Episode 46: Prometheus Quest Part II

(Stardate 50101.2)

By

Jay P. Hailey

and

The Star Trek Players

Kevin Mitchell woke up instantly when the Red Alert alarm sounded. He always did. He hadn't been a front line Starship Captain for more than two years at that point, but red alert invoked deep mental reactions.

"Captain to the Bridge!" Kevas' voice came over the intercom. Mitchell reached over and slapped at the comm. He managed to hit the acknowledge button. The comm shut up for the moment.

Mitchell levered himself up, and began to struggle into his pants. Ever since being severely injured by a Klingon assassin Mitchell's body had been slow, stiff and a little distant. Mitchell sighed in frustration, but told himself firmly that it was still better than being dead.

As Mitchell got his pants up to his waist, the starship Excelsior thundered and pitched him to the deck. As he slid across the deck Mitchell wrestled with shock. This was no training exercise! The Excelsior was really being attacked! He scrambled for the door. He could correct his uniform later.

-*-

"It's a Klingon K'T'Inga class battle cruiser." Mannix said with admirable calm for a midshipman. "She caught us by surprise."

"Damage Report." Kevas said. He hoped he was staying cool. He could feel the tension level of the bridge begin to rise. He was half Klingon and half Betazoid. It always disappointed him when battle came up to feel fear. Kevas admitted to himself that he really wanted to live and began to arrange his priorities accordingly.

Lieutenant Ford, an experienced officer at Ops replied. "He knew right where to hit us. Our port warp nacelle is damaged beyond use. There has been heavy damage to section 36 and 37 on decks 4 and 5. Our weapons are out. Our shields are weakened by 50 percent."

"Engineering." Kevas signaled

"Engineering, Tolliver here! Go, Bridge!" The young voice of the Cadet engineering officer replied.

Kevas hid a grimace. If Tolliver was answering then it might mean that the real Chief Engineer had been hurt or killed already. "How long until you can give me warp drive?"

"In fifteen minutes I can bridge out the damaged warp nacelle and give you... warp three, maybe." Tolliver replied.

Kevas was stunned. They'd probably be a ball of expanding plasma after fifteen minutes but even if they survived that long, the Excelsior could never outrun the Klingon battle cruiser at warp three.

"Commander, with only one warp nacelle, our maneuverability is going be severely restricted. She's going to wallow very badly like that." Midshipman Carter, the Helmswoman reported.

"Hail them again." Kevas said. He was hoping to buy himself a little time. He was also desperately curious. Why was a Klingon battle cruiser attacking a Starfleet training cruise?

-*-

Mitchell cursed silently as he hobbled along the corridor. Usually he did his best to remember that it was pure luck and the skill of the Endeavor's Chief Medical Officer that saved him, and that every day since then had been essentially a "gimme". Now his ship was in trouble and his crew, consisting mostly of kids seemed to be in grave danger. He hobbled as fast as he could.

A midshipman took his arm. Mitchell boggled as she started to try to haul him to the turbolift. "Never mind that," Mitchell said with a gentleness he did not feel "Get to your battle station."

The Midshipman looked grim. "But sir, you're needed on the bridge."

"Commander Kevas has things in hand, Midshipman Reece. I trust him. Now go and make sure you're there when he needs you." Mitchell surprised himself. The statement was true, but he hadn't realized it until he said it.

Reece nodded and took off for her battle station. Mitchell grimly started hobbling for the turbo lift again. He trusted Kevas but he was still the Captain.

-*-

"No reply, Commander." Mannix reported.

"Damn." Kevas snarled. If the Klingons would just talk to him, he might have a chance. As it was...

"Here they come, again." Ford reported.

"Send a Distress call to any other Federation ship in range. Channel all available power into the shields." Kevas said. It was all he could think of to do.

The Klingon battle cruiser entered firing range and unleashed a withering barrage of weapons fire. Phasers and disruptors clawed at the Federation starship.

-*-

As the attack run was completed the Science Officer turned to the Captain of the Klingon ship.

"They have fed their main power to their shields" Marta reported. "Those are fully military rated shields on that ship. We did little damage to them that time."

Kagon grimaced. "Who would that thought that a training vessel on a training cruise would mount military grade shields?"

Marta shrugged. It was all the same to her. Her Captain and her ship were ancient, and although the first attack was supposed to be easy, they weren't intending to survive the subsequent campaign.

"I suppose they have all the latest weapons, too?" Kagon sighed. The humans were more paranoid than they'd been a hundred years ago.

Marta grinned wryly at that. "I could not say. Your attack took out the Excelsior's main weapons controls. Their ship is effectively unarmed."

Kagon grinned but his eyes were sad. "It's only delaying the inevitable. However, Humans are like that. We'll just have to take longer to destroy them."

"I have nowhere better to be." Marta said

"Good." Kagon said. For a moment Marta could see the warrior he must have been a hundred years ago.

"Helm, bring us around for another pass." Kagon said.

The helmswoman, Lona was a cripple. Doomed to a life of uselessness and weakness, she was a living symbol to Kagon of the weakening influence that the Federation was having on the Klingon Empire. When he was in his prime Lona would have been killed after the accident which crippled her and her misery would have been short. Now she lived and resented every moment of it.

Although confined to a human contraption called a "wheelchair", Kagon realized that Lona was a good pilot. She was another one of life's cruel jokes. Nevertheless, she had joined Kagon's mission to find honor readily and had learned greedily to fill her role in his crew.

The Ship was called "GrandFather's Revenge". It was revenge was for a life that had not ended soon enough. It was for honor that had ended all too soon. Kagon's crew was old veterans who had no war to fight, or cripples and malcontents who could never fit into Klingon society or criminals who for one reason or another had been dishonored. All had volunteered for the mission of the ship. It had cost a fortune to refit the ancient cruiser. Its mission was a one way strike into the heart of the enemy who was killing them all with kindness.

The first attack was against a target that Kagon knew would drive the humans of Starfleet into a killing rage. Humans were attached to their children. Starfleet Academy was how Starfleet reproduced itself. A good kick into its soft spot should get dozens of angry ships hunting for Grandfather's Revenge. Kagon's goal then was to see how long he could run from them, killing them when he could, until they got him. It would be a glorious end, one spoken of in both the Federation and the Klingon Empire for years.

Kagon grinned a feral grin. The "children" he was engaged in slaughtering were Humans. They were Starfleet Officers. A happy, arrogant, self-satisfied plague on the quadrant! Contemptible self-righteous monkeys! They would learn, like all Klingons learned, that the universe was not a friendly or a welcoming place.

"Lona, bring us around for another pass."

"Yes, Captain." She could barely reach the controls with her crippled arms but her commands were swift and sure.

-*-

"Here they come again." Mannix reported.

"Evasive!" Kevas ordered. It was futile. The Excelsior couldn't out maneuver the nimble Klingon ship on her best day. The Excelsior wasn't meant to win agility contests with those ships. She was meant to blast them.

Midshipman Carter leaned into her control panel and gave it her very best shot. The ship heeled over and began to twist ponderously.

"I have an idea, Sir." Mannix said.

"Go ahead."

"Our weapons are fine. The only thing missing is a control computer. The warp drives are out, but I'd bet their control computers are fine." Mannix said.

"You propose to link the weapons to the warp drive systems control computer and run them through that?" Kevas replied. He looked at Ford "Can we do that?"

