After the recovery Ami O'Neil buzzed Nelson's door.
       "Come."
       She came in and dropped a bulky bundle on the floor. "You said we could talk about it later."
       Memory flooded back to him. "The Hotel, right. (ahem) Well, talk."
       O'Neil smiled. "I did some thinking first. Our little escapade was the results of a rash drunken bout of not thinking."
       "I can't disagree with that." Nelson looked a bit on the wistful side.
       "On reflection, it wasn't a smart thing to do."
       "Well, no, it wasn't." He was starting to get a bit depressed, he saw what was coming.
       "But I liked it, and I would like to try again, only sober."
       "Well, yes, it wasn't -- what?"
       She was grinning with a come hither look. "I said I would like to try it sober."
       "Ah yes. Are you propositioning your superior officer?"
       "No, I am trying to get Howard Nelson into bed."
       Nelson looked a touch peaked. "Are you sure we should?"
       "Are you going to get shy with me?"
       Nelson relaxed a bit, getting uptight was not going to solve anything. "It is the matter of the separation of the Captain, and the crew."
       "Howard, I can call you Howard can I not?"
       "Well, yes."
       "Howard, I think we are professional enough to keep what happens in here, from affecting what happens out there. There are 23 women on this ship myself included. Do you think that the crew lives a celibate life?"
       "Well, no, it isn't even expected. That is why contraceptives are required."
       "So, don't you ever want some too?"
       "Yes, but I am Captain, it is presuming a lot. How do I differentiate a request from an order?"
       "Simple, I offered first. Since I cannot issue you orders, and as I am already XO the matter of qid pro quo isn't going to come into it. I am the one person on this crate that you could have a fling with."
       "Looking at it like that, I guess you're right."
       "Well, I am offering."
       "Where?"
       "In your cabin. I brought a quilt, and a bed."
       "A quilt, and a bed?"
       "Yep, let me show you."
       She stepped around him, surveyed his cabin, folded the chair and table into the wall, stepped back and dropped a bundle on the floor. It quickly expanded into a good sized air bed. She took the second package, opened it, and it expanded several times as well. She removed a beautiful patterned quilt and laid it on the bed.
       "There, instant love nest. Are you game?" She was striping.
       "Ami, truthfully, I wanted this, but didn't know how to ask."
       "Stop asking and do."
       The two fell onto the bed, and into each other.

