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Stella Nova DreamSpace One To Fly A Proud Ship By the crew of the USS Essex Chapter Two

Night watch on the Essex. The bridge had its normal dimmed lighting, simulating the time of day. Only two officers were on duty, Ensign Sole, the new Records Officer, and Lt. Commander Richards. Sole was at the science console, going through the ship's library and data storage, occasionally winding her fingers in a frustrated gesture through her waist length, side-plaited auburn hair. Richards was lying under the helm console, making notes on a portable data PADD. Neither one of them seemed very enthusiastic about their current jobs.

"Sir, what kind of shape is this computer in?" Sole asked, not looking up. "I'm getting an incredible amount of data errors."

"I'm not surprised," Richards answered, getting up and moving to the Engineering station. "Part of the storage sections were damaged the last time this ship was out. Nothing vital, but several terabytes were lost, and about the same amount corrupted."

"It's a cataloguing nightmare," Sole replied, sarcastically.

All of a sudden the comms console beeped. Eager for any sort of break, Sole crossed to the comm seat, and put on the ear-piece to answer the hail. Then her eyes widened in surprise.

"Sir! It's Admiral Morrow from Starfleet Command!" Richards glanced toward her, surprise evident on his face as well.

"At this time of night?" he asked, standing up. "On-screen, Ensign," he continued as he moved to the command chair, buttoning his uniform jacket.

"Aye, sir."

The view of the inside of space-dock disappeared, replaced by the Admiral behind his desk.

"USS Essex, this is Starfleet Command, come in," he said.

"Essex here, sir. Commander Richards, in temporary command," Geoff replied, coming to attention.

"At ease, Commander, The Essex is to proceed immediately to Repair Facility Two, there to receive new orders."

"Sir, the Captain and the first and second officers are not aboard the ship. Shall I inform..."

"No, Commander," the Admiral interrupted. "Your departure has been approved. You are expected there in five hours. I want you to be out of space-dock in two. Starfleet out." With that, the connection was closed and the space-dock reappeared on the viewer.

Ensign Sole slowly removed her ear-piece. "What do you make of that, sir?" she asked.

"He's not telling us something," Richards replied, scratching his chin, still looking at the viewer. "Good or bad, there's only one way to find out. Get the next full duty shift on board."

"Aye, sir," she said, turning back to the console.

"Engineering," Richards said, pressing a button on the command chair.

"Yes, sir."

"This is Commander Richards. Fire up the impulse engines. We're moving."

One hour and forty-six minutes later, the Essex slid out past the space-dock doors, and into open space.

"Engineering to Bridge," came the voice of Lieutenant Elwyn Jackson, the ship's Assistant Chief Engineer.

"Go ahead," Richards answered to the empty air, as he sat in the command chair.

"You were right about the impulse engines, sir," she said. "They're now on-line, but there's minimal power available only."

"Good job, Elwyn. Keep a close eye on 'em. Bridge out."

"Course set for Repair Facility Two," the navigator said.

"Impulse power, Mister Clemance. Absolute minimum. Nice and gently." Richards said to the helmsman.

"Aye sir," Lieutenant Clemance replied, tapping the control buttons, which beeped in unfamiliar tones. "Estimated arrival time - two hours, twenty-five minutes." He quietly snorted. "Slow as a snail."

Two hours later, their destination was in sight. There was a cargo freighter beside it, unloading some very large containers out of its bay. As they got closer, something very familiar came into view.

"Lieutenant - enlarge the logo on that container being unloaded." Richards said to the helmsman.

"Aye, sir." A few buttons were pressed, and the image of a container appeared on the screen, a large logo clearly visible on it.

Ensign Sole spoke up. "Sir, isn't that the..." she trailed off.

"It is," Richards replied. "That's the logo of Shuvinaaljis Warp Technologies." Then the chair comm beeped.

"Walters to Essex, come in," came the message. Richards pressed the 'open' button.

"Essex. Richards here, sir."

"Are you at the repair facility yet, Commander?" Walters asked. Richards stared at the speaker. Well, at least the Captain knew what was happening. He just wished someone would tell him.

"Almost, sir. ETA is twenty minutes."

"Very good. I'll be beaming up when you're in. Prepare a full meeting of all department heads, in one hour. Walters out."

"Aye, sir," Richards said, and closed the channel. He looked up, and found most of the bridge crew looking at him. Then they quickly looked back to what they were doing. He sighed and lent back in the chair. It creaked.

"Everybody is asking the same questions," he thought. "What ARE they going to do with this ship?"

The USS Toronto was a Mark V Loknar class frigate, registration number NCC-2771. She was currently travelling at 0.5 c on a routine patrol, five million kilometres from the edge of the Romulan Neutral Zone. Patrols like this were constantly happening, and the situation was either extremely dangerous or totally boring. At the moment it was boring.

The end of watch changeover was currently happening on the bridge. The Captain and First Officer were conversing by the command chair, and every other station occupant was going through their standard hand over procedures.

One such occupant was a Caitian by the name of B'Aijha, one of the Toronto's senior security officers. A slender, black-furred figure with white fur highlights on her hands, throat, ears and tail, she was second in command of the Security department. It was unusual to find a Caitian wearing the gold department colour aboard a Federation starship, as they tended to be a fairly non-aggressive species, going in for other duties like Communications or Medical. B'Aijha was one of the few exceptions to this rule. She was considered an enigma by her family and fellow crew members, but not in the usual way. She could be hostile and contentious very easily, but the few people who she let close enough to gain her trust or friendship got to see her gentle side. But the erupting of the Kavis Alpha double-star system was a more common occurrence.

As with many other individuals whose races who evolved covered with fur, thick clothing tended to crease and matt it up uncomfortably, so her uniform was modified to alleviate this; she wore the skirt-optioned outfit, although it was a tad shorter than standard. Her jacket was made of a light yet very strong ballistic cloth, extremely resistant to most bladed weapons. The sleeves had been replaced by department-colour shoulder pieces, leaving her arms bare. Some felinoids wore the full sleeves anyway, for decorum's sake, and others chose to wear even less.

"Phaserr powerr transferr system," she recited in a sedate, purring voice to the relief officer, who happened to be Lieutenant Nathan Parsons, the ship's Security Chief.

"Standby," he replied, verifying the status back to her.

"Weapon lock coorrdination."

"Enabled. I have Security." With those words, the official changeover was finished.

"And so ends anotherr uneventful day of worrk," B'Aijha commented as she stretched her arms, trying not to yawn.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Parsons remarked, in that cool tone he always seemed to use. B'Aijha's white whiskers twitched in contempt. They were both the same rank, as she had received a promotion only recently, but he was still technically her superior. There was an eloquent Caitian word for people like Parsons, which translated beautifully into Federation Standard. It came out as 'prick'.

There was one last piece of officialdom to get out of the way now. B'Aijha gracefully swivelled around and stood at attention, facing the command chair.

The Toronto had a new recently-promoted Captain, an oriental human woman by the name of Kamiko Yukina. She had been in command for four months, and was still running things pretty close to how the book said they should run. However, she knew her business very well, and the general opinion was that she would soon settle down and start doing some rewrites.

Captain Yukina glanced around the bridge's circular layout, noting that all stations were manned. The retiring shift was standing at attention around the railings, ready to go off duty. She turned to her First Officer, and received a nod in reply. "Dismissed," she announced, and the relieved bridge crew began to file out into the turbolift. "Lieutenant B'Aijha." The Caitian stopped, and turned towards her.

"Meet me in Briefing Room One in five minutes," Yukina continued.

"Yes, Captain," B'Aijha replied, then entered the turbolift, her mood suddenly turning even more sour. She had been expecting this.

"What have you done now, fuzzy?" one of the other occupants of the lift said with a smile, after the doors had slid shut.

"Shut yourr muzzle!" B'Aijha snapped in response, even though she knew the jibe was made in humour. She had a good idea of why the Captain wanted to see her, as she had lost her temper with Parsons yesterday in the photon torpedo room. She was supervising the current loading of anti-matter charges into the standby torpedo complement when he had walked in, took one look and started berating her about doing her job properly. Then she had poked a claw under his nose and threatened to carve her name on his face if he didn't stop getting on her back about her work standards, which she knew for a fact were better than his. Parsons had immediately turned white and attempted to make a dignified exit. She knew where he had gone - straight to the Captain. Yukina didn't like Parsons any more than she did, but command protocols were command protocols.

B'Aijha sighed at herself. Yet another reprimand. Starfleet had been no more successful at controlling her belligerence than her family had.

"At ease, Lieutenant," the Captain said when B'Aijha had stood to attention as she walked into the briefing room. "Sit down." They both sat in unison, the captain tapping the keys to the display screen next to her seat. "As I am sure you are aware," she continued, "Your standard tour of duty on board ends in fourteen days."

"Yes, Captain." Here it comes.

"I have reviewed your service record, and although I would be loathe to lose you, the decision must be yours."

B'Aijha only had time to think "Rrr? What? Decision?" before Yukina continued.

"You have been offered the position of Chief of Security on board the USS Essex, which is being refitted at the moment."

