a head of one of the Orion Syndicates."

Victor quirked an eyebrow, and turned back to the console.

"As some of us have found all three of those on the same day, let us assume that either the statistics are wrong, or there are other factors to consider."

Vic cleared his throat.

"I long ago determined that the secrets of the universe were in its mathematical relationships."

The soft tones of rapid keystrokes filled the air for a moment, and the free-floating starscape turned and zoomed in.

"The Republic is ... here."

One star began to glow brighter.

"After a major battle, 'Fleet HQ like to give a month R&R to keep the troops in tip-top shape.  But knowing how volatile things are right now, let's assume you have only two weeks leave.

The starscape zoomed out a ways, and a transparent sphere of dots appeared with Starbase Delphi at its center.

"This is every point you could reach by commercial transport in 3.5 days, spend a week's leave, and take 3.5 days getting back."

Victor glanced over at the camera.

"Knowing the volume of a sphere, I have just narrowed my search down from all of space, to slightly over 9.7 million cubic light-years."

Vic turned back to the camera, and held up an antique, 22nd century solar powered pocket calculator. 

"Had I a cutting-edge starship at my disposal, I could search for and find one man in that volume of space in merely ... 214 Martian years."

Vic swiveled in his seat and began typing on the console again.  A new sphere appeared, almost twice the distance outside the first.

"But one of my initial premises is flawed.  The chance of John Carter taking a commercial transport on vacation is slightly less than that of randomly finding a doorway into the past on an uninhabited moon in the Beta quadrant.  He would no-doubt steal a shuttle before letting someone else pilot him at a crawling warp three point seven."

Vic suddenly put his face within inches of the camera, and raised his voice slightly.

"And Doctor, if you are present, I spent three months in the brig after that little escapade."

The lithe engineer stood, moved behind the hologram and continued.

"So the actual area I now have to search is more than triple the previous area."

Other dots began lighting up red within the second sphere.

"Contained within this area are such places as Starbase 39, Darathius 4, Zegama Beach, Liana 2, Leerma Station, . . . Riza, . . . and the U.S.S. Devonshire."

Victor ambled off camera and the sound of ice cubes rang in a glass, followed by some liquid. 

"You remember the Devonshire don't you John.  You embarrassed the helmsman by out-flying her in a runabout, and then apologized by offering her 9 hours of 'individual instruction'.  I seem to recall you even got a thank you from her captain."

The hologram expanded a slight bit more, and a third sphere appeared around the last, and five more dots turned red.

"But by removing just two of the seven safety interlocks on a standard Starfleet warp-capable shuttle, you could also reach Mars, Sol, Antares 4, Orion Prime . . . and Betazed."

Vic walked back to his chair with a tall glass of something clear and sat, spinning to put his feet on low table in front of the camera relay.

"Now, if I'm here on Sol, and you are in one of over a dozen places, then this message will leave here via subspace, and travel to the subspace relay station on Ceti Antauri Two, and then to the Blackshirt's secret, hidden moon base where the locations of all Starfleet personnel are updated ever six minutes."

Vic rolled his eyes at the camera.

"If the message clears Int. Sec., it will then attempt to find you."

Vic took a sip of his drink, got up, and poured two more.

"And why, you ask, did I go to all the trouble of telling you this?  Because I have been reassigned . . ."

 

<location: Marqah Inn, equatorial region, Betazed>

John set his bag down on the couch in his dayroom, and turned as Doctor Cromwell poked his head in from the suite's living room.

"John, I'm not sure I can afford a place like this on a doctor's salary."

"Doc, you said yourself, the 'Marqah' was the only place that had a room on such short notice.  The planet wide 'Festival of Lights' begins tomorrow and runs for six of our seven days here.  It is a bit pricey, but it's also the best hotel within 200 light-years."

The good doctor moved farther into the cavernous room and leaned against one of the five bars in their penthouse.

"John, the reason it was the only room left on the planet was because no one else in the Alpha quadrant would pay a thousand credits a night for a room!"

"It's not a room Doc, it's a suite.  And I assure you it will be worth it.  If half of the things I hear about the Festival are true, you will have forgotten all about your troubles by the end of the first night."

"Sure, and when we're washing dishes to pay for the 'gahatga' wings you will no doubt insist upon inflicting on me..."

"Don't you have a test you should be studying for," John interrupted.

Leon gave the hotshot a 'Don't give me started' look, which brought his gaze down on the dimly flashing light beside the recessed wall screen.

"John, you've got a message."

John crossed the spacious rooms dazzlingly white carpet to the panel, and touched the glowing button.

"That's odd.  No one knows I'm here.  I'd didn't know I'd be here until we made up our minds in the shuttle."

The screen faded to show a man cracking his knuckles.

"Hello John, please excuse me for both not looking into the camera, and for my lecturing tone of voice."

***

"And why, you ask, did I go to all the trouble of telling you this?  Because I have been reassigned . . ."

The screen went blank as the message ended abruptly.  The sound of the outer door opening caused both men to turn.  A familiar voice called from the entryway.

". . . and it's all YOUR fault!"

The Doctor marveled for a moment as John, the dignified and proud XO of the U.S.S. Republic, gaped like a fish and ran into the living room.

Leon composed himself and walked in behind the stunned Martian to see Victor Virtus carrying three clear drinks and grinning from ear to ear.

"What?!, who, but . . . the message . . . you!?" John struggled out.

Doctor Cromwell moved to intercept the engineer as he came in, and accepted one of the drinks and a handshake.

"Good to see you Lieutenant Commander.  Welcome to Betazed."

"Thank you Doctor.  It's good to be here."

"What are you DOING here!"

John always recovered quickly.

"Reporting to the XO.  It's in the regs.  All crewmen must first report to the XO before commencing their duties aboard a new ship.  You know that John,” Victor admonished.

"New ship?  But you'd just been reassigned back to Earth."

"Indeed I had. But I did some digging, and 'someone' put in a request to 'Fleet Command asking that I be transferred from Sciences back into Engineering.  Someone that had just become the XO of their boat, and wanted to not see a friend's talents going to waste."

"But I put in that request weeks ago!"

"And it got through the red tape 97 hours ago."

"But what are you doing HERE? We got here less than two hours ago.  How did you find us?"

"I told you once.  I explained in the message . . ."

"Which you sent from Earth."

". . . that there were only so many places you could be."

"But you were on EARTH!"

"No, I said 'If I was on Earth...', you assumed I was speaking rhetorically.  I sent that message from a ship in orbit, and then beamed down when you started playing it."

"But how did you beat us here?  I jimmied the interlocks to make it here at warp five!"

Victor handed John his drink.

"Those safety interlocks are there for your protection John."

"Don't change the subject.  What am I drinking?"

"John, you know the rule."

"What rule?"

Victor looked over John's shoulder at Leon, who supplied the rule, "You can't ask what it is, only what it was."

Tasting his drink and finding it palatable, John motioned everyone to sit in the giant chairs around the central table in the living room. 

"That's a really silly rule.  Now spill it.  How'd you beat me here, assuming you mathematically deduced my location, which I don't believe in the slightest."

"The Betazed ambassador to the UFP was in talks until it was too late for him catch a commercial transport home.  Starfleet graciously allowed him the use of the U.S.S. Devonshire to make the Festival of Lights before it started.  We did 27 hours at Warp Eight." 

Victor took a swallow of his drink and leaned back into the chair.

"You remember the Devonshire don't you . . ."

"Yes, I remember the Devonshire."

There was a long pause as the reality of the situation sunk in to the three men.

John raised his glass, “Good to see you Vic. Welcome back."

"Thanks John, good to be back."

***

The sunset, and the threesome prepared for a night on the town.  As John finished primping, the doctor caught Victor alone on the balcony overlooking the sparkling jewel that was the biggest resort city on Betazed.

"How did you really find him?  Without the math techno-babble double talk."

"I didn't," the wily Malthan confided," The movements of Starfleet officers on leave are carefully protected by Internal Security.  But the movements of civilians are monitored by the UFP transportation commission.  When you reserved this suite under your name, the hotel informed the spaceport of your expected arrival, and the spaceport logged it in the UFP transport authority's database."

"But . . . don't you need security clearances to gain access to that?"

"Yes, you would have to be cleared as a level four UFP security analyst, a level six government official, or a Lieutenant Commander in Star Fleet to be able to access that database."

"Then how did you know John would be with me?"

"I called the Marqah from the spaceport and apologized to them for losing your luggage.  I asked how many were in your party, they said two, so I came here, called the spaceport from the lobby and asked if they had found your luggage, and if so, on which shuttle?" 

"Why? . . ."