       Many hours later Nelson lay with Ami against his side. He stared at the ceiling of his own cabin.
       "Ami?"
       "Yea."
       "That was a lot better than two drunken fools managed."
       "Yea, much better." She snuggled closer.
       "Do you ever think about what we do?"
       "Which part?"
       "Any part, exploring, fighting, anything."
       "This off the record?"
       "Ami, I promise you, anything said with the clothes off is man to woman."
       "Exploring? I can't think of anything more exciting. I am afraid I bought the entire 'Explore new life, new worlds' line all the way. It is a thrill I get like no other."
       She moved to her side. "Ouch. Oooo."
       "Nelson moved to see what the problem was. "What's wrong?"
       Ami grinned and sat up rubbing her arm. "My arm fell asleep."
       "I've heard that can happen." He sat up and helped rub.
       "What about the rest?"
       "Fighting? I can't say I like it, but it looks like a case of someone having to do the job. When I joined Starfleet I was shocked to find out that we armed our ships. Then I was further shocked to find out we needed to use them. Howard, is it true, did the Romulans destroy the ship sent with an envoy?"
       "As far as anyone can tell, yes. Contact was lost, Romulan attacks increased in that area."
       "I can't help but wonder, was it something we did? A taboo broken, a wrong signal given. Do they think we are the aggressors?"
       Nelson lay back down. "I don't know, I don't think anyone knows. We are not likely to find out either. The Romulans will not talk! We send messages all the time inviting them to talk. They send ships to fight. We find the truly strange out here, and sometimes the strange is totally familiar, and that is stranger still. Those people we found. It is so human, the comfort we like, the family, the fish tank for goodness sake."
       "Do you think they are human?"
       "Doc seems to think so. We will find out."
       The intercom on his desk in the day room burped. "Chief here, shift change in 20 minutes."
       Nelson looked annoyed. "Chief never tells me about shift change."
       Ami blushed. "But its my shift. Can I use your shower?"
       "Sure." Nelson still looked peeved. Why would he call... "Great, let the world know."
       Ami called from the shower. "The world is a tin can 450 feet long. It's hard not to know everything. I can tell you exactly who is sleeping with whom, who the ship slut is and who the ship satyr is."
       Nelson was looked the bed over for the deflator. "Slut and satyr?"
       Ami came out of the shower toweling off. "You have lead the boy-scout life. Which female and which male are trying to sleep with the whole ship. I'm XO, I have to know these things."
       "And as mere Captain, I don't"
       "Everyone needs the illusion of privacy, even if we don't have it."
       "What about us?"
       "Chief knows, half the ship or more will have it figured out before long, but if they are polite, and from what I have seen, the Grant has a polite crew, no one will even snicker." She grabbed the folded bed. "What do I do with this?"
       Nelson, who was dressed by now opened the top cabinet. "Privilege of rank, more storage than habit has lead me to use."
       "Great." She stuffed the bed and quilt in the locker, and got into her uniform. "Do I look shipshape? I used your brush."
       He kissed her on the cheek. "You look fit, that uniform was fresh when you wore it in, and you hardly wore it."
       "Yes Sir", she blushed lightly. "I have duties to perform."
       "Have a good shift."
       She bounced out of the cabin. Even dressed she had a nice bounce.
       A week later M'Benga called up to the Captain. "Captain Nelson, if you have a moment, we could use to see you."
       Nelson chucked the dull report in the corner. Anything would be more interesting. "Be down in a minute Doc."
       A quick trot down the companion way, a practised pass or two, down the hatches two decks and he was in life sciences lab. Doctor M'Benga looked up as he came in.
       "Captain, we figured out, what we think is the best method for working on the bodies. As they were effectively freeze-dried, we placed them in a sterile controlled humility environment to rehydrate them. We started on the larger child as it was easiest to separate from the rest."
       M'Benga lend him to the isolation table. A girl, just shy of womanhood lay on the table. She looked almost normal, but for the empty eye sockets that stared out from her face. Blonde hair fell in a long cascade. Nelson shuddered.
       "Are you disturbed by the dead Captain?"
       "Not usually, but that face."
       "The eyes did not recover like the rest of the flesh. Unfortunate."
       "You have more to show me than a dead child I take it?"
       "I do. Observe." M'Benga pulled a graphic up on a terminal. "We managed to get a good DNA sequence, and yes, they have DNA. To the right is the human norm, to the left, the girl."
       Nelson studied the chart for a moment.
       "To my untrained eye it is a close match."
       "We have observed a 98% correlation between the girl child, and the human genome. She at least, is human, or close enough that you would not know her for otherwise. We may work on the hypothesis that they are human. We have yet to thaw the others. Familial relationship is circumstantial at best. We will know more within in the week."
       "How far do you plan to proceed?"
       "We will do a full investigation autopsy on all of the subjects. When we are finished we will see to the aesthetics of the matter. All incisions will be closed. We will sew the eyelids shut I think. Afterwards we will store the bodies in the vacuum section of the ship until we make planetfall."
       Nelson shuddered again at the girl's eyeless stare reaching to him across the millennia. What were her last thoughts as she huddled with her family? He face gave no clue to her emotions. Time, and the lack of eyes erased what ever her face could have told.
       "The eyes are the window on the soul." Nelson spoke without relizing it.
       "Yes Captain?"
       Nelson came back to the present. "I was searching her face for any sign of emotion, but without eyes..."
       "Indeed, it is something we take for granted, until it is gone."
       "Your plans sound good to me Doctor. Proceed as you see fit."
       Nelson went back to his dayroom. Work eluded him. The haunted face of the girl-child would not leave him be.

       Nothing happened the rest of the voyage. Doctor M'Benga produced reams of data that confirmed the original hypothesis. The Aliens were human, and 20,000 years old.