Ford shrugged "I haven't ever heard of it being done before, but it would be hard to make our situation worse."

Kevas turned. "Get in touch with Engineering and make it work."

-*-

The next pass was not as easy as the first two. The Excelsior ran like... Like a panicked man running for his very life, Kagon mused. Their helmsman must be experienced and desperate. He was pushing the Excelsior right to the edge of her performance envelope, risking disaster with every jink and swerve.

Lona was having her hands full keeping up with them. Kagon turned to Marta "Watch our course. Relay the location of obstacles to weapons. Let's clear a path for our pursuit."

Marta nodded. Lona said nothing intent on her flying.

Grandfather's Revenge began to close on the Excelsior.

-*-

Kevin Mitchell hobbled out onto his bridge unsteadily. "Report!" He called.

"An unprovoked attack by a Klingon battle cruiser. We have lost warp drive and weapons. We are working on restoring weapons, now." Kevas said, getting out of the Captain's chair.

"Why not warp drive?" Mitchell asked.

"The port nacelle has been badly damaged. We'll need a ship yard to fix it, Sir." Ford reported.

"And we'll need both nacelles to out run the Klingon." Mitchell said.

"If we can recover the use of our weapons, then we may be able to survive the Klingon attack." Kevas said.

"Very good." Mitchell swayed as the Excelsior pushed her way through another tight turn. "Very, very good. Carry on."

Mitchell sat down in the command chair, and made himself look calm and unconcerned that an angry Klingon ship was doing its best to kill him and his people.

-*-

"What!?" Stacey Tolliver yelled, "Dan, you maniac, how am I supposed to control my warp core when you take away the main warp power computer!"

"Not the main warp drive computer, the warp drive control subsystem." Mannix explained. "You're not using it right now."

"That's not a separate part of my system, Dan! It's a sub routine. You're asking me to install and run tactical as a sub-routine!" Stacey gritted.

"If you don't manage it, then we're dead. How much worse could it hurt to try?" Mannix reasoned with her. "Besides, I already told the captain you'd do it."

Stacey could feel her face grow hot and blood thundered in her ears. "We'll discuss it later, Daniel." She said in a dangerously quiet tone of voice. She had never managed to beat Daniel Mannix in a martial arts contest yet. But the threat carried much weight. Stacey felt far more than one eighth Klingon at that point.

She turned to begin the outrageous task. She almost bumped into her supervisor, Ronk-Wist-Nob-Nob, A Rhondan.

The Rhondan Engineer smelled strongly of Oranges. "If you have an idea of how to accomplish this task, then you may proceed." His vocorder said.

"Don't you?" Stacey was shocked. Ronk-Wist-Nob-Nob was one of a legendary corps of Starfleet engineers with a tradition of pulling impossible jobs under impossible conditions with no time to do them in.

"I believe that you have the potential to become a good engineer." The alien's vocorder said flatly. "Now is the true test. If you fail we die."

"You're willing to bet your life on me?" Stacey squeaked.

"I have been since we left Spacedock." Nob-Nob replied. "Now it is somewhat more urgent. But no better occasion will arise to test your performance under pressure."

Stacey looked at the Rhondan and realized that he was serious, and evidently somewhat blase' about risking his life in this manner. "You don't have to be crazy to be an Engineer." She said "But I guess it sure helps, doesn't it?"

A strong undercurrent of strawberries mixed with the Oranges. "You begin to understand. Now get to work."

Stacey called over her two best hackers and opened the access codes to the master Engineering Computer.

-*-

The Excelsior reached a nearby asteroid, part of a belt that she had been investigating. Midshipman Carter whipped the Starfleet Cruiser around the Asteroid and just when it looked like she was going to swing past it. She turned and attacked the approach from a different angle. Mitchell gulped as his screen showed the wildly spinning asteroid approach. The Klingon nearly hit the asteroid almost blindly following the Excelsior, and then over shot by quite a margin trying to recover.

-*-

Kagon felt his heart begin to beat again. He took a deep breath. "That was good recovery, Lona." He said. "That trick gets many novices."

The Klingon girl in the wheelchair fought her own shakes for a minute, and then growling, she reached for the controls. Remembering where she was she looked at Kagon.

He nodded "Begin another pass. Gunners! Be ready!"

Lona growled deep in her throat and forced her crippled limbs to act, but her attack course was smooth and dead on target. Kagon leaned back. The end game was about to play out.

-*-

"Here they come." Ford reported.

"How are my weapons coming?" Mitchell asked softly.

"A few more seconds Sir." Mannix replied.

"If you have weapons, wait until they reach 2,000 kilometers before you arm." Mitchell said "I don't want them to break off and have a chance to escape."

"Aye, Sir."

"What do you think they want, Kevas?" Mitchell asked his first officer.

"I have no idea." Kevas answered, "But I will guess that it involves death."

"Thank you for narrowing that down." Mitchell said wryly.

Kevas shrugged, "Once we disable their cruiser, then we can ask with a little more credibility."

Mitchell nodded.

"Got it!" Mannix yelled "...I think."

"We go with what you've got." Mitchell said.

-*-

Grandfather's Revenge rolled up on the Excelsior with grace and style. She was fighting like she was meant to fight, against the target she was designed to fight. Lona was as happy as she could ever remember being as she guided the huge starship in for the kill.

"Allocate full available power to the weapons. Hold fire until point blank range." Kagon said. He'd always wondered if an Excelsior class starship could ward off such an all out blow. Finally he was getting the chance to find out. "Gunners! Pay attention to your target lists!"

-*-

"5...4...3...2...1.." Mannix reported.

"Fire at will." Mitchell said,

Beams of phaser energy licked out and caught the Klingon cruiser. With the full power of the Excelsior's engines behind them they struck like a fist of the gods.

The Klingon ship shuddered and then tumbled as the beams punched into her hull.

As Grandfather's Revenge struggled to right herself, quantum torpedoes leapt out of the Excelsior's tubes. The projectiles struck the Klingon in her wing shaped main hull. Gas, molten metal and mangled wreckage flew out of the wounds in the Klingon ship. One torpedo penetrated to the main power core of the Klingon ship. It detonated, destroying half of the main hull.

The boom of the Klingon ship, obeying it's own programming separated and used the explosion of the rest of the Klingon ship to help push it away.

-*-

"We got it!" Carter cheered, echoing the general feeling of the Excelsior's crew. Daniel Mannix looked quietly pleased.

Mitchell looked at Kevas. He seemed pleased to, probably at the performance of the cadets under fire. Mitchell held his grim expression in. Soon enough they would have to start planning the services for the crew killed. Soon enough, they'd realize that this "adventure" represented a few classmates that they'd never see again. Mitchell shuddered at the thought of the letters he'd have to write.

"Bring us along side the Klingon's boom." He ordered. Maybe now that the Klingon ship was severely disabled, they could end this without anyone else having to die.

"Will we attempt to board her, Captain?" Kevas looked worried.

Mitchell shook his head. "If they resist we leave them here for a recovery crew. It's not like they're going to threaten anyone else in an impulse powered boom."

A few moments later the Excelsior tractor beamed the Klingon Boom into its grasp.

-*-

Kagon looked around at the ruins of his bridge. The Excelsior was every bit as dangerous as the engineers of one hundred years ago had claimed. Even having studied the Excelsior carefully before his attack, Kagon had been surprised when, at the last moment, the Excelsior's weapons had returned to life.