"Once I had the name of the shuttle, I could query Starfleet Records on where that shuttle left from, when it departed, and when it arrived.  You left Delphi three days ago.  The Pegasus-class shuttle you arrived in can make that trip in that amount of time, but only if you take it above the optimal safe velocity."

"But what if I had been bringing a young lady, and just been in a hurry?"

"Please Doctor.  Occam's Razor."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment.

"Victor, you have a very strange definition of 'the simplest explanation'."

 

<location: captain’s quarters, USS Republic, Delphi Station>

Marshall had met with Ensign Readdy.  He was going to promote her to Chief of Security/Tactical but she refused and asked for a transfer.  Jim granted it because he didn't want any crew serving under him who didn't want to be there.

Seeing to personnel matters, he noticed that Lieutenant Commander Victor Virtus would be the new Chief Engineer.  "Welcome back Vic," he said out loud.  He knew full well that he was probably on his way by now to meet up with Leon and Carter.  Jim had been worn ragged, but luckily he had leave coming. 

He was in his quarters when he got a communiqué from an old friend.

"Rach, it's been too long.”

=/\= “Cut the crap Jim.  I hear you're on leave.  Well, so am I.  Let's go somewhere.” =/\=

“I'll meet you in 15 minutes.  I've already got an idea.  I hear Risa is nice this time of year.”

=/\= “Still the same Jim.  I'll see you at docking bay 29, I've got a runabout . . .” =/\=

Please, no runabouts.  Not after that last ordeal.  I've still got some pull within Starfleet . . . wait, better make this a civilian cruise.  Don't want anyone to know I'm gone just yet.  There are a few people who'll know but not too many.”

=/\= “Gibbs is here.  He says hi and that we can use Shepherd if we want it.  Free of charge even.  He helped me out on the last mission.  We were trying to enforce a blockade of . . . oh never mind.  Docking bay 29.” =/\=

“I'll meet you there.  Marshall out.”

Marshall changed out of his uniform and put on some civilian clothes.  He had ordered all of his personal belongings off the ship and put in storage.  Jim had one last thing to do, but he felt it was the right thing. 

He then had one last call to make.  This one was to Admiral Perry his old CO now working in the personnel office.

=/\= "Jim, you're on leave.  It's about time." =/\=

"I need a favor.”

=/\= “Name it.” =/\=

“Make it look like I'm not coming back from leave.”

=/\= “The only way to do that would be to relieve you of command.” =/\=

“My point exactly.  It's not the pressure, it's just that after what I and my crew has been through it seems highly irregular to me to at least not relieve me for a time.”

=/\= “Fine, you are relieved of command as of right now.  Between you and me, I'll try to hold off naming your successor as long as possible if at all.  Just come back Jim.” =/\=

“I'm not sure I will be but thanks.  Marshall out.”    

The channel was closed.  Grabbing his bag, Jim headed for docking bay 29.

<18 minutes later>

Jim immediately saw Rachel and went over to her.

"You're late," she said.

"I always was.  I had to call in a favor.  Let's get off this base."  They then boarded the Shepherd of the Hills .  Marshall hoped it wouldn't be the last time he set foot on the Republic, but at this point he wasn't sure.

 

<location: Shuttlecraft Slayton, two periods inbound to Delphi sector>

As starlines flew past the viewport of the Pegasus-class shuttle, Carter, Virtus, and Cromwell sat in the compartment with relaxed satisfaction splayed across their faces.  After two weeks on Betazed, each had a slight tan to their skin from time spent on the tropical beaches of the equatorial regions.  Each was in good spirits, and the time spent away from the Republic did well to re-establish positive attitudes.  During the first week, the trio attended Betazed's galaxy-renown festival of lights, and had a grand time cheering, drinking, and dancing with the spectators and entertainers.  The following week, Leon spent his time deep-sea fishing in the shadow of John's para-sailing, while Victor immersed himself in reef diving among Betazed's vast, underwater rainforests.

The evenings were spent at a local tavern near the southern tip of the planet's capital province.  It was called "Dahla'i Jenova," which means "Ocean Delights" roughly translated from Betazed.  Due to its exquisite food and drink, it was a well-known locale favored by the more boisterous and raucous of extra-planetary visitors, and equally visited by Betazed's constabulary force.  Although no serious crimes were ever committed, most visitors observe at least one bar fight before leaving for the night.  In regards to Carter, Virtus, and Cromwell, each night brought a unique set of circumstances unto themselves.  On their last evening, a most colorful altercation occurred resulting in bruised ribs for John, and leaving Leon with a black eye.  Only Virtus survived unscathed as Leon treated the minor injuries during the flight back to Delphi Station.

"We're lucky that we got out of there when we did," remarked Leon, closing his medical kit.  "Otherwise, we might have been a lot later getting back.  Time in detention wouldn't exactly have been my idea of shore leave."

"You wouldn't have had anyone else to blame but yourself," replied Vic straightforwardly.  "If you hadn't had that argument with the Tellarite freighter captain, we might not have had to deal with them coming back each night."

The doctor made no apology.  "He made me spill my drink.  Let alone that it was one of the best bottles of Saurian brandy I've ever tasted, but he didn't even offer to by me another one.  If I had been a Klingon drinking blood wine, the whole thing would have been solved that night."

"Instead," John cut in.  "You chose to remind and insult the Tellarite about it every night he returned.  Forget the fact that each night he came back, it was with a larger contingent of his crew.  Doesn't the concept of being outnumbered mean anything to you?"

Leon looked down to the floor with humility. "I just didn't notice.  It's a good thing your Naussican friend intervened when she did."

"She wasn't my friend," said Carter with a scowl.  He turned his attention to the pilot console in front of him, typing a few commands.  "She was in her estrus cycle and took a liking to me during a group para-sail.  When she threw the Tellarites against the bar, it was because she thought she was protecting a potential mate."

Virtus looked up with a look of sudden comprehension.  "So THAT'S why she always made that odd noise every time we entered the tavern."

The doctor nodded his head.  "Yes, and that's why she kept on trying to figure out what resort we were in.  I'll never forget bumping into her three nights ago outside the bar.  She looked down at me with a most terrifying expression and asked for 'Caaar-teeer?'  It took all of my composure just to keep from running away screaming."

"Yes, well it didn't help any with you inviting those call girls over to our table," Carter accused Virtus.  "All it did was cause the Naussican to pursue me more aggressively."

"You could have just gone through the declination ceremony," reminded the doctor with amusement.  "She would have left you alone after that."

John looked at him tensely.  "I wasn't about to wrestle her into submission on a bed of hot embers!"  Suddenly, the waypoint proximity alarm sounded with a soft warble, and Carter turned his attention to the con.  He dialed a few operations and announced, "looks like were coming up on Delphi Station.  Vacation's over, gentlemen."

The shuttle's warp engines powered down as the impulse thrusters came online, and before long, the enormous pinwheel-shaped starbase loomed in front of them.  Housing over 20,000 personnel, the titanic structure spun slowly in place to reveal the thousands of viewports lining the outside.  The diffuse blue glow of the station's antimatter reactor vents shined steadily from underneath the mushroom-shaped dome which housed the ship-berthing complex.  As Carter maneuvered the craft closer, he activated the subspace comlink.

"Shuttlecraft Slayton to Delphi Control.  Requesting space door access for docking with U.S.S. Republic, NCC-76241."

=/\= "Slayton, this is Delphi Control.  Slow your approach and hold station at 2000 meters.  We have an inbound tow-vessel requiring vector-approach protocols.  Standby momentarily for our next transmission." =/\=

John rolled his eyes and sat back into his seat with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked.

Slightly annoyed, the exec replied "there's some sort of tow-boat about to come out of warp with a payload.  According to Starfleet protocols, they need extra room in case the transition to impulse breaks the tractor beam.  So, they've got to clear a path to the space doors."

"Sound's reasonable to me," Vic stated.  "I wouldn't want to be in the path of a container ship when it decelerates slower than its lead vessel."

"It's probably some Orion freighter with another useless load of Boorite," muttered John.

"Um, that's no cargo crate . . ." interrupted Leon.

Outside the viewport, a small Federation towing vessel came out of warp.  It had the standard saucer-shaped hull with two warp nacelles on either side.  However, it was the tractor beam which drew attention.  The pulsating white stream emerged from the center-aft of the tow-ship, widened towards the middle, and terminated on the huge hull of a Galaxy-Class stardrive section.

"Is that ours?" asked Doctor Cromwell as the trio crowded the cockpit viewport, watching in awe at the slow approach of the two craft.

"Well, we're the only Galaxy-Class assigned to Delphi," answered Carter.