       Starbase Three was in sight. The work parties were still working on the spacedock. The unfinished structure lent a frontier air to the scene. The Grant slid into her berth without incident. Two other Lenin class ships were also docked nearby, as well as a dozen smaller vessels, and two cruisers of other classes.
       An Ensign met them at the dock, saluted and launched right into his spiel.
       "Sir, Commodore's complements. Welcome to Starbase 3. Commodore Ricktoffin would like to see you and your First Officer at your earliest convenience."
       Nelson saluted. "Thank you. I'll get her and we can go at once." Nelson called back into the lock. "Chief, tell Cmd O'Neil we are wanted at once."
       Nelson waited while the word was passed back. Commander O'Neil was shortly produced.
       "We are wanted where?"
       "Commodore wants me and thee. Carry on Ensign."
       The young man led them thought the station to the Commodore's office. The place reeked of new. The decor was a combination of modem military elegance, and construction zone chic. The reception area had some nice couches in medium gray, but the Commodore's Yeoman was working off something that looked like the fabrication shop had put it together. The Yeoman looked up.
       "Captain Nelson?"
       "Yes."
       "Go right in, the others are waiting."
       Nelson and O'Neil went in. Commodore Ricktoffin, Captains Pollox, and Quincy, and Commanders Gallard, and Stone, were seated around a conference table, discussing something. They rose to greet the newcomers.
       Ricktoffin said. "We were beginning to wonder when you would get here."
       Nelson replied. "We ran into something interesting."
       Pollox toyed with his cup. "More interesting than Romulans?"
       "Far more interesting. Alien ship, we dated it as 20,000 years old."
       Captain Quincy looked suddenly interested. "Really, any bodies?"
       "Five, family from the look of it. The ship had all the hallmarks of a luxury yacht."
       "What did they look like?"
       "Us, totally human, right to the DNA. Man, woman, two girls, about 12, and 8, boy infant."
       Captain Quincy shook his head. "Human, and 20,000 years old? Maybe those 20th century crackpot books about 'ancient astronauts' aren't so crackpot."
       Nelson and O'Neil took a seat. Nelson continued. "Never discount a theory on negative proof. They might yet prove to be right."
       Commodore Ricktoffin took the meeting back. "Now that the Grant is in, we can get started. I have in mind a patrol of the three of you. Pollox and the Mao Tse Tung, Quincy and the Winston Churchill, and Nelson and the Ulysses S Grant. I want to send out three capital ships as a single patrol group. Your three vessels of the Lenin class are the best we have here."
       Quincy said. "Three big ships in one Task force. Any smaller vessels?"
       "No, I am trying something new here. The Romulans eat the smaller ships for lunch. But our Capital ship can destroy them in droves. By sending out an all capital ship patrol I want to give the impression what we have more such ships. I'll send out the Saratoga, and the Royal Ark when the Akagi arrives. Any questions?"
       Nelson said. "I have a few. What do we do for scout ships? Are we waiting for the Romulans to come to us?"
       "I am sending two scouts with you, the Saverajo, and the Paris. They have the latest in subspace sensors. You should have an adequate picket."
       Pollox asked. "Who commands the Task Force?"
       "Howard Nelson is the senior Captain. He is Fleet Captain for the Task Force. You will be designated Task Force 15 for this operation. Anything else?"
       Nelson asked. "How soon do we set out, I just pulled a long haul after a long haul. My crew needs some time off."
       "Give yourself a week. Dismissed everyone."
       Everyone rose from the table. As they left the room O'Neil turned to Nelson, soto voice. "Thanks plenty."
       "Later."
       "Later then."