Fires burned. Blood splattered the deck. Kagon almost welcomed the smell of charred flesh. It was like... his glory days. Nevertheless, bitterness welled in him. He was not dead. His crew had been decimated by the ferocious counter attack. He had no one else left to fight alongside him. Kagon knew what would happen next. The Federation would "arrest" him. He would be returned to the Empire like a lost beast. His dishonor would be complete. With no more money, no more status and too little time left, Kagon would probably die of old age in some hospital somewhere.

He almost asked why he had been left alive. Instead, he remained silent.

Lona struggled against the deck. Her panel had exploded, injuring her. Her "wheelchair" had tipped over, pinning her to the deck. She growled and struggled anyway. Kagon almost grinned. She might even gain true honor from her adventure. She'd certainly earned it. Marta lay crumpled on the deck, blissfully dead. Welcomed into an afterlife he would never know. He turned to the gunners. One still mewed and struggled in the ruins of his articulated gunner's chair. Kagon drew his weapon and shot the unfortunate Klingon. No one would ever know how he whimpered at his end.

Now it was just to wait until the Starfleet children came.

-*-

"I read... five life signs, Captain." Ford said. "They're all injured to one degree or another."

"Tie into their computer and open a channel, Lieutenant. It should be easy to force, I bet they're on backups now." Mitchell said.

"Aye, Sir." Ford opened the channel and tied in the computers. He grimaced. "It's a Federation commercial starship model, I know one of the back doors." He made a few entries, and the Klingon Bridge came on the view screen.

Mitchell looked at the carnage. "This is the Federation starship Excelsior. Surrender and prepare to boarded."

One old, old Klingon struggled to his feet "I am Kagon of GrandFather's Revenge. I will resist you to my dying breath, human."

Kevas looked at the Klingon for a little bit sampling his emotions. Kevas didn't enjoy himself doing so. "Captain, that man is suicidally depressed. If you beamed over security to kill him, he'd find it a relief."

"You have a half-breed on your ship!?" Kagon asked horrified. These days half-breeds were looked on as an inevitable by-product of Klingon interaction with the galaxy at large. However, Kagon was from an older generation. The purity of Klingon blood was something he took pride in. The presence of a half-breed anywhere by the mines in chains offended him. "You're even more degenerate than I had thought you, Human."

"Why did you attack my ship?" Mitchell asked harshly. "What purpose could this serve?"

"I seek something no Human could comprehend. Ask your monster what an honorable death means to a real Klingon. If he knows." Kagon spat back.

"The manner and time of death matters to Klingons, Captain. This man is old. His best chance for an honorable death is behind him." Kevas explained. "If he's especially desperate for an honorable death, it might lead to... desperate measures."

Mitchell stood up and felt his face grow hot. "You attacked my ship and got your crew killed because YOU wanted an honorable death!?"

"Animal!" Kagon yelled back. "I am not like a human to lure a crew into battle with subterfuge and lies! We all knew what the mission of this ship was and we all sought it! There are no cowards here, unlike your vessel."

"Your whole crew was seeking honorable death?" Mitchell was stunned at the concept. A suicide crew? What did this man do, put an advertisement out on the net? "Die with Glory today! Apply at Grandfather's Revenge."

"Yes. And we felt that eliminating a few more humans was just the way to accomplish this." Kagon's sadness was overwhelming. He almost had the human angry enough to strike, but the idea of a ship full of people seeking honorable death so stunned him that all his anger fled.

Mitchell stared at the screen for a few moments. "You all wanted to die?"

"Well we wanted more of you to die with us to moan and cry of your deaths at the gates of Sto-Vo-Kor. That would assure us entry to the warrior's after life." Kagon said, sadly. He would never see Sto-Vo-Kor or any of his old friends who awaited him there.

Mitchell blinked some more. Kevas felt an idea play around the Captain's mind.

"Tactical. Lock phasers on the Klingon boom. Full power." Mitchell said.

"What?" Daniel Mannix asked, horrified.

What?" Kagon echoed, a faint glimmer of hope in his voice.

"I agree Captain." Kevas said, nodding.

"Good. Put that in your log and prepare to testify to it in front of the board of inquiry." Mitchell growled. "A problem with my order, Midshipman?"

"But, Sir, that ship is helpless! They pose no threat to us!" Mannix said.

"That's not the issue. Those Klingons want an honorable death and are willing to kill to get it. It must be extremely important to them." Mitchell explained.

"All the more reason not to give it to them!" Mannix said.

"Midshipman, We come out here to meet new civilizations. Some of them are going to be different from our culture. Some are going to be a lot different. I don't like what this man did any better than you do, but judging him according to my culture isn't going to work. Besides, he wants an honorable death and in my judgement that will clear this mess up more quickly than any number of bureaucratic and diplomatic maneuvers." Besides, Mitchell thought but did not say, anyone who would fire on his cadets to get his way deserved to eat all the phaser beams the Excelsior could hand him.

"Aye Sir." Mannix said. "Phasers are not ready, Captain. Our first firing opportunity crashed our jury-rigged tactical computer. I am having to reset."

"When you have phasers, fire on the Klingon boom until it is destroyed." Mitchell ordered.

"Aye, Sir." Mannix replied.

Drawing himself up straight, the ancient Klingon said "Thank you, Captain."

Mitchell couldn't help himself. "Oh, shut the hell up. End transmission." The main view screen cleared to show the scorched boom of the Klingon battle cruiser hanging steadily in the Excelsior's tractor beams.

"Phasers back on-line, Captain." Mannix said.

"Fire." Mitchell ordered.

A complicated pattern of beams lanced out from the Excelsior, and stopped abruptly. The partial firing pattern damaged the boom until it fell apart in the Excelsior's tractor beam.

"Phasers off line Captain. I don't recommend trying to run them like that again." Mannix said.

"No life signs, Captain." Ford reported.

"Drop that junk and begin repairs. As soon as we have warp drive, set course back towards Earth and engage." Mitchell stood up slowly, leaning on his cane. "I'll be in my ready room. Commander, you have the Bridge."

"Aye, Sir." Kevas replied. "I have the Bridge."

-*-

Katherine Julie Malone didn't wake up instantly. In fact it took a long time. She was very, very cold, and her mouth was filled with dead horse. Ancient dead horse. Ancient mummified dead horse.

"Prometheus" She began. There were about a hundred questions that she needed answered, now. What came out of her mouth was an incoherent garble. Malone flopped weakly. Malone now understood on a very deep level the old stories that described waking up from cold sleep as an unpleasant experience.

After a few moments of just breathing deeply, the starship Captain was able to raise herself into sitting position. It was hard work. "We have been hailed." The ship's computer told her. "By the starship Endeavor."

"arrrrghhhheeeerrggg." Malone said. Her mouth was still not in working order.

"I do not understand you, Captain. Could you restate?" The Computer said.

Malone managed to roll out of her tube. It was designed to be easily gotten out of. Malone understood why, now. She almost went to all fours, but after a few moments of wavering, she managed to stand up right. Then she carefully walked over to the wall where a replicator stood. She had to enter her request by keypad.

A glass of water sparkled into existence. Malone drank most of it. Then she put the glass into the replicator. "More." She said, experimentally. It was legible, but didn't sound human.