"Chief of Securrity?" B'Aijha answered, her expression changing to a wide grin, inadvertently baring her sharp canine teeth. Yukina shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes widening slightly at the sight. "Oh. Sorrry," the Caitian said, closing her mouth. She almost didn't care if she freaked the Captain out, this was best news she'd heard all year!

"You can have some time to think about this, of course," Yukina said, regaining her composure. "The Essex is currently at Sol, but will not be operational for a good many months yet." B'Aijha nodded. It would take her several months to get to the Terran system, depending on what transport was available. The Toronto's next stop was at Outpost Sixteen, and there was a supply transport leaving just after they were. That was the thing about having such boring duty, you got to know everything that was happening in the sector.

"Captain, what kind of ship is the Essex?" she asked, wanting to make sure of her facts before she jumped in.

"At the moment, a Mark IV Constitution class," came the reply. "But with the refit..." B'Aijha was careful to smile only slightly this time, although she almost felt like shouting with joy. Constitution class! A refit practically guaranteed the Essex would soon be an Enterprise class, one of the ship assignments muchly sought after by all Starfleet personnel, the others being the new Excelsior class, and the Federation class, more commonly known as Dreadnoughts.

"Well, I need to have your decision in a week, so I can begin to find someone to replace you," Captain Yukina said, rising to her feet.

"Captain," B'Aijha answered, standing as well, "I've been thinking about something like this for a long time. I'm going to accept."

Yukina sighed. "I thought that you might. Just between you and me, Lieutenant, I was soon going to transfer Parsons off the ship and give you his position. Now, I guess we are stuck with him. Dismissed."

"He just needs a little attitude adjustment," B'Aijha replied, starting towards the door.

"You might have accomplished that already."

"Captain?"

"Did you really threaten to inscribe your name onto his face?" B'Aijha couldn't help smile at the remembrance of the event. Yukina didn't seem to be admonishing her at all, in fact, she seemed close to breaking into laughter.

"Yes, I did," the Caitian admitted, just as the briefing room doors closed. After walking a few metres down the corridor, still smiling about her new posting, she stopped and turned back towards the briefing room. A human would not have heard Yukina chuckling behind the door, especially over the all the ambient noise on a starship, but B'Aijha's hearing was sensitive enough to allow her to listen in. This was the first time she had heard Captain Yukina show any sort of amusement. The Toronto was seeming like a better place to stay now, but she had to move on. And onto a brand new Enterprise class, no less.

There was a feeling of apprehension in the briefing room, as all the Essex Department Heads sat around the table. All were present except for the Captain.

They all stood as the Captain entered." At ease, at ease," Walters waved as he strode to his seat. They all sat at the same moment.

"This meeting has been called to inform you all of Starfleet's intentions towards this ship," Walters began. "I know that nearly everybody aboard has not been very happy about being assigned here, but I am sure that is soon to change." He drew a long breath. "As soon as final details are complete, the Essex is to be upgraded."

"Upgraded, Captain?" asked Commander Connor, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"To what, sir?" Richards continued, suspicion in his voice. "Enterprise class?"

"No," Walters answered. "The Essex is going to be a - special case. We have been placed on testing and training duties, which shall begin after the upgrade is complete."

A collective murmur arose from the people around the table.

"That's the official story," Walters continued. "Due to the fact that we shall be fitted with some of the latest prototypes, some even being still secret, we shall also be assigned partially covert status."

That statement brought a surprised silence. Everybody was looking slightly amazed, even the normally impassive T'Sara.

"Accordingly, we have been assigned a officer from Starfleet's Intelligence Division." He pressed the comm button on the table. "Would you come in, please, Commander." he said.

The door slid open, and Walters hid a smile at the collective classic 'double take' that occurred.

Geoff Richards' eyebrows threatened to climb into his hairline as he blinked, then remembered his manners enough to greet the new arrival. "Ensign, I mean, Commander Sole. You are, if you forgive my saying so, something of a shock."

Commander Sole grinned as she stood easily, letting the department heads absorb this new information before she spoke.

"Fellow officers, if I am something of a shock it means that I am doing my job efficiently. A slightly ditzy Ensign has more... blendability than a full Commander."

Looking at her, Richards could understand. There was an air of command and a hardness that hadn't been apparent in the Ensign. "One exceptional lady," he thought, then wondered if either state was an act, then decided "No, probably not".

Walters continued, "It has been agreed that only you as Department Heads should know of our librarian's true status. And that you should treat her during those 'ensign' duties as the Ensign she appears to be."

"However," Sole stated quietly, "When I need you to jump I expect your only question to be 'how high?'." She missed the unfavourable look from the First Officer, his eyes narrowing in irritation.

"Are you expecting trouble?" asked Richards shrewdly.

"It's an occupational hazard of mine to do so... one that has saved my life upon occasion." Stated as flatly as that, no-one found they had any trouble believing her.

"Thank you, Commander," Walters said, indicating a vacant seat. "Your admission to a Head of Department briefing can be passed off as monitoring or record-keeping of some sort." Sole smiled.

"Leave it to me, Captain, I'll think of something."

Walters raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you have something of a reputation for that."

If Commander Sole was abashed, she didn't show it. She sat in the indicated chair, and pressed the recording key on the data PADD she had carried in. Walters accessed the display controls on the table in front of him, and continued with the briefing.

"These are the main details of the proposed changes," he said as a rotating external picture of the Essex appeared on the triple-sided viewer mounted on the table. It was clear that several major changes had been made on the computer-generated image, the most immediately noticeable being new engine support pylons, deflector gridding, and an internal navigation deflector. The display changed to a specifications listing, and scrolled at a comfortable reading speed. It was only a general outline, but it was enough to make the Chief Engineer stare closely at the screen.

"Shuvinaaljis FWF-5A warp engines?" he asked Walters.

"Yes, Commander."

"Sir, I've heard of FWF-4B engines, which are mounted on the Ark Royal, but I've never heard of these."

"These are brand new engines, current top of the line," the Captain answered. "They are Shuvinaaljis' answer to Leeding Engines FWG-3 unit, which is still in production. The Essex has been chosen to field test them."

"Using a linear intermix system?" Richards said. He glanced down at the schematic list in front of him. "They must be a bit different from the rest of the FWF series."

"And not an ordinary linear system, either," Commander Connor added, also paying close attention to the readout. "This one is a lot more compact than the ones aboard even Enterprise classes, and produces slightly more power."

"They must've done some radical changes to the warp field distribution..." Richards muttered to himself, still thinking about the engines.

"I recall examining a paper regarding the development of this new intermix system," said Commander T'Sara. "The matter/anti-matter chamber directly feeds the horizontal conduit shaft, eliminating the need for a separate dilithium reactor room. The energy output is also approximately 12.78% higher."

Doctor MacCaull looked at the Vulcan, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'really?'. "That's all very well for the boys in engineering, Captain, but what about the rest of the ship?" she said. None of the specifications had mentioned anything vaguely medical.

"You will all receive a more detailed briefing concerning your specific departments," Walters answered. "The Essex is in for some major changes, and that means that you all have a lot of work ahead." He stood up and walked around the table. "I know most of you only by your personnel files, so I'll give you the inspiring dialogue later." He glanced at his new crew around the table. "End of speech. Dismissed."

As everyone stood and made for the door, the First Officer lightly placed a hand on Commander Sole's arm as she passed by him. "A word, Commander?" he calmly asked. When the room was empty and the door had shut, he spoke again.

"I'll say this right out. I'm not happy at all with your presence here."

"Commander?" Sole questioned.

"'You say jump, we say how high?'" Connor said, quoting her own words back at her.

"Don't worry, Commander, when I ask you to jump, it will be at a time when you will want to."

"I'd rather judge that for myself - and the crew under me," he firmly stated.

Sole frowned, noticing his proprietary attitude. She realized this could be tricky, and alienating such a good officer would not be in her best interests - no, she wouldn't slap him down. This time.

"Noted... sir," she said calmly and left. Connor watched her go.

"She and I are not going to get along," he thought, as he turned and walked away in the opposite direction.

The upgrade plan was ambitious, to say the least. It explained why no living quarters had been assigned aboard the Essex, as the plans required several major internal changes, which of course meant most of the shipboard environment would be compromised. Over the next few months, the innards of both the primary and secondary hulls were more or less gutted, as the basic internal makeup of the ship was radically altered. All the living quarters were removed from the secondary hull, making room for where the intermix shafts and the enlarged shuttle bay and cargo facilities would be.

Sections of the primary hull were almost pulled right down to their framing supports, as a lot of extensive reworking was required. This was accomplished in stages, gradually working around the entire dish, a section at a time. It was at this time the Essex' battered white thermo-coat layer was removed. Apart from several hull sections that needed replacing, the outer skin was in excellent shape, a tribute to the design and construction techniques used in the last twenty years.

The next thing to be done was the replacement of major systems, like the main computer, warp and impulse engines, and the intermix power core. The new warp engines, while externally not much different from the previous ones, were about 22% heavier, making it necessary for a thicker and quite distinct pylon assembly. They also did not contain their own dilithium crystal, relying instead on the centralized power generation system contained in the secondary hull. Richards actually got into an argument with one of the senior technicians from the space-dock, who didn't realize the engines only looked the same as the FWF-1 series.