       Nelson gave the crew the full week of leave. It had been over a year since they had a leave of any duration. Frankly he thought the week was too short, but he would get them what he could.
       He ran into a small knot of captains in the spacedock bar, the first area to be finished of course. Nelson walked over to the group, greeted them and had a seat. Pollox. Quincy, and two others were are the table.
       Pollox said. "We wondered if you would be showing up here."
       "Where else is their to go?"
       "Point."
       "So mighty leader, what next?"
       One of the Captains Nelson had not been introduced to spoke. "Pollox, you're drunk."
       "I have every right to be! Out in this God forsaken place fighting a God forsaken war, against a God forsaken foe who's face we haven't even seen. Hell, you can't convince half the people on Earth that they're real."
       "Getting shot at is real enough."
       Nelson interrupted. "I don't believe we have met."
       "Folsum, Captain Harvy Folsum, USS Saratoga this is Captain Sara Presley, USS Royal Ark."
       Nelson shook hands around. "Howard Nelson, Ulysses S Grant."
       Presley said. "I understand you just came in from Earth. What is the public opinion of the war?"
       "About what Pollox said. Lousy. I don't know that the numbers are as much as half, but a good portion of the people do have doubts about the Romulans. This place is a long way off, and Romulans haven't threatened Earth, yet. As a result the Federation council is being very tight about money for additional ships. The loss numbers don't seem to be impressing. Our fleet is getting smaller, and we have no idea how many ships the Romulans have."
       Quincy said. "That's the problem. We might be killing them five to one, but they might see that as sustainable losses. We don't even know the crew numbers on their ships. For all we know they could be largely automated."
       Folsum said. "Worse, they might be totally automated. What if Romulans are nothing but automations."
       "Wonderful, that would be all we need."
       Nelson said. "We have no evidence of that. Have the Romulans acted like AIs?"
       Presley said. "They haven't acted in a reasonable fashion."
       "Reasonable to whom? Us? Why do they have to be reasonable to us?"
       "Yea, that is a point. Tell a Tellerite that they are being unreasonable."
       Ears perked up two tables over, the Tellerites were listening.
       Quincy said. "Keep it down, we don't want any fights."
       "Why not? It would enliven the evening."
       Nelson said. "None of this is anywhere close to solving the problem. What can we do about the lack of support we are getting?"
       Pollox said. "Frankly Nelson, I don't see what we can do. We are here, they are back there, and if the message in the form of lost ships and dead crew are not getting across to them, shouting is not going to either."
       Quincy looked glumly into his glass. "I have to agree with him. If what we are doing doesn't tell the tale, then words will not be stronger. It might take a real disaster to get the public in favor of the war."
       Nelson said. "A real disaster is not what we are after, it is want we want to avoid."
       "But is it not always the way. The peacable people don't want to hear of war until they get touched by it, then the poor ignored warrior with not enough to cover what needs to be covered under the peacetime budget is told to kick the invader ass. But budget cuts have not allowed for the buying of boots."
       Pollox said. "Peace peace until their ox is gored, then war war until the victory, where in the last lesson is promptly forgotten."
       Nelson said. "Well folks, everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything. I am going to get some rest, and kick back for the few days I can. It is likely to be a long patrol."

       Howard Nelson walked with Ami O'Neil along the edge of the Starbase. The ground facilities had been placed on a low hill among the rolling plains. Distant mountains rose into a purplish sky. He had managed to squeeze them two days dirtside, and with no one able to call for them.
       Ami said. "What if the Romulans attack?"
       "They can't, they haven't made an appointment."
       She laughed. "You can be humorous when I get you away from the ship."
       "Captains have their humor surgically removed with the promotion."
       "Come on, you're not that stiff."
       "You seem to like me stiff."
       She elbowed him the ribs. "Braggart. Wanting it here and now?"
       Nelson scratched his chin. "Lovely invitation, but with the tales I have heard about biting insects on this planet, I'll wait til we get inside."
       "One thing on your mind you dirty old man."
       "I'll remind you, that you started it."
       "All right, I am a dirty young woman."
       "A lovely young woman." He gazed into her eyes.
       "Remember those bugs."
       "Right, bugs. Let's head back to the hotel."
       "Lech."
       "Any problems with that?"
       She didn't answer, she just hugged him as they walked.

       Over the next two days they discovered each other. Away from the pressures of shipboard life they could be themselves, not the officers their sleeves said they were. Howard Nelson did have a sense of humor, and an active imagination. Ami O'Niel was a romantic. The talked, for endless hours. Friendship grew were only lust had dwelt before.

       In the wee hours of the morning several days later Howard lay on the bed with Ami curled against him. He fought the demons that threatened this point of happiness he had found. What was wrong with seeking pleasure where he could. Since the outbreak of this drawn out war, with a foe that refused to talk, one took pleasure where they could. Ideas of a heady leap into the stars where fast friendships could be made were crashed, and burning. He chastised himself. No it wasn't dead and burning. The war was not a universal one. The rest of the galaxy wasn't fighting them. They had made fast friends, and they were making more. This war would see a settlement. Romulan ships were not so different, so how different could Romulans be?
       Romulans, he had managed to not think of Romulans for three whole days. Tomorrow they sailed. To find Romulans. Some how, some way, he had to talk to them.