Another glass of water later, Malone was able to communicate verbally.

"Prometheus, play me the hail." She said.

Over the speakers in the cargo bay she heard a voice "This is the Federation starship Endeavor calling the USS Prometheus. We are en route for a rendezvous. Expect us in approximately ten hours. We look forward to meeting you and starting work to get you home. Endeavor out."

Malone stood and shivered. Rescue, after twenty years. The crew of the starship Prometheus had been lost in deep space for twenty years. Home. Earth. No more waiting for the other shoe to fall. No more making do with what she could find. Plenty of spare parts, and plenty of back up. Home. Was her family even alive any more?

Captain Malone looked at the computer readout for the date, and shivered some more. They had been in hibernation for ten years, almost. A slippery feeling grasped Malone's mind. She had gotten her crew almost all the way home, to a Federation that had been moving on with life for thirty years. Would they even recognize the place?

If that even was a Federation starship.

"How long do we have until they get here?" Malone asked.

"We received this hail two hours ago. It repeated for half an hour and then stopped. The Starship tentatively identified as USS Endeavor is now eight hours away approximately." The computer replied

"Begin waking up the crew." Malone said.

-*-

Malone sat on her bridge, fully groomed, uniformed and alert. She looked around and wondered what the other Captain would make of her ship and her crew. Twenty years of cruising through unknown space had left their marks. Some bridge stations had been rebuilt using whatever was available. Some of her bridge crew wasn't even from the Federation.

Malone looked at her First Officer. Her relationship with him was now much deeper than the "book" recommended. However, twenty years of trials and hardships with him had made her appreciate the man who sat to her right.

Michael James Westin was a slim man with dark chocolate skin, and a solid grace, as though he'd been crafted out of spring steel.

"Are we ready?" Malone asked. Both Malone and Westin were short, but each had a formidable presence. They'd needed it to bring their ship through.

He nodded. He saw his Captain, a slim redhead, who radiated happy energy. She was damped down now, with her hair carefully restrained and her uniform immaculate. She looked like some Admiral's aide or a staff officer. Westin knew better. "As ready as we'll ever be."

"Hail the Endeavor." Malone said.

"Hailing," Stride said. He was one of the non-Starfleet people manning the Prometheus' bridge. He was an adventurer, a performer, a general bard, and something of an intergalactic gad about when they'd picked him up. Stride wasn't Starfleet. He'd made his intention known to go to Earth and then see what he could see. Along the way he'd made himself invaluable.

The main view screen cleared to show a starship bridge. It was done in earth tones and looked comfortable. Malone could recognize some of the signage as English.

The officers on board wore a uniform that was mostly black, with gray shoulders. They had high-necked shirts that apparently zippered up the front, in three colors, red, blue and yellow. On the left side of their chests they had a badge with the familiar Cochrane Delta over a rounded rectangle. It looked like a simplified and streamlined version of the badges her crew wore. They had some sort of buttons on the right sides of their collars, but Malone had no idea what they signified.

At the back of the other ship's Bridge Malone caught a tall, muscle bound human wearing Klingon Warrior's armor.

Moreover, sitting in the obvious Captain's chair was a Klingon woman. She was tall and thinner than Malone expected from a Klingon.

Malone almost stumbled over her hail. "This is the Federation starship Prometheus calling the USS Endeavor. Greetings, I am Captain Katherine J. Malone commanding."

"Greetings, Captain. I am Captain Miriah Katasai Commanding the USS Endeavor. Pleased to meet you." Miriah said.

"Uh" Malone groped. "Can you positively identify yourself as a Federation starship?"

"Well we have your high level access codes, as of the date you left the Federation," Miriah said thoughtfully, "but they're old codes, and I don't suppose you should trust them. I suppose that I can invite you to scan the Endeavor. An analysis of our ship and the people on board should be pretty telling evidence. Otherwise, I am open to suggestions if they don't pose any threat to my ship or crew."

"Thank you, Captain." Malone said. "Stride, begin your scan."

"Yes, Captain." Stride answered, as he programmed the scan into the ship's computer.

"Captain," It was ZanKaye, The Prometheus' tactical officer. "The Endeavor has slowed and it now station keeping with us one hundred thousand kilometers away."

"Thank you." Malone answered. The Endeavor was keeping her distance for now.

"Captain Katasai, would you please up load to me your public access Federation information file, to update us on the last thirty years while I think about our next step?" Malone asked.

"Certainly." Miriah said "Di, would you please begin that upload?"

"Aye, Captain." The Endeavor's chief Operations officer began to set up the data to be transferred.

-*-

"I'd like to invite you aboard the Prometheus for a tour, Captain Katasai. Would you be prepared to do that?" Malone asked.

"I'd like permission to bring my Chief of Security, Warrior Patton with me. Is that all right?" Miriah asked.

"Yes, Captain that will be fine."

"We'll bring the Endeavor into transporter range and come over immediately."

-*-

Miriah saluted the keel of the Prometheus. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted." The transporter operator said. Miriah was surprised to see a slightly older human as an enlisted man, about his mid-forties, Miriah guessed. Then she realized that the Prometheus had been out for the last thirty years. Even the freshest young ensign on the Endeavor would be in his forties after that long.

Miriah and Patton stepped down off the transporter pad.

The uniforms worn by the Prometheus crew had been discontinued the year Miriah first went to the Academy. Miriah had regretted that. She imagined that she would have liked the maroon jacket better than the much tighter jumpsuit that Starfleet had instituted afterwards.

The transporter room looked very much like the one on the old USS Agamemnon that Miriah had served on earlier in her career.

Miriah offered her hand to Captain Malone. "Captain."

"Welcome aboard, Captain Katasai." Malone made herself grin. She had no idea what race Miriah actually was. She looked Klingon but the subsequent sensor scan revealed that she was not. The computer couldn't identify exactly what she was, but to the sensors it was plain that she was not Klingon. Malone was feeling a mix of disquiet and curiosity.

"May I introduce my chief of security, Warrior Patton." Miriah introduced.

"Q'apla!" Malone barked.

"And you, Captain." Patton said politely.

"Please excuse my curiosity, Warrior Patton, but my eyes and our sensors confirm that you are actually Human. Why are you wearing Klingon Warrior's armor and being addressed as a Warrior?" Malone asked.

"My parents were Humans, but I was raised on a Klingon world, by Klingon customs." Patton explained. "In my heart, I am Klingon no matter what your sensors say."

"Ah. No offense meant." Malone acknowledged.

"None taken." Patton said.

"One more question, if I may, Captain?" Malone asked.

"Certainly." Miriah smiled. She was bending over backwards to be as open with the crew of the Prometheus as possible. Miriah had her own experience being on a ship lost far from home. She knew that paranoia was second nature and became a life saving skill. Fortunately for her, the Endeavor had found a shortcut back home. A lucky break that the Prometheus never got. Therefore, Miriah knew that the Prometheus crew would be hesitant, waiting for the next shoe to drop for quite some time.

"You look Klingon, but our sensors could not identify your race. You confused our database." Malone said. She was a little anxious. A Klingon or an alien who looked like one in command of Federation starships was something she found a bit of a stretch to accept easily.

"I am a multi-racial being." Miriah said. "Orion and Klingon. I was born and raised on Nissus."

"The IDIC planet?" Malone asked. "I visited there once about two years before I was assigned to the Prometheus. It's a beautiful world."