As the stardrive section slid smoothly in front of them, it could be determined immediately that it was not completed yet.  Although most of the pearlescent, metallic-gray hull plating was present, a few sections were missing, exposing the internal superstructure of the vessel.  The warp engines, which appeared to boast a slightly modified design, were deactivated, and void of the standard blue or red ambience associated with an operational warp core.  There were neither hull markings nor registry numbers, and the numerous viewports, which normally shined steadily with a full crew compliment, were dark and vacuous.  Apparently, in the rush to complete a new stardrive section for the Republic, Utopia Planitia left a few unfinished items for the Republic's engineering department.  It was clear that the vessel would need more work before its eventual mating with the saucer section.

"Looks like you've got your work cut out for you, Vic," John remarked as the two vessels made their way to the open space doors of Delphi Station.  He took note of the upgraded aft-firing quantum torpedo tube on the stardrive section.

"Assuming the entire engineering crew has returned from shore leave," stated Vic.  "I estimate approximately three days, five hours, and forty-two minutes of around-the-clock work before we can make the Republic whole again."  He looked down to Carter who watched the vessels enter the station.  "I leave you for a couple a weeks, and the whole ship falls apart."

With a look of incredulity, John turned his head slowly to stare at the chief engineer.  Cromwell chuckled as Carter opened his mouth to speak, but the subspace comlink spoke first.

=/\= "Shuttlecraft Slayton, you're cleared for final approach.  Welcome home." =/\=

The officers took their seats as the shuttle resumed its course towards the station.  Minutes later, the saucer section of the starship Republic, still moored in its repair berth, locked onto the Slayton with a landing beam, and guided it into the main shuttlebay.

 

<location: somewhere on the planet Risa>

Jim Marshall woke early in his rented beach house on Risa that he was sharing with Rachel Blake. They had been there three days and it was starting to seem like an eternity to him. He felt like hell, and was not in the best of moods, but he did manage not wake up Rachel.

He lumbered into the living area and went to the terminal.  "I've been out of contact too long, he said out loud.  He accessed the screen and funneled through the news reports.  Jim found one that mentioned the Republic, and he opened it hoping it was about the last mission, but it wasn't.

'Not Bombay' he thought, 'Sure he's well respected since the Dominion War, and that he's decorated, but it's my ship.  Some Admiral must have got overzealous.'

Checking is private messages Marshall found one from his old friend, Admiral  Bradley "Hawkeye" Perry in the Personnel office:

 

Jim,

I've got some bad news for you.  The point is that you've been replaced as Captain of the Republic.  Admiral Fowler used your leaving to convince Starfleet Command that you were too young for a Galaxy-class starship.  Your replacement is Captain Horatio Bombay, and you and I both know that he's well qualified but lacks a certain quality.  I tried Jim, but no luck.  I told them of your record, and the relationship you have with your crew, but they remain convinced.

You might want to go see Admiral Kostya.  He's at his beach house on Risa.  He's been out of contact so you may have to bring him up to speed.  It's not much but it's a fight to get you back in command.  Don't settle for anything less than the Republic, you've earned her.

Hawkeye

 

Jim thought 'Can't things get any better?'  He then checked his personal messages again to find one from Starfleet Command.

 

Captain Marshall,

Starfleet Command is requesting that you return to Starbase Delphi immediately to turn over command of the U.S.S. Republic NCC-76241 to Captain Horatio Bombay effective Stardate 57442.2.  We will not order you to do it, but as a formality we would like you to be present.

Signed,

Admiral Fowler

Starfleet Command

 

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response.  They expect me to come back after they take my ship from me.  Starfleet Command can choke on that," he said.

"Jim you've got to be kidding," said Rachel.  She obviously had been standing there for a while.

"Bombay's in the center seat now.  If I know Carter, he's about to start looking for me, and that will bring him here," said Jim.

"I'm sorry Jim, about loosing the Republic.  I know you only needed to get away for a while, but that wasn't an excuse to replace you," said Rachel.

"Rach, at this point, I'm thinking of resigning. . ."

"Don't do it. . .what'll you do?"

"Go back to Earth.  Hire myself out as a private Captain.  Go into politics. . . I just don't know."

"Get back Jim.  Get back your command before it's too late."

"Well there is one thing . . ." He got up and headed for the shower.  It was time to go see Admiral Kostya, whom Jim Marshall hoped would be his ace in the hole.

 

<Location: Bridge, U.S.S. Republic NCC-76241>

"He did WHAT?!" John Carter screamed at the unfortunate junior adjutant who was on the other end of the subspace channel.

"Captain Marshall's been relieved of command, Sir."

"Relieved by who?" John asked quickly.

"I'm not at liberty to say, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Uh huh," John stood over the XO station with a hand on his hip. "Let me ask you something Lieutenant, and please," John leaned into the display screen for emphasis, "think carefully before you answer because, so help me, if you get anywhere NEAR the words 'classified' or 'Need to know', I will personally ride this stardrive right down your six!"

The Lieutenant swallowed hard, quite sure that John was serious. "You . . . you'll have to take that up with PERSCOM sir. I'm just relaying a message."

"Then get me Admiral who's its. Right . . . Sprocking . . . NOW!"

Most of Republic's assembled bridge crew had to hide smiles. John Carter had never been considered a by-the-book officer, and at times would let his rather colorful Martian vocabulary slip out, but Carter had also gotten himself something of a reputation as a problem solver, and had already saved his crew from almost certain death more than once. Most of the crew found Carter's occasional (though admittedly now more frequent) use of profanity as endearing. On the other end of the subspace channel, the Starfleet Command Lieutenant didn't seem to appreciate the humor. His tone suddenly turned icy. "I'll put it in the queue, Lieutenant Commander." Then the channel went dark.

"Put it in the . . . PUT IT IN THE QUEUE?!" John slammed his fist against the screen. "Yeah Junior, you do that." Carter pulled at the bottom of his duty tunic and pushed the sleeves up midway on his forearms. He looked at Thomas Sullivan. "Where do we stand, Ops?"

Sullivan checked his status board, then looked back to his XO. "Ship's systems are green, but Lieutenant Commander Virtus isn't happy about the transdator relays in the secondary lateral sensor array."

John felt a familiar smile creep across his face. "Yeah, he does that. What about crew?"

Department Heads are all in, except for the Counselor's position, and our Chief Tac."

Carter shook his head. The Position of Tactical Chief on the U.S.S. Republic had become his own private hell. He'd been promoted out of the job, but since then, no one had stayed at the post longer than five days before the universe threw something insurmountable at the ship's crew. "Don't worry about it Tom," John remarked lightly, "Why worry about Tac when we don't even have a Captain."

"Actually, Commander Carter, you do."

John Carter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he whirled around to see where the unexpected voice had come from. He saw a man of medium height and build with sandy blonde hair, and the easy stance of a man who had his 'space legs'. He was older than John was by at least five years, dressed in dark, casual civilian clothes, but Carter could tell from the way the stranger stood that he was Starfleet. There were just some things the Academy taught that never went away. John crossed his arms over his chest trying to see what other 'tells' the newcomer might give away. "You'll forgive me, sir," John presumed, "but I don't know who you are."

"Nor should you," the man said crisply. "At least not yet." The older man shifted his weight slightly and extended his hand to the XO. "Captain Horatio Bombay. Pleased to meet you."

Carter blinked and then shook the man's hand. "I wasn't told to expect anyone. In fact, I've been on the horn with 'Fleet all day trying to figure out where the Old Man . . . that is . . . where Captain Marshall is."

"I'm sorry there wasn't time to tell you Carter, but Starfleet Headquarters saw fit to give me command of Republic. As to the how's and why's? Well, right now you don't need to know that."

Tom Sullivan had to work to physically restrain his gasp. Whoever this Captain Bombay was, he was dancing a jig on one of John Carter's less favorite hot buttons, and Sullivan was bracing for the storm.

John Carter felt his fist clench, and spoke in clean, crisp tones. "I hope you'll advise me as soon as it's . . . appropriate, Captain?"

Bombay nodded. "Of course, Carter." Republic's new CO looked around the bridge with an appraising gaze. "Hmmm . . . I was always rather partial to the Nebula Class bridge design myself, but I suppose this will do. Any port in a storm, eh Commander?"

Carter studied his new Captain. 'Too clean cut', he thought to himself. 'This one won't be easy.' Eventually, he decided on a simple "Yes Sir, I suppose so."

Bombay turned back toward the turbolift where he'd entered the bridge, "At any rate Commander, I won't assume command for another 24 hours." He stepped into the lift car and continued. "In the meantime, I'll get settled in. See to it that my things are transferred to Captain's Quarters, and brief the Senior Staff to meet with me at 1530 tomorrow." The lift door closed. Bombay hadn't waited for a reply.