       "Task Force 15 log, Fleet Captain Howard Nelson commanding. We have patrolled for three months in sector 7, while we have had brief sightings of the Romulan ships, or what we think are Romulan ships, no contact, hostile or otherwise, has been made.
       I have made every effort to make non-hostile contact with Romulan forces. Thus far every effort has failed. End log."
       Spaceman Marconii reported. "Sir, the Saverajo reports a contact, heading 137 mark 45. Seven blips."
       "Are we in hailing distance?"
       "Yes Sir."
       "Open Hailing frequencies."
       "Open Sir."
       "Unknown ships, this is the USS Grant of the Federation, we want peaceful contact, will you talk with us?"
       "The Saverajo is reporting contact sir. They match the profile for Romulan ships."
       "Sound battle stations, alert the fleet. We'll try again to contact them."
       Marconii opened the channels.
       "This is Captain Nelson of the USS Grant, Romulan ships, will you talk with us. We wish a parlay."
       "Sir the Saverajo wants permission to retreat."
       "Granted. Let's not be foolish."
       Reves was at the Nav console. "Captain, I have additional small blips. The Saverajo has been fired on."
       "Tell them to warp out of here."
       A sudden bright and silent light fill the void ahead.
       Marconii reported. "I have lost contact with the Saverajo Sir."
       "Try again."
       "Grant to Saverajo, do you read, come in Saverajo." He waited. "Grant to Saverajo, do you read, come in Saverajo." A beat. "Grant to Saverajo, do you read, come in Saverajo."
       "Marconii?"
       "Nothing Sir."
       "Mr. Reves, do you have a fix on them?"
       "Radar image shows a larger than normal ship. I think the Romulans have a new class."
       "Noted. Marconii Get me the Paris."
       "Yes Sir, Paris on the line."
       "Sherman, Nelson here. We have a new kind of Romulan ship. They have destroyed the Saverajo. We are going in to fight. You will hang back and observe, do not attempt to join the battle. We will keep a constant subspace link to you. Talk all battle logs back to Starbase 3 in the event we are destroyed. Do you understand?"
       "Yes Sir, I read you loud and clear."
       "Marconii, get me the fleet." He waited as the connection was made. "Now hear this, we are going into battle against the Romulans. Good luck all. Mr. Reves, where are they?"
       They headed into that asteroid field Sir, I don't read any subspace signatures, they haven't warped out."
       "Once more friends, into the breach."
       O'Neil asked "Are we going in after them?"
       "Damn straight. I tried being nice. One tenth impulse. Order search formation."
       Orders were transmitted to the task force. For long moments everyone watched either the viewscreen or their instruments with intense care. Ships slipped between the massive remains of a dead world. Long minutes passed. Silence grew oppressive as the wait for the hidden foe continued.
       Reves spoke form the nav console. "I have a blip, heading 240 mark 7. Incoming!"
       "Evasive action, Mr. Stiles, fire at will."
       The Grant heeled over has she strained to clear the incoming missile's path.
       Reves reported, "Clean miss."
       Stiles added. "Missiles away."
       The viewscreen suddenly brightened with a distant explosion.
       O'Neil said. "Missile impact. Looks to have hit a rock."
       Stiles counted down. "30 seconds running hot. Beams locked."
       Reves exclaimed. "There it is."
       The stubby ship, similar in layout to the Grant slipped to the far side of the asteroid to avoid the missile.
       Nelson leaned into his chair, turning to Lt. Stiles. "Fire!"
       The bow gun glowed for a moment as charged beans of sub-atomic particles linked the two ships. The Romulan's hull visibly slaged, and the ship detonated in a ball of silent fire. It was joined by the Grant's missile as it hit the astroid.
       Nelson spoke in low urgent tones. "Keep you eyes peeled gentlemen, that was not the only one."
       The Mao Tse Tung, and the Churchill moved off through the rocks each at its own tangent. Each ship hunted alone, and was hunted in turn. Minutes passed, hours passed, the only sounds were the beep of instruments, and the low mutters as section chiefs communicated with the rest of the ship.
       Reves reported. "Unknown contact, I don't think he sees us."
       The ship ahead of them looked to be busy with something else.
       Nelson ordered. "PPC, fire."
       Once again the cannon glowed with the light of dying atoms. The enemy ship slaged in two, and exploded into a thousand stars. Nelson swallowed hard, two ships down, how many had they killed so far that day.
       Silence settled once more over the bridge like a shroud. Eyes peered in to scopes, and at instruments, seeking the death that may lay behind every rock, to find it before it found them. The Grant was eased around every planetoid, Lt. Smith played the helm like a fine organ, easing the ship this way, then that. Spaceman Marconii muttered into his mike, keeping contact with the other two ships in the task force. For hours the deadly game of hide and seek was played in a giants playground.
       A sudden burst of light in the distance caught their attention. Marconii leaned into the radio set as if summoning powers it did not possess.
       "Captain Nelson." The young man looked pale. "I have lost contact with the Churchill."
       Nelson set his jaw. "Helm make for that explosion. Everyone, eyes peeled and weapons ready."
       Minutes passed as the slow ballet of death played out among the giant's marbles. They came round yet another rock, to see a Romulan ship near what was left of the Churchill. The stern third of the ship tumbled slowly in space.
       Nelson turned to Lt. Stiles. "PPC?"
       "No Sir, bad angle."
       "What are the chances of survivors on the Churchill?"
       Anders answered him. "Minimal to impossible. It looks like a direct hit."
       Nelson swallowed like a man shooting his own dog. "Fire missiles."