"Thank you." Miriah accepted the compliment for her planet.

"Well if you'll accompany me, I'll give you the quick tour and then we can get down to business." Malone gestured Miriah and Patton towards the door.

"Certainly. I'd like that." Miriah said. If it were the Endeavor, they would have a carefully choreographed tour designed to make the visitors feel like they'd looked around the ship, but arranged so that there would always be sufficient security in case someone got ugly. Miriah smiled and prepared to take her part in the dance.

-*-

Several days later, meetings, tours and generalized plans were underway. Somehow the Endeavor would help repair the Prometheus, then they'd set course back for home.

Genevieve Quest, the Chief Engineer of the Endeavor had requested an urgent meeting with Miriah. Miriah walked into the number one briefing room with William Stroud.

"Howdy Miriah." Genevieve said, She'd been hanging around with Stroud and some of his Texas-isms were rubbing off on her.

"Howdy, Genevieve." Miriah said seriously "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I hate to say it, Captain but the Prometheus, well, she's a write-off." Genevieve said.

"Totaled? How?" Stroud asked. "She looks Okay from the outside."

Genevieve turned on the holographic imager in the briefing table and keyed up her simulation. A miniature Prometheus hung in the air about eye level. "Well, there have been a series of hull integrity failures as things went along for the Prometheus." The hologram flashed an irregular line starting at the right warp nacelle pylon and curving around the main hull to the left. The model faded to transparency to show the affected structural members. "Evidently about five years before they entered hibernation, they encountered a Thasite War City and had to fight it off of some of their friends."

Miriah sobered "They fought a Thasite War City by themselves?"

"Who are the Thasites?" Stroud asked.

"Galactic Pirates." Miriah explained "sort of junior grade Borg. They fly around in massive spacecraft called War Cities. They attack and raid any culture they find and strip-mine it for resources and technology. Then they move on leaving almost nothing behind. As you can imagine, they aren't welcomed with open arms, so they fight a lot and they're good at it. Several War Cities ganged up on Arzana and when they couldn't beat it in a straight fight, they bombed it with a metagenic weapon."

Stroud's face grew grim. A metagenic weapon destroyed anything with DNA in it, and could strip a planet of life within hours. They were very indiscriminate weapons.

"One Thasite war city hit Deep Space Ten a couple of year ago. The Endeavor joined a combined fleet with the Bendarri and we had a real fight on our hands driving them out. It's hard to imagine that an old Miranda class bucket could do them any real harm." Miriah finished.

Genevieve "Somehow they learned the frequency variances of the Thasite shielding. They gave us the data, too. It really makes fighting Thasites easier, I'm told. Anyway, they were damaged in the fighting and now the whole forward section of the Prometheus is actually not firmly attached to the rest of the ship."

Miriah blinked "What?"

"You heard me." Genevieve said. "Their chief engineer, Kara managed to patch over the damage by over building the structural integrity fields in that area, but it's still weak. Under stress, the Prometheus could come right apart at that line."

"Okay, so we baby the Prometheus." Stroud said.

"We can't tractor her. Towing is out." Genevieve said.

"So we escort her." Miriah concluded.

Genevieve grimaced. "You're the Captain. But look at this." She hit a few controls and the holographic image of the Prometheus rotated to show her warp nacelles. They lit up in bright red. "The port nacelle on the Prometheus has four working warp coils left out of twenty four. The starboard one has twelve."

"I will be dipped." Stroud whispered.

"What does that mean exactly?" Miriah said, uncomfortably.

Genevieve said. "If I upgrade their warp drive control computers, then maybe warp four. Maybe."

Miriah nodded. "All right." At warp four, the trip back to Federation space would take four years, assuming that all went well. Driving the Prometheus back home was not a serious option. "I'll talk to Captain Malone."

-*-

Malone leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry, Kat." Miriah said. "I can't see any way to easily get the Prometheus back home."

"I know. I know." Malone sounded misty. "But it's hard to say goodbye to twenty years in an instant."

Miriah said nothing. She knew how she'd feel if it were the Endeavor.

Malone looked critically at the PADD Miriah had brought her. "You know, I didn't realize what a hunk of junk the old girl looked like until you showed me this. I suppose that I had some denial going on here."

"This ship made it through twenty years of hard traveling to get you home." Miriah said. "If we'd brought a fleet tug we might be able to save her. But with only the Endeavor to work with"

"Only the Endeavor." Malone smirked. The ship was twice the size, eight times the volume, and and five times the crew and a hundred times as important as the Prometheus ever was.

"We can easily return all of your data and all of your crew with capacity to spare." Miriah said, "but I'm afraid the Prometheus herself has reached the end of the line."

"Is that an order, Miriah?" Malone looked at Miriah appraisingly.

Miriah's lips thinned. "No. In fact, you're the senior Captain. If you decide to pedal back to the Federation at walking speed, The Endeavor will escort you as per our orders."

Malone nodded. "Thank you. Can I have some time to think about it?"

Miriah nodded soberly. "Take all the time you need. The Endeavor isn't going anywhere without you."

-*-

"There's one more thing I have to arrange with you." Malone said. The transfer of crew, data and personal belongings from the Prometheus to the Endeavor was under way. There were decisions to be made almost hourly about what to take and what to leave.

"Sure." Miriah said, expecting more delicate personal gear that demanded special handling.

"Well it's about our main computer. Can I see you over here?" Malone sounded uncomfortable.

"Sure. I'll beam over momentarily." Miriah said. "William, do you have this in hand?"

Stroud nodded. "Yes, Captain, I'll get the new people settled in."

Miriah made the by now routine transfer to the old ship and met Malone near the center of the saucer shaped main hull.

"What's this about, Kat?" Miriah asked, mystified.

"Please come inside." Malone opened the door to the main computer compartment.

Miriah entered to see the basic Starfleet main computer housing. Instead of housing a standard main computer, it housed a rectangular frame in green, shimmering metal, with a very complex structure clinging all over it. Miriah was reminded of an art deco sculpture of ivy. The structure was more of the shimmering green metal and was definitely technical in nature, but it hinted at, and strongly reminded of an organic structure. Power leads lead from the wall to the device where standard universal power adapters attached them. The fiber-optic data trunks were also patched into the device through a universal data adapter.

Miriah concluded that the Prometheus was using an alien built device to substitute for their main computer. Idly she thought about storing it in a hold on the Endeavor. Captain Malone might be about to request to take it with her. Miriah didn't see any real problems with that.

"I wanted to introduce you to our ship's main computer." Malone said. "Prometheus, Captain Miriah Katasai of the Starship Endeavor."

The master interface panel lit up with what looked like a small human boy's face. It grinned and spoke through the speakers on the wall. "Pleased to meet you, Captain Katasai."

"Uh, Thank you. Nice to meet you, too." Miriah said politely while her brain ran through the potential punch lines.

"Miriah, Prometheus is an AI." Malone said it quickly and uncomfortably. "He's a full member of our crew, and one of us."

Miriah nodded while thinking furiously. Part of her was shivering and wanted to break the green alien computer in front of her. The Endeavor's main computer might be a sitting duck for an AI. On the other hand Miriah didn't believe in being biased against of a person because of what he was made of. Then again, Miriah was surprised that Malone, an Earth woman had been able to overcome her fear of AI's and trust Prometheus as the heart of her ship. Then Miriah pictured the reaction of Starfleet Command.

