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 <BOOKMARK:Chapter36>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 36: A Fighting Chance to Live**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Holodeck two, deck 10, USS Republic**
+Leon walked through the doors into a well-furnished, albeit dimly lit room that appeared to be a comfortable living space. The ivory-colored carpet matched the off-white walls, and as he perused the various accouterments, took note of the hanging décor that sported objects from Earth's renaissance and colonial eras such as flintlock pistols, spring-wound clocks, and models of old, wooden sailing vessels. A shelving unit just inside the foyer was a tall, wide diamond-shaped unit of brass and glass, and exhibited several items of antiquity. To Leon's right, two empty cushioned lounge chairs faced a marble fireplace on the opposite wall, separated only by a small end table. To his left, a huge, panoramic window presented an unparalleled view of the evening San Francisco skyline. Leon watched in the distance as a lighted external elevator slowly rose to the top floor of a building that was easily 200 stories tall.
+Quietly, a man came strolling into the room from the direction of the fireplace. At first, he did not pay attention to Leon, as he seemed engrossed in a quaint, leather-bound. The individual wasn't very tall, and in fact, was about the same height as Leon. Although he was wide around the waist, he wasn't stout, and carried his extra weight well. With a mop of curly brown and gray hair, his face was clean-shaven, and he wore a pair of ancient rectangular spectacles that accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes.
+"Aren't you a little old for a cadet?" the hologram finally noticed Leon. He asked the question matter-of-factly, peering past the cover of his book, and over the top brim of his gold-framed glasses. The image was that of a Starfleet officer in the old maroon, wrap-around tunic of yesteryear, complete with the black trousers and boots standard with most uniforms. While the right shoulder strap bore the rank insignia of captain, the breast flap was partially open to reveal a buff-white liner; a telltale sign that the officer was off duty. Judging from the ribbed turtleneck collar, Leon guessed the uniform was from the late 23rd century era.
+"Excuse me?" Leon asked the holographic captain with confusion.
+With pursed lips, the officer closed his book, and seemed slightly annoyed at Leon's arrival. Yet, he also acted as if the doctor's presence was completely normal; as if he were expecting it. "I assume that you're another one of Carter's promising fourth-years with 'potential'?" Without waiting for an answer, the captain placed the closed book on the edge of a coffee table and proceeded to stroll across the room towards the wall adjacent to the window. There, he reached into a small wooden cabinet set atop a shelf.
+"One thing I like about the way he programmed my apartment is the randomness of the liquor cabinet," he commented. "Let's see . . ." Fumbling inside the storage compartment, the man produced a long-necked bottle with a slight curve to its muzzle. Inspecting the liquid within, the aged officer smiled with amusement and looked back to Leon. "Saurian Brandy!" he announced while collecting a pair of crystal drinking vessels from the shelf below. "It beats the Klingon blood wine that was here when that fellow in the bathrobe stopped by recently." Filling the two glasses with a dark green liquid, the man put away the flask and offered one of the drinks to Leon.
+The doctor accepted. Sniffing the glass before sipping, the aroma was rich and distilled, and although it had a slightly bitter overtone (Leon's tongue could always taste the chemical artifacts from the ship's food synthesizer), the concoction went down smooth, and warmed his stomach.
+"Not bad for a computer," remarked the Starfleet captain, enjoying his own glass. "Every now and then, it gets it right."
+As the two stood in the center of the posh den, Leon couldn't help but ask the evident question. "Who are you?"
+"James T. Kirk," the hologram replied expectantly. "Former captain of the Enterprise-A."
+Leon squinted at the hologram with both puzzlement and surprise. THIS was Kirk? The legend of the alpha quadrant? The most prominent of starship commanders that had been so idolized in every Starfleet historical text?
+Recognizing Leon's confused expression, the captain pursed his lips again, not in annoyance this time, but more with resignation to the obvious. "I'm not what you expected, am I?"
+"Um," Leon wasn't sure whether to admit as such, as there was hesitation on his part to insult a renowned historical figure. "Not really," he finally admitted. In fact, this hologram looked nothing like the images he had seen in the media. Not only had Leon assumed Kirk to be taller, but also leaner, younger-looking, and much more robust. The computerized facsimile before him was none of these, and seemed to lack the energy and charismatic appeal highlighted elsewhere. It was hard to imagine that this hologram imbued Kirk's legendary persona in what appeared to be a typical, stodgy Starfleet officer.
+Kirk huffed with irony. "That's roughly what Nat Hawk said to me. Do you know how many self-aware Jim Kirk holographic programs exist out there?" the captain asked.