       A double thump sounded through the ship, and the fiery trails of two missiles shot out from her bow. The Romulan ship started, reaction jets thrusting as it avoided the path of the first missile, and flew into the path of the second. The fireball blinded the cameras. When the sensors cleared, nothing remained of any size where the two ships had been.
       "Continue the search."
       Over the next three hours two more distant explosions were detected. Each time the Mao Tse Tung reported Romulan kills. Once more the Grant found a Romulan looking the other way, and dispatched it with the bow cannon.
       Another distant explosion, each man and woman on the bridge waited for confirmation of the kill.
       Marconii looked sick. "I can't raise Mao Tse Tung Sir."
       "Helm, make for the last detonation." Nelson was pale, his jaw set.
       35 minutes passed as they manoeuvered around the asteroids.
       Smith said. "Sensors indicate this is the last rock."
       Nelson ordered. "Heads up." The Grant floated over the horizon into full view of the scene of battle. She was face to face with the Romulan ship, launching missiles.
       Nelson was out of his seat, shouting. "FIRE, evasive action!!"
       Missiles thumped from the tubes, and the Grant achingly, slowly moved out of the path of the incoming warheads.
       The universe ended together. As the Grant's missiles obliterated the Romulan ship, the Romulan warhead went off under the stern of the Grant.
       The bridge lights went out as the primary circuits blew, inertial dampeners overwhelmed the Grant shuddered like a rat in a terrier's mouth, crew was thrown about like rag dolls. Lt. Smith hit the deck, and did not move. Cmd O'Neil picked herself up and took the helm. Reports started to come in from around the ship, they were alive, but by how much?
       "Warp drive off line." "Helm not responding." "Communications off line." "We have an air leak at frame 27." Impulse drive at full power and stuck!!" "Engineering is not responding!" Get someone down there, stop that thing!" "Ship's speed .55c and climbing." "We can't DO that in these rocks!" "Air pressure lost in Engineering." "How long til we can get in there?." "Speed .67c and climbing." "Astroid DEAD AHEAD!!"
       The universe suddenly focused. Nelson was on his feet. "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! ALL MISSILES FIRE!"
       The missiles flared and crept ahead of the speeding ship, barely appearing to gain on it. The blasts blinded the forward cameras forever. For an eternity of five seconds the bridge crew stood as one person, unwilling to face death in a seat.
       Boom A rock bounced off the hull. A few more clattered audibly over the battered Grant. A long moment passed. Captain Nelson, the sweat gleaming from his face spoke at last.
       "Mr. Reves, is the radar on line?"
       Reves blinked as if waking from a dream, sat at his station and checked.
       "Yes sir, Radar on line in both modes."
       "How does it look?"
       "We have free space to the extent of the range."
       "Mr. Tulaver, can you shut down the fuel to the Impulse drive from here."
       "Yes Sir."
       "Do so."
       The distant roar of the impulse drive died off. Everyone sat quietly for a moment. Nelson spoke. "Speed and heading."
       Lt. Reves reported. "Speed .97c, heading, unknown."
       "Get me a reading as fast as you can. Mr. Marconii do we have intercom?"
       "Yes Sir."
Nelson picked up the mike from his chair. "Now hear this, we are out of immediate danger. Stand down from battle stations, report causalities and damage by sections."
       Nelson look over where a medic was examining Lt. Smith. "How is he."
       "The girl looked at the Captain. "He's dead sir."
       Nelson swallowed hard. "Take his body to medical. Mr. Marconii, call Ensign Clark to the bridge."
       Damage and causality reports flowed in to the bridge. Nelson sat, chewed his nails. With sudden decision he sprang up.
       "Mr. O'Neil, you have the bridge. I am going to walk the ship."
       She looked up from under the useless helm. "Aye, aye Sir."
       Captain Nelson walked aft into the body of the Grant. The berth deck was untouched. Sciences and medical suffered little damage outside of bruises and broken limbs. Nelson moved through the compartments, praising a repair effort here, comforting the wounded there. The course of his walk took him at last to he Engineering sections. The Chief was standing outside engineering with a small crew of men at the pressure lock. The Chief looked back at who had just arrived.
       "Sir, please stand back, we have critical damage."
       "Do we have any sensors working in Engineering?"
       "PO Miner is attempting to patch into the log cameras now."
       Nelson waited with the rest of them. At last Miner seemed to be getting somewhere.
       "Got it sir."
       Nelson and The Chief moved in close and looked. The log camera was still functioning. Both men gasped as the view focused. The bottom hull was cracked, open to space. Nothing that had been loose remained in the compartment, including any men.
       Nelson spoke softly. "Mr. Miner, can you pan the camera."
       "Yes Sir, what do you need to see?"
       "Impulse control Mr. Miner."
       The petty officer worked the small box he was holding. The camera jerked bit by bit to the area indicated. The panel was shredded by fragments of what looked like the hull.
       "CPO Chalmers was taking readings himself. He suddenly looked up from his work."
       "Clear the area, Miner, you to. Captain, I suggest you clear out also." Chalmers suited actions to words.
       "Chief, what is the problem?" Nelson was trotting away along with the rest of the crew.
       Chalmers saw everyone to the other side of the next pressure door on line, and closed it.
       "The whole area is hot."
       "What about Engineering."
       "I'd give a man five minutes in there Sir, and that is in a suit."
       "Flood the chamber with anti-radiation foam Chief, likewise all chambers around engineering. I have to consider our options."