"This is an interesting surprise, Kat." Miriah said. "I wish you'd come clean with me about this before."

"Starfleet doesn't like AIs as a usual thing." Malone said. "There was some talk of simply unplugging Prometheus and letting him ride home in your hold as cargo. But that posed problems."

"What sort of problems?" Miriah asked. She would have to concentrate in order to relay the explanation to her own computer expert, Joe-The-Scan.

"The first memory I have is being initialized as the Prometheus' main computer, Captain Katasai." Prometheus explained. "I was not built by the Federation, but I have no idea who built me or what for."

Miriah blinked. "Why did you use Prometheus as your main computer?"

Malone sighed. "Five years into our trip we fried the main computer. We had to jury-rig around it. It took the main back up with it. The tertiary back-up was just not cutting it for what we needed."

Miriah grimaced. A starship lived and died by its computers. The Endeavor had three identical computer cores. One was in main operational use, the other was running in synchronized back-up mode ready to step in at a moment's notice should the first computer go down for any reason. The third core, buried in the engineering hull was kept in stand-by mode, theoretically kept separate from the rest of the system.

The old Miranda class starships had space for two full computers, but due to the design of the ship and space considerations, the tertiary back-up was an old design, and not nearly as capable as the main computers. The tertiary back up of the Prometheus was designed to allow the ship limp back to a base or to a rescue ship with a reasonable chance of success. With fifteen years or more to go until the Prometheus got home, Miriah could see why Malone and her crew were desperate for a new main computer that could actually run the ship all they way.

"Okay. How did you come up with Prometheus?" Miriah asked.

"Well, we lucked into a pirate base about three months after we lost the two main computers." Malone explained. "After some discussion, they kindly ceded the base to us."

Miriah understood that to mean that the Prometheus ran the pirates off the base and they left while the getting was good.

"Prometheus was part of their loot." Malone said. "They'd experimented enough to discover that this was, in fact a computer, but there was no record of where they got it, or anything about its background. We knew that it was a computer and from some of their own data and some of our own experimentation, that it was powerful enough to serve as the Prometheus' main computer. We could also see that there was little or no programming native to the computer itself was left. It was a blank slate for us. So we loaded the standard Starfleet programming into it, hooked it up and it worked."

"So how did it get sentient?" Miriah asked. "Starfleet takes precautions to avoid having ship's computers wake up."

"I'm told that these precautions are mostly physical. They're hardware features. Prometheus was designed to be an AI. His natural tendency overcame the Starfleet software." Malone explained. "He woke up."

Miriah nodded. "I see. So now"

"Prometheus has been a living, growing being for the last fifteen years-" Malone began

"Twenty five, Captain. I was awake when you were in hibernation." Prometheus put in.

"Well for twenty five years, then." Malone added. "But he has no ability to store his current identity. If we unplug him, we kill the Prometheus I have known for so long and we start over when we plug this computer back in."

Miriah nodded. "So the task is to keep Prometheus powered up while we transfer his main computer to the Endeavor." She didn't say that she also had to think of ways to keep the alien machine from taking over the Endeavor's main computer. No use making Prometheus paranoid and giving it time to think of ways to cause problems.

"He's a member of my crew and a personal friend. I'd like for him to survive this, if possible." Malone said seriously.

"I'll beam back to the Endeavor and we'll get to work on the problem." Miriah said, just as seriously.

"Woooo!" Prometheus yelled happily "I get to be a passenger!"

-*-

The crew of the starship Prometheus was gathered in Ms. Alpha's lounge, on deck ten, forward section. They watched their old ship through the big windows in the front of the Endeavor.

Miriah was there too.

Malone looked at Westin. "It's time." All of the data had been transferred. All personal belongings had been moved. A hand full of private ships and shuttles had been brought aboard and stored. Some material from the Prometheus had been stripped out. Samples from twenty years of travel across unknown space were stored safely.

Looking at the hulk of her old ship, Malone shuddered. When she performed the last act, the door would be closed. There would be no escape. If the Endeavor turned out to be something nasty after all, it would be too late.

Malone tried to put paranoia out of her mind. She'd been over the Endeavor from stem to stern. She knew the command crew as well as anyone could learn them under the circumstances. She'd done everything in her power to assure herself that the Endeavor was, indeed their ride home.

Malone realized that she hang on the edge of decision for a long time, waiting for perfection. This was not in her nature. The idea of being hung up between two decisions was unpleasant for her.

"Prometheus computer," Malone said.

"Working." The old tertiary back up sounded artificial and slow to people used to Prometheus himself.

"Self destruct. Code baker, baker, tango, one, seven, destruct one." Malone said confidently.

"Does the First Officer concur?" The computer asked tonelessly.

Westin spoke: "Yes. Code mary, alpha, five, eight, eight, two."

"Does the Third Officer concur?" The Computer asked.

The Prometheus' next senior officer was Dr. Jaqueline Post. She answered the question: "Yes. Code: opthalmencephalon, duodendum, archenteron."

Malone, Westin and many of the other Starfleet people stared at her.

"Well, you wouldn't guess them, would you?" Post answered.

"Computer," Malone said, getting back to business. "Set for a fifteen minute countdown. Audible count down."

"Acknowledged. The starship Prometheus will self-destruct in fifteen minutes. All crew are warned to abandon ship as soon as possible. In the final ten seconds, no countermand of the self destruct is possible." The Prometheus back up computer said.

Malone turned away from the windows and went over to the bar. A Green Orion woman was tending the bar. Malone was still trying to get over the fact that about a dozen Green Orion people were part of the compliment of the Endeavor, civilians, no less. Starfleet must have grown much more relaxed in the thirty years that the Prometheus crew had been gone.

"May I have a Jovian Sunset?" Malone asked. Having a working bar on a starship was a real luxury.

"Certainly." The Green Orion woman smiled. Malone reset her estimation of her age down somewhat. Green Orion girl. The girl set up the drink with quick, professional moves, and passed it to Malone.

"Thank you." Malone said.

"You're welcome!" The Green Orion Girl dimpled prettily. Malone was slowly getting used to the slow rolling boil that being near the Green Orions provoked. She moved away without staring.

Kara, the Prometheus' Thelonite Chief Engineer moved up to the Malone. "Are you sure this is wise?" Kara had fought the decision to destroy the Prometheus from the beginning.

Malone looked at her for a half a second. Honesty or leadership? Leadership won out as it did every time. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have given the orders, Kara. We'll be alright on the Endeavor."

Kara made a sulky expression. She had some serious trust issues. It had taken her years to become fully comfortable with the Prometheus' crew, and she had never been totally comfortable with anyone outside of her adopted family. "If you say so."

Malone noted that Kara was carrying her Thelonite dagger on her. Malone figured that Kara was packing some sort of hold out weapon, too. Now that she thought of it, perhaps that wasn't the worst idea in the world

"The starship Prometheus will self destruct in ten minutes." The computer said "All personnel are advised to abandon ship immediately."

Malone wandered past ZanKaye, her chief tactical and security officer. "Hello ZanKaye. How are you doing?"

ZanKaye took a deep breath. "I didn't know I had grown so attached to your Federation starship"

"Speaking of which," Malone said, looking around. "What do you think of the Endeavor?"