+"Not a clue."
+"Over forty-five thousand," he responded with emphasis. "Most are montages of my early career. Back when I was supposedly bold and endearing," he swept his hand through the air while holding his glass steady in the other hand. His words came forth not with proud grace, but with lackluster appeal and a touch of sarcasm. "Only a fraction actually show how it really was before I died," he looked upwards, pointing around the room. "No dramatic battles, no dashing adventures . . . just this." Kirk sighed, observing his apartment with tired eyes. "Alone, and as a friend once pointed out, slowing turning into one of these antiques I so cherish."
+Taking a sip from his drink, Kirk casually began walking towards the two empty chairs by the fireplace. "Well, go ahead. Ask."
+"Ask what?"
+"What every cadet that John Carter sends here asks, of course," he motioned for the Doctor to have a seat in one of the recliners.
+"I don't understand," Leon commented while watching Kirk flop into his own cushioned seat. Realizing that the captain could have cared less whether he stood or sat, the Republic's CMO decided to sit down in the adjoining chair on the other side of the end table. He looked uncomfortable, but it was more a matter of his state of mind rather than the quality of the furniture.
+"You've been running the Kobyashi Maru scenario, correct?"
+"Um, yes." The doctor paused with slight embarrassment, not wanting to reveal that it had actually been several weeks since he last tried the program.
+"And you've just completed your fifth try, which ended in failure?"
+"Why do you ask?" he replied to the question, nervously taking a sip from his cup. In fact, he had not run the Kobyashi Maru more than three times since John had given it to him, each session ending in a catastrophic explosion. With frustration, Leon had given up on the computer program, and never gave it another thought.
+"Because," Kirk explained. "Any cadet who runs through the Kobyashi Maru scenario five or more times is obviously having difficulty with the concept of the test."
+Leon froze at the statement. He suddenly realized why John was so angry with him. Up until their discussion in the corridor a few minutes ago, it was John's impression that Leon had already encountered the Jim Kirk program via the Kobyashi Maru. The fact that the holographic Kirk thought the same thing led Leon to realize that John had suspected this shortfall, and may have been the reason he gave him a second chance at the bridge officer's test just now. The question then came to mind why Nat Hawk had been running this program is anyone's guess, but it certainly explained why he looked so much more relaxed afterwards, and why he suggested that Leon give it a try.
+Leon swallowed a sip of brandy very slowly, hoping to draw attention away from his shortfall about the Kobyashi Maru, and choosing to answer Kirk with information that John Carter had already offered him. "I've been told that it's a test of character."
+Kirk's look of annoyance returned, and he almost looked insulted for a moment. "As the senior officer here, I believe that's *my* line," he scolded.
+Leon clearly looked much more uncomfortable at his response.
+Kirk ignored it. "Do you know why Carter programmed me?"
+"For entertainment purposes, I assume."
+"Entertainment?" he echoed incredulously. "My good man, do you have any idea how long Carter and I have known each other?"
+"No."
+"Eleven years. He first programmed me from my Starfleet personnel file when he was a freshman at the academy. By the time he graduated, he had logged almost 200 hours with me, studying at that table right over there." Kirk pointed to a small desk in the corner of the room.
+Leon suddenly realized why John was so ready to accept Shannon as a real person: His academy mentor was a hologram.
+"After the academy, he took my program with him to every posting and ship that had a holodeck. Every time he needed someone to bounce ideas off of, or mull over difficult decisions, he'd be in here. Some assignments had him consulting me almost every night. Especially after being aboard the Devonshire . . . did he ever talk to you about the Devonshire?"
+Leon shook his head. "There are lots of things about his life that John Carter doesn't tell me."
+"Eventually, his visits tapered off to where months went by before he would drop by again," Kirk continued musing. "Then one day, he became an instructor at the academy. My role soon became that of a mentor to whatever student he felt needed to meet me. Finally, he linked my program with the Kobyashi Maru scenario, automatically activating it when a user replayed the scenario five times."
+Again, Leon felt embarrassed by the realization that he failed to follow John's advice and run the Kobyashi Maru as often as he could. "When was the last time you saw him?" he chose to change the subject.
+"Who? Carter?" Kirk asked, as Leon's question brought the hologram's mind back to present day. "Well, since Mister Hawk stopped by to see me last night, the last time my program was activated was several months ago. Carter came in here asking about how I dealt with the Gorns on Cestus Three. He didn't elaborate on why he wanted to know, though."