John Carter stood on the bridge surrounded by deafening silence. After a few seconds, he tapped his comm badge. "Bridge to Lieutenant commander Virtus."

=/\= "Engineering standing by, Bridge.” =/\=

"I'm headed your way Vic." Carter explained. "Things up here just got . . . interesting."

=/\= "Chinese interesting? =/\=

"Roger that."

 

<location: Starbase Delphi, berth 12, main gangway corridor>

When Leon first returned to the Republic after being stranded on the Kreltan’s demon-class planet (now officially named “Styx” on Star Fleet charts thanks to his fellow castaways), he was relieved and happy to get a decent meal, hot shower, and sleep in his own bed.  However, the two-week shore leave on Betazed that followed his return served to mollify and pamper his spirit to a point where he loathed returning to duty. Now, as he walked towards the Republic’s berthed saucer section from Delphi’s Star Fleet Academy outreach center, a cloud of gloom returned, recalling that he must continue a tour of duty minus two officers in sickbay.  Regardless of his rested spirit, he could not shake the feeling that the death of Y’lair and Brooke was somehow his fault.

The news of Captain Marshall being relieved of command did not upset the doctor.  He knew that somewhere out there was a child and an attractive Star Fleet commander named Lana that his former skipper yearned to call a family.  Even if Jim didn’t know it, the rest of the crew sensed the chemistry between the two officers, and although that chemistry did not belong on the bridge of a starship, Leon felt that some things were worth pursuing outside the pressure of the captain’s chair.

As Leon walked down the gangway, he turned his attention from the datapad in his hands to the tunnel’s viewport.  The huge metallic ship-berthing facility was buzzing with activity, as the newly constructed stardrive section lay in the next berth.  Doctor Cromwell stopped to look at the vessel, admiring the work Vic and the engineering crew had put into her since their return from shore leave.  Some of the viewports were illuminated, and external light panels aimed a bright beam of luminosity at exposed parts of the stardrive’s hull where space-suited engineers and work drones labored tirelessly to make final preparations for mating the craft to the saucer section.  Recalling his previous thought, Leon whispered under his breath before making the final stroll through the saucer’s gangway hatch.

“Good luck, Jim.”

Passing through the open airlock, the doctor rounded a corner into a busy corridor of the Republic.  Personnel walked casually about, paying Leon no mind as he made his way to sickbay.  Although the departure of Captain Marshall caused no inconvenience to him, it suddenly occurred to Leon that one other person aboard ship would not be taking his unannounced withdrawal from the duty roster as lightly.

“Damn, damn, damn, damn” came a vexed muttering from further down the hallway.  Recognizing the voice and confirming his suspicion, Doctor Cromwell looked up from his datapad to see Lieutenant Commander Carter marching towards him in exasperation. Before Leon could say anything, John walked up to him and vented his frustration.

“Couldn’t he have at least waited until we got back?” he said loudly and sparing no restraint in his voice.  “Where does he get the idea to just leave without so much as a sprocking note?”

“Look on the bright side,” Leon reminded him.  “We can’t leave port without a commanding officer.  This gives us more time to prep the ship before our new CO checks in.”

“Headed to sickbay?” John asked as a side-subject.  Leon nodded his head and the executive officer motioned that he would follow.  As the two walked through the corridor, Carter continued.  “Well, that’s already happened.  I had a run in with him on the bridge, and we have a staff meeting tomorrow at 1900.”

“Run in?  What happened?”

Scowling, John replied “I don’t want to talk about the details, but I get the impression he’s not the best leader.  Consider yourself notified of his arrival.”  Leon didn’t challenge the subject, and continued to read his datapad as they walked along.  “What are you so involved with there, doc?”

Leon pursed his lips.  “I just came from the academy outreach center, and this is my long-distance course schedule for the next few months.”

“You mean for the bridge command test?”

Nodding reluctantly, the doctor confirmed the answer to Carter’s question.  “Yep.  It looks like I’ll be spending four hours after my duty shift each day in the holodeck.  I can’t believe what certifications they want me to have: Basic Starship Operations, Basic Starship Strategy and Tactics, Basic Astrogation/Navigation, Basic Sensor and Astrometric Operations, Basic Warp Theory, and Federation Law and History.  I haven’t had a schedule like this since the University of Tycho.”

“Well,” Carter said.  “The academy tailors its outreach courses to the individual needs of the student.  They’re only giving you what you need for the bridge test.  Those sound like those are the basics for any command grade bridge officer.”

Leon still couldn’t believe he was doing this.  Over a month ago, he never would have considered going back to Star Fleet.  Now, with headquarters activating his reserve civilian contract, he was forced into serving aboard a Star Fleet vessel for an indeterminate amount of time.  Reluctantly, it was final prodding from Carter that had him actually pursuing the bridge officer’s test.  The doctor still wasn’t sure if he was ready to wear the uniform again.

“So all this stuff is covered on the bridge test?” he said finally.

“In one form or another,” the exec answered.  “Like I said, it’s tailored fit to your psychological and personality profile.  It’s going to be challenging no matter how much you study.  It’ll reveal whether you have what it takes to command a starship.”

The knot in the pit of the doctor’s stomach stirred when Carter mentioned the words ‘command a starship.’  “What if I don’t pass?”

Carter shrugged his shoulders.  “Well, I guess that means you can keep wearing that,” referring to Doctor Cromwell’s civilian attire of an ivory turtleneck sweater.  “Tell you what,” John offered.  “I’ve got a program on the holodeck that helped me through my bridge certification.  It’s called the ‘Kobyashi Maru’, and it’s an old training program that hasn’t been used by Star Fleet in over fifty years.  It’s outdated, but it has some great lessons to be learned about commanding a starship.  What do you say I meet you in holodeck three after we come off duty?  I think you’ll benefit from it.”

Leon nodded his head.  “Okay, you’re on,” he replied as they arrived at the sickbay doors.

“I’ll see you then.”  Carter tipped his head with a slight smile and continued down the corridor as the doctor entered the medical complex.

 

<location: USS Republic, saucer section, sickbay, CMO’s office>

It had been several weeks since Leon gathered the sickbay’s senior officers for a staff meeting.  He had not been looking forward to this, knowing full well that there would be a vacant place where Y’lair should have been.  Even as the six officers filed into his office, and took their usual seating positions in front of Leon’s desk, he struggled to keep his eyes away from the empty corner where the Vulcan doctor would always stand with his arms crossed.  As the others quietly prepared their personal datapads for notes, Doctor Cromwell cleared his throat to start the meeting.

“Welcome back, everyone,” he started dryly.  “I know it’s been awhile since we’ve all been together, but I hope everyone enjoyed their shore leave.  As you know, we’ve got several issues to cover, but first, let’s hear everyone’s report.  Doctor Yezbeck?”

The balding, black-bearded lieutenant sat back in his chair and read aloud an updated list of personnel and equipment for those assigned to the main ward, triage one.  It took less than a minute, and without Leon having to say anything, the gray haired female Doctor Fernmoore chimed in when Yezbeck finished his report.  Like Yezbeck, she read a similar checklist for the second medical ward, triage two.  However, there was an eerie silence when she finished a minute later, which was due to the fact the Doctor Y’lair normally read his report for the third medical ward, triage three.  Leon’s heart sank, and everyone looked slightly uncomfortable, hoping that he would find the emotional energy to break the silence.  Sure enough, after a lengthy five-second interval, he cleared his throat.

“I know we’ve had a few losses recently, but we’re going to have to get through it.  This ship depends on us doing our best, and we can’t let the losses of the past month deter us from doing that.  So, let’s skip the triage three report and go to Doctor Hudson.  Shannon, what have you got for us?”

The scarlet-haired lieutenant was at a loss momentarily, but regained her composure quickly.  Like Leon, she cleared her throat before speaking.  “I’m happy to report that we’ve had no changes to our overall sickbay roster, and the life-sciences training exchange program has worked out over the past several weeks.  With the Republic in port, those who did not take shore leave had a light duty schedule, and this allowed us to double our training time.  We have twenty-two enlisted life-science technicians who were with us over the duty-break, and eighteen passed the basic medical corpsman’s course on the holodeck two days ago.  Likewise, sickbay sent twenty-four enlisted personnel to life sciences, and all gained new sensor and data-collection skills in agronomy, exobiology, biochemistry, and microbiology.”

“Sounds good,” Leon replied in a more upbeat tone.  “Let’s keep the program going, and hopefully we can look forward to having a certified back-up medical staff if we ever end up needing one.”