ZanKaye grinned ruefully. "She's more luxurious in many ways than the Chairman's flagship. I could get used to her."

Malone laughed gently "You're losing your rebel guerilla edge."

ZanKaye chuckled too, "See what regular meals will do to you?"

"The starship Prometheus will self destruct in five minutes." The computer said. "All personnel are advised to abandon ship immediately."

The gathering in Ms Alpha's took on the aura of a cocktail party. Knots of conversation formed. People mingled. The sound of people talking rose and fell.

"The starship Prometheus will self destruct in one minute." The computer said. "All personnel are advised to abandon ship immediately."

That tended to kill conversation for a few moments. Then the talking picked back up.

"The starship Prometheus will self destruct in thirty seconds." The computer said. "All personnel are advised to abandon ship immediately. Twenty-nine twenty-eight twenty-seven"

Conversation ceased as all eyes turned to the image of the battered old ship being holographically projected on the window of the lounge. At one hundred thousand kilometers, the Prometheus would appear as a speck too small for humans to make out with naked eyes.

"Ten nine eight"

Malone noticed tears on a few faces of her crew. Her own eyes were feeling a little scratchy.

"Three two one" Some one hit a button and the holographically projected image disappeared. It was replaced less than half a second with a point of light so bright as to be painful. The windows of the Endeavor's lounge blocked enough of the light so that no one's vision was injured.

The point of light began to fade. The Prometheus was now an expanding ball of gas and debris.

Malone held up her Jovian sunset. "The Prometheus!"

Her crew returned the call. "The Prometheus!"

Malone hoped that she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her life.

-*-

The Excelsior slid slowly into the dry-dock cage.

"All stop." Mitchell commanded. He was doing his best to remain blase‚ about the VIP's on his bridge. One was Admiral Jean Luc Picard, representing Starfleet Command, and the other was Iris Westinghouse, representing the Starflight Museum.

"All Stop aye." Carter, now a newly minted Ensign replied.

The arrival back at Earth had been a mad house. Review boards, Diplomats and Federation Council members all sticking their hands into things. Some people hadn't liked Mitchell's off the cuff solution to the problem of Grandfather's Revenge. The Klingon Ambassador had testified that Mitchell's actions were consistent with Klingon society, and that the Klingon Empire held no hard feelings about the incident. Mitchell didn't know if having the Klingon Ambassador to the Federation testify on your behalf during the review board was really all that good a thing, but he'd simply went with the flow there.

In the end Mitchell had to write five letters home to stunned and grieving families. He was otherwise held blameless for the attack.

Now he performed his final duty as the Captain of the USS Excelsior.

"Starflight Museum reports ready for docking, Captain." Kevas reported.

"Are we ready to dock the ship?" Mitchell asked.

"Ops, is the Excelsior ready to dock?" Kevas asked the Ops officer.

"Sir, the Excelsior is ready to dock." Lieutenant Commander Ford replied.

"We are ready, Captain." Kevas repeated.

"Dock the ship." Mitchell said quietly. He was acutely aware that he was being recorded for posterity and didn't like it very much.

"Dock the ship, Mister Ford." Kevas said. He was restraining a tendency to bark orders.

"Aye, Sir. Dock the ship." Ford was calm and seemed unaffected by the moment of the occasion. There were clunking noises and Ford's panel reported that the Excelsior was firmly attached to the dry dock cage. "Hard dock, Sir. The Excelsior is now ready for shutdown."

"Engineering." Mitchell called

Ronk-Wist-Nob-Nob replied. "This is Engineering. Go ahead."

"Begin your shutdown. Shut down all impulse reactors." Mitchell ordered. The Excelsior's anti-matter power system and warp drives had been drained and made safe weeks ago in Space dock.

"Aye, Sir. Beginning shutdown of power systems." The Rhondan replied.

After a few moments the lighting on the Excelsior's bridge changed. "Main Power off line. We're in stand by mode, supported by the Dry-dock, Sir." Ford reported.

Mitchell turned to Admiral Picard, sitting at a specially placed chair on the Bridge. "Admiral, I turn the Excelsior over to you."

Admiral Picard nodded. He stood up and cleared his throat. Mitchell pressed the address intership button that would carry Picard's words throughout the ship. Picard held up a PADD and read from it. "The Excelsior has served the Federation long and well, and has exemplified the spirit of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, for nearly one hundred years. It is with pride..."

Mitchell tuned out the rest of the speech. Knowing Picard, even as little as he did Mitchell realized that Picard disliked making such a flowery, political speech at such a moment. However, Picard was the Admiral now, and that made him the goat for such things.

The Excelsior had been a constant presence in Starfleet and in the public eye of the United Federation of Planets for almost one hundred years. Always a handmaiden to ships named Enterprise, she'd outlasted each and every one built until the last one. Moreover, the political animals of Starfleet weren't about to let her pass into history without making some noise about it.

Picard cleared his throat again, a noise that penetrated Mitchell's reverie, and let him know that the pointless and irrelevant part of the ceremony was over, and that the important part was about to begin.

"As of Stardate 50523.10, I declare the starship Excelsior decommissioned, and removed from the line of active duty. Her number will be retired, her name to be returned to the list of starship names, to be given to worthy successor to her tradition. Furthermore, having assured myself that all was in order and properly arranged, and with the permission of Starfleet Command. I now turn this former starship over to the Starflight Museum. She will be preserved and presented to the public. Her days as a starship are done. Hopefully her days of representing the Federation to new eyes, will never be."

Mitchell said his carefully rehearsed line. "Officer of the Deck. Has this been noted in the log?"

Kevas answered back with equal aplomb. "Aye, Sir. The log has been so noted."

Mitchell called up the log on his console and signed it, closing the log of the starship Excelsior as a Starfleet vessel for all time.

"Thank you, Admiral." Iris Westinghouse answered "In the name of the Starflight Museum, I accept possession of this ship. We are happy to have her in our collection." She shook Picard's hand, and as soon as this was done, the telltale light on the recorders went out. They were no longer being recorded.

Ms. Westinghouse turned to the bridge crew and said "Thank you all for coming. We appreciate it. There's no time limit to your being off the ship, so take your time. Survey crews will be beginning to measure and record the ship's current state tomorrow. Right now in the main reception lounge on the dry dock, there will be a small gathering with refreshments. I'm told some were brought fresh from Earth this morning. Feel welcome here. There will be shuttles and transports back to Earth or to wherever you're going from there."

"Thank you." Mitchell said. He didn't know exactly what to do or say. As soon as the Excelsior was decommissioned his privileged position as a starship captain disappeared. He was just another Starfleet guest in a civilian installation now.

Kevas stood up. "With your permission, Captain? I must go."

"Leaving us so soon, Kevas?" Mitchell asked.

"My orders have come in. I have only a few hours to get to Spacedock and be aboard the transport heading to my new assignment." Kevas replied.

"Where will you be serving?" Mitchell asked. He couldn't help being a little nosy. To him his crew as a stand in family and Mitchell cared deeply about where they wound up and what they did.

"I only know the name of the ship, Captain, the USS Xerxes. I will be her Executive Officer." Kevas said happily.

Mitchell nodded. Kevas had wanted to explore command, and now he would in real time. Mitchell stood up slowly, with calculated effort. "No need to be so formal, Kevas." Mitchell reached for a hug from his former officer. "Stay in touch and keep your head down, Okay?"