+"Well?" Leon replied, previously unaware that Kirk possessed a link to his homeworld's history. "How did you deal with them?"
+Kirk waved his hand. "Never mind that," he dismissed. "Ask Carter if you're so interested about that. What we need to be discussing at the moment is how you did on the Kobyashi Maru."
+Leon sulkily leaned back into his chair.
+"I realize that you must not be too happy with your performance, and let me tell you, I've never met a cadet that hasn't."
+"And why is that?" Leon mumbled, more detached than ever. Listening to the rambling thoughts of an old man - even a legendary one - wasn't his idea of a fun or interesting time in the holodeck.
+"Because," Kirk explained. "The test wasn't designed to see if you could win the combat, it was designed to see if you could handle the rigors of command. How you tackle a no-win scenario tells a lot about how a cadet will react in a similar real-life situation."
+"I'm *not* a cadet!" Leon blurted out before he realized it. The animosity of being treated as a young student instead of a seasoned adult was eating at Leon, but as soon as he protested, he suddenly wished he hadn't. Kirk's eyes were uncomfortably fixed on the doctor after the outburst, and as the hologram scrutinized him over the brim of his glasses, Leon sunk back into the upholstered padding of the chair in embarrassment.
+"So then, why are you still here?" Kirk finally asked.
+"Because a year ago, some damned Starfleet admiral pulled me out of my civilian career to make me an officer! That's why!"
+"Seems I've had this conversation before," he commented sourly just as he took another sip from his glass. "So . . . you took the test - perhaps several times - and discovered that you were unable to resolve the situation."
+"You could say that," the doctor replied, still looking rather uncomfortable to admit his shortcomings.
+"And you're not happy with your performance?" Kirk continued his line of questioning while taking a seat in the other chair parallel to Leon's. The orange dancing light from the fire reflected off his spectacles.
+"Something like that," Leon admitted, taking another swig from his drink.
+"And why not?"
+Leon was taken slightly by surprise. "Why do you think?" he blurted out again. "The ship kept getting destroyed, no matter what I did. As a starship commander, I'm really pathetic."
+Kirk looked towards Leon with a blank stare. If he was displeased at the doctor's tone, he did not show it. "What is it that you do on board the Republic again?"
+"I'm a doctor."
+"Ah," the captain replied, turning back to the fire with an expression of comprehension. "I've known several doctors throughout my time in Starfleet. Not many of them would have cut it in the captain's chair."
+"Now you see my problem."
+At that, Kirk looked back at him with the same blank stare, hiding whatever emotion he had behind his renowned poker face. "Problem?" he asked emphatically. "You think that NOT being in the captain's seat is a problem? Have you ANY idea of the responsibility involved in commanding a starship?"
+"Of course I do!"
+"No, I don't think you do," Kirk returned to watching the lit fireplace. "The doctors that I knew wouldn't have made good captains because they didn't WANT to be captains. Their command over a starship extended from being able to tell the captain what they thought on a moments notice. Always adding their emotional opinion unimpeded by the chain-of-command, and often insubordinate in their attitude."
+"Are you saying I'm too insubordinate to command a starship?"
+"What I'm saying," he emphasized. "Is that a doctor can get away with speaking their mind, often without consequences, because more often than not, they're looking out for the welfare of the crew. Good starship captains realize that. In the heat of battle, they often lose touch with the fact that their crewmembers are human beings with limitations, especially if they're focused on thinking tactically. The ship's doctor reminds them to stop what they're doing for a moment, and to think how their next command might affect the crew."
+"How does that affect whether or not a doctor can command a starship?"
+"Simple. It has to do with their point of view."
+"I don't understand."
+"If a doctor spends most of their time thinking about only the crew, then they lose touch with what's happening outside the ship."
+"Or with it," Leon whispered in thought, the gears beginning to turn in his head.
+"Absolutely," Kirk answered. "I remember this one time when my entire crew was infected with a behavior-altering virus that caused anyone infected to act as if they were intoxicated. One infected officer had actually locked himself in engineering and shut down the ship's engines while we were attempting to maintain orbit around a planet with an unstable core. If I had lost my objectivity and continued to chase down and reprimand every crewman that had misbehaved, my chief engineer and I wouldn't have been able to regain control of the ship. Our orbit would have decayed, and everyone would have died."
+"Well, that's easy for the immortal Captain Kirk," Leon exclaimed. "Your entire career was about how you escaped from the jaws of death, and turned situations around to give them a more favorable outcome."