There was quite a bit of mystery behind the acquiring of the Essex' main computer, which had not been exactly specified until it arrived. It turned out it was an M-6E, which Commander Connor once referred to as 'a baby M-7'. T'Sara had responded by stating it was impossible for duotronic computers to have offspring, but it was the developmental predecessor for the M-7. Connor had almost asked if she was making an attempt at humour.

The major systems took up the first seven and a half months, and as soon as the complete environment was re-established, the rest of the internal arrangement was put in place. The photon torpedo room was expanded, and the magnetic accelerators were redesigned to correct several inherent problems.

Many facilities were moved to vastly different locations, like the main science laboratories, going from Deck Two all the way down to Deck Nineteen. The new Rec Deck took up virtually the entire space of Deck Eight, making it one of the largest recreational facilities on a ship of this size.

The ship's weaponry was installed within record time, as the mounting points for the new phasers were almost exactly the same size as the previously installed Model FH-3s, although performance-wise they were a quantum leap forward. As far as testing went, a full test could not be done until the ship was in deep space. Even merely arming weapons in a space-dock was muchly frowned upon by Starfleet, although Richards did try out the power feed links, using the fusion reactors. The phaser banks didn't get 'hot', but came a hair's breadth from it.

As with any undertaking of this size, there was a bit of controversy over projected costs. It ended up with the ship's aft-facing weapons being dropped, despite well-presented arguments from the Captain and First Officer. The best they got was a promise for a review at a later date.

Everyone who had been aboard before the upgrade began was pleasantly surprised, the Captain most of all. One of his first observations was that the 'feel' of the ship had been preserved, while looking more like she had just rolled off a modern production line.

Doctor MacCaull was most pleased with the basic layout in the repositioned sick-bay, which was divided much more efficiently than it was before. Having a micro-diagnostic table meant that she rarely had to 'wave another tricorder in a patient's face again', as she put it.

Now that the ship was a complete unit again, the rest of the crew started to arrive in droves. Most of the Engineering crew had been here since the refit began, a good example of scheduling management. The Medical and Science departments were the next to be fully complemented, followed by Communications and Security. In fact, the Heads for both latter departments hadn't even arrived yet, one having still a few months to go on his current assignment, and the other having to travel in from the Romulan Neutral Zone.

Commander T'Sara had insisted upon personally overseeing the installation of the new computer, and having enough to do, the Chief Engineer had gratefully relented. Now she had the task of establishing the software base in the powerful machine, from the basic operational status which was used to test early functionality, up to the partitioning of various departmental virtual nodes. 'Ensign' Sole turned out to be an invaluable help in transferring the various mammoth databases from the Star-base storage core, in fact, T'Sara had her awarded a minor commendation for 'meritorious effort'. The undercover Intel officer had then quietly gone back to her quarters, turned on her sensor scrambler, and didn't stop laughing for the next ten minutes.

"Thank you, Ensign," Richards said as he took the PADD. He quickly checked the results against what his own console said. The results were as expected.

He stood at the main intermix control station, in front of the new linear chambers. At the moment, they were dark and empty, but that would soon change in the next few minutes. Everybody currently on Engineering deck was wearing radsuits, and the doors were sealed.

"Mister Jackson?" Richards asked, turning to his Assistant Chief Engineer.

"We're all ready, sir," she said, turning from her station.

"All right," Richards replied. He looked up the vertical shaft, as if giving at a last-minute inspection, then opened a comm channel to the bridge. "Engineering to bridge."

"Go ahead, Mr. Richards," came the Captain's voice.

"Sir, we're ready to energize the matter/anti-matter reaction chamber."

"Very well, Commander. It's your call. Bridge out." Walters answered, closing the channel.

"Engineering sections, Yellow alert." A yellow light began to flash, illuminating the whole deck. "Initiate radiation protocol," Richards announced.

"Aye, sir." The light then changed from yellow to orange. Everybody immediately put on their helmets, completing their radiation suits. This was standard procedure when a new intermix system was being activated for the very first time. Any sort of chamber breach was virtually impossible with the containment fields engaged, but no engineer ever took chances with a system this powerful, and potentially dangerous.

Richards snapped his helmet down, and a small green light came on within. Bending to his console, he began through the initialization checklist.

"Containment field status?"

"Activated. Nominal strength. Reserve power on standby."

"Plasma magnetic conduits?"

"Charged and ready."

"Injector baseline settings?"

"Standard."

"Reactant status?"

"Pre-start complete. At engagement conditions."

"All right," he thought. "Everything's fine. Now we start earning our pay."

"Engage dilithium chamber pre-start."

The housing at the centre of the deck began to whine, which deepened as it was charged up to the enormous temperature and pressure required. After several minutes, Lt. Jackson announced, "Main chamber primed and ready. All systems are go." Richards' finger poised over the button below his right hand.

"Stand by for reactant injection," he said. He noticed a bead of perspiration fall down his temple. He quickly glanced around the room. Everybody was wearing an anxious expression through their face-masks. Those who didn't have their eyes on their consoles were staring at him, or the dilithium chamber. He breathed out. "Here we go."

"Initiating reactant sequence... now!" With that, he pressed the panel.

There was a flash and a muffled boom, then a thin streak of the purest bluish-white shot down the horizontal shaft, and up the twin conduits leading to the engines. The floor began to vibrate with a familiar rhythm.

"Status!" he barked. Replies came flowing in, in a precise order.

"All magnetic and containment fields intact."

"Stress and temperature levels within acceptable limits."

"Plasma flow stable. Output 4.1 percent of maximum."

"Dilithium crystal performing to specified norms."

The Chief Engineer grinned. He glanced over to Lt. Jackson and nodded. She returned the gesture, smiling as well.

"Engineering to bridge," he said again, reopening the channel.

"Yes, Mister Richards?" came the Captain's voice.

"Main energizer is active, sir," Richards said, proudly. "We're now proceeding with diagnostics and system checks. Estimate main power hookup in twenty-four hours."

"Very good," Walters replied. "How long until we're warp capable?"

"Still a good few months, sir. This was only the first step."

"Take your time, Mister. Bridge out."

Richards broke the seal on his helmet, and wiped his forehead with a gloved hand. He still felt a bit tense, his heart beating a little faster than usual. Activating these massive devices always gave him a bit of an adrenaline rush, from the moment he had first done it at the Academy, right up to now. The rest of his team did the same, but kept their helmets nearby just in case.

"Cancel radiation protocol," Jackson called, and the room returned to normal lighting.

Richards turned away from the flurry of activity and took the personnel lift up to the next deck, where the main warp control area was. Getting direct access to the engineering computer, he began the specially-tailored intermix diagnostic routine, so exhaustive it was defined as 'Level Zero'. Not only would it thoroughly analyze the system, the data would be filed for later transmission to Starfleet.

As this was a prototype unit, some planet-side scientists were very interested in it. A group from the contractors had even tried to come aboard for the activation, but Richards had completely balked at the idea. The last thing he wanted was to be stumbling over a bunch of enthusiastic civvies, and he was pleased that Starfleet had backed him up. They would have to settle for the analysis results.

The screen display gave an estimate of how long the routine would take to run, at least five hours.

There was still a hell of a lot to do, but the last ten minutes were a major step.

There was a large crowd at the San Francisco Spaceport, here to greet the passengers from the noon shuttle having just come from the Alpha Centauri stellar cruiser, now above the facility in a parking orbit. The space-port had been built as an addition to the International Airport next to it, and the two stations shared many resources. The shuttle occupants quickly disembarked and proceeded through the immigration procedures, and finally into the waiting throng.

There was no one there to greet the slender black and white Caitian woman who gracefully walked through the access-way, but she didn't mind in the slightest. B'Aijha wasn't wearing her uniform at present, opting instead for a short gold-coloured tunic, belted with a scarlet and black sash around her waist, with a matching head-band.

This was the second time that she had come to Earth, and the scents and sounds she remembered came flooding back as she wove her way through the predominantly Terran gathering. If she had come in through a crowd of Starfleet members, she wouldn't have gotten a second glance, but the majority of people on Earth had only heard of the other races humanity had encountered over the years, and she was getting far more inquisitive looks than normal.

She had managed to trade a favor for passage on this civilian flight, as she had missed the only Starfleet vessel departing from Alpha Centauri by only fifteen minutes, and the next one wasn't for two weeks. By pure chance, she had overheard a conversation that a departing starliner was short a bridge detection station occupant, and volunteered herself as a replacement in exchange for passage. The starliner Captain was a little dubious at first, but that changed when B'Aijha increased the sensor resolution by fine-tuning the scanners for him. She had just spent five years looking for Romulans on the Neutral Zone, so solely looking out for space debris at only warp four was a 'piece of cake'.

A large part of the complex was open to the air, and B'Aijha wandered up to the Observation Level, the fresh wind blowing her hair around, making her nostrils tingle with the slightly-unsettling tang of salt water. There were several others up here as well, some people by themselves, and a couple with two young children. As she made her way to the edge and rested her shoulder bag on the railing, she didn't notice one of the children frantically pointing her out to his older sister, or the both of them staring at her in wide-eyed fascination.