Kevas returned the affection. "Thank you, Kevin. I will stay in touch."

Kevas turned and left the bridge. Mitchell turned to find his bridge crew milling about trying to socialize while being formal enough for an admiral to find no fault with them.

"Okay, everyone." Mitchell called out, getting most of their attention. "Let's go get some cookies and punch."

With that, the last Starfleet crew drifted off the bridge of the starship Excelsior.

-*-

A week later, Mitchell was strolling down the corridors of Starfleet Command. His new assignment from Starfleet Academy hadn't come in yet, and Mitchell felt vaguely lonely. Each new crew of Cadets became like a family to him as he guided them through the Academy. With his most recent crew now all graduated and no new of Cadets to start getting to know, Mitchell himself at loose ends.

"Captain, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Mitchell turned to see a Starfleet Admiral. With a certain amount of distaste, Mitchell noted that this particular Admiral seemed a few years younger than he. This bugged Mitchell. Admirals should be older and wiser. At least older and wiser than himself.

This Admiral was short but trim. With a bush of well coifed black hair, and face that could show a wide range of appropriate emotions, Mitchell assumed that this Admiral was another Public Relations Officer. Starfleet needed them true, but Mitchell didn't know if he really approved of them.

"Sir?" Mitchell straightened enough not to be insubordinate. You respected the rank if not the man wearing it.

"I'd like to talk to you about some of your recent crew, and an assignment I have coming up. I'm Abdula Turkhan, by the way." Admiral Turkhan smiled in a friendly manner. What's a little flag rank among friends?

"Yes, sir. What can I help you with?" Mitchell replied.

"Well if we can go to this conference room, we can get comfortable and I can tell you what I have in mind." Admiral Turkhan gestured towards a convenient conference room. This was not too big a coincidence. Starfleet Command was lousy with conference rooms and public display rooms. Information and decisions were Starfleet Command's stock in trade and the physical structure reflected that.

Mitchell moved with as much alacrity as his body would allow into the Conference room.

"Can I get you anything while I'm at the replicator? Coffee?" Turkhan asked.

Mitchell became more suspicious. When a PR Admiral offered to get you something, they were trying to sell you something. "No, Sir. I'm fine."

"Right, well." Turkhan ordered Raktajino from the replicator. Mitchell recognized the preferred beverage of upwardly mobile professionals of the day. Raktajino was Klingon Coffee. It was caffeine with an attitude. Turkhan sat down on the edge of his seat. Mitchell noted the body language. Whatever Turkhan was into was the greatest thing ever and things had to be done right now. Striking while the iron was hot.

"Your protege, Miriah Katasai. Have you been keeping up with what she's been up to?" Turkhan asked.

"A little." Mitchell admitted. Between his own work and the fact that Admiral Vontoer, Miriah's commanding officer was very sparing with information, Kevin had found his ability to keep up with what the Endeavor was doing was minimal. "Ah, about a year ago the Endeavor was sent on a deep space probe. I haven't heard anything since then, really." Mitchell hoped that nothing bad had happened, but Turkhan's body language was not consistent with bad news.

"Well, Captain Katasai has continued your tradition on setting us on our ears here at Starfleet Command." Turkhan grinned. "About three months ago, we got word of a small alliance out in that area of deep space. Some interesting stuff. We've been calling the area the Fulcrum Zone. They're friendly and we think they're ready for a stronger relationship with the Federation."

"Why the Fulcrum Zone?" Mitchell asked. Names revealed a lot, if you listened to them carefully.

"Well, smack dab in the center of the area there's a space station called the Fulcrum. It's a ready-made center for diplomacy and contact with this area of space. It was already designed for that purpose. A race called the Fasanni built it. As soon as Miriah let them know where to send the messages, we received an invitation to send a mission to Fulcrum station to represent the Federation. An engraved invitation, so to speak." Turkhan explained.

"Oh. And how does this involve me or my kids?" Mitchell asked.

"Well I have the assignment to go and lead the mission to Fulcrum station." Turkhan preened. This assignment gave him a chance to build his resume', and an in with the foreign office. This would look great, later in life when Turkhan entered public life. "And I was able to requisition your old crew mostly intact. That's part of why I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh." Mitchell now had an idea of what was coming. "Go ahead."

"This girl, Lieutenant Tolliver. One eighth Klingon, I see." Turkhan pulled up the file on the conference table's built in PADD. "Is she good enough to be a chief engineer, do you think?"

"I think you'll read in Ronk-Wist-Nob-Nob's report that he considered her well qualified." Mitchell said. He'd read and signed off on the Rhondan's report.

"Well" Turkhan temporized. "A report doesn't really give me a feel for the person. Besides, when dealing with people as alien as a Rhondan, you've got to allow for cultural miscommunication. I'd rather have it straight from the horse's mouth, where I can see you face to face."

Mitchell gritted his teeth, but smiled and said "I think you'll find Stacey an excellent chief engineer, Sir," And only felt a little guilty about inflicting Turkhan on her. If the upwardly mobile Admiral's plot to enhance his own record worked out, then Stacey and the rest of his kids would benefit.

Turkhan spent a while asking Mitchell details about most of the people from the Excelsior's cruise. Mitchell answered in detail. He became so engrossed in the details of his recent family that he almost forgot who he was talking to.

"The Gemini is one of the new Intrepid class cruisers." Turkhan sounded enthusiastic. "A real sweet mover. Should get us out to the Fulcrum in just over 180 days. Are you familiar with the type?"

Mitchell was vaguely familiar with the new Starfleet light cruiser, but not in any detail. "Fairly."

"Well you have two weeks to read up on her if you want to come along." Turkhan pounced.

Mitchell blinked. "Admiral I'm a teacher, not a front line Starship Captain anymore."

"Well, I need someone to drive the ship. I was hoping for someone with some experience." Turkhan said.

Mitchell made up his mind to remain firm. "I have had more experience than I really want, Sir."

Turkhan nodded. "Well I understand. If you've had enough, you've had enough. I really should give this ship to a new Captain anyway. After all, I'll be in over all command of the mission. There's a Commander out there waiting to make it into the big leagues and it would be the perfect time for him to learn the ropes with a net."

Mitchell pictured this. His kids commanded by a self important Admiral and a new Captain. He gritted his teeth harder. It sounded like a recipe for wasting a ship and a crew to him. Nevertheless, it was not his problem. He was a teacher. Once the kids graduated they were not his problem. Mitchell tried to make himself believe this, and could not.

"Alright. I'm in." Mitchell said. He could not let go of his latest family that easily, not under those conditions.

"No, that's alright." Turkhan said. "I'm sure we can find someone who really wants the job."

"Admiral, I'd like to be your Captain on this mission if you'll have me." Mitchell grated.

Turkhan looked at him side ways. "Are you sure? I would want you to feel pressured."

Mitchell nodded and smiled like an idiot. His mind was filled with adrenaline but his body was filled with cement, so bashing Turkhan's brains in with his cane was not an option. "Oh yes, Sir. I'm sure."

Turkhan hit a few controls on his PADD. "I've logged you in. Report to the Gemini at your first convenience. Welcome aboard, Captain." He reached out to shake Mitchell's hand and was surprised at the strength of the man's grip.

-To Be Continued-

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Trek. I claim original characters and situations in this story for me.

Jay P. Hailey