Looking at his computer console, Doctor Cromwell dialed a few buttons, then folded his hands before returning his attention to his staff.  “Now, here comes a bit of bad news.  Unfortunately, we do not have any new officers to fill our vacant positions.  That means for this next cruise, we’re going to be slightly understaffed.”

A few sighs and grumblings rippled between the six officers.  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” continued Leon.  “But as you know, there’s already a medical personnel shortage throughout Star Fleet, and with the ongoing Kreltan conflict, we’re going to have to buckle down and make a few changes.”

Leon turned to the bald-headed Deltan, Doctor Ryda.  “Doctor, I’m promoting you to the head of Triage Three.  Please coordinate with Doctors Yezbeck and Fernmoore to establish your operational protocols.  Since you’ve been working under Yezbeck the past month, this shouldn’t be too problematic.  Unfortunately, this will leave the ward supervisor positions open in all three triage wards.  I will temporarily promote nurses Norris, Ellis, and Carmichael to ward supervisors in triage one, two, and three, respectively.”

Cromwell threw a glance to the humanoid female Doctor Hudson, hoping to casually slip in the change in her position that he and the captain discussed two weeks ago.  “Hudson, I need you to fill the head nurse position until further notice.”

The chief medical officer then turned to the young female Andorian, Doctor Favuuk.  “Favuuk, I need you to take over the Family Medical Services office from Doctor Harris so the crew’s family and non-Star Fleet personnel can still have their medical needs fulfilled.”

Shannon Harris dropped her jaw slightly with consternation.  She wasn’t expecting to be ousted from her position, and was very concerned on what Leon had in store for her.  “Um, Doctor?  Why must you do that?  The family members need a full-time pediatrician on staff, and as far as I know, I’m the only one qualified to fill that.”

“Yes, Shannon, I know,” consoled Leon.  “However, before Captain Marshall left, he gave me the task of finding a temporary ship counselor if we have to leave port without one.”

At this, Doctor Harris’ eyes bulged slightly, and she opened her mouth to protest.  However, before she uttered a word, Leon held up a hand, and closed his eyes in anticipation of her remonstration.

“I know what you’re going to say, but we’re in a bind here.  You’ve got the most psychiatric training out of all of us, so you’ve got the duty, Shannon.  I’m sorry it has to be you, but just remember that it’s only temporary until we get a new counselor.”

“But, doctor, I have no diplomatic or cultural training.  How am I supposed to advise the captain on these issues?”

Leon thought for a moment before responding.  “You’ll have to report to Lieutenant Commander Carter for that one.  If he’s unable to back you up in those areas, he can put you in touch with someone who can.  Okay?”

Shannon went silent and crossed her arms in annoyance.

“Okay?” asked Leon again with emphasis.

Doctor Harris finally nodded her head, though reluctantly.  “Yes, doctor.”

Suddenly, a new voice sounded from the open office door.

“Why is a civilian giving orders to Starfleet personnel?”

Everyone in the office looked towards the door to see a middle-aged, medium-built man with a head of blonde hair.  He wore dark civilian clothes and stared across the room at Doctor Cromwell.  For his part, Leon was confused, and blinked a few times before responding.  "Excuse me, but I’m trying to have a staff meeting here."

The man looked indignant, and repeated his question with a slightly elevated accusatory tone.

“I said, why is a civilian giving orders to Star Fleet personnel?”

Everyone looked at one another, hoping to find a sign of who the newcomer might be.  As the level of confusion rose, so did Leon’s temper.

“Look, I’m the chief medical officer, this is my office, and I’m the one who asks questions around here.  Now I suggest you leave before I call security.”

The gentleman at the door had no intention of leaving, and gave Leon a condescending glance before walking into the office.

“My good man, do you have any idea who I am?” he scoffed.

Leon’s temper was swelling in his chest.  He was not used to strangers strolling into the middle of a departmental meeting and asking rude and utterly pointless questions.  The man’s identity was furthest from his mind as Leon’s only goal was to make it clear to the newcomer that he was not welcome, nor carried any authority within the walls of sickbay.  Standing up, Doctor Cromwell placed his hands on the desk and beamed a cold, penetrating gaze at the outsider.

“I don’t really give a drop of spit who you are.  You’re intruding on my meeting, intruding in my sickbay, and asking stupid questions which you have no business asking.  Now, you either move those waddling little duck feet of yours out of my office, or I’ll personally wipe that stupid little smile off your rosy little cheeks.  Got it?”

The stranger let out a soft chuckle, which was the last thing Leon had expected to come forth from a man who had just endured the doctor’s poisonous wrath.

“Perhaps I haven’t made it clear to you,” he stated gingerly.  “My name is Captain Horatio Bombay, your new commanding officer.  That tone of yours is insubordinate, and I will not have any officer serving under me wielding such an attitude.  Especially not a civilian officer, if there is such a thing.  Consider yourself on report, Doctor Cromwell.  There is a senior staff meeting tomorrow at 1900 hours, and I expect you to be there in a full duty uniform like the rest of us.”

Leon’s jaw hung open in disbelief.  A moment passed where Doctor Cromwell and Captain Bombay stared at each other rancorously.  Without warning, Leon said, “meeting adjourned.  If you all will leave the captain and myself alone, I’d appreciate it.”

The doctors quickly and quietly shuffled out of the office looking at one another with uncertainty.  As the door closed behind them, Leon slipped out from behind the desk, and continued his cold stare at the captain.

“Sir,” he said professionally, hoping to hide the spite in his voice.  “My Star Fleet contract indicates my position as a civilian contractor, and my pay grade as CG-13, not a duty rank.  I am not an active duty officer, therefore I feel a duty uniform is inappropriate to my position.”

Bombay, equally professionally, and not willing to back down his cold glance replied to the doctor, “on the contrary.  You are under a reserve activation order.  Star Fleet Regulation 670-1 specifically states that any civilian contractor called to duty under the reserve activation clause is required to report to duty in a standard issue Star Fleet uniform.”

Leon was impressed with the captain’s knowledge of the regulations, but he too had done his homework.  “Actually captain, the regulation does not say ‘required.’  The regulation you are interpreting, that being page 136, paragraph three, actually reads ‘entitled.’  This clearly makes wearing a standard duty uniform optional in my case.”

To Doctor Cromwell’s delight, the captain was taken aback by the disparage, shown by the red hue beginning to burn into the captain’s face.  Whether this indicated anger, embarrassment, or both, Leon did not know.  What was known, however, that the doctor’s life had just became more complicated.

“Nevertheless, doctor,” Bombay spoke through gritted teeth.  “I am not used to having a civilian serve on my staff.  I will clear this up with the executive officer before the meeting tomorrow, but rest assured that if you plan on spending very long under my command, you will either become an active duty officer, or find yourself serving as a medical intern aboard a Klingon garbage scow.”  With that the captain spun around and quickly exited the office.

Leon stood alone for the moment, trying make out what had just occurred.  He stared at the door for a long while before muttering quite clearly, “what a fantastic jerk.”

 

<location: main engineering, USS Republic>

Lieutenant Commander Virtus looked down from the third level warp core service gantry as two-thirds of his engineering staff looked back at him.  A brief smile almost crossed his lips as he considered the absurdity of his position.  He was standing behind a podium-shaped console, five meters above his gamma and alpha shifts, and all conversation had just stopped.  For just a moment he felt what it must have been like to be a Roman Emperor.

"Third shift, thank you for staying.  This will not take long.  For those of you whom I have not met, I am Lieutenant Commander Victor Virtus, and I am your new department head.  I realize that one month ago I was this ship's Chief Science Officer, and I cannot tell you how happy I am to be back where I belong."

The joke went over not at all.  Vic sighed internally.  Scuttlebutt had already told them what he was about to say.

"There is quite a bit of work to be done before we are space worthy, and so I will be asking the XO to extend your duty shifts by four hours.  You will still report at the same time, and I realize that means there will be crowding in key areas, but I want everything to be working in the ninety-ninth percentile before Captain Bombay assumes command."

There was a gasp from the back of the first level.  Apparently scuttlebutt had missed one of the ensigns.  Vic marveled again at the ability of bad news to travel faster than subspace communications.

"That will be all."

Gamma shift began slowly filing out as Alpha shift went back to their posts.  Many would resent the extra four hours, but a few had done their research, and knew that the Victor Virtus of old would have just sent out a memo saying everyone was working double shifts until further notice.  Vic had mellowed in the last six years.  As it was, asking the XO to extend the shift resulted in the computer recording that extra time spent on duty, which meant more leave time accrued, and marginally greater retirement benefits.  Working on someone else's shift usually got logged as "emergency" time-on-the-clock, and did not provide any such rewards.