This world was so different from Cait, she mused, but it was still one of the most beautiful she had ever been to. The sprawling, modern cities of San Francisco and Oakland showed off their high spires on the visible horizon, but this did not seem to spoil the spectacular view of the harbour, which was sparkling in the light of a bright yellow, almost white midday sun.

Her acute senses swiftly informed her of an approaching presence, and she turned her head to see the two human children cautiously approaching her. At the sight of her distinctive eyes, the younger boy, she guessed about five years of age, lost his nerve and bolted back to his parents, who hadn't seen their children wander away. The girl, possibly about eight, put her hand to her mouth and gasped, but stood her ground. She looked up at the Caitian with wide, brown eyes, unmoving.

"Hmm, what's this? Lunch?" B'Aijha thought, then dismissed it. She was in a public area, if she voiced a joke like that and it got back to Starfleet, they would put her tail in a sling. Public relations was not one of her strong points, but she had enough sense to keep that one to herself.

She slowly lowered herself into a crouch, bringing her face down to the level of her young observer. "Hello," she said in her gentlest tone, taking great care not to show her canine teeth like she had done with Captain Yukina, five months ago.

The child shrank back slightly, but curiosity won out over apprehension, and she spoke. "Are... y-you a Caitian lady?" she said, trying not to stammer.

Inwardly, B'Aijha smiled to herself. She was possibly the first non-human this little girl had ever met. "Yes, I'm a Caitian," she purred in reply, her soft voice seemingly having a relaxing effect. The little girl smiled, and was about to speak again, when a human voice rang out.

"Rachael! Come here!!" B'Aijha looked up and saw the child's father hurriedly striding towards them, looking nervous and angry at the same time. The little girl tried to protest, but he was having none of it.

"But daddy, I'm..."

"Don't argue!" he snapped, turning her around by the shoulders. "Go to your mother! NOW!" His daughter turned visibly upset, but she obeyed, walking back to her mother, who quickly hurried both children out of the observation area. She cast a confused glance back at the Caitian, not understanding what was happening.

B'Aijha stood up and faced the child's father. He was not particularly tall for a human, but he was a big man. And there was no confusion in recognizing the expression of hatred in his eyes.

"What did you think you were doing with my daughter?" he almost spat at her.

"Talking," she replied as she folded her arms, her voice starting to hiss. She wasn't going to put up with any sort of crap from some xenophobic cretin.

"I don't want you or any other damned alien talking to my kids!" he yelled, waving a finger in her face. "You HEAR ME!?!" That statement was enough to turn a few heads, and it was all she was going to take. She growled and made a fake lunge at his finger with her teeth, enough to make him quickly pull it back. He regarded her with sudden disbelief. What he knew of Caitians said that they were a basically pacifist race, not combative at all. How wrong he was.

"You furry bitch!!" he snapped as he dropped into a fighting stance.

"Furrry bitch?!" B'Aijha echoed, now thoroughly infuriated, her tail now flicking back and forth in anger.

He saved her the trouble of hitting him first by launching a practiced strike at her. B'Aijha abruptly dodged to the side, and his fist harmlessly passed her. She blocked or avoided the rest of his punches until she saw an opening, then swiftly backhanded him across the mouth. He stumbled away, almost losing his balance. Instead of taking the point, he growled with increased fury and leapt at her again, this time starting off with a high kick, which she nimbly ducked.

He was not unskilled at personal combat, but was still nowhere near her level. Apart from that, B'Aijha not only had virtually twice his strength, but was also considerably faster. Unheedingly, he kept pressing his assault regardless. He was either extremely courageous or a consummate fool. She opted for the latter.

Their exchange was beginning to attract a good deal of attention from the other patrons of the space-port, and a growing number of people were watching, some mumbling with disapproval, others realizing how one-sided the altercation actually was.

B'Aijha was staying strictly defensive, mindful that brawling in a public place would be frowned upon by Starfleet, but it was the thought of the child who had innocently spoken to her which was really holding her back. If she used her claws and drew blood, which was almost a certainty, he would display the wound to his daughter and use it to teach her about Caitians, his way. Still, she was sorely tempted to flick the hardened keratin points out from her fingertips and give this human something to remember her by.

That thought was still in her mind when she spotted another opening and landed a highly effective crescent kick to his temple, and this time he was knocked right off his feet to land a couple of metres away. "Whoops, a little harrd," she thought, not really regretting it.

At that moment, two security guards pressed their way through the line of people. "All right, that's enough," one of them said in an authoritative tone, stepping between the two antagonists.

B'Aijha's attacker was groggily pulled to his feet by the other guard, and he immediately tried to influence the situation into his favour.

"This bi... - Caitian tried to harm my daughter!" he lied, holding his hand to his head from the last blow she had landed.

"Is that true?" the guard asked B'Aijha, who had picked up her shoulder bag again, and pulled out a small data-card.

"No," she plainly stated, handing him her Starfleet ID.

"When I intervened, she started attacking me!" the man continued, contemptuously brushing off the second security guard.

"What is your name, sir?" the first guard asked, turning to face him.

"Hendrickson. Philip Hendrickson," he answered, still staring daggers at B'Aijha.

"Looked to me like you were doing all of the attacking, Mister Hendrickson," the guard stated. Hendrickson eyed him with surprise.

"Are you saying you believe her rather than me!?" he spat, his rage suddenly flaring.

"I'm more likely to believe a Starfleet officer, sir," the guard replied, ever so politely. "And my own eyes."

Hendrickson contemptuously snorted in response, all the while holding his head.

"Do you wish to press charges, Lieutenant?" the guard asked B'Aijha, turning back to her.

"No, he's not worrth it," she replied, returning Hendrickson's stare. All she really wanted to do was clout him again, this time even harder.

"I've got a brother who's in Starfleet," Hendrickson said, his voice still full of loathing. "I'll remember you." With that, he turned and staggered off through the crowd, which was beginning to disperse.

"Cretin," B'Aijha thought as she watched him walk away. Apart from being a little exercise, this little ordeal had given her a sour taste in her mouth, only partly caused by the sea air. Bigotry still existed certain individuals, no matter how far their race had evolved.

"I hope this little incident hasn't put you off all humans," the guard said, trying to make light.

"No," B'Aijha cynically replied. She really wasn't in the mood for conversation now.

"Here's your identifi... cation back," he said, holding out the data-card, smiling as if he had just discovered a new joke.

B'Aijha snatched the card off him, muttering "If I had a crredit chit for everry time I've hearrd that...", and stalked out of the observation area. The few observers still hanging around quickly stepped back out of her way to let her pass.

She had partially calmed down by the time she got back to the main reception area. She still had to get into her uniform, and report to Starfleet Command by 14:00 hours. The chronometer on the departure and arrival display board told her it was only 12:18, plenty of time to change and get on a travel tube.

However, that unpleasant flavor was still in her mouth. Then she noticed she was right next to the Lounge Room. Perhaps a small shot of Saurian brandy would help.

Lt. Commander Richards was making has way to sick-bay. He had a few extra things for Doctor MacCaull, several tricorder maintenance tools which she had requested from his department. Not that he understood why, as all the hand-held equipment on board the ship had been replaced over the past few weeks.

Entering the sick-bay, he was surprised at the large amount of green-leafed potted plants that were present. They were well out of the way of any thoroughfare, and carefully positioned not to obstruct, but it struck him as unusual to see so many here.

"What can I do for you, sir?" one of the nurses asked, approaching him.

"I have a few things for the CMO," Richards replied, holding up the tool carry case. "Is she around?"

"She's in her office, sir, writing an alterations list for the bio-sensor configuration software," the nurse replied.

"I thought that was downloaded from Starfleet three weeks ago," Richards asked. The nurse grinned in response.

"It was, but not to her satisfaction, sir," he said.

Doctor MacCaull was indeed in her new office, quickly tapping away at the desk console, her eyes on the screen. "Hi, Geoff," she said, looking up momentarily. Richards smiled inwardly. That was their new CMO, notoriously short on formality, but she had a way of making everyone feel totally at ease around her.

"I have those tools you wanted," he said, holding up the case.

"Oh, right," she said, getting up from behind the desk, lifting the lightweight polyfibre kit out of his hands, opening it up and quickly inspecting the contents. "Great! That should do nicely," she continued, closing it up again.

"So what do you want a set of maintenance tools for?" Richards asked as he followed her out into the main examination room.

"Just a few modifications," she replied. "Starfleet only re-issues tricorder updates very six months or so, but the components they're constructed from are being improved all the time. I recently got hold of a few dozen optical chips, the next version of what we use in the med tricorders."

"'Got hold of'?" Richards questioned.

"Well, let's just say they fell of the back of a cargo shuttle," MacCaull quipped, wearing an impish grin. "Anyway, they're apparently 35% faster, and speed counts in an emergency."

Just then the intercom chirped. "Engineering to Commander Richards," the voice called. It was the voice of Lieutenant Elwyn Jackson, the ship's Assistant Chief Engineer.