       Once again the officers of the Grant gathered in the ward room. However, this time the mood was sober, the usual joking and banter were absent. Each filed in, took a seat and waited for the Captain to begin. Nelson entered, sat and started without preliminaries.
       "This is our situation. We have 15 dead, including Lts. Smith and Anders. We have 5 wounded, all are expected to recover. The warp drive is damaged beyond repair, as is the impulse drive. Communications is down, and it is questionable as to its repair. The Engineering section of the ship is inacesable due to vacuum and radiation. The radiation has been contained. Both shuttles are damaged beyond use. Anyone have anything to add?
       Ensign Skywatcher cleared his throat. "Sir, the warp drive reactors are still functional, the nacelles sustained considerable damage as did the warp control computer. I question the stability of the fusion reactor. While we cannot make warp speed, we can live off the warp power for a good long time to come. Ship's life support and internal systems can run solely off the port side reactor for, well, longer than we will last."
       "Why just the port side Mr, Skywatcher?"
       "The starboard nacelle has sustained more damage. As we are not using the reactors for propulsion, there is no reason to burn our antimatter twice as fast for nothing, and risk a failure of the starboard nacelle."
       "Understood."
       Lt. Reves signaled for attention. "Sir, the news from my department is not good. We are currently traveling at .97c, at a tangent to Federation space that is taking us deep into unknown territory. The good news, is we are not heading into Romulan space. Our current course also makes it unlikely we will be picked up by a Romulan scout."
       Nelson nodded. "Understood. Lt. Stiles?"
       "The PPC is off line, and at this point too power hungry to use. We have 25 missiles left. Crew morale is low. No one is ignorant of the situation."
       Captain Nelson looked over the faces of the others. The remaining lives, their lives hung in the balance of his next words.
       "The substance of the situation is, we have no control of our direction or speed, and there is effectively nothing we can do about it."
       Nods from around the table.
       "Here are my orders. We will make such repairs as we can, make the Grant as ship shape as possible. We will then take hibernation stations. Cmd. O'Neil, either repair the communication gear to the point we can send a distress message, or rig a alternate means of sending that signal. Dismissed."