"Lieutenant Commander, may I have a moment of your time," asked a voice from behind him.  Victor performed a parade-ground about-face having guessed who the speaker was by tone and accent.

"Certainly Captain.  If you will please follow me."

Before the older man could stop him, the spry engineer walked briskly down engineering corridor 46 and started to remove the access panel from a Jefferies tube.  Captain Bombay caught up a few seconds later, and spoke with a slight edge.

"Lieutenant Commander, could we speak in your office?"

"Yes Captain, we could.  But at this time we will not.  As a courtesy to your rank I will observe the formality of relocating to my office if you press the issue, but if you want this ship ready to go at 1800, you will not press said issue.  I have prepared a file detailing the answers to the 25 questions you are most likely to ask me right now, and it is awaiting your leisure in the computer under 'captain bombay eff aie cue'.  Now if you will excuse me Captain."

Victor met the Captain's eyes without a hint of defiance, only the slight impatience of a subordinate that wants to get a job done without interruption.  (A look Vic had been cultivating and practicing since the Academy.)

"Very well Mister Virtus, carry on."

Vic ducked into the tube and listened to the footsteps diminish down the corridor.  The previous occupant of the tube stared at his superior in horror and awe.

"Sir?"

"Yes Ensign Wolcott?"

"How can you get away with that?"

"Practice Judy.  Years of practice."

"But how'd you know what he was going to ask?"

"I polled his last twelve Chief Engineers at 1500 yesterday via subspace communication.  I asked them what Captain Bombay was like, and what little tests he gave a new crew, on the record.  Eight of them got back to me, and said he was very professional, and liked to ask a few difficult questions about obscure procedures on the first day.  They gave a few examples, and I extrapolated from there.  He's a product of Command Branch through and through; he wants efficiency.  I can give him that in spades."

"Spades, Sir?"

"Slang I picked up from the XO.  Look it up and I'll let you sit in for me at the next game.  Now back to work.  I'll take over here.  I need you to test transponders 215 through 227 in tube 57."

"Aye-aye Sir," the ensign smiled, knowing that she had just scored brownies points with her boss' boss' boss.  Once she was out of sight, Victor shook his head and dug in to the exposed components Ensign Wolcott had been checking.  For the third time that week, Victor found himself muttering to thin air.

"I keep getting older, and the ensigns all stay the same."

 

<Location: Main Engineering, U.S.S. Valiant, NCC-2814>

Captain John Carter rubbed the back of his neck as he craned to look up the intermix chamber. Lights danced inside the cylinder, and there was an odd sort of hum filling the room on a vibrational level.  Carter shaded his eyes, but still couldn't see what Commander Virtus was talking about. "Vic, I know you know your stuff," he offered, "and you know I trust you..."

"You'd better John, after what happened on the Republic."

Carter felt his expression change as he remembered his posting on the ill-fated Galaxy class starship Republic. He shook his head to brush the unpleasant memories aside. "My point is," he paused, taking one last look at the latest Virtus model M/AMIR, "I don't see what all the fuss is about. It's a warp core, and it makes my ship work. That's good enough for me."

Commander Victor Virtus smiled at his friend for .0035 seconds. 'Same old John,' he thought, though looking at his friend across the room now, he could barely recognize the officer he'd first onboard the U.S.S. Discovery. Back then, John Carter was just an eager, opinionated Lieutenant on the fast track to command. Now, Victor considered, as he looked at Carter's weathered features and graying goatee, Carter seemed much less eager.

Virtus looked down at the PADD in his hands and affixed his digital signature. "Well, Captain, I think you'll be pleased with the new core's performance. As far as Hephaestus Station is concerned, Valiant is up to specs and ready to go." Virtus walked over to the Valiant's CO and offered him the PADD. "Where are you taking my baby here?"

John smiled as he took the PADD. "Uh-uh Vic," he answered, "she's my baby now. 'Fleet Command is shipping us to the Kreltan Control Zone. They want me to attend the adoption of the new constitution."

"You're going to a diplomatic ceremony in a Defiant class destroyer?"

Carter rested a hand on his hip and cocked his head with a smile. "Actually, I thought it rather fitting, considering the time I we spent bringing down the 'morpher' regime. What is it about shape shifters and empires anyway?"

Carter brushed his left hand across the patch that, for nearly five years, covered where his left eye had been. Victor looked followed his friend as the two made their way through the Valiant's tight corridors. "The eye giving you trouble?"

"There is no eye anymore."

"You know what I mean John," Victor chided his friend. "I don't understand why you don't re-gen it, or at least get a prosthetic. I'm sure Leon could fix you up."

The two officers walked into Valiant's transporter room and nodded to the fresh-faced Ensign who was manning the transporter console.

Carter rolled his eye as he and Commander Virtus stepped onto the transporter pad. "Griffe, Vic! You're starting to sound like my wife. Besides, my body doesn't take re-gen." John looked at the transporter officer. "Two to beam to Hephaestus Station, Ensign." The Ensign nodded and Carter heard the familiar whine of the transporter's Heisenberg compensators.

Next to Carter, Victor turned to address his friend. "Ex-wife John," He corrected.

"She's your ex-wife.”

Carter felt his trademark smirk creep across his face. "Give a man a chance, Vic," he said, and the two officers vanished from the U.S.S. Valiant.

 

<Location: Corridor 8-c-3, U.S.S. Republic, NCC-76241>

John Carter felt the deck stop spinning as he steadied himself against the bulkhead. He had a splitting headache, and felt flushed. In the pain and heat, he was barely aware of his beeping combadge.

=/\= "Doctor Harris to XO." =/\=

John managed to tap the badge and spoke to Shannon Harris. "Carter here Doctor," he said weakly. "Sorry for the delay. Where are you?"

=/\= "I'm in sickbay, Doctor Cromwell just dropped a bombshell . . . You sound out of it Lieutenant Commander. Are you ok?" =/\=

"Fine Shannon," Carter lied. "Is the Doc still there?"

=/\= "I think so, but I really need to . . ." =/\=

"Stay put Doctor," Carter said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "I'll come to you. Vic'll just have to wait."

 

<location: U.S.S. Republic, saucer section, sickbay, exam room 1>

A soft blue-white light shone onto a huge, glistening brown disk.  Centered on the disk was a small ebony spot that projected straight, gray lines towards the edge of the round mahogany circle.  The lines extended themselves in a radial pattern set apart in regular intervals to form the appearance of a black spider in the center of its web.  Suddenly, the center dark spot grew in diameter, filling almost half of the brown disk in which it was inlaid, before a flesh-colored eyelid collapsed over both.

“Well . . .” sounded the focused, analytical voice of Doctor Cromwell.  “I don’t see any sign of degradation of the optic nerve.  Your brain’s optical cortex is functioning normally, and there’s no sign of tissue trauma to the retina.  I’d give your peeper a gold-star for this exam.”

Leon turned off his hand-held examination device which was the source the sapphire reflection off Lieutenant Commander Carter’s eyeball.  John looked up to him quizzically, as the word “peeper” meant something different in his Martian dialect of the English language, although “gold-star” was readily decipherable.

“What about my fainting spell?” he asked, dismissing the doctor’s vernacular.  John remained sitting on the exam table as Leon leaned up against an adjacent table, placing the scanning device into the right-hand pocket of his blue physician’s jacket.

“It could have been any number of things,” the doctor admitted, crossing his arms.  “Too much sun on Betazed, the stress of a new commander, or even the refit crew adjusting the grav-plating.  Any of those could have caused a temporary disruption of the inner ear.  Either way, you’re fine now, and nothing looks out of the ordinary.  I can run a full micro-diagnostic if you want, and compare it to the scan we took three weeks ago.”

John pursed his lips while shaking his head, knowing full well he hadn’t time at that moment for a physical exam.  “Nah, that’s alright, doc.  If it happens again, I’ll call you.”

“Why should I bother expecting you to call?” came the sarcastic reply from Leon.  The doctor walked over to a nearby computer console, and began typing commands.  “Consider yourself under medical observation,” he said turning back to face the executive officer.  “I’m going to have the ship’s computer monitor your combadge in case you take another fall.  If it finds you hitting the deck again, it’ll alert me, and whoever’s on duty in sickbay.  You won’t have time to stand back up before a medic is at your side.”

“Thanks, doc.”  John was wary at being under scrutiny by the medical monitoring systems, but since Leon hadn’t restricted his duty schedule, he felt it was a fair compromise.  “What about that strange dream I had?” he added as an afterthought, and more for conversational material than for diagnosis purposes.