"Richards here, what's up, Elwyn?" he called to the empty air.

"Sir, the M/ARC testing sequences have just finished. The power grid is ready for the energizer input," the ship's ACE explained. The Chief Engineer grinned. Elwyn liked that informal title. "You said you wanted to be notified...?"

"Right on time. Thanks, I'll be right there. Richards out."

"Will we notice this one?" MacCaull asked, a tinge of mirth and sarcasm in her voice. When one of the old fusion reactors was put off-line earlier in the refit, one of its electro plasma conduits had surged some energy into the main grid and triggered the safety cutoffs, resulting in a twenty-two second power outage throughout most of the ship. This had resulted in small outbreaks of both annoyance and amusement, and calls to Engineering to 'get some more batteries'.

"This one is completely painless," Richards said, starting towards the door. "I guarantee it."

"You're buying if it's not," MacCaull called back, as the doors shusshed shut behind him. She set the tool case down next to the tricorder locker, and was about to return to her office when the doors opened yet again.

In walked Captain Walters, clutching his right hand as if trying to hold it completely still. He was closely followed by a young Junior Grade Lieutenant, who was looking extremely reluctant to be there.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" she pleasantly asked.

"My right hand, Doctor," he replied with a sigh. "I think it's broken." Puzzled, MacCaull slowly and gently lifted his arm up by the elbow, and quickly ran a practiced eye over his rigid palm.

"I think it is, too," she admitted. "Up of the table, and let's take a closer look." She led him over to the diagnostic table, and had him sit on the edge, holding his hand over its inbuilt sensor arrays.

"How did this happen, then?" she asked, tapping the wall-mounted controls, focussing the sensors.

"Mister Thomas, here," Walters said, indicating the young Lieutenant who had accompanied him, "Has a rather... enthusiastic handshake."

Lieutenant JG Dean Thomas quickly looked down at the floor. He was imagining his Starfleet career would soon take a nose-dive, after looking so promising in the past few months. Shaking his new Captain's hand and breaking it! Captain Garrovick of the USS Farragut had just given him a glowing recommendation, then this! He tried to think of something worse happening, but couldn't.

MacCaull gave him a wry smile, thinking the pretty much the same thing. This wasn't the best way to meet your new Captain.

"Well, Doctor?" Walters asked.

"Simple fracture of the second and fifth metacarpal bones..." she said, reading off the medical display on the wall. "Interosei muscles slightly compressed... minor effusion of the surrounding area... nothing too serious, sir. We'll have it back working good as new in no time."

"Glad to hear it," Walters said. He cast a long glance at the new navigator, who was standing nearby looking extremely sheepish.

"I... I... just don't know what to say, sir," he nervously said.

"Try starting with 'sorry', Mister Thomas," Walters admonished him, as the Doctor hypo-sprayed a local anaesthetic into his lower arm, and began to set the bones in his damaged hand.

"Yessir, I am sorry..." he replied, wishing he could disappear.

"All right, son," Walters said, relaxing his tone. "We'll chalk this one up to experience. Although, remind me not to assign you to any diplomatic welcoming parties, just yet." Thomas looked up in surprise. Was that it? He had expected to be on the end of a scathing reprimand and on report for the rest of his life, knowing the reputation of Captain Walters.

"Now, I believe that you have a navigation system to calibrate," the Captain continued. "Dismissed."

"Yessir," Thomas said, and started for the door.

"Mister Thomas," called Doctor MacCaull, not looking up from her work.

"Yes, ma'am?" Thomas answered, turning to face her.

"Just be careful when you're shaking hands, will you?" That was more of an order than a request.

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated, then quickly exited sick-bay.

"New guy?" MacCaull asked after the doors had closed.

"Our new Assistant Nav Officer," Walters replied. "Comes from a colony world known as Pyrrus."

"That heavy gravity planet in the Epsilon Omega system?"

"Do you know it?" Walters asked, trying to make conversation to distract himself from his still-throbbing hand.

"I know of it," MacCaull replied, as she continued rotating the bone repairer around his hand. "It was part of a case-study I did while I was interning, how the colonists gradually adapted their physiological structure to the planet's high gravity. Quite interesting, really..." The small device slightly altered its operating sound, and MacCaull switched it off. "There we go, all fixed."

Walters flexed his fingers, and only felt a slight ache. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, sliding off the diagnostic bed onto his feet.

"And this," the Doctor said, bringing over another hypo sprayer, "Will reduce both the swelling and the long-term soreness." He obligingly held up his hand and she injected the fluid with a gentle hiss, and the ache subsided almost immediately. "And don't shake hands with any more Pyrrans for at least a couple of days," she added, in a teasing tone.

There was a familiar whining sound, and the test canister reappeared on the transporter pad in a bright shower of bluish sparkles.

"Perfect," the Essex' Transporter Chief smiled, striding over towards the casing, and gently lifting it off the pad. She was a short, dark-haired woman, sometimes mistaken for an oriental. Although Lieutenant JG George had the olive-skinned features common to that human ethnic group, her vivid emerald green eyes and silver-flecked hair revealed her non-Terran origins.

She set the casing down on the floor, popped the top off, and pulled out a metal-capped glassine cylinder filled with a viscous, transparent fluid.

Doctor MacCaull stepped forward, and held a medical scanner up to the object. She ran the device over it, twice, looking at the information that began to scroll across the small display screen.

"No cellular degradation whatsoever," she beamed, switching the tiny scanner off.

"That's it then," the Chief said, handing MacCaull the cylinder and moving back to her console, and opening a internal comm channel to the bridge.

"Transporter Room Four to Captain."

"Go ahead, Chief," Walters' voice came back over the speaker.

"Sir, all personnel transporters are now fully operational," the Chief said with the obvious pride of a long job well done.

"Excellent timing," came the reply. "Our new Security Chief has just checked in, and is ready to beam over from the Star-base. Have her report to me when she is on board."

"Aye, sir. Transporter room out," the Chief responded. She bent to the console again, and established the coordinate lock with the Star-base transport systems, then energized. Transporter Pad One began to glow, and a feminine figure appeared in the confinement beam. The radiance faded, leaving a dark-furred Caitian on the pad, carrying a small shoulder bag.

"Securrity Officerr Lieutenant B'Aijha reporrting for duty," she brusquely said, stepping off down to the floor.

"Mary MacCaull, CMO," the Doctor responded, introducing herself. "This is Transporter Chief George." The Caitian bowed slightly to MacCaull, and nodded to the Transporter Chief. MacCaull took an instant to look her over. Black, glossy fur and white highlights, with a penetrating, gold-eyed stare. She had an almost feral ambiance. Maybe it was the way she walked, it seemed more like prowling.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," George said with a smile. "You're the first sentient life-form to beam aboard using our new transporters."

"Rreally?" she replied, flicking her ears. "Is therre a prrize?"

"How about this?" smiled MacCaull, holding up the glassine cylinder to her.

"What is it?" the Caitian asked, taking hold of it.

"A few litres of Escherichia Coli," the Doctor replied. "It was the final test before you came through."

"Meeoweerp," B'Aijha said as she studied the gooey liquid, which actually meant 'wonderful', with a certain facetious tone to it. "Perrhaps you'd betterr keep it," she continued, handing it back.

"Lieutenant, the Captain said that he wanted to see you on the bridge as soon as you were aboard," George spoke up. "And he's not the kind of man you keep waiting."

"Verry well," B'Aijha answered. "Thank you for the trransporrt, Lieutenant. Doctorr." she said as she nodded to them both again, and walked out into the corridor.

"Quite a character," George said after the doors had slid shut.

"Another one," MacCaull agreed, still looking at the closed doors.

B'Aijha strode onto the bridge, stopped, and looked around. Had this ship not been upgraded yet? She hadn't been aboard a Constitution Class before, but every member of Starfleet knew what the bridge of one looked like. Just like the one she was looking at now. She inquisitively glanced from side to side, virtually ignoring the various members of the crew passing her, thinking that maybe she had been beamed to the wrong ship.

"Lieutenant B'Aijha?" a voice asked, bringing her back to the real world. She glanced around to see a dark-haired Terran male, several centimetres taller than she was, wearing a Commander's rank pin.

"Yessirr," she replied, straightening up and discreetly pushing her shoulder bag behind her.

"Dafyd Connor, First Officer," he said, identifying himself. She noticed that he didn't bare his teeth when he smiled, like so many other Terrans. "Follow me, please." He led her down the short distance to the command chair, where another male human sat, reading the information on a scrolling PADD. "Captain," Connor politely stated, announcing their presence. The Captain paused the scrolling data, and looked up at them both.

"Lieutenant B'Aijha reporrting for duty, sirr," B'Aijha said, taking that as her cue.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," Captain Walters replied. "Verify this for me, will you?", then he handed her the PADD, and turned back towards the view-screen. She quickly glanced at the small display. It was an inventory and configuration report of the ship's current photon torpedo complement.

"Yessirr," she said, taken aback a bit, then turned up to where the weapon console was. "Furrballs!" she softly cursed as she climbed the short steps. "This one's anotherr verrsion of Parrsons." She leaned over the unoccupied position, and was about to do a status report when she realized she wasn't at the right console. It looked like Engineering, or something similar.