+"You're wrong. I didn't turn them around. Not without paying for it. Usually, I had to sacrifice something in order to get the outcome I wanted. And maybe that's my point: You *have* to sacrifice something." Kirk emphasized the last four words of the sentence by nodding his head in rhythm to the words. "And it can't be just anything either," he added. "It has to be something of extreme significance. *That* was what the Kobyashi Maru program taught me. Only I learned it's lesson later in life; decades afterward in fact. When I originally took the test, I sacrificed my integrity to beat the no win scenario. I cheated. I was the only cadet to actually have *won* because I reprogrammed the computer. I missed the entire purpose of the test . . . at first. But the truth was that I paid for it later in life."
+"What do you mean?"
+"Most of the time it wasn't *me* making the sacrifice," Kirk explained. "Sure, I may have orchestrated the outcome, but each time I turned a situation around and was supposedly victorious, someone else paid for it, even though I didn't know it at the time. Later on, the sacrifices became more personal. Decker . . . Spock . . . my ship . . . even my own son. Each of them had paid for my victories. It wasn't until after the Khitomer Conference when I read the casualty lists for the Enterprise and the Excelsior that I realized how many had died before we could turn the situation around. After that, I came to understand that the no-win scenario truly could not be beaten. If I cheated death, someone else had to die. *That* was the order of things . . . *That* was the lesson of the Kobyashi Maru."
+Although Kirk hadn't realized it, Leon had stopped drinking. His half-empty glass was sitting in his folded hands as he stared into the fire, hanging on every word that Kirk spoke. Leon finally found the magic and appeal of this particular holographic program, and why Nat found it so important for him to run it. With a look of comprehension on his face, the doctor abruptly set his glass down on the table next to him, and got up from the chair.
+"Was it something I said?" Kirk asked with surprise, glancing towards Leon as he marched towards the door.
+"Yes," Leon explained. "But don't worry, it was all helpful."
+"Glad I could do something for you," the hologram replied, turning back towards the fireplace before adding one last sentence over his shoulder. "Do me a favor and tell Carter to stop by more than once a year, will you?"
+"No problem," Leon replied over the grinding sound of the opening holodeck doors. "And thanks."
+"Just doing my job," Kirk replied nonchalantly as he leaned over to reclaim his leather-bound book from the coffee table.
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter37>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 37: Interludes**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Somewhere in the Delta Quadrant**
+Fierce wind whipped across the rocky plains of the primitive looking settlement as a cloaked figure glanced into a fiercely burning binary sky. "Damn." The cloaked figure hissed at the bright blue star just rising over the jagged mountain peaks in the distant. "Blue moon's blood," he whispered. Then he ducked into the shadows of a rough hewn cut-out in the side of a small rock hill.
+Hidden from view, the figure rapped twice quickly, then once again after a longer pause. After a moment, the rock face he was pressed against pushed in and then slid away with a heavy, low, grind. Stepping quickly into the revealed opening, the cloaked stranger wound his way down a spiraling path deep into the bedrock of the planet. The flickering light of torches lit his way, but the figure slowed his pace, still firmly aware that he could still slip and break his neck.
+Stepping gingerly down the path, he wound his way to the bottom, where a cavern opened up. As he stepped in, he bowed his head, six other assembled figures turned with surprise to look at him. Each of the beings in the cave were humanoid, save for the large pupil-less eyes, and the ranges of blue skin that were now visible in the dim light.
+Three males and three females were already present; each wearing little more than silken wraps serving as loin clothes. The females wore similar coverings on their chests, though, considering the diaphanous nature of the fabric, these additional coverings were clearly ceremonial. Small pieces of metal and polished stones also served as ornaments and symbols of station; worn both on the body and worked into the hair, which all assembled persons tended to wear long.
+Like other natives of desert worlds, the blue-skinned inhabitants of this planet also had ears that crested into graceful points, lending a truly alien appearance to their otherwise familiar builds.
+At the head of the cavern, an older male looked across the assembled crowd. "Now that we're all here..." he said with a scowl, directed at the late-comer. "My friends", he stretched out his arms, as if embracing the crowd. "For years now we have lived under dangerous skies. Our enemy lives in the air, and has forced us to scurry like vermin into caves and hiding places. We have tried to appease, tried to negotiate," he turned his attention to a female in the crowd who, unlike her fellows was armed with a scimitar style weapon worn low on her hip. "Some of us have even tried to fight."