Leon gave a chuckle.  “Don’t look to me for dream-interpretation!  Ask the ship’s counselor!”

Carter grinned, wondering when the subject would change to that of Harris.  “You know, she’s not too happy about that.  It was the first thing I heard about when I walked into sickbay a minute ago.  Apparently, she likes it here in sickbay.”

“It’ll do her some good to get out here for a little while,” retorted the doctor.  “Especially after the B’Rell incident.”

“Actually, she performed rather well during all that.  It was her that helped to expose the Kreltan spy.”  Unlike the rest of the crew, John refused to attach Lieutenant Regesh’s name to that of the unknown infiltrator.  The deceased Andorian tactical officer deserved better than to have his namesake associated with an enemy agent.

“That’s why I made her temporary counselor,” he said, referring to Lieutenant Shannon Harris, the scarlet-haired medical doctor.  “Someone from down here needs to keep an eye on all of you on the bridge.  Besides,” Leon added with a smile.  “She gets to sit next to you!”

With a look of ‘you’re treading on thin ice’, John shot a careful glance at Leon.  “Actually, she gets to sit ACROSS from me.  ‘Across’ meaning on the other side of the captain.  I don’t think you know what position you’ve put her in.”

“Yes I do,” Leon responded immediately.  “I’ve given her something good to put on her duty record, and extra line item for her next promotion board, and a fully qualified medical doctor on the bridge.”

“Since when do you have the right to dictate someone else’s career?” John shot back.

“Oh no, Johnny-boy!” Leon barked, maintaining his smile.  “No!  Don’t you pull THAT one on me!  You and Marshall both have been giving ME career objectives this past month, so why can’t I do the same for one of my subordinates?”

Carter could not counter that one.  It was true that Captain Marshall and himself had actively urged the doctor to take the bridge command test, despite his ambiguities about it.  Still, the executive officer was both taken aback yet mildly amused by the “Johnny-boy” comment.  Since none of the crew was present to hear, he dismissed it – this time.  Sliding off the table, John stood up and adjusted his uniform.

“Speaking of which, don’t forget our little appointment in the holodeck this evening.”

“I’ll be there.”

=/\= “Virtus to Carter.  The captain wants the ship in one piece by 1800 tomorrow.  The longer I wait for your inspection of the stardrive section, the longer we wait to dock with the saucer.” =/\=

“On my way,” John said, tapping his combadge.  “Duty calls, doc.”

"Say hi to Vic for me," added the doctor as Carter exited the exam room.

"Will do."

John Carter pushed his sleeves midway up on his forearm and adjusted the collar of his uniform as he made his way through the sickbay's main ward. He waited for a few seconds as the doors to Sickbay slid open, but as he stepped into the main corridor of Deck Twelve, a voice called him back.

"Doctor Cromwell says you're cleared for duty," Shannon Harris said simply. "You sure you're okay?"

John motioned for Harris to join him in the corridor and the two officers walked as John answered her question. "Fine," John said with a headshake. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Shannon gave her XO a skewed look and kept walking. "Two reasons really."

"Oh?"

"One, even if you weren't feeling well, I doubt you'd admit it."

"Go on," Carter seemed to agree.

"And two," Shannon stopped walking and put her hand on Carter's shoulder as they stood in front of a turbo lift hatch, "The only reason you came in at all was because I happened to call in the first place." Carter didn't argue. Instead, he politely waited for Shannon to enter the lift car first, then followed as the doors closed behind them. "I'm not always going to be around to catch you, Carter."

'Ex-wife...she's you're ex-wife John.' He heard the words as clear as if Victor Virtus had said them himself, except that Carter knew that conversation hadn't really happened. He wasn't a Captain, Shannon Harris had never been his wife, and thankfully, he still had two good eyes. Carter tried to brush the thought aside, but couldn't manage to shake the thought that he'd somehow screwed something up. "I know that Doctor Harris," he managed to say rather vacantly.

"You don't sound like you believe it."

"Uh-huh."

"Deck eight." Shannon said. Then she looked at Carter. "That where you're headed?"

"Uh-huh."

"Right . . ." Shannon said with a smile as the lift car began to move. "You know, I was thinking . . ."

"Hmmm?" Carter was making all the right noises, but not paying attention in the least.

"After my shift, I'm going to The Hill," Shannon wondered how far she could go before John HAD to pay attention.

"Ummm."

"And I'm going to reenact the veil dance of Tychus III. In fact, I'm commando as we speak."

"That's nice," John said blankly.

Shannon was used to patients avoiding her. It was very rare that anyone, especially a person in Starfleet's Command Branch, actually admitted they could even be sick, but Carter's evasion seemed much more personal. Shannon didn't like it at all. "John," she finally said tilting her head sideways so that her fiery red hair spilled off her shoulder, "I'm on fire."

"What?!" John's attention was snapped back to the present, and he looked at Shannon with wide eyes. "What was that about commandos?"

Shannon chuckled slightly. "Well at least you were paying attention to something," she offered. "What was that all about?"

"Sorry," Carter apologized. "Just going over the Engineering checklist in my head." Carter gave Harris an easy smile. "Guess I was a little distracted."

"Guess so," Harris answered. "How are things down there?"

"Vic requested that I extend the duty shifts until we get the Stardrive re-attached." Carter leaned against the bulkhead. "Other than that, it's just a quick inspection. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think we may actually get a decent shake-down this time out."

"That would be a nice change."

Carter's smile got bigger. "You're telling me." John took a hard look at Doctor Harris, and noticed that she  was wearing an extra, open collar pip. As First Officer, he'd had to sign off on the promotion, but he was glad to see it all the same. "Speaking of changes..." he finally acknowledged the elephant in the lift. "Are you set for the left chair?"

"I think so," Harris answered as her brow furrowed. "I've accessed the Federation Cultural Database, and I'm boning up on my psychology a bit more, but I'm not that good at reading people."

"Well," John offered, "There's an easy way to fix that."

"Oh?" Shannon felt her eyebrow rise. "Is this where you offer me 'personal instruction'? 'Cause I heard about the Lieutenant on the USS Devonshire. You remember the Devonshire, don't you John?"

Carter laughed out loud. "Your boss has a big mouth!" he said with a grin. The lift car stopped, and John waited as the lift doors opened. "Actually," Carter paused as Harris stepped to the doorway. "I was talking about poker. Friday night, 1900, my quarters."

"Thanks," Shannon said, "That might be helpful."

"Unless you'd rather stay home and work on your Veil Dance . . . I wouldn't mind that at all!"

The lift doors closed before Carter could see the blush on the acting counselor's face, but he knew it was there. "Main Engineering." he said to the ship's computer, and the lift car quickly moved in response.

 

<U.S.S. Republic NCC-76241, Main Engineering>

The light neon blue of a Mark V Warp Core pulsed slowly in the background as a tall Martian and a wiry Malthan leaned over an engineering console.

"I'm not thrilled with the new Tesla coils in the port nacelle.  It offends my sense of order in the universe to use an asymmetric helix to stabilize warp fields beyond warp seven."

"Ummm," John replied thoughtfully, nodding his head.

"But we are seventeen minutes ahead of schedule on the coupling locks, and the backup-computer upgrade from Stardock Research is impressive.  Two orders of magnitude faster at data upload and retrieval."

John made a satisfied, "Hmm," sound and followed Victor's finger as the Engineering Chief pointed a bell curve on the console screen.

"And I'm am quite pleased with our output efficiency as we approach full power on the matter/anti-matter reaction.  The refinement of the intermix ratios, which came from this years Academy Advanced Warp Research class I might add, increased output by point two five percent, and reaction efficiency by point six seven percent."

Victor turned to face his executive officer, "That's an extra 2.8 mega joules for you to play with on the bridge."

John nodded sagely and continued to stare at the screen.

Under Vic's outstretched finger, the words, "The Commander is on fire," scrolled slowly and deliberately from right to left beneath the bell curve.

Vic blinked twice, stood, and performed a brief visual inspection of his friend. 

"Everything looks good Vic."

"Thank you sir," Victor returned before turning to the Ensign on duty at the secondary warp field status station, “Ensign Gregor, please double check all the information that his been displayed on this screen in the last ten minutes.  Look for anomalous data and track down where it came from."

The ensign looked startled for a moment, and then came to attention, stated, "Aye-aye Sir", a bit too loudly, and busied himself in his new task.

John chuckled at the anachronism which seemed to follow him everywhere.  Moving into an adjacent corridor on the way to the turbolift, John began to lightly tease his subordinate, "You know where they get it from don't you?"