"Hey, Lieutenant!" she heard behind her, and turned her head to see the helm officer frantically pointing to the opposite side of the bridge. What did he mean? He wasn't much to look at, but the smile he turned on her made her feel a little... odd? She couldn't quite put her claw on it.

Then she noticed the Captain, walking towards her from the command chair. And despite the fact that he was still on the lower floor, he was still at eye level with her. "Have you not been briefed about this ship, Lieutenant?" he asked, starting to sound annoyed.

"No sirr," she explained. "I've neverr been on boarrd a Constitu..."

"The weapons station is over there," he interrupted, pointing to the station exactly opposite to where she was.

"Yessirr," she replied, remembering something about first impressions being the most critical. Walters watched her walk by the view-screen, then exchanged a glance with his First Officer.

Helm had suddenly found something else to do.

"Mister Clemance." Walters leaned closer to the young man.

"Yessir."

"Kindly concentrate on your job, and not the female crew members."

"Aye, sir."

B'Aijha slowed down as she approached the weapon console. As Security Chief, it was to be her new station. Some of the status lights were active, but that was all she could tell. Her eyes widened slightly as she recognized several of the new software-defined touch panels amongst the standard arrays of hard switches. It was like a synthesis of old and new, which somehow seemed appropriate.

Sliding into the padded seat, she noted they were a damn sight more comfortable than the ones on the Toronto, as her tail always seemed to get jammed against the solid back, but here there was ample room to flick it between the supports.

Next she turned to the console, and after running her fingers over the controls, she found that most of it was locked off, the internal security system fully active. #%@*$!! Couldn't even do a status display! She frowned and had to content herself with starting the work the Captain has asked her. It wasn't hard, in fact it was easy. A few minutes later, she returned the PADD to him, and Walters saw that she had updated the torpedo list to include tomorrow's loading schedule.

"Very good, Lieutenant," he said, acknowledging the data and recalling another file. "Find your quarters, then take care of this," then he passed the PADD back to her. Reading it, B'Aijha saw the ship's personal phaser armoury had arrived, but had not been unpacked or inspected.

"Rright away, sirr," she replied, and strode into the turbolift. She began to alter her opinion of Walters a bit. Perhaps she was suffering from a slight case of new-ship-nerves. What little she knew about her new Captain gave the impression he was the strict no-nonsense type, and she cursed herself for not doing a bit more research. On both him and the ship!

The Essex' Main Armoury was on C Deck, fronted by an armoured security door. There was a numeric entry panel on the side, glowing red. Locked, of course.

"Computerr," B'Aijha said, hoping that her voice-print had been entered, and the panel chirped in acknowledgment, indicating that it had been. "Securrity Chief B'Aijha. Access." Obediently, the thick doors slid aside, and closed rather quickly after she stepped through. One thing about being born with a tail, you learned to go through doors fairly fast.

The place was piled with unopened cargo carriers, several layers high, each one carrying the logo of Atalskes Phaser Corporation. The storage racks and security cabinets were all installed, but as yet unfilled. There was supposed to be somebody on duty here, where were they?

Then she heard it, her ears automatically turning in the direction of the new sound. A very faint flick-flick-flick noise was coming from one of the corners in the room, behind one of the cargo stacks. She walked around the high pile, and found three crewmen sitting on the floor, one of them dealing out a pack of cards. None of them noticed her as she leaned on the mound of cargo carriers.

"It's about time you got back, Cheney," the dealer said, not looking up. "Have you got..." then he looked up. "ULK!" he gurgled, immediately noticing the Lieutenants rank pins on her shoulder. His fellows looked around, wondering what he was reacting to, and all three of them sprang to their feet so fast they had to land on the floor again.

"Who's in charrge herre?" B'Aijha asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Umm... I am, Lieutenant," the card dealer said, stepping forward. "Petty Officer First Class Galloway."

"Well, Galloway," the Caitian began, still trying to sound calm, "I'm Lieutenant B'Aijha, the new Securrity Chief. And what the hell arre you all doing?"

"Ahh..." Galloway began, but everyone in the room knew there was only one explanation for it. She had caught them goofing off, pure and simple.

"SHUT IT!!" she snapped, and they all cringed. "MOVE YOURR TAILS!" and she stepped aside as they rushed past her, each taking a container and opening it. B'Aijha made no attempt to hide the fact that she was steaming with fury inside. This sort of behavior would just not do, especially in her department!

She followed them and opened one herself, more to do with inspecting it than giving them a hand. Inside the padded case lay five of the new palm-sized Phaser Fives, along with the pistol mountings to turn them into the Phaser Six, otherwise known as the Assault Phaser. Beside these were the power packs, packaged separately. She quickly snapped together a Phaser Six unit, and placed it onto the first mounting bracket in the storage racks. The racks were also the charging units, and being brand new, the phaser batteries would be completely empty, a standard safety procedure. After she fastened the unit in, the charging mechanism light was supposed to come on, but it didn't. She frowned and tapped the power control panel. It was on, but had no power directed through it for charging.

"Why is therre no charrging powerr?" she demanded, turning back to Galloway.

"Ahh, we h-haven't yet gotten authorization from Engineering," he stammered, trying not to look nervous.

"I'll take carre of that," she replied, making her way to the door, then added, "I want all these phaserrs unpacked, inspected, and charrging by 0800 tomorrrow morrning." Galloway and the others quickly exchanged shocked glances. That was nearly five hundred separate units!

"But Lieutenant, that means we'll be doing a double, maybe a triple shift."

"Rriiiight," B'Aijha remarked, "And if everr I catch any one of you prreening yourr tails again, you'll be manually rrealigning everry single phaserr on this ship!" then the door closed behind her.

"Damn," one of them cursed. "The new Security Chief would be a bitch, wouldn't she?" Then they all looked up as the doors opened yet again.

"I hearrd that!!"

It turned out that getting the power assignment to the armoury was easy, compared to finding the Chief Engineer. Every time the computer tracked him down, by the time she got there he was gone. This happened several times until she caught sight of an officer matching his description entering a turbolift.

"Hold, please!" she called, and he obligingly held the doors until she was inside. "You'rre the Chief Engineerr, arren't you... sirr?"

"Mmm-hmm," came the reply. "Bridge," he said to the turbolift, then turned to her again, and offered his hand. "Geoffrey Richards." Hmm, not bad looking for a Caitian, he reflected, quickly looking her up and down.

"Lieutenant B'Aijha, Securrity Chief," she responded as they clasped hands, her ears pricking up slightly. He had an accent to his speech that she had never heard before, weird but somewhat pleasant to listen to.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" Richards asked, turning his attention back to the PADD he was carrying.

"I need some powerr trransferred to the main arrmourry," she answered, "For charrging the hand phaserrs." She watched him as he opened another window on the small device's display screen.

"Armoury... armoury..." he mused, running a guiding finger down a block of text. "Aha! Here it is, the weapons room, deck C... okay, I'll add that onto the power train later tonight. There's power to spare, now that we're running off the primary systems."

"Good," B'Aijha replied. She had been concerned that maybe there wouldn't be enough power to spare, but with the main power running there would be plenty, especially while the ship was docked. "You must have a long job ahead of you," she commented, imagining how much work was involved turning a ship like this into almost an entirely new class of vessel.

"Ahead of me? What do you mean?" he said, looking at her, bewilderment evident in his voice.

"With the upgrrade," she replied, puzzled.

"Lieutenant, the upgrade on this ship is nearly completed. There's only about two weeks of fine-tuning to go, then we're off into the wild black yonder."

"Completed?!" B'Aijha asked, an astonished look appearing on her face. "But - she's still a Constitution Class!"

"That's right," Richards answered, as the lift stopped and the doors hissed open. He stopped halfway out, then turned back to her as if realizing something. "Oh - you don't know, do you..." he began. "I'll get someone to have a word with you," gave her a reassuring nod, then walked off.

B'Aijha realized she must've looked pretty silly for a few moments, standing there with her mouth open and her eyes seemingly glazed over, until the lift doors automatically shut again. "Level, please," the lift voice synthesizer politely asked.

"Deck Five," she mumbled. She needed to lie down.

Richards turned back from the turbolift. The new Chief of Security didn't look to thrilled, all of a sudden. He decided to notify the Intelligence Officer that she was aboard, so she could be brought up to speed. Then again, Sole would more than likely know already.

He made his way to the Engineering panel. It now looked totally different than the original console, thanks to the extensive reworking performed on the ship. One last little detail, then he could leave it alone and get back to the rest of the work. His job over the past few months had turned out to be more of a supervisory position than he had bargained for, rather than just 'hands on' engineering. Comes from being a Department Head, he mused.

Who was free? He quickly looked around the bridge, and ended up facing the navigation station. "Mister Clemance."

"SIR!" Lieutenant Adam Clemance swiftly came to attention while the young Ensign he'd been talking to just as quickly turned on her heels and looked busy. Richards smiled inwardly. He didn't know how the young man did it, but he usually managed to 'chat up' every woman he met without trouble or guilt. And if he had time for that, he must not be terribly busy.