+The older speaker turned his attention to a large, covered object behind him that was draped in the darkness of the cave. "Our faith in the Mother and Father who watch over our world has finally been rewarded. I have devised a means to communicate DIRECTLY with our gods, and, using the finest science my and many other brains could muster, I am confident that our deliverance is at had."
+"Rubbish!" the armed woman spoke up. "How many times, Zharon? How many times have you promised that your science and your faith would save us? Eight? Ten? Twenty?" She looked to the other men and women assembled and continued. "Keep your science, and your gods! I'll rid this world of the invaders by myself if I have to, so long as I can pick up a sword!"
+"Dadjinn has a point," the late-comer agreed. "I believe in the gods as much as all of us do, but is it right, or even feasible to think that we should need to go through such outlandish lengths. Perhaps they do not hear us because they no longer wish to."
+Zharon fumed, his eyes blazing. "NO!" he yelled, then turned to light a torch, which revealed the large construct behind him. It was an enormous metal and glass box filled with pulsing lights, roiling gasses and a dancing conglomeration of dots that seemed barely contained in a fragile-looking glass bulb.
+"I know that the last attempts were...less than ideal," he explained. "But I have tapped into the molten core of the planet itself, solving the power problem from before. I simply know that the Theta Project will work."
+"Like your Alpha and Beta projects, and all the rest?" The armed woman remained unconvinced. "Throw the switch then, if you're so sure!"
+Zharon did so, and in the half second of perfect silence, he waited, relieved when the cave was soon filled with the cacophonous noise of whirring machinery and building energy.
+Amid the clatter, the gathered beings stepped back as the machine began to glow. Then, with far less fanfare than it had started, the contraption stopped and seemed lifeless. For long moments, Zharon regarded the machine. Finally, after checking, tightening and tapping all manner of things, he simply let his shoulders drop. "Another failure..." he whispered. "But, how? The science is right." He looked back at the crowd, pleading. "Please friends," he asked. I know it works. I just..."
+"No, Zharon," the sword-wielder interrupted. You've wasted enough precious time and resources on this..." she indicated to the mechanical mass behind the crest-fallen man, "this, Zealot's folly!"
+Before Zharon could respond there was a frightful shriek and the sound of scraping stone. "It's worse than that!" the late-comer spat as he looked to the sword wielder. "They've found us!"
+----
+**Location: Crew quarters, USS Apex**
+"Computer, begin recording."
+//beep-eep//
+"Hello Leon. I hope everything is going well in your thorax of the woods. S.C.A.R. is making great strides in identifying and cataloging nanoscopic sub-spacial tears. Unfortunately, they are great strides in the wrong direction if one were to inquire as to my ever so humble opinion. We have the technology to repair anything up to nineteen millionths of a meter across, but instead of fixing several hundred thousand such holes 'Fleet has decided to study them for an indeterminate amount of time to see if they can be quickly closed or expanded remotely."
+"I don't believe you ever met my number three guy on the Defiant II, Rick Leonetti. The best field weapons engineer with which I've had the pleasure to work. He once theorized a warp capable probe, similar to a quantum torpedo, that's only function was to catalyze a catastrophic subspace breach within maneuvering range of an enemy. Given the right location and proper timing, the probe would be an elegant and effective weapon against the Romulans."
+"Thus I find myself once again distrusting my orders and wondering if I am yet again designing weapons of war instead of quietly tending to my required research."
+Victor looked around the tiny room and his eyes fixed on a small bronze and black colored old-timey photograph of himself, Leon, Victor and Shannon, dressed in the style of the western herd drovers of the late 19th century. The costumes were outlandish and gaudy, Shannon's most of all, consisting of an enormous skirt with concentric metal rings sewn in. Top hats came back into style for a handful of years in the mid 2300s so that was acceptable, but the cloth short coats and leather long coats had been a multi-hour flirtation with uncontrollable laughter. Even the weapons of the time were reproduced and seated in a holster low on the hip. Vic chuckled at the memory of two hours stuck in a malfunctioning holodeck 'Western', not because of a software problem, nor because of a hardware problem, but because of a human problem. Someone had been repairing the wiring behind the holodeck controls' console and accidentally vibration welded the doors shut. Thus the only options were sit down and wait or continue on with the original plan. As "Saloon Girls" went, Dr. Harris made a fine soiled dove.
+"If you have some time, shoot me a message. Our survey will be done in about a month, and then a short 126 hours until we get back to Spacedock. Any idea where you folks will be going next?"
+"Have a good day Leon. Tell John I said hello."
+"End recording" //beep//
 ----

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