       The next week saw a great deal of activity in the Grant. Sections competed to make their section more shipshape than the next. An admiral's white glove inspection would not get this much work.
       The communication gear proved beyond recovery. However, Lt. Reves had a work around. He took his idea to Captain Nelson.
       "Sir, the radar is noting more than a radio tuned to a single frequency, and bounced back at the ship. We can rig it to broadcast a message by patching it through the communications station."
       Nelson looked relieved, "It isn't perfect, but if it will work, do it."

       By he end of the week the work was done. Funerals were held for the dead. They only had two bodies to bury, the Engineering crew had been sucked into space.
       Afterward Nelson took Cmd O'Neil aside. "Commander, you will break out the best food the ship has, we are having a feast to end all feasts."

       Officers ate with the men in the mess hall this time, no special places reserved for anyone. Nelson talked with the crew, mixed with them as an equal. The mood was somber at best.
       At last there was nothing left to do. Captain Nelson picked up the mike on the command chair one more time.
       "Now here this. All hands to hibernation stations. Proceed by watches."
       It felt like condemning the lot of them to death. He knew better, but the feeling remained.
       Nelson left the bridge, shut down the last station, except for the rig between the nav console and the communications station that cried their plight to the stars. Provided that anyone ran a radar signal through their comm board. The signal didn't have much strength. Nelson prayed someone would hear them. He turned out the lights on the bridge, and moved onto the crew deck.
       Everyone was striping their private things from the bunks, sheets, clothing had to go. Hibernation worked best with just skin. Nelson moved among them, comforted some, exchanged banter with another. Within the hour the crew was locked down. Once again, he walked through the silent berth deck, he checked the readings of each and every member of his crew, mourned again the empty bunks, their doors open. Ami was not in her tube.

       He searched the entire ship, He found her on the life support deck among the garden plants. She had the quilt spread out on the deck, and she wasn't wearing a thing.
       "Ahem."
       She turned to him. "I wondered how long it would take you."
       He grinned, trying to be stern. "Its past your bed time young woman."
       "Yes?"
       "Well, it is. Why?"
       She moved against him. "Howard, those tubes are not perfect. We may never touch again, I want a life time of touching before we say good night."
       He drew her close, kissing, caressing.
       When they woke, they made love again. The two spent days playing hooky through the helpless ship. Both avoided the berth deck by unspoken consent. Rank, decorum, and time itself was forgotten. They were two kids turned loose without a keeper. They did things with the equipment that looked like fun, but it wasn't meant for, pawed through storage bays looking for "neat stuff", and made love when and where the mood struck. They dreamed impossible dreams, and built castles in the sky. For three days the giddy mood persisted.
       Howard Nelson was a happy man. He reflected how happy he was in the bio lab. The aquarium reflected the two of them, sitting on the floor, on that omnipresent quilt. Ami curled asleep against him. He gazed again on her curves, and marveled that this beautiful woman wanted him. The fish swam round and round, oblivious to their fate. Fate, their fate, his fate, Ami's fate. Would the ship freeze before the gravity gave out? Would these fish be a block of ice for some alien to find in the far distant future. Would he and Ami be dried -no-! No, they would not. The suspended animation tubes would do their job. They would survive. It was time to go.
       He gently woke her, made love one more time.
       "Ami, we will make it. Some how, some way. But it's time to go."
       She nodded without a word. They cleaned up in one of the crew showers, they were bigger. They went first to Ami's cabin. Angelia Clark lay still as death, a faint rim of frost around the edge of the glass front.
       Ami recoiled. "She looks dead."
       Howard checked the readout. "She's fine. She is in perfect suspension."
       "You want me in there?"
       "No!" He said fiercely. "I want you in my arms, but one tube will not support two, and, I am not trusting either of us to something we knock together. Besides, think of how your arm will hurt after that."
       Ami laughed in spite of herself. "Howard, kiss me good night."
       He kissed her to last forever. Then helped her into the tube. He watched as she hooked up the cuff, lowered the door, and waved him good night. He waited until the suspension was complete, and he checked it well and good again. He placed the quilt over the cabin's one chair. Then and only then, did he cry.

       Captain Howard Nelson put on his best uniform, all his citations, and medals, and made one last silent inspection of the Grant. He was observed by no one, recorded by nothing. At long last he turned to his own cabin, and the waiting tube. A child's nursery prayer sprang unbidden to his mind as he went through the procedure for hibernation.
       Remove all clothing from your person and the bed.
       "Now I lay me down to sleep."
       Attach medication cuff to upper arm and plug into socket.
       "I pray the Lord my soul to keep."
       Lay supine in bunk, with head supported, close door.
       "If I should die before I wake."
       Activate automatic hibernation sequence, relax.
       "I pray the Lord, my soul to take."

To the Victor -- Garry Stahl, May 1998