"IF I can tear you away from your preoccupation, maybe you'd be so kind as to go down to Engineering and bring me back a C12 calibration module."

"A C12?"

"That's right. Fits between C11 and C13."

"C12. Yes, sir." Clemance crossed the space between Navigation and the turbo elevator, double quick. He was across the threshold of the lift before the doors were fully open.

"Hey!" someone said as he bulldozed into them.

"I'm so sorry - " Adam said as he pulled away and looked up into the most amazing pair of eyes he'd ever seen. They were a sparkling blue-gray colour shot through with annoyance. The surrounding face was smooth and fine, with the most kissable lips he'd ever seen. The long copper-gold hair that acted as the frame for this vision of loveliness shimmered in the light from the elevator's ceiling. She was an angel, a thing of infinite beauty, beyond even Adam's wildest dreams - and considering that this was Adam Clemance, he'd had some really wild dreams. He wanted to tell her all this and more, but all that came out was "Plubghte..."

"You smooth talker, you," she smiled as she pushed past him.

Adam turned in stunned silence as the girl of his dreams disappeared behind the closing turbo-elevator doors.

Lieutenant JG Darci Qhu'Varr was off duty. At the moment he was alone in one of the small observation lounges in the interconnecting dorsal between the primary and secondary hulls of the USS Hood. Through the window could be seen a rather pretty sight - a collection of gasses, part of a supernova remnant, was softly glowing in a multicoloured light. Behind the ship, Darci knew, was the protostar that was energizing the gas. His holocamera was on a tripod next to him and he bent over it, making careful adjustments. He preferred this older version of the Penkon Holographic Imager, even though it used what everybody else considered outdated technology. Pure laser-produced imaging had gone out decades ago, but he felt he got what something really looked like, not a processed, filtered, or enhanced version of the real thing.

"There. That should do it," he said to no one in particular. He looked through the instrument to recheck then, satisfied, pressed a button. The holocamera clicked then whirred.

"Perfect," he smiled.

Just then he heard the sound of someone clearing her throat. Darci whirled around in surprise. Leaning against the far wall was Lieutenant K'Tath, the Hood's Chief of Communications and Darci's immediate senior. She was a short, good looking, golden-furred Caitian woman.

"So herre's wherre you've been hiding," she smiled. "And when arre you going to do my holo-call like you prromised ages ago?"

"Well, I, umm..." Darci started to reply while groping for another excuse. It wasn't that he didn't want to holograph K'Tath but he was afraid of making a hash of the job and produce an image she didn't like. At least an inanimate object couldn't complain.

"Well?" she asked, walking up to him, unconcealed amusement in her eyes.

"O-okay. I've n-nearly finished here," Darci managed to stammer.

"One of these days," K'Tath sighed, "We'rre going to get something done about yourr shyness towarrds women."

Darci swallowed nervously. This sounded like a threat. Fortunately he was saved from answering by the ship intercom.

"Could Lt. Qhu'Varr and Lt. K'Tath please report to the Captain," it announced.

"Uh oh!" Darci moaned. "I wonder what I've done this time."

"Oh, come on," K'Tath scolded, turning him around by the shoulders and ushering him towards the door. "Yourr earrs are wilting forr nothing." She breathed out, softly. Darci was one of the brightest Comm officers she had ever worked with, and she almost didn't like to admit that he knew the system better than she did, but he could be such a nervous fluff-head sometimes!

The main computer informed them that Captain Hazelwood was in his cabin, and they headed off. Once there K'Tath pressed the door buzzer.

"Come!"

The door whooshed open and they stepped inside. Captain Hazelwood was seated at his desk, looking rather grave. He motioned them to seats and they sat down.

"Well, Qhu'Varr, I've got the good news and the bad news," he said in his usual deep Southern accent. "Which do you want first?"

Darci thought for a moment. "Umm... the good news, sir?" he replied nervously.

"Very well. Congratulations, Lieutenant, your promotion has just come though."

"Yeowwwrrrr!" K'Tath exclaimed in excitement. "Ooops. Sorrry sirr," she quickly added as Hazelwood shot her a glance.

"And what's the bad news?" Darci asked.

"We're going to lose you. You're to be transferred to the USS Essex, as Chief of Communications. We're on our way to rendezvous with her now."

"The USS Essex, sir? I'm not familiar with that vessel. The only one I can think of is moth balled in the Sol system."

"That's the one. Apparently Starfleet have reactivated it as a training vessel. We should be meeting her in just over a fortnight."

"A training vessel?!" Darci glumly thought. "My career has just taken a downward slide. So much for the final frontier."

"Thank you, sir," he said aloud. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Your new rank and orders will be confirmed within a few days," the Captain continued. "I suggest you spend some time familiarizing yourself with the designs of the old Constitution class so that you'll know your way around.

"Aye, sir."

"Lieutenant K'Tath, we will need to select a replacement for Mr. Qhu'Varr. I want some recommendations as soon as possible," Hazelwood added.

"Underrstood, sirr," she replied, giving him a nod.

"Anyway, that'll be all. And good luck, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir," Darci said, although he almost didn't mean it.

Once outside, K'Tath unexpectedly grabbed Darci and hugged him. Fortunately for Darci's composure the corridor was empty.

"Congrratulations," she purred. "And well deserrved too, in my opinion. This calls forr a celebrration." Although she was saddened by the fact she was losing a close friend, she was happy that he was advancing in his career. She then noticed Darci's troubled expression. "What's wrrong?" she asked in concern.

"I dunno," he replied dejectedly, looking down at the floor. "A training ship... oh well..."

"You'll do fine. Which rreminds me. My holo-shoot?"

Darci knew K'Tath wouldn't let him wriggle out of it this time. "All right. I'll get the holocamera and I'll meet you at the 'studio'. Five minutes?"

"Good! I'll get a few things to wearr. A celebrratory drrink afterrwarrds?"

"Yeah, fine." Darci replied. He just hoped that K'Tath wasn't going to go too far. Sometimes that Caitian could be so... embarrassing. Still, she was a very likeable person for a girl, and that had worried him from the start.

The turbo-elevator doors slid apart.

"Wooh!" exclaimed Harvey James Peterson. A quiet, unassuming man with a list of degrees and awards as long as both your arms, he was the Second Engineer aboard the Essex, a job he did with the composed self-assurance of someone who really did know what he was doing.

Some said he was every bit as good as Richards, but Harvey reserved his judgment on that. Others said he was as good as Montgomery Scott of the Enterprise, but Harvey knew that this was decidedly not true.

He stepped into the elevator toward the statue-still form of Adam Clemance.

"Adam." He waved a hand in front of the glassy eyes. "Adam," he repeated. "ADAM!!" he bellowed into his friend's ear.

"Pribl..." said Adam.

"Pardon?"

Adam shook his head. "What? I... Sheee..." He pointed a finger at the passageway.

Harvey's face took on a serious look. "Deck Five."

The doors slid shut and the elevator hummed up and along. It halted at the officers' quarters level. Harvey made sure the coast was clear and then steered Adam out of the elevator and down to his cabin.

"Did you see her?" Clemance was off in a world of his own. "Hair like spun copper. What tresses. And that body. What grace, what form, what a figure."

"What a clown," Harvey muttered as he plumped the star-stuck officer onto his bed.

"WHAT?!"

"Listen Adam, I don't even know which of your conquests you're on about..."

"Conquests?!" His eyes took on a warning.

"You haven't even given me her name."

"That's just it." He grabbed Peterson by the lapel. "I DON'T KNOW HER NAME!"

"Here," Peterson sighed, flipping a small module at his friend.

Clemance almost didn't catch it. "What's this?"

"A C12. Now, calm down and tell me what you know of this young lady - without the poetry."

Richards was not on the bridge when Clemance returned, and neither was the lady in question. Clemance crossed to the Engineering console and popped the C12 into place. The panel lit up green. He smiled. Another scan of the bridge didn't make the 'girl made of dream-stuff', as he had described her, reappear, instead his eyes terminated their passage to find cool and calculating Vulcan eyes looking back.

"Have you lost something, Lieutenant?" questioned Commander T'Sara, giving him one of her most discomforting looks.

"Er - no, sir." It wasn't that he didn't like the Vulcan, he just considered it a waste that such beauty should be trapped in a computer.

"Then would you return to your station?"

Clemance wordlessly crossed to Helm and sat down. He just couldn't get THE GIRL out of his mind.

It was a fairly gloomy Caitian that sat in the small security office on B Deck, just below the bridge. She had looked into the ship's mission status a little earlier, and found that the Essex was primarily scheduled for training and equipment testing. Her enthusiasm for being assigned as Security Chief had then gone straight through the floor. Even the Toronto, while mainly having monotonous patrol duties, was right out there on the Neutral Zone. The Essex would barely get out into interstellar space, carrying a ship-load of green cadets!

She was half-heartedly configuring the computer display how she liked it, when the door chime rang.

"Reeerr, fehtahl," (yeah, what?) she said in her native language, and the doors opened, revealing a short but slim auburn-haired Terran woman, carrying what looked like a book.