"Yes sir, I am well aware of my predisposition toward archaic and antiquated forms of naval military address and respect.  Are you feeling all right John?"

John half-rolled his eyes and stepped into the turbolift, “I'm fine.  Just got a clean bill of health from the Doctor."

Victor raised a skeptical eyebrow as the lift doors started to cut them off.

"I'm fine!"

Victor shook is head and headed back to check on Gregor.  Victor Virtus had hated pranks since his Academy days, and doubly so since his rise to Department Head.  It was amazing that John had not caught the scrolling print.  He must have had something very weighty on his mind.

"Virtus to bridge."

=/\= “Ops here.” =/\=

"How do we look for saucer re-link?"

=/\= “Having trouble with the starboard mag clamps Lieutenant Commander.  The new interconnecting dorsal is rated for a minimum of eighteen hundred farads, and the saucer's clamps are rated for a maximum of seventeen fifty.” =/\=

Victor winced.  It was little things like mismatched super-inductors that kept his job interesting.

"On my way. Virtus out."

 

<location: somewhere on the planet Risa>

Marshall had been scanning Risa for the past 10 days trying to find Admiral Kostya. He had no luck, and was getting rather impatient.

"It's no use," he told Rachel, "I ain't ever going to be able to find this guy.  I've never heard of this Admiral."

She told him, "There are a lot of Admirals that you haven't heard of.  This guy just happens to be one of them.  He may not even be on Risa."

"He's here," said Jim, "Some guy at the bar told me. I've left him several messages already.  The guy must never be home."

"Don't lose faith Jimmy Marshall," she said.

"I'm not giving up, and don't call me Jimmy."

Finally, through a well-placed stroke of good luck and a tip from the local police force, Marshall found out where Kostya's beach house was and headed for it.  Upon his arrival he noticed that in fact no one was home, but the cleaning lady told him that Kostya liked to read on the beach.

Marshall wandered the beach for at least an hour before finding the man who he had hoped was Admiral Kostya.  "Admiral? I'm Captain James Marshall formerly of the U.S.S. Republic," he said.

Kostya Looked up to the man who was standing over him.  He put down his Mai Tai and stood up.

"Sir, I have a situation, and I need your help," Marshall said out of desperation.

"Captain Marshall, I heard you were on Risa, what can I help you with?"

"Well, I've been on leave since the Republic returned from dealing with the Kreltans. Problem is that Admiral Fowler used the Kreltans to replace me as Captain of the Republic. He named Horatio Bombay as my replacement."

"Bombay?" Kostya Replied, "Is he still in the service?"

Marshall responded, "I'm afraid so. I just wanted some rest after dealing with the Kreltans, not to be replaced."

"Ok, and what do you need me for?"

"I want my ship back. Anything else is a waste of my time."

Kostya slowly walked toward the beach house he was in front of "Captain, if you would follow me, I will see what we can do"

"I appreciate that Admiral. All of my favors at Command right now have been exhausted." Marshall followed him inside and waited.

Kostya sat at the desk in the office, "Captain, the updates I have been getting on the war have been rather incomplete. I was wondering while I work if you could give me your version of the conflict."

"The first time the Republic dealt with the Kreltans we fought a General named Jondav. We had a few upgrades done but they were knocked out by their ship.  The best way to put it was that their ships are like Reman Warbirds. Only some quick thinking by my XO, Lieutenant Commander Carter, saved us from being destroyed."

"Interesting,"

"I met with Admiral Maverick after we had returned to Starbase Delphi. We found out that yes they are shape shifters, but have been genetically manipulated somehow. I hated it when I found out we were going out again.  Especially to a Demon-class planet. I took some comfort in the fact that the Firestorm would be nearby."

"On that planet there was one of their bases. I had ordered my new security chief with an away team down to destroy it. They didn't make it."

"That wasn't what I’ve been reading" Kostya handed Marshall a report from the front.

Marshall took the PADD and read it. 'What a load of bull' he thought.  He kept telling the Admiral what had happened as he read.

"Some Kreltan troops invaded the Republic and we had to separate the ship and I had to evacuate and self-destruct the star drive section. We managed to take out that base and get off that planet.  We made it back to Starbase Delphi and then went on leave."

"My reports,” the admiral replied.  “Are saying that we are not in any major conflict, and that the Kreltan problem is being resolved diplomatically," said the Admiral.  Marshall set the PADD and countered, "Your reports are wrong Admiral. I can vouch for that.  Somebody is feeding you some bad information, and if I had to bet on it, it's the same people who took my ship from me."

Kostya stood and said, "Alright Captain, as of now you are my personal assistant, we are going to meet the Republic, and I will transfer my flag on to your ship."

Marshall responded, "Well, it gets me back on board.   Just have to wait for the old man to slip up."

"One step at a time, but for now, we need to get to your ship," said the Admiral.

"I think I can swing that Admiral," said Jim as he pulled his communicator from his pocket.

“Marshall to Emerson, two to beam up.”

The beam dissolved and deposited them on board the U.S.S. Emerson.

The beam faded as Marshall and Kostya stepped off of the platform.  "Rach, we need a ride," said Jim.

"Lucky for you," she said.  "We just happen to be going your way."  She saw Admiral Kostya standing there.  "I can't promise you deluxe accommodations Admiral."

"Well as long as I have enough space for my staff, paperwork, and my dog.  We should be just fine," he said.

"I think we can swing that.  It's a small ship but we manage."  She led them down the corridor to a small bunkroom.  Kostya stopped as the doors opened, "Well if this is the best you can do it isn't good enough."

"It'll have to be Admiral, it's a small ship.  We leave in one hour," said Captain Blake as she left.  Marshall wandered down the corridor to find his own room, "Small, but it's only for a few hours."

 

<location: U.S.S. Republic, saucer section, corridor segment 8-C>

With the exception of combat, one of the most hectic situations for a starship crew is the transfer of command from one captain to the other.  However, preparing a ship for launch comes in as a close second.  Coupling these situations with the recent loss of about three-dozen personnel to hostile forces, the nearly catastrophic infiltration of a Kreltan spy to the command chair, and the departmental upheaval due to the poor leadership of the now incarcerated Counselor B’Rell did not help the crew’s stress level.  Topping off this stress with the mysterious and unannounced transfer of Captain Marshall away from the Republic was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.  Despite two weeks shore leave for everyone, the entire crew did not look forward to returning to duty.

Doctor Cromwell was no exception.  He was feeling a tremendous amount of pressure at the reduction of his sickbay staff, as well as a touch of guilt at placing one of his top doctors, Lieutenant Commander Shannon Harris, into the uncomfortable position of temporary ship’s counselor.  With the anxiety level of the crew at an all-time high, not to mention a new captain who seems oblivious to common courtesy, the new counselor had her work cut out for her.  If it were not for her promotion, Leon was sure that she would have stopped talking to him.

As he exited the sickbay after a long, arduous duty shift, the chief medical officer sighed heavily as he made his way to Ten Forward, welcoming the thought of a nightcap before retiring for the evening.  However, as he strode through the corridor, a familiar senior officer dressed in operations gold approached from the opposite direction.  Recognizing the stoic facial features and fu-manchu moustache, Doctor Cromwell adjusted his course and strode alongside the chief engineer.

“What are you doing here, Vic?  I thought you were on the stardrive section,” Leon asked.

“I was, but the docking clamps needed calibration, so I came over here to check on that, among other things.”

“I’m coming off duty, you want to have a drink at the Hill with me?”

“I wish I could, Leon, but there’s some final work to do in preparation for saucer reconnect.  We have two major interconnect operations, five subsystem coupling procedures, and eight workstation reconfigurations to complete in approximately eleven hours and twenty-one minutes.”

The doctor was about to apologize when the comsystem activated.

=/\= “Ensign Harrington to Commander Virtus.” =/\=

The engineer coolly pressed his combadge.  “This is Virtus, go ahead.”

=/\= “I just checked how the stardrive hull-stenciling was coming along, and we seem to be having trouble with Delphi’s registry crew.  Their team leader is Arcturian and can’t spell very well.  According to him, we’re the Starship Repubic.  Could you talk to him, sir?  I’d rather not tell my folks I’m aboard a vessel named after an erogenous zone.” =/\=

Vic rubbed his eyes in frustration.  Emitting a sigh of exasperation, he replied, “I’m on my way, ensign.”  Turning back towards Doctor Cromwell he added, “I’ll take a rain check on the drink.  Besides, shouldn’t you be somewhere at 1900 hours?”

Leon looked at him questioningly for a split moment before a realization dawned on him.  Tapping his own combadge, he asked, “Computer, location of Lieutenant Commander Carter?”</