"Yes, Ensign?" B'Aijha asked, giving her a swift although rather uninterested appraisal.

"Ummm, Ma'am, I'm Ensign Maree Sole, the ship's Librarian," she began timidly, "and I have some important information for you." Sole gingerly walked over to the desk, and put the book down, then tapped several embossed markings on the binder. When she next spoke it was like her nervous disposition had been dropped like a cloak. "Now we can talk freely, just in case."

"Just in case of what? And you're not the Librrarrian, arre you?" B'Aijha asked, standing up. This was definitely not usual ship's business. Sole flashed a quick smile at her.

"Commander Sole, Intelligence Division," she said.

"Intel? On a trraining ship?" B'Aijha replied, her discouraged mood quickly replaced by surprise. Starfleet's Intelligence Division was practically a mystery to anyone who hadn't dealt with them before, and B'Aijha hadn't. The presence of one of their officers on board usually guaranteed something big was happening, or going to happen.

"Not just a training ship, Lieutenant," Sole calmly corrected her. "I gather you've not yet looked at the ship configuration."

"I trried to, but I'm not clearred forr it."

"You are now," the Intelligence Officer smiled.

B'Aijha quickly turned to her terminal and began to access. This time, after the retinal scan, the computer let her into the file, which she quickly scrolled through. That was a bit odd, she admitted, the ship config file actually needing the retinal ID. Meanwhile, Sole had casually slid onto the desk and was sitting with her arms folded, patiently waiting for the Caitian to read the file.

B'Aijha blinked in astonishment when she saw what armament the Essex carried. Her Morris Magtronics FP-5 Photon Torpedoes were the second most powerful available anywhere in the Federation, nearly three times the explosive power and range of the Toronto's Loraxial FP-3s. As if that wasn't enough, her six Hi-Beam FH-10 Multi-Pulse Phaser Arrays linked to the new main computer would carry a devastating punch, as well as being remarkably accurate. Her eyes grew even wider as more information scrolled in front of her, detailing the shields, warp engines, and other confidential data. A large amount of the specs had 'prototype' written in somewhere. No wonder all this was classified!

"All rright," she said, still looking at the screen. "What is the storry?"

"As far as the rest of Starfleet is concerned, we are just another training ship, at least initially," Sole began. "There will be a few cadets on board, but that is the case with most ships. What we really have to do is..." She paused for a moment, as if pondering. "...Well, let's just say we'll be high on the problem-solving list."

"Prroblem-solving list?" B'Aijha repeated.

"If there's a problem, we're one of the ones who solve it," Sole explained. "Have you heard the phrase, 'a wolf in sheeps' clothing'?"

B'Aijha hadn't, but looking at the ship data file, it wasn't that hard to work out. The Constitution Class ship was almost a piece of history by now, state-of-the-art in her day, the ship that opened the boundaries of space for many races. There were only a few of them left still operational, but rapidly losing ground to more advanced, modern ships. The Essex, refitted to these standards, possibly better, would be completely unexpected in any combat scenario. B'Aijha smiled at herself, and picked at her left canine tooth with a claw. How typical of a security chief to think about battle tactics.

Sole read her smile as understanding, and slipped off the desk onto her feet. "By the way, only the Department Heads know what my real purpose on board is," Sole mentioned as the Caitian looked at her again. "That's why this is grey, not dark blue," she said as she fingered her uniform shoulder strap, which was the Operations colour, not Intelligence. "As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm just the librarian, and a rather ditzy one at that. So you'll have to keep that in mind."

B'Aijha nodded as Sole picked up her book, which was a disguised sensor scrambler, and pressed the binding again. Her poise and demeanour quickly changed, as she easily slipped back into her mild-mannered librarian persona.

"Well, um, Lieutenant, I h-hope I was able to be of assistance," she stammered.

"Thank you, Ensign," B'Aijha replied. "That was most inforrmative." Sole smiled, and walked out of the room. As the door closed behind her, B'Aijha glanced back at her terminal, and exited the file. Perhaps she had gotten more than she bargained for when wishing for more exciting duty, while back on the Toronto. One Terran saying she did know was 'be careful what you wish for, you may get it'. And now it looked like she had indeed got it. Actually, the thought appealed to her, in a strange sort of way. Things were looking up.

She quickly had another thought, and glanced around the room. If the Intel Officer used a sensor scrambler, she had best take her own precautions. And not just in here, either.

"State name, rank, and position."

"Jamonn, Lieutenant Tharmal Dean, Chief Navigator, USS Essex," the dark-maned Cygnian replied. She twitched a little with nervousness, hoping that the machine would let her aboard. She wasn't too sure if 'Fleet Ops had input her new position into the personnel database yet. Having to go back to the Repair Facility arrival area and asking them to call the Essex for her would be so embarrassing.

"Approved. You may enter."

She breathed a small sigh of relief as the doors opened.

"Are you alright?"

Lydia started at the soft voice beside her. "Yes. Yes, fine," she mumbled, quickly sniffing her tears away.

"Maree Sole." A hand was extended.

"Lydia Blue." She took the hand and shook it.

"Here." The other hand appeared with a clean white handkerchief.

Lydia hesitated, then took the square of material. "Thanks." It felt smooth and alive to her touch.

"It's genuine Irish Linen. A gift from my Great-great-grandmother to me one Christmas, back in '83." The voice was quite soothing, and Lydia found herself immediately trusting the auburn-haired woman.

"Now, what were you crying about?" A smile accompanied the question. "Captain Walters doesn't like weeping women on his ship."

They both chuckled at the humour.

"It's nothing, really. It's just that...." She let the sentence fade.

"Go on."

"Well, I've run into an ex-lover - only it wasn't him - but it looked SO much like him - and it took a few seconds for me to react - and when I did he'd gone - and he said something which I couldn't make out and..." She looked straight at the other woman. "And when I came into the library and memories came flooding back - and... and..."

"You just cried," Maree finished for her.

"I know that crying isn't becoming to an Officer in Starfleet, but I just didn't realize how much I'd bottled up inside. When I saw this man it just sort of hit me."

Maree chewed her lip in thought. "Well, look on the bright side." A fresh smile played across her face. "At least it wasn't Adam Clemance."

"Who?"

"Look, why don't we move out of the holo-booth. It is a bit cramped."

The two of them walked into the larger library area. Along the walls were several shelves, filled with carvings of some unknown origin. Everybody seemed to dump unusual bric-a-brac in here to be displayed.

Maree began to explain. "Our Mister Clemance is the kind of man your mother warned you about. Smooth, charming, not bad looking." A slightly wistful look passed her eyes. "And he's made it a rule to 'love' - in quote marks, every female on this vessel."

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Sure of himself, is he?"

"Oh, yes - very sure." Sole paused. "Although he hasn't tried anything on me..."

"Yet?"

Maree gave a small sigh. "Yet," she confirmed.

"You sound disappointed."

A wicked twinkle flashed. "That's for me to know..."

"And me to find out." A second passed. "No. This poor creature didn't know what he was doing."

"Sounds more like Harvey."

"Who's Harvey?"

Clemance put his glass on the table and sat down. "You took your time, didn't you?"

Peterson looked hurt. "I was here before you!"

"I don't mean that. I was talking about the information you promised."

"I have a job to do on this ship as well, y'know. Can't just go swanning off and do 'My Master's bidding'."

Clemence let his shoulders slouch. "Sorry Harv'. It's just that she's got me in a loop. I mean, what do you do when you fall in L-O-V-E?" Desperation hid at the edge of his voice.

Harvey sat up. "The Great Adam Clemance is asking poor, invisible Harvey James Peterson about..." He looked left, then right, then moved closer to Adam. "L-O-V-E?"

"Yes, GOD DAMMIT! YES!"

"But you know all about L-O-V-E," Harvey said incredulously.

"I know about love, not LOVE."

"Then there's a difference?"

"Yes." Adam was getting desperate. "Look..." he held up his hand and counted. "Love - in small letters - is the 'your bed or mine' approach that I know so well. With me so far?"

Harvey nodded his head.

"But LOVE..."

"In capital letters," finished Harv'. He was catching the drift of the conversation.

"Yes. Great big sky high CAPITALS, is the real 'with this ring I thee wed' stuff." Panic crossed Adams face. "I don't know the first thing about it. It's never happened to me before."

Peterson mulled this over for a while.

"Harv'." Desperation. "You've got to HELP ME!"

"Okay," he said eventually. "Her name is Lydia Jayne Blue. She's a botanic specialist assigned to Science."

There was a long, long pause...

"And?"

"And what?"

"AND!" Clemance looked like he was about to explode.

"And she's sitting two tables behind you."

A look of terrified horror froze on Clemance's features.

"Not scared, are we?"

"You're enjoying this, you bastard."

"Not one bit, old man." Harvey was indeed enjoying this, but he managed to hide it quite well.

Adam slowly got up and turned. The copper-haired head was bent over a PADD. He crossed to her table.

"Excuse me..." he started.

The blue-gray eyes swept over him like searchlights. "You!"

"Prifib..." he finished.

Lydia burst into tears.

End of Chapter Two

Next - Chapter Three